Ms. Helen cradled her mug of tea in her left hand and gestured toward her window with her right. “Haven’t you noticed the parade of people who stop by every day?”
“I’ve noticed you have a few regular guests.”
“You’re not very observant, are you?”
“What do you—”
“I call them my Watchers. They stop by every day.” Ms. Helen lifted her fingers to count off her team. “Megan and Ean stop by at the end of their morning run around six. Alonzo drops in around noon on his way to lunch at Books and Bakery. Doreen checks in after work around four. Darius has the last shift at six. The others?
?Vaughn, Peyton, and Jackson and Audra, Ramona and Quincy when they were here—aren’t as predictable.”
“I hadn’t realized they were checking on you.” Benita stared at the four fingers Ms. Helen held aloft, each representing the shifts her Watchers covered, a twelve-hour service.
“They are. I’ve asked them to stop, but they’ve ignored me.”
“I’m glad. But Aunt Helen, suppose they forget or get out of the habit of checking on you? Doreen is moving. Will she still stop by at four?”
Ms. Helen smiled. “You don’t know Doreen.”
“But wouldn’t you feel more comfortable living in a residence in which there are nurses to check on you regularly and who are there if you need medical attention?”
“No, I wouldn’t.” Ms. Helen stood. “I’d rather be here, in my own home.”
Benita watched her great-aunt walk into the kitchen. Was she wrong to push so hard for her great-aunt to move into a senior residence? She might as well ask herself whether she was wrong to love the elderly lady.
But Ms. Helen had inherited more than her fair share of the stubborn gene for which their family was well known. It was already May second. Benita was running out of time. How was she going to convince Ms. Helen that she was right about her great-aunt moving into a senior residence?
The peaceful goodwill Doreen always felt after church services was fading fast this afternoon. She slid another sideways look toward Alonzo as he sat beside her on his living room sofa. “Thank you for helping me move my belongings into your house.”
“Our house,” he corrected. “Of course I’m going to help my fiancée move in with me. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t?”
He’s still not looking at me. Why? Have I become Medusa?
“I’m not questioning the kind of man you are.” Doreen shifted on the sofa to face him. “I just wanted to thank you. I don’t want you to think I’m taking you for granted.”
“Thanks aren’t necessary.”
“I get that.” Perhaps someone should have gone to church with me this morning. It might have helped to prevent the weird mood he was in. “You seem on edge. Is everything all right?”
Alonzo still avoided eye contact as he stood and crossed the room. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
“You’ve been tired a lot lately. Should I take you to the doctor?” Or is your fatigue a convenient excuse to keep you from telling me what’s on your mind?
“I’ll be fine.” Alonzo dragged a hand over his still-dark hair.
“All right.” Doreen rose to her feet as well. She studied Alonzo’s broad shoulders. Even from across the room, she could tell they were stiff under his brick red jersey. “The realtor said my house would show better with the furniture in it. But we should decide now what pieces of mine we’ll keep and what we’ll donate to charity.”
Alonzo turned back to face the room—not her. “Whatever you want to do is fine.”
Doreen scanned the living room. Alonzo’s modest furnishings were a strong contrast to her warm and welcoming decor. His dark brown recliner, sofa, and area rug were practical but lacked the warmth of her pink and white fun furniture patterns. It would be so easy to make the executive decision to pack up his belongings and deliver them to a nonprofit organization. But her moving in and making unilateral decisions wasn’t the way she’d envisioned starting their life together.
Doreen gestured toward the furniture surrounding them. “So I can just replace everything in here, including that oversized flat-screen TV, with my stuff?”
“That’s fine.” Alonzo’s tone was dismissive.
Doreen’s patience slipped another notch. “Is that really the sum total of the effort you’re going to put into building a home together? ‘Whatever you want to do is fine’?”
She had his attention now. “They’re just things, Doreen. I’m not emotionally attached to them.”