The hope on the other woman’s face warmed Beth. She loved her job, despite the sadness inherent in helping people make these decisions. Dementia was the worst, she thought.
She also gave Kim numbers for the two agencies that sent workers into people’s homes to care for elderly or disabled patients. “Setting up a regular schedule works best but, by planning ahead, you might be able to arrange for someone to come on an evening when you want to go see your daughter in her play. If you choose to keep your mom at home long term, you can have help twenty-four hours a day, if that’s needed. Of course, your decision almost has to be weighted by whether her insurance coverage supports that, or only a nursing facility.”
It was after five when she ushered Kim out, sending her off supplied with a pile of reading material and inviting her to call with any questions.
Beth flipped the sign on the front door to Closed. Ramona, the receptionist, was already turning off her computer, her purse on the counter.
“Thank goodness you’re back,” she said. “We’ve been scrambling to get by without you. Barbara decided we should ban vacations, except then she felt awful when she heard the real reason you’d taken time off.”
Barbara had already told Beth the same. Virtually every tidbit of information about the Marshall family and the investigation had made its way to the offices of the Council for the Aging. People had been clucking over her all day. She’d rolled her eyes and joked about being clumsy for the benefit of clients who exclaimed over the cast.
Worn out and hurting, she couldn’t decide if returning to work so soon had been a good idea or an awful one. It kept her busy, kept her from thinking about her own problems, but she was more wiped out physically than she’d expected.
And, of course, she now had to go home to an empty house. She was being stubborn, not wanting to be a guest at Matt and Ashley’s place for who knew how long.
Beth walked out to her car with Ramona, the others having already left. Really, she could have gone out safely on her own, since the nearly empty parking lot didn’t offer many places to hide, especially in daylight.
She’d intended to stop at the grocery store on her way home but decided she was too tired. Surely she could find something to eat. Or she could pick up a pizza—but that only reminded her of the last few times she’d had pizza, when she wasn’t alone.
Home. Scrape up some dinner, find something mindless to watch on TV, take a pain pill to knock herself out in hopes of sleeping better than she had last night. Oh, and pile dishes in front of windows and doors, so she’d at least hear a warning crash if an intruder broke in.
This could go on for weeks, months. She couldn’t hide out 24/7. Being careful, however, that she could do.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
TONY DIDN’T WANT to call what he felt loneliness, but it was close enough. Wednesday evening he found himself reaching for his phone. When had he last talked to Ross, the cop who’d saved him when he’d been a rebellious teenager? Still in uniform then, Officer Ross Taylor had even come to Tony’s graduation from the police academy.
Time had gotten away from Tony, but that was no excuse. He’d suggest they plan to get together.
Ross picked up right away. “Well, if it isn’t Detective Navarro himself.”
Sprawling on his couch, Tony grinned. “Hey, just checking up on you. Heard rumors you’re in a wheelchair, decrepit old man that you are.”
Ross snorted. “I played a full-court game of hoops at the Boys and Girls Club today. Did you ever heave yourself out of your desk chair?”
Barely.
“Actually, I was thinking we should get together, shoot some baskets. Have dinner.”
“Sure. Any time. Not like my social calendar is booked. Old man that I am.” His tone changed. “Given your age, yours should be.”
“Off and on.” Tony grimaced. “It’s off right now.”
“Tony, Tony,” Ross scolded amiably. “Why aren’t you married and thinking about starting a family?”
“Family is a sore subject with me right now,” he admitted. “You know how overwhelmed with family I am. Count your blessings.”