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“Uh, I’m fine,” I said, hating that tight feeling in my chest. “Just fine.”
In my mind, I was calculating how much money I had in my checking account. I knew that January’s payment was coming up fast, and I’d already had more than one conversation with Cindy about making late payments.
“Do you have a moment to talk?” she asked, her gaze traveling from my grandmother, who’d returned to watching her show, to me.
Like I could say no?
“Grandma, I’ll be right back.”
She just nodded without looking my way.
I followed Cindy out of the room and down the hall, where she led me into her office. As she shut the door behind me, I felt an overwhelming sense of panic.
“Have a seat,” she said, gesturing to the chair in front of her desk.
The room was dark, with closed blinds covering the window, and just a little warm, making me start to sweat. Or maybe that was nerves, because Cindy had a serious look on her face that made me sure this wasn’t going to go well at all. I sat, crossing my legs and folding my hands in my lap. I had to make a conscious effort not to fidget.
“I want to talk to you about the payments for your mother’s care,” she started, pausing to take a breath.
I immediately jumped in. “I’m all caught up now,” I said, which was the truth. “I made December’s payment two weeks ago.”
“I know, Sophie,” she said kindly, but firmly. “But it was due on the first.”
I deflated, feeling my heartbeat in my temples as my stress level increased. I made decent money working for Connor, but it wasn’t shaping up to be enough to fully support myselfandcover the cost of this place. But this was one of the best nursing homes in the city, and I couldn’t stand the thought of taking her somewhere with a lower quality of care, even if it would cost less.
“I’m sorry about the late payments. I know that—”
“Listen,” she interrupted, and the pity in her eyes made me feel like walking out of the room. Ihatedto be pitied. “I’ve been as lenient as I can, but the administration isn’t going to let this slide anymore. We love your grandmother and want her to stay, but if January’s payment is late, I’m afraid that she’ll have to leave.”
I stared at her incredulously. “Seriously?”
She was telling me this on December 20th? It wasn’t a lot of notice, but I couldn’t exactly blame her.
No, the blame for this fell on me.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and I got the feeling that she meant it. “My hands are tied.”
I gulped, trying not to allow myself to tear up. Some Christmas this was turning out to be. I would get a paycheck next week, but it would take the whole thing to make a payment here. That left nothing to live off of until I got paid again mid-month.
“Okay,” I said, my voice faint. “Thanks for being honest with me.”
Leaving the office, I went back to my grandma’s room. She was walking out of the bathroom as I returned, and her face broke out in a smile at the sight of me.
“Sophie, there you are. I wanted to talk to you about my hair.”
My small smile felt brittle. Despite all the worry about money and the fact that she was talking about her hair again, my spirits were lifted by the fact that she called me by my name this time. I would take my small victories where I could get them.
“Sure, grandma,” I said, moving closer and helping her to settle back into her chair. “Tell me all about it.”
I listened to her concerns about her supposedly unruly hair and decided that I would find a way to make this work, no matter what I had to do. Maybe I could ask for a raise, or even work a second job.
Whatever it took to take care of the woman that always took care of me.
* * *
“Okay, I’ve made the arrangements for the retreat,” I said, walking into Connor’s office on Monday afternoon with the contract in hand. I had spent all morning playing phone tag with the manager of the lodge, who was extremely busy because they were in the process of closing the place down for the holiday, set to reopen after the new year.
Connor quickly turned away from his computer, and I barely got a glance of what looked like a resume on the screen before he put the screensaver on the monitor.
