Snow Blind - Lori G. Armstrong [4]
“As you can see, everything—the shower, the toilet, and the sink—are all handicapped accessible. Does your aunt have special needs?” Dee asked politely.
“No. She isn’t as spry as she used to be. She relies pretty heavily on a cane. She’s still too proud to admit she could use a walker.”
“Understandable. But I do feel the need to warn you that we are a large facility, and fairly spread out, so she might need that walker.”
“Thank you. We will need to take that into consideration before we make a decision.”
“Any other questions about these units?”
Kevin shook his head. “We’d like to see the common rooms, if that’s possible.”
“I’ll be happy to show you any place you like.”
I bolted from the claustrophobic unit and started down the hallway at a good clip.
10
Kevin snagged my arm. “What is your problem?”
“The same one I had when we walked in,” I
hissed. “What the hell are we doing here? I don’t want a fucking three-hour tour, Skipper. And if the empty hallways are any indication, chances are pretty high the Geritol set is napping and no one will talk to us anyway. This is pointless. Can we go now?”
“No. Amery paid the retainer up front, and near as I can figure, we still owe her two hours, so buck up, sis.”
“I fucking hate you right now, bro.”
Footsteps halted behind us and we spun in tandem toward Dee.
“Is there a problem?”
Kevin said, “No,” the same time I said, “Yes.”
Dee kept a polite mask as she waited for us to clarify.
“Could you point me to the nearest bathroom?”
“Certainly. Return to the main reception area and it’s down the short corridor to your left. Can’t miss it.”
“Thanks.”
“Would you like us to wait for you?”
“Not necessary. You two go on. I’ll catch up.”
Kevin glared at me; I resisted the urge to flip him off before I meandered away.
Might’ve been petty, but I took my own sweet time reaching the bathroom. I checked my makeup and my cell phone messages. When I couldn’t justify hiding out in the crapper any longer, I sauntered to the receptionist’s desk.
11
One plus-sized woman a decade older than me sat behind a gigantic monitor. Since she’d left the sliding glass partition open, she didn’t bother to get up and acknowledge me; rather, she said loudly, “Something I can help you with?”
“My brother and I are taking a tour with Dee, and I wondered if you had a map of the facility?”
“They should be on the counter.” She squinted and sighed. “Hang on. I see the clipboard. Looks like Dee moved them to her desk again.” She rolled her chair back.
“No, I don’t want to be a bother. I think I can reach it if you don’t mind me hanging over the ledge.”
“Go for it.” She disappeared behind the monitor and I heard pecking noises from her keyboard again. As I leaned across the counter, I noticed two manila folders on Dee’s desk right beside the clipboard. One marked PTF Schedules; the other marked Monthly Activity Sign-up Sheets.
I shot a quick glance at the office worker. She wasn’t paying attention to me. Tsk-tsk. I lifted the edge of the clipboard with my left hand, slid the folders underneath it with my right, and scooped up the whole pile.
A tiny shot of adrenaline worked free. Now this was the part I liked: snooping. Standing at the counter opening the files wasn’t an option, so I moved to the seating area, keeping my back to the desk.
I flipped open the cover on the Activity file. My gaze 12
zeroed in on the volunteers’ names. Five total. Millie Stephens. Bunny Jones. Margie Lessle. Dottie Rich. Luella Spotted Tail. Millie was listed as the bus driver/
volunteer for the trip to the Rushmore Mall with Margie assisting. Bunny was conducting a memoir writing class in the common room with Dottie assisting.
More of the same. Busy. Busy.
Were these women on crack? Or just bored out of their freakin’ minds?
Odd. Nothing listed for Luella Spotted Tail on the activity list.
I turned the map to the