“Of course I’m happy here. Absolutely,” said Bob, but his words lacked the ring of true conviction. I think Sharon must have heard it, too, for she gave him a curious look, then looked away.
“Okay, I believe you. But I still want you to think about what I said, all right? If you want to move back in, just say the word and I’ll make it happen.”
“That’s very sweet of you, honey, but I’m fine here. I’ve made plenty of wonderful friends, and I even met a guy who wants me to write his autobiography for him.”
“Hey, that’s great, Dad,” she said. “I always knew you’d start writing again one day. What’s his name?”
“Henry Kaur, and he’s led a very fascinating and adventurous life, so we’re going to have a ball, him and me, as we start to work on these memoirs of his.”
“Oh, I’m so glad to hear that,” said Sharon, and I could tell that she meant it. “Okay,” she said, lightly slapping her thighs. “If you’re happy, then I guess I’m happy, too.”
“I’m absolutely happy,” he repeated. “Me coming here was the absolute best decision we could have made. One hundred percent.”
“He doesn’t sound convinced, Max,” said Dooley.
“No, I have a feeling he’s not as happy as he’s making out to be,” I said.
“But then why isn’t he moving back in with his daughter?”
“I have no idea,” I said.
“And he told her he’s going to work on Henry’s autobiography, when he told Henry he doesn’t want to do that. That he stopped writing since he has trouble with his eyes and hands.”
“I’m sure we’ll find out what’s going on sooner or later,” I said, and had to admit I was intrigued by Bob’s obvious lies.
It was of course possible that he simply didn’t want to burden his daughter, but judging from what Sharon had said, he wouldn’t be a burden at all, and she would love to have him back.
After Sharon had left, Bob sat in his armchair gazing out the window. Then suddenly he thumped the armrests of his chair and cursed.
No, he definitely wasn’t as happy as he said he was.
22
Vesta popped her head in.“Everything all right with Sharon, Bob?”
“Not exactly,” Bob said. She noticed he looked thoughtful. “She just told me that she and Pete broke up. No wedding bells are going to ring out, she said.” He shook his head. “Can you imagine? After I moved out to give them some space, now she’s gone and broken up with the guy. I don’t get it. They were perfect for each other, anyone could see that.”
“Why did they break up, did she say?” she asked as she ventured deeper into the room.
“No, she didn’t. And I didn’t want to pry. I just don’t get it,” he repeated, and looked thoroughly upset.
“Do you have Pete’s number? Maybe you could call him? Is it just some lovers’ tiff or something more serious?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I really don’t want to get involved in their private affairs.”
“So what are you going to do? Move back in with her?”
“I can’t do that,” he said. “Not after I moved here and got settled in and all. And then maybe in a couple of years I might have to move out again.” He glanced up at her. “You know how hard it is to get a spot in this place. I got lucky, but there are people who’ve been on that waiting list for years.”
Vesta wondered how Sara had managed to get Scarlett and herself in, but figured she probably had a lot of pull with her husband and got them catapulted to the top of the list. At least they wouldn’t be in there long, and the next person on the list wouldn’t have to wait long before their spot became available.
“I still think you should talk to Pete,” she said. “You don’t even have to bring up Sharon, you know. From what I understood you and he had a great connection, and you could just ask him how he’s been and all.”
“Yeah, I might do that,” he said, though she had the feeling he said it just to get rid of her.
So she took her leave, and wondered where Max and Dooley were. She could have sworn she saw them sneak into Bob’s room earlier. She chuckled. Those cats really were the perfect spies. In and out of these rooms, spying on the residents, and no one had a clue.
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“He must be very rich,” said Dooley.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “I mean, he’s a nursing assistant, Dooley, and I don’t think they actually pay these people the big bucks.”
“But look at his car!” Brutus said, his eyes wide and gleaming. “That fancy ride must have cost him a small fortune!”
Brutus was right. The bright yellow sports car Desmond was polishing in the parking lot looked like it might have set him back a bundle. And all that on a nursing assistant’s salary. It seemed inconceivable.
“He takes good care of it,” said Harriet. “Look at him scrubbing off that spot on the hood.”
Desmond was leaning over the hood, practically fondling his vehicle, making sure that every last inch of the paint looked shiny and new.
“You never see women fuss over their cars,” said Dooley. “Only men.”
“That’s because men have a lasting love affair with their cars,” said Brutus.
“Men love their cars?” asked Dooley. “But why? They’re just inanimate objects designed to take you from point A to point B.”