in Jay’s personal life.
Not that the entire staff couldn’t him call 24/7. They could and did. Often. But Walter’s calls weren’t always work related. Not only had he been managing The Arbors’ finances since before Jay had been born, but Walter had become an honorary grandfather since Jay’s real granddad had passed away.
That connection had been cemented when Jay’s late grandmother, after grieving the loss of her forty-year marriage, had gotten involved with Walter. Jay had never asked—never would, either—but he suspected Walter had loved Gran all along and stayed single until he got his chance to woo her into an honest relationship.
Jay would certainly miss Walter. But selling The Arbors didn’t mean giving up the people in his life. He had some work to do proving that to Walter, though.
The electronic hiss of sliding doors dragged Jay’s attention to the main lobby. His breath tightened in his chest as a dark-haired woman in a business suit strolled through with brisk steps.
“I thought you said they were sending a middle-aged widow with grown kids,” Walter grumbled.
“Widow with college kids.” The distinction obviously made a difference. “Northstar provided a bio. If memory serves—and it still does, which is always a good thing—the new administrator is around forty. Not middle-aged.”
Not for Jay, who was pulling up the rear at thirty-two, or for Walter, who was pushing eighty-six. “I’m not even sure that’s her. There wasn’t a photo.”
“She could be my granddaughter, Jay. My great-granddaughter.”
“How’s that? You never had any kids.”
Walter grunted, narrowing his gaze at the reception desk. The woman currently greeting Amber wasn’t Jay’s idea of what a widow with college kids would look like, either. The suit emphasized her curves. She wasn’t tall, but not short, either. Just really curvy.
Withdrawing a business card from her jacket, she handed it to Amber, who leaped from the chair on immediate hyperalert. Reaching across the desk, she extended a hand in welcome.
Walter scowled harder.
Judging by Amber’s actions, this woman was the new administrator, whether she was what Jay expected or not. The woman flashed an easy smile that animated a heart-shaped face framed by a tumble of dark hair.
She was a very beautiful woman, which really shouldn’t be the first thing Jay noticed. Not if he planned to retire from the memory-care business with some peace of mind.
Competent. Experienced. Professional. Compassionate. Those were the things he should be looking for.
He’d noticed one of four.
Dressing professionally was a start, he supposed. And what did competence, experience or compassion look like, anyway? Jay shook off the thought. Worry was getting the best of him, but he wouldn’t admit that to Walter, who sought any reason to launch into The-Arbors-is-your-responsibility lecture again.
Jay had heard the arguments and the lectures. More than once, thank you.
“Okay. She’s professional,” he said. “Attractive. Stylish. A bit younger than I expected—”
“A bit?”
“Haven’t had access to her personnel file,” Jay reminded. “Technically she works for Northstar Management.”
“Which is why I can’t figure out why I’m adding her to our payroll. She doesn’t come cheap, Jay. You’ll be eating a fair sum if this deal falls through.”
The deal wouldn’t fall through. “We’ve got to assume some risk. It’s only fair. Northstar would acquire this property tomorrow if it wasn’t for me insisting on a transition period.”
As much as Jay wanted out of here—and he did in a big way—he couldn’t leave without witnessing Northstar’s procedural changes and being reassured they would uphold The Arbors’ standard of care. This new administrator had six months to actualize Northstar’s promise to provide growth potential while maintaining the excellence of service established by Jay, and generations of his family before him.
That was the best he could do. He was leaving, although Walter still hadn’t given up hope he might yet dissuade Jay. But the decision was made. He’d worked hard to put together a plan to insure the future for The Arbors, the staff and residents.
Walter could grouse all he wanted—the only thing left to do was get through the transition. Jay almost felt bad for the new administrator. Walter wouldn’t be a pushover. He’d compare her to Gran, whose shoes were awfully big to fill, as he was so fond of saying. So big that not even Jay had filled them.
But Walter only wanted what was best for The Arbors. That much Jay knew. The rest of the staff, too. They were all competent and experienced professionals. Well versed in what it meant to be an employee at The Arbors.
The Compassion to Care.
That catchphrase had been around since the very beginning, when Gran had started the place to care for her mother during an era when not much had been known about Alzheimer’s disease.
Gran had wanted to provide some quality of life, so she’d transformed a wing of the house on Granddad’s farm into an ALF, an assisted-living facility. This was long before Jay’s time, but he knew she’d added one bed at a time so her mother would have pleasant companions to fill her days.
Gran had learned all she could about Alzheimer’s care and kept up with the research. Her tiny ALF had grown from one bed in the main house to one hundred and twenty beds in a new three-story facility with a nursing center on the ground floor. The Arbors had become an A-list memory-care community with a long waiting list for admission.
Would this around-forty widow with college kids have the compassion and ability to carry on Gran’s legacy? Northstar Management had promised to send the perfect person to replace him so he could get on with living his life. Finally.
He’d given so much to this place that, if he didn’t get out soon, there would be nothing left of him. This place was sucking him dry.
“And you really won’t close the deal if you’re unhappy with—what’s her name again?” Walter asked.
“Ms. Adams. Ms. Susanna Adams.”
“If you’re unhappy with Ms. Susanna Adams?” Everything about Walter, from the creased white eyebrows to the hard stare in his eyes, which still read between the lines, broadcast his doubt.
“Really, Walter? You’re questioning my integrity?”
He shook his head. “Just your ability to see clearly.”
The same could be said about Walter and his stubborn refusal to even consider a future with Northstar. He’d seized any chance to talk some sense into Jay, had been rallying the troops to his side at every opportunity.
Fortunately, the troops knew who signed the paychecks and didn’t have Walter’s personal family ties to risk the potential consequences of a mutiny. Jay had shocked them all with his decision to sell. Now he was a wild card, and no one was sure how hard they could push him. Jay knew that as well as he knew
