Deciding we needed help, Eve and I strode to the office. This was normally a pretty area—the whole place was—but today nothing about it felt attractive. This section was right off the wide foyer that was decorated with lush plants and cushioned seating and framed outdoor scenes on the walls. We’d known this place was a striking retirement home, one we couldn’t have chosen any better after Mom’s arthritis made living alone too difficult for her. We’d each invited her to live with us, but always independent, she refused and chose to take residence here. The sprawling building was modern and bright, filled with activities and lots of people to have fun and converse with. Only now one person had moved in that we didn’t believe our parent was ready to marry.
A long counter blocked the entrance to the main staff members’ offices. The counter held a sign-in book with a flared-tip, white pen standing beside it in a holder. There were a couple of pamphlets describing the place, a clear vase holding colorful wildflowers with sprigs of bridal wreath, and a stack of papers with the meal plan for the week.
We didn’t come to this area much, since we seldom signed in anymore, and visitors were supposed to do that each time they arrived. Now I penned my name and my twin’s. Placards above shut doors on the far wall to the rear told that those offices belonged to the administrator, assistant administrator, and nurse. It was possible to reach their offices by lifting a flap of wood at the end of the counter, but they preferred that people didn’t.
I looked at my sister and then called out, “Hel-lo. Can anybody help us?”
As I’d hoped, the administrator’s door opened, and she came out.
“Oh, nobody’s up here?” Terri Hebert, a petite woman a decade younger than we were, wore a long skirt as usual. “She must have just stepped out. May I help you?”
“Yes,” Eve said, her voice strained. “Something’s wrong with our mother.”
I nodded. “That’s right.”
Slim creases between Terri’s eyebrows erased as her eyes widened. “Do you want me to call the nurse?” She twisted toward that office door.
“No,” I said. “It’s with her mind. It’s that new guy. She thinks she’s crazy about him.”
Eve spread her hands. “Can you believe she even believes she’s going to marry him?”
Terri’s upper body appeared to sway back a pinch. “I heard a rumor about that.” Her reaction suggested she was in total agreement with us against that event taking place.
“What do we do?” I said.
“Have you tried to reason with her?”
Eve shifted closer. “Of course.”
“What’s wrong with that man?” I asked, my voice growing shriller until Eve motioned with her hand that I should speak softer. “Maybe they could flirt a little like it seems they had been doing. But marriage. Why would he want to marry our mother?” The whole concept made me shiver. “He seemed all right when we met him, but that was briefly, and darn—marriage? What’s he really like? Tell us about his background.”
She leaned forward, her face remaining tight with concern since we began bemoaning Mom’s plight, but now she shook her head. “You two know that all of the information we receive about our residents is private.”
That privacy clause had made us feel secure when we helped Mom move in. But now it became an impediment, a wall to keep us from protecting our mother.
Terri greeted a young woman in casual attire who walked up to the counter beside Eve. Normally we would greet people, too, even those we didn’t know—a custom most of us shared in south Louisiana—but at this moment, other things gripped our minds. The woman lifted the long pen from its holder, signed her name and the date and time and who she was coming to visit, and then moved on.
Voice and footsteps came from a distance behind us. I leaned closer to Terri, keeping my voice low. “But something’s happened to Mom. He’s done something to her.” She lifted her eyebrows, and I added, “You know our mother has always been an enjoyable person.”
“But he’s made her belligerent,” Eve said.
The administrator stood straighter, her eyes appearing to look into the distance but see nothing. She was trying to sort all we said to her, I imagined. Behind us, sounds picked up, or maybe they had been there all along. Footsteps traveled across the vinyl floor. Light padding sounds came from rubber soles of the nurse and other staffers hurrying along to help residents who needed assistance. The click of a walking cane striking the floor told me the person using it was a man, a large one. I glanced to see if its user was the person my mother supposedly would marry, relief filling me when I saw it wasn’t. If I saw the man my mother seemed so interested in, I had no idea what I would do, but giving him the inquisition seemed most likely. My twin would probably do the same. Perhaps it was good that we didn’t find him. The enticing aroma of chicken and sausage gumbo touched the air and the back of my throat.
“I need to get to work,” the administrator said. “I’m not promising anything, but I’ll find out what I can.”
We thanked her. With Mom nowhere in sight, we left the building.
Eve stopped right outside. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“I feel the same way. Has a man Mom hardly knows taken control of her mind? Who is he? Who has she become?”
“What can we do to stop him?”
We stood behind my truck, a sultry wind pushing against us, making our wavy hair twist like bright red flags. This retirement home normally brought peace to us and most others we’d heard from who came here. But now I felt like our mother had stepped into the largest anthill filled with thousands of stinging red ants, and we needed to rush her away.
“Let’s go see the person who told us about the whole thing.” I flung myself onto the driver’s seat, and Eve slipped into the other side.
With our small town, it didn’t take long to get anywhere. We crossed the algae-scented bayou that was green today, passed a couple of sugar cane fields with thin white egrets foraging along them and a decaying plantation home, and reached the two-story house we had been remodeling. The traditional style sported fluted columns in front and old-Chicago brick and was lovely. Edward Cancienne had hired us to make quite a few changes before he was going to move in. Many of the dramatic homes here in the bayou country of south Louisiana were large, plantation-style with sprawling lawns teeming with massive moss-laden oaks—a comfortable feel most of their homeowners wanted to keep.
Not so with Edward, a single attorney in his mid-thirties. He wanted his place more contemporary. Eve and I made suggestions but mainly used his ideas to update the place we had been working on for months. We seldom saw or heard from him. He left messages on our Twin Sisters Remodeling and Repair number or on occasion, a note stuck to the fridge.
We were in luck and found his luxury car in his driveway. But another nice car also sat out there.
“Let’s hope the other person leaves soon,” Eve said, and I agreed.
After I parked, we stepped to the front door and rang the bell instead of getting the key from under the second potted asparagus fern to the right of the doormat, where we and all the subs normally retrieved it.
The voices of two males lifted once the chimes inside rang. Eve and I gave each other questioning looks, since the men seemed to be shouting at each other. Stomping feet neared. A middle-aged man with a dark beard and hard stare faced us. “Yes?”
My