in the house he’d been born in. He’d put in his time.
“I know you haven’t asked for my advice, Susanna, but I’m going to give it, anyway. Make a point to get off the property. There’s a lot going on in town, and it’s good to get away. The Arbors has a way of commandeering time. We call it Standard Arbor Time and it’s nonstop, around the clock.”
“I think I’ve seen a glimpse of that this week.” She sounded charmed by the idea.
Jay supposed he shouldn’t be surprised, with the way she worked from sunup to sundown. But something told him busy was exactly the way she wanted to be right now. Funny how life had them in exactly the opposite places. She’d reared her family and wanted to be busy. He wanted to get busy rearing a family and filling his days with something other than dementia care.
He wondered how long ago her husband had died. Had his death been unexpected? Jay didn’t ask. Her personal life was none of his business even if there had been some tactful way to ask about a dead spouse. There wasn’t.
Leaning against the arch separating living room from dining room, she folded her arms over her chest. “Amber mentioned a mall by the racetrack. And I read about a historic plantation I’d like to visit that’s not far from here.”
“That’s a start.” And then they were staring at each other across the expanse of newly polished floors and overly friendly dogs. He might have kept standing and staring except Butters sidled toward the wall shelves, knocking some sense into Jay.
“The golf cart?” he prompted, forcing himself to stop enjoying the view. “It’s easy to operate, but you need to know about the battery. Chester will keep his eye on it. You let him know when it needs to be fueled.”
“I can park it near the maintenance and engineering shed where you keep yours?”
He nodded.
“Please show me whatever you think I need to know. I didn’t mean to keep you. You were kind to offer your help.”
Pushing away from the wall, she breezed past him with that same breathless energy and graceful motion he noticed every time he looked at her. She headed outside and he moved to follow, but the dogs cut him off, nearly knocking him over in their haste to trail her. Sorry beasts.
Jay headed after them, making sure he didn’t pay attention to the gentle sway of Susanna’s hips as she took the stairs with light steps or to the dark curls bouncing on her shoulders. She chatted the whole way as if she didn’t want to hear any more silence between them, either.
“I understand from Gerald that your grandmother is responsible for building the main facility. What about this cottage? There are so many antiques.”
“This place was my mother’s.” Her hideaway from the world.
“She collected antiques?”
“Sort of. Stuff she picked up here and there. My place is filled to the brim. She has a collection of mantels. You’ll have to see them one day.”
Had he just invited Susanna to his place?
There was a hitch in her step as she slanted a curious gaze his way. “Mantels? As in fireplaces?”
“You got it. I’ve got mantels without fireplaces attached to them. She turned one into a bed frame. She was crazy for them. Doors and windows, too. Used to drag the family to pick through old buildings while most folks were doing yardwork or watching Saturday morning cartoons.”
“The mantel in my living room?”
“From a pre-Civil War cypress cottage near the coast. Took her a while to bring that one back to its original finish. It had taken a beating from being so close to the salt water.”
Susanna stepped up her pace again. “Humph. How imaginative. I would never have thought of anything so creative.”
“She was that.” Before Alzheimer’s claimed her, and all he had left of his loving, laughing and infinitely creative mother was a bunch of mantels, doorknobs and windowsills.
“I for one am very grateful,” Susanna said graciously. “Did she use this as the guest cottage?”
“Sometimes. When we had guests who didn’t want to stay in the house with us. She had some cousins who used to visit from Ireland. They were older and with my brother and I tearing around like wild boys... Well, let’s say they enjoyed a place where they could go for some quiet. My mother, too. She used the cottage for work. She liked to leave the house and have a place where she could concentrate without too many distractions.”
“Work?” Susanna’s interest piqued visibly. “Your mother didn’t work at The Arbors?”
“Everyone in my family worked at The Arbors.” Past tense. Wasn’t anyone left but him. Except for Drew, who didn’t count, but Jay wouldn’t dwell on something he couldn’t change. And he couldn’t change his brother. “My mother was a writer, too. Whenever she was on deadline, she liked to wrap her head around her work. Used to tell my brother and me not to show up unless we were bleeding.”
Susanna went to the passenger side of the golf cart. “I’ve said the same to my kids.”
Jay would take her word for it, since he hadn’t gotten to that part of his life yet. “Ever drive one of these before?”
Susanna shook her head, more glossy waves tumbling around her neck and shoulders in a display that was so feminine, so at odds with her ultra-businesslike appearance.
But not right now. Not when she was casually dressed, all tiny and curvy and tucking her waves behind her ears as she leaned eagerly toward the controls for instruction.
Circling the golf cart, he hopped in and explained the basics. He showed her how to disconnect the battery when she parked the vehicle then took her for a spin to the access road, with the dogs trotting beside him as they always did.
Then they swapped seats and she took him for a spin, starting off tentatively but increasing speed as she gained confidence.
“Not so close, Butters,” she shrieked while making a turn. “They won’t get too close and get hurt?”
“Not a chance. They keep up with me all the time. Have since they were pups. And if they don’t get out of the way of a moving vehicle they deserve what they get.”
He had to work to keep a straight face as he enjoyed her horrified expression. “They’ll move if you get too close.”
“Keep your distance, Butters. I’m serious.”
“That your mom voice?”
She scowled at him, and he lost the battle with a smile.
“So what did your mother write?” she asked after another lap around the cottage.
“Fiction. Literary stuff for magazines. Short stories mostly. Had a few anthology collections published.”
Slowing as she cornered the house yet again, she paid close attention to the dogs as she parked. “How interesting. I bet she got lots of inspiration from around here. From what I’ve seen so far, this place is another
