NOAH
Same. I’ll get back to you ASAP.
From:kdbookonline.com
Re:Memory Care Placement for Harlan Cane
Dear Ms. Parker,
Noah Stadler told me he just spoke to you regarding my father, Harlan Cane. I apologize if my inquiries (or his on my behalf) feel pushy, but I’m in somewhat of a rush.
Here’s a little background for you.
Until his retirement, my dad worked for the Mountain Valley school district, first as a social studies teacher and later as assistant principal and then principal at Vista Middle School. I’m sharing this information because I hope my dad’s long-standing service to the community will help me in my goal of securing a space for him there at Havenwood, sooner rather than later.
You see, we lost my mother a few years ago. She worked at Vista, too, as a guidance counselor. And since her passing, my dad’s decline from FTD has progressed more rapidly. A part of me feels like he was holding on for her, although that diagnosis is hardly scientific. Just the gut feeling of a daughter who wants the best for her father.
I apologize if this is oversharing, but Noah says you’re the kind of person who understands circumstances like these. If you could please let me know whether you’d have any openings for my father, I’d be beyond grateful. Noah said a private villa would be more likely, as there is less of a waitlist.
Although my family is prepared to take on the expense, I realize that access to this level of care isn’t available to everyone, and I don’t take that fact lightly. To that end, I’d like to talk to somebody at some point (maybe you?) about potentially supporting other residents who may not have the same means. Like a scholarship situation?
I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but I may be in a position to offer extra funding and donations to Havenwood in the future. Either way, I look forward to hearing from you at your earliest convenience.
Best,
Loren E. Cane
Chapter Twelve
Loren
“Wow! I didn’t think you’d be so crowded tonight,” I call out.
Maybe not loud enough.
But after a beat, Maddie, the head bartender at Tequila Mockingbird, stops wiping the glossy countertop and glances up at me. Her hair is a riot of rust-colored curls, and the diamond in her nose sparkles under the pendant lights. “We’re always crowded,” she says with a grin. “You’re just never here.”
“Fair.” I wrinkle my nose. “I don’t get out much.”
My eyes sweep the room, surveying the throngs of people whodoget out. The ones who come to catch sports on the various flat screens stand nearest to the bar. Beyond them are the minglers, people chatting and laughing in noisy circles. The rest of the crowd mills around, blocking my view of the back corner.
Maddie nods toward a stage across the room, where some poor woman is giving “My Heart Will Go On” her very besteffort. “When we instituted Karaoke Night, we had no idea there were so many wanna-be American Idols in Harvest Hollow.”
“Nice.”
She grimaces.
“Not nice?”
“Let’s just say there are very few Celine Dions in this town. You’ll need earplugs if Gary puts you on the schedule for Mondays. Your application is up next in my stack for review. But I can pretty much tell you now, you’ll get the job.”
“About that,” I say, my voice strained above the screeching. “I need to rescind.”
“Really?” Maddie’s eyebrows lift. “I told Gary you seemed … eager. I even put in a good word for you as a friend of Dex’s.”
“Eager’s a kind word for what I was.” I wince. “But it looks like I won’t be needing a second job after all. I’m sorry.”