ripping papers away from the staple, not caring if the paper ripped at the corner. He caught snatches of the legalese and still couldn’t believe what he was reading. The words brutality and physical violence locked on his eyeballs. No way was he going to read this piece of crap again.
Gus scribbled a note on the cover sheet before he shoved the papers into the fax machine and punched in the numbers that would send them flying to Jill Jackson. He dusted his hands dramatically and left the room. His work here was done.
The Sea Crest Adult Living facility was nestled behind a colorful hedge of glossy greenery. Gus parked Barney’s Jeep Commander and got out to walk up a flagstone path that would take him to the reception area. A pleasant-looking woman greeted him cheerfully when he said he wanted to visit with Elroy Hitchens.
“Elroy is on the deck. He likes to sit out there and read before dinner. Go down the hall, and the second set of doors on the right will lead you to the deck.”
Gus thanked her, followed the instructions, and found Elroy Hitchens without any problem because he was the only one on the deck. He was reading a copy of Moby Dick. Gus introduced himself and sat down. “Fred sent me.”
Elroy Hitchens peered at Gus over the top of his glasses. “Why?” He marked the page he was reading by turning down its corner.
Gus told him.
“How do I know you aren’t some kind of slick con artist who preys on old people in assisted-living facilities? All that you just said, it sounds too good to be true. When something sounds too good to be true, most likely it isn’t true. You following me here, young fella? How’d that all happen?”
Gus told him everything, even his part in what had been going on. He didn’t hold anything back.
“You should never turn your back on your family, young fella. In the end, that’s all that’s left to us. I should know. So now you think you can step up to the plate and make all that sadness and sorrow go away. Is that what you’re telling me?”
“I guess I am.” Gus had the good grace to look ashamed.
“Well, women are more forgiving than men, so I can see that maybe happening in your case. Before I give you my answer, I need to call Fred. Why don’t you go into the dayroom and fetch us some coffee while I make my call.”
“Okay. How do you like your coffee?”
“Black, how else?”
That wasn’t so hard, Gus thought as he made his way to a huge coffee urn sitting on a table in the corner of the dayroom. It was a cozy room, with wraparound windows on two sides. A giant seventy-six-inch television was mounted on the wall. The chairs and sofas were colorful and looked comfortable. The carpet was a neutral color and flat, for easy wheelchair mobility, he assumed. He looked around. Two men were playing checkers. Two ladies were watching Oprah reruns, and a fat, lazy-looking cat was sitting on the lap of a woman who sat in a wheelchair. She was stroking the cat, her eyes blank. Gus looked away.
Back on the deck, Gus handed over the coffee. He waited.
“Okay, young fella, Fred backed up everything you said and added a bit more. I made a call to another old friend, who is over in Sunrise, who said he knew a few others. It’s in the pipeline as we speak. By the time I finish this coffee, I think you’ll have enough commitments to make everyone happy. Now, how are you going to get us all out to Blossom Farm? You’re going to need a bus, young fella. And we’ll be ready to go by ten tomorrow morning, I guarantee it. Give me your phone number, and I’ll be calling you sometime this evening. We have things we need to get in order. There is one hitch. We all want a contract; otherwise, we ain’t buying no pig in a poke.”
Contracts. He hadn’t thought of that. “I don’t see a problem with that. I’ll bring them with me tomorrow if it’s a go. What about your families, your bills here?”
“I’m no problem. I don’t have any family. I signed myself in here so I can sign myself out. I can do my banking online here. I’ll take care of that this evening. As for the others, when it comes to family, while they might be