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Chapter Forty-seven
Julia Fisher leans forward inthe straight-backed, but surprisingly comfortable, wooden chair and crosses her hands in her lap. She glances at the plaque on the far wall—You are not a guest in our facility; we are guests in your home—and then at the pleasant-faced middle-aged woman on the other side of the large paper-strewn desk. The woman had said much the same thing to her the last time she was here. “It was very nice of you to agree to see me again on such short notice,” Julia says, “especially after I was so rude the last time we met.”
“I don’t remember you being rude,” Carole Reid says, and seems to mean it.
“She was definitely rude,” Norman interjects from the chair beside his mother.
Julia smiles. “My son is right. I was angry at being blindsided, and I took it out on you.”
Carole shrugs. “Don’t give it another thought. Your son tells me you’ve reconsidered.”
“Let’s just say I’m…reconsidering,” Julia corrects.
“I thought we decided,” Norman says.
“We decided to reconsider.”
“Well, what can I do to help you make up your mind?” Carole asks. “Would you like another tour of the premises?”
“No,” Julia says. “That won’t be necessary. As I recall, everything was first-rate.”
“Well, then, do you have any questions?”
“I can come and go as I please?” Julia asks.
“Absolutely. You’re not a prisoner.”
“I’m allowed as many visitors as I want?”
“Of course.” Carole smiles. “We would ask that you refrain from any wild parties….”
“Yes, well, that could be a sticking point,” Julia says, accompanied by a smile of her own. “What if I don’t like it here?”
“I can’t imagine that being the case.”
“But if it is?”
“Then you’re free to leave. Although, of course, you would be responsible for the remaining months on your contract.”
“Of course.”
“Anything else?”
“Is the apartment furnished?”
“No. You can either choose to bring in your own furniture, or we can put you in touch with the company we used for our model suite. Would you like to have another look at it?”
“Yes, I think I would.”
Carole Reid pushes off her chair and comes around to the front of her desk. She’s casually dressed in black slacks and a loose-fitting turquoise blouse that accentuates the green in her eyes. “After you.” She motions toward the open door of her office. “Your lovely wife couldn’t join us today?” she asks Norman as they proceed through the spacious lobby.
“No old people smell,”Julia hears Poppy say.
“I came right from work.”
“I didn’t give him a lot of notice,” Julia says. In fact, her exact words to her son this morning had been, “If you still want me to move to Manor Born, you’d better get your ass over here as quickly as possible.”
“What’s Mark done this time?” came Norman’s immediate response.
