stones through school years or Skip’s stuffed fish showcased front and center, the wall looked foreign. Only a wall surrounded by unfamiliar shadows.
Without her family, this house was just a house, the way it had been when a real estate agent had unlocked the door for the first time twenty years ago. Before she and Skip had filled every room with expectations and dreams.
They had been such big dreamers.
The thought grabbed Susanna around the throat, made her swallow hard. They’d bought this house while still in college, ignoring every bit of advice from their parents and friends.
“You’re too young to get married.”
“Finish college and start careers before settling down.”
“Live a little before saddling yourselves with a mortgage.”
She and Skip had filled this house with dreams of a life together where anything could happen. And did.
They’d started careers while having their family, had paced floors in the wee hours through colic while still managing to make it to work on time the next morning.
They’d been T-ball coach and Brownie leader. They’d taken turns as chaperone for school field trips. They’d been homeroom mom who baked designer cupcakes en masse and homeroom dad who tended every classroom pet from mammal to reptile.
“What’s the rush? You’ve got a lifetime to settle down.”
No, they hadn’t. They’d had only a limited number of years together, certainly not the lifetime everyone had promised. Thank God they’d ignored the advice and hadn’t wasted a second. As Skip was losing his battle with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, he’d said his only regret was not getting more time with her and the beautiful family they’d made.
That was still her only regret.
So, Susanna had forged on while he missed the teenage years, the championship games, the homecomings, the proms, the graduations. Survival helped her through grief, helped her focus on what was important—keeping life familiar for the kids. She’d been playing the roles of both mom and dad, keeping life moving in the direction she and Skip had intended for their family.
Now both kids were away at college. Bedtime stories and good-night kisses were a thing from the distant past as Brooke was three states away in Virginia and Brandon five states away in South Carolina. If she could ever take this last step and get on the road, she’d only be one state away from each.
Then selling the house wasn’t a mistake, was it?
What else could Susanna do? She had an opportunity for job advancement that would get her family back on solid financial ground for the first time since Skip had died. True, there was risk, but she didn’t like the alternative any better—continuing to knock around this empty house, losing her mind from loneliness.
The kids didn’t know. She was the parent, the only one they had left. She’d reared them to be independent adults. They needed to go off and experience life, not tie themselves to home, worried about leaving their mother alone.
But was she being selfish by selling the only home they’d ever known? Once she locked this door, none of them could come back to the one place they would always have memories of Skip.
She hadn’t realized how much those memories, and the tangible evidence of his presence in their lives, had kept him alive. But as she stared into the foyer, she realized how close he’d been in spirit, as if he’d only gone on a business trip and would be awaiting them at the airport to bring him home.
Now all visible reminders were packed away, their family scattered. Brooke and Brandon lived separate lives on separate campuses in separate states. Susanna was the only one left at home with the memories. Now she’d be forced to move on, too.
Was she ready?
Being a single parent was one thing. She’d had purpose to keep the family together, to help her kids deal with their father’s death. Being a single woman with a life of her own was another thing entirely.
That was something she’d never really done. After leaving home, she’d tackled college dorm life with her best friend beside her. Then, as a young bride, she’d moved from the dorms to this house with Skip....
Susanna honestly didn’t know what came next, what she could handle. She only knew that loneliness had grown all too familiar of late and something had to change.
Another deep breath.
She had to take this next step in life as an individual or else she’d remain here, feeling left behind, pining for everything she’d once had.
Life was change. Susanna knew that, and the kids could travel on school breaks far more easily to her new home in Charlotte, North Carolina, than they could return to New York where she was now. That was the reality of the situation. She’d figure out how to move on, even if she couldn’t see beyond placing one foot in front of the other.
Memories would travel with them wherever they went.
One last glance into that shadowy interior... Susanna pulled the door shut quietly, slipped the key into the lock and turned the bolt for the last time.
* * *
JAY CANADY MOVED PAST doors in the administrative corridor, pausing only to glance into the financial office.
“Got a call from the gatehouse,” he said. “The new administrator is on her way.”
He didn’t bother waiting for a reply but kept going until just shy of the front lobby, a spot where he could view the comings and goings around the reception desk, while remaining mostly hidden from view.
Mostly was the operative word. Jay wasn’t fooling anyone around here. And certainly not the daytime receptionist. Amber routinely accused him of lurking behind potted palms to catch her tweeting on her iPhone during her shift.
He wasn’t doing anything of the sort, but as owner and property administrator of The Arbors, A-list memory-care facility and family business, he was fond of hiding. Moments when he wasn’t in popular demand were few and far between.
But hiding never worked for long. Especially with Amber. She didn’t need X-ray vision to find him on any one of the sixty acres that made up the property. She wielded that iPhone like a lightsaber, texting him whenever he wasn’t within earshot and getting miffed if he didn’t reply immediately.
Jay should institute a new policy: no cell phones on shift. Radios only. But what was the point? In the very near future, none of his policies would mean squat.
The thought made him smile. As soon as the new property administrator walked through the door, everyone around here could start reprogramming their internal GPSs to take problems to someone else for solutions.
“Got your fingers crossed?” a voice crackly with age asked.
“You betcha.” Jay raised a hand to display the good-luck gesture. He didn’t bother turning around to see the man who’d shuffled up behind. Careful steps had announced Walter’s approach long before he’d reached his destination.
Like Jay himself, Walter Higgins was a fixture
