When I suggested that Diem contact distant relatives—aunts, uncles, cousins—to see if they would like to attend, he told me there were none. None he wanted to associate with, I suspected. When I asked if we should invite his mother and father, he spewed an alphabet soup of colorful curses before informing me that if I did that, I had better hire security.
Diem’s family put the D in dysfunctional. His father made my father look practically saintly, and my birth father was a homophobic jackass.
So yeah, the guest list was limited.
“We’re having the event catered, and a friend of Hazel’s is making carrot cake. Will I be able to come in ahead of time to decorate the room?”
“Absolutely. We have a dated stereo system I can roll out if you’d like. It’s crackly and only plays CDs or cassette tapes. The folks in here like it when it’s set to the a.m. radio station mostly. No Bluetooth hookup, but if you wanted music, it’s available.”
“Thanks. I don’t expect it to be a hoedown, but it’s something. I’ll mention it to Diem and see what he wants to do. Do you have CDs or cassettes to go with it? I’m not sure what elderly people listen to, but I suspect it won’t be whatever we have on hand.”
Aaron smirked. “Not unless you have a secret stash of golden oldies CDs, and by that, I mean tunes from the forties and fifties. We have a collection you can borrow. They aren’t in great shape. A lot of them are scratched, but it might help.”
“I’ll see what I can come up with, too.”
Maybe Kitty had something we could borrow. Diem owned a handful of CDs, but grunge and heavy metal weren’t likely to go over well with this crowd.
“How about a projector? I have ambitious plans to put together a slideshow. It means gathering old pictures, so it might not happen, but I’m going to give it the old college try. Maybe this time I won’t flunk out.”
Aaron grinned. “That we have. You might check the boxes in Hazel’s closet. Oftentimes, when our residents move in, they bringold albums. Sadly, whatever isn’t framed and displayed usually grows mold in a box until they… aren’t here anymore. Sorry.”
“It’s fine. None of us is getting out of this alive, right? We can only hope to get ninety-three years like Hazel.”
A muffled ringing cut the conversation short, and Aaron withdrew a phone from his pocket, checking the screen. He hesitated, looked like he wanted to dismiss it, but changed his mind. “I should take this. Have a look around. I’ll be right back.”
He aimed for the double doors as he pressed the phone to his ear. “Hey, Babe. I’m at work…”
Babe?I huffed, wondering ifBabeknew how flirty Aaron could be.
Alone, I glanced around, picturing the setup for the party. The blank wall on the far side would work well for the projection—if I could find the materials for a slideshow. I wondered if anyone would object to wheeling the piano down the hall. I could hire a high school kid to play, maybe find a music book with classic, recognizable pieces. People could dance. Hazel might like that.
The women crafting cackled again, their joyous banter filling the room. The gamers had shifted from backgammon to Battleship, but I wasn’t sure they understood how to play. The gentleman at the laptop rubbed his hands together, still radiating excitement, his gaze pinned to the screen.
Before meeting my cunning coworker, Kitty Lavender, and witnessing her far superior computer skills—despite her advanced age—I would have thought the elderly and technology didn’t mesh. She’d proven me wrong.
Curious what had Mr. Cardigan so enraptured, I wandered to the lone man at the long table, circling it to see what he was up to. He’d selected a seat close to the wall. I suspected it was to be within range ofan outlet. The laptop was clunky and dated. Its battery was probably past its prime, much like the user.
“Mind if I join you?” I asked.
The gentleman was so involved in what he was doing that he didn’t seem to notice my approach.
I raised my voice. Although I didn’t see hearing aids, many of the residents were hard of hearing. “Mind if I join you?”
Seeming perturbed, the man dragged his attention from whatever he was doing and shoved his wire-framed glasses up his nose with his index finger. “I can hear you fine. No need to yell.” After evaluating me thoroughly, his brow dipped. “Who are you? I don’t know you.”
“I’m Tallus. A friend of Hazel’s grandson. Do you know Hazel?”
“Good grief. I’m not senile. The gears are grinding, same as they always have. Got all my teeth still, too. Hazel Krause. Ninety-three at the end of the month. Was married to Boone Krause in forty-six. He’s not around anymore. Died a decade or so ago. One son. Leroy Krause. He comes in from time to time. One grandson. Diem Krause. He’s in weekly. Has a dog. He’s queer. You say you’re the grandson’s friend? You queer too?”
I grinned. “As a matter of fact, I am.”
He seemed to absorb the answer for a moment before nodding. “All right. So yeah, I know Hazel. Her gears don’t spin so fast anymore, but she’s a fine gal.” He extended his hand. “Name’s Elwood. Nice to meet you, Tallus.”
I shook, surprised at the strength behind his grip. “Nice to meet you, too.”
“What brings you to Evergreen?” Elwood’s attention returned to the computer.
“Diem and I are planning Hazel’s ninety-third birthday party. You’re welcome to join us when the day comes. Everyone’s invited.”