Page 47 of You Fall First

But a part of me is a little squeamish about being in the spotlight.

It’s not like I run around all day looking for photo ops. My job isn’t to be attractive in a memory care community. Maureen, however, wants me to attract.

That’s her goal.

Personally, I want our residents and their families to be impressed by the programming our community offers. The premium healthcare, the focus on whole-body wellness, the opportunity for socialization.

We’re doing our best to help everyone thrive, both our residents and their entire support systems.

Inga and her camera crew seem more motivated by the fit of my suit and the snugness of my scrubs. And their interviews continually circle back to the suggestion that anyone who comes to tour Havenwood will get to meet me.

As Inga’s scribe furiously records answers from both Maureen and me, I fight twinges of guilt.

“I’m afraid whatever marketing you’re going to create might be misleading,” I tell Inga as her team takes footage of me in the gym.

I’d planned to highlight our state-of-the-art machines and weights, but they want me to demonstrate their use.

“Can I be frank, Noah?” Inga presses a smile onto her face. “Future residents aren’t the ones we’re worried about reaching. In large part, their family members make these decisions, so we want to attract people half the age of the ones who actually need memory care.” She tips her chin. “Am I making sense?”

Oh, she’s making sense, all right.

I’m just not sure this is the right angle to take.

I glance at Maureen, who’s across the room watching. “You’re on board with this?”

Maureen shifts her weight. “Inga’s the marketing expert. And I’m the recruiting director.”

“Got it.” I nod. “Good. Okay, then.”

Whether I like this approach or not, I won’t stand here judging a group of professionals doing their job. What do I know about promotion?

Nada.

“Your cooperation has been most appreciated,” Inga murmurs. “For our purposes, you’ve been quite … extraordinary.” If I’m not mistaken, she directs that compliment directly at my chest. But she’s a lot shorter than I am, so maybe that’s why.

“Noah had requested the day off,” Maureen tells Inga. “But when you and your team asked to shoot today, he came right in.”

“We love to hear it,” Inga says. “And you won’t be disappointed.”

Maureen shifts her focus over to me. “Inga and her team really are the best in the business, and we only work with the best here at Havenwood. Isn’t that right, Noah?”

“Yes. Of course. The best.” I check my fitness watch for the time.

Almost five o’clock.

“Before you escape,” Inga says, “I’d love to get some final shots of you crossing the lobby and entering the parking lot in your scrubs. We’ll be recreating a typical end of your day after a job well done. We want those who come across our ad campaigns to imagine you leaving here and perhaps … coming home to them.”

“Sure.” My jaw tenses. “I guess we could do that.”

“Wonderful,” Maureen says. “And then he would be free to go?”

“Certainly.” Inga keeps her eyes locked on mine. “If that’s what Noah wants.”

What I want is to get back to Dutton and Jo. Mostly to Dutton.

But also, a little bit Jo.

A half hour later, I call her from the road, Bluetooth in, mind working to erase the time I was away. She’d sent me a couple of texts throughout the afternoon, to report in and let me know Dutton was all right. She added a few selfies of them, too. But she also specifically told me not to respond since she knew I was busy.