At least in this wing the outer doors weren't kept locked during the day, as they were in Nursing. That had given her the willies. Bonnie had really climbed the fire marshal about that, but he said they had Alzheimer's patients over there and had to keep the doors locked. He swore that every person on duty carried door keys at all times in case of fire or earthquake.
But locked doors or not, there was really no reason why the Nursing unit should be so strict about visitors. What did Adelina Prior think, that someone was going to pull out a sick patient's IV or feed him poison? No wonder little Mae Rose got upset and let her imagination run wild.
Casa Capri was one of those complexes known as three-stage living. Residents could progress from retirement living in a private cottage, to assisted living here in the Care Unit, with twenty-four-hour service available, then on to Nursing, where you retired to your bed for good.
That was fine for some people, though in her view such careful planning for every remaining moment of your life was like living in a cage.
Many of the cottage residents still drove their own cars and jogged and traveled, but wanted the extra security and services such a place offered. They didn't have to cook, didn't have to worry about housecleaning or maintenance. Old Frederick Weems lived over in Cottages, while his wife Eula lived here in the Care Unit. And who could blame him, with Eula's nagging? If they had the money, more power to him.
But maybe she was unfair in her assessment of Casa Capri. The car accident had allowed her no time to work up a mind-set that would help her adapt to these rigid group rules. She was never much for rules; during her years working in retail sales she constantly had to rein in her passions and her temper.
Now she no longer cared if people thought her abrasive-she'd be rude when she chose. That included, to Bonnie's distress, being rude to Adelina Prior.
If she didn't dislike Adelina so deeply, she'd get friendly and try to figure out what made the woman tick. Why would a woman as beautiful, as expensively groomed and elegantly dressed, want to spend her life running a nursing home?
But though the puzzle nagged at her, she didn't have the patience to fake friendliness with Adelina. It was all she could do to deal with the pain; that alone, when it was at its worst, could turn her as short-tempered as a caged tiger. She dreamed of being free of pain and home again in her new apartment, she dreamed of wandering the village, with Lamb walking at heel.
She loved the fact that in Molena Point people shopped with their dogs. Anywhere in the village you might see a patient, obedient dog tied outside a shop in the shadow of an oak tree while his master or mistress did errands. It was such a casual, lovely little town. She burned to know Molena Point better, to discover more of the hidden galleries and boutiques which were tucked away in the alleys, to browse the bookstores and enjoy the many small restaurants. These were her retirement years. What was she doing in a wheelchair? She had been so glad to move away from the heart of San Francisco, from its growing street crime, to a village devoid of that kind of violence. Molena Point was a walking village, a safe and friendly place where one felt nothing bad could happen.
It was their first night out for dinner after the accident, the first night she was able to lift herself from the wheelchair into Bonnie's car, that Bonnie told her about the Pet-a-Pet idea. Sitting in the Windborne at a window table, looking down at the sea breaking on the rocks below, Bonnie said, "You need a friend in that place. You need Lamb."
"I wish. Bring him on over, we can share a room."
But Bonnie laid out her plan with childlike enthusiasm; she had worked out all the details, even to convincing Adelina Prior of the positive public relations and advertising value of such a venture. The owner-manager of Casa Capri was not an animal lover, not that cold-eyed woman. Bonnie promised Adelina she would get articles about Casa Capri's exciting Pet-a-Pet venture in several specialty magazines; she had some connections among the clients of the law firm she worked for that would help. No special favors, just casual networking. There was, at the time, a Pet-a-Pet group based in San Francisco, and a branch in Santa Barbara, making regular visits with their well-mannered animals to local nursing homes, and the local newspapers had done great human-interest articles with lots of pictures.
Bonnie said, "Halman and Fletcher is getting me an assistant, and I'll be working Saturdays for a while with John Halman on this land-swindle case. That frees me up two afternoons a week, to bring the Pet-a-Pet group out to Casa Capri. I've already contacted the San Francisco chapter, and they're sending instructions about testing the animals for sweet dispositions and gentleness. They suggested five Molena Point pet owners they thought might like to join us, and one is the reference librarian you met, Wilma Getz."
The waiter brought their salad and filled their wineglasses; beyond the windows the sea had darkened.
"Lamb misses you, Mama. I swear he's pining, he's so sulky. And you miss him; so what could be more perfect?" She broke her French bread, looking out at the heaving sea, its swells running swift beneath the restaurant's lights. "I have the plan all in place. Three hours each visit, two afternoons a week. One owner-handler for each pet.
"A reporter has already interviewed us. Of course, Adelina was there." Bonnie grinned. "Guess who took all the credit. The Gazette is sending a photographer later, when we get settled in. I don't want the animals bothered until they're used to the routine."
Though Adelina Prior had been prominent during the newspaper interview, she had not been in evidence during the first two Pet-a-Pet sessions. Several nurses had worked with the group, attending each patient as an animal was brought to an old man or woman. The nurses brought water bowls for the pets, too, and after the session they vacuumed up whatever loose dog and cat hair might offend Adelina.
Of course when Adelina learned that Susan had taken Lamb outside into the oak-shaded park alone, the woman pitched a fit; but Bonnie calmed her with promises of a possible Sunset Magazine spread. Bonnie's boss had gone to school with one of the attorneys who handled the Sunset account. The only sour note was the attitude of young Teddy Prior, Adelina's cousin. Like Adelina, the young wheelchair patient had no use for animals. The difference was, Teddy made his sentiments clearly known. She thought it strange that Teddy Prior, though he drove his own specially equipped car, occupied a room at Casa Capri rather than his own apartment, or rather than living with his cousin. Though he had many amenities here-all the advantages of a hotel, maid service, and meals, while enjoying many privileges forbidden to the other residents.
She was ashamed of herself for faulting Teddy. He was only twenty-eight, and the accident that crippled his spine had caused damage beyond repair. Five bouts of surgery had been of no use. She should feel empathy for him-or at least pity, not annoyance. In fact, Teddy was to be admired. He had disciplined himself well against the pain; she saw no signs of stress in his smooth face and clear blue eyes. He had a sweet smile, too, as charming as a young boy's, and he had a nice way with the old people. He was always interested in their personal lives, in their complaints and their family stories. Teddy had that rare gift of making each person feel he was their special friend.
But yet she couldn't bring herself to like him.
He was particularly attentive to Mae Rose, too, though who wouldn't be? Little Mae was a dear-if she just wouldn't worry and fuss so. But Mae Rose did seem to have calmed, with the Pet-a-Pet visits-just as some of the other residents had become more lively and talkative, more outgoing.