My Year of Casual Acquaintances (South Bay #1)

28.

On the morning of my Wednesday happy hour date with Audrey, she calls to tell me there’s a problem. “Sorry to do this, but on Wednesday afternoons I take Petey on therapy dog rounds. We go to a board and care home in the area,” she says. “Anyway, I’m running way behind schedule with work. The board and care is halfway between here and Manhattan Beach. The only way I can fit everything in is to visit the patients on the way to happy hour. Can I pick you up early? You’ll need to come with us on the rounds.”

“That’s like an assisted living place, right?”

“Yeah, but much smaller. Only ten patients. I know it may sound depressing, but it’s fun. Petey’s in his element, and most of the residents love visitors.”

Hmm. Though this isn’t what I signed up for, I don’t see how I can refuse. Besides, there will be a glass of chilled wine at the end of the tunnel. I silently hope the musical entertainment will be something improvisational—maybe classic jazz or blues. Please, God, anything but smooth jazz, which grates on me like elevator music.

. . .

The board and care home is on a quiet residential street. I knew it would be small, but I find it more homelike and comforting than I expected. I follow along as Audrey checks in at the front entrance and leads Petey around first to the communal lounge, and then on to some of the individual guestrooms, where he meets and greets the senior residents and entertains them with a few tricks. It’s not a complicated drill.

“This is a kinder, gentler Petey than the dog I’ve gotten to know on the esplanade,” I say to Audrey as we make the rounds.

“For sure. When he’s on duty, there’s no jumping up allowed, no aggressive behavior, no loud barking.” As Audrey says this, Petey nuzzles one of the patients with his soft snout as he stands still and strong, allowing the man to pet him. Another patient, a woman, walks over to them and starts smacking the dog’s back and pulling his tail with child-like excitement. Petey remains stoic and unthreatening throughout. Most of the patients smile and even applaud when Petey approaches them, engaging happily with the dog. On the far side of the room, though, a couple of women hang back, regarding us warily. We keep our distance so as not to frighten them.

Of all the residents we see, a charming gentleman named Vincent is the self-appointed ringleader. Though confined to a wheelchair, he’s devoted to his fellow patients, wheeling around to check on them and informing the staff if someone needs a drink of water or toileting help. Petey and Audrey are both smitten with the old man, and I soon follow suit.

Intelligent and cheerful, Vincent sports a headful of wavy white hair and a flowing beard that makes him resemble old Saint Nick, albeit a thinner version with a California tan. I wonder if Nancy Ostrowski would be happy in a place like this, surrounded by activities and people her age, with this man as an amiable housemate. Vincent clearly enjoys our visit and seems to view us as his connection to the outside world. “What movies have you seen? Any good restaurants open up lately? They could use some decent Chinese food in this town,” he says.

Another thing that endears Vincent to me – in his room, on the bookshelf, are four of Charlie’s novels. Gesturing toward the books, I maneuver the conversation around to Charlie like a tween girl nursing a crush. “Did you know Charles Kittredge lives in the area?”

“I heard he’s a local boy,” says Vincent. “Love his books. Ever meet him?”

Not only have I met him, but remember that bondage scene in Bicoastal? This is what I don’t say. What I do say is, “Yes, we’ve met. He goes to my health club.”

Impressed, Vincent raises his bushy white eyebrows as he caresses Petey around the head and neck. “What d’ya think about that, old boy?”

Petey responds with a subdued woof – a breathy noise that sounds more like fff. Audrey has trained him not to engage in full-out barking when wearing his therapy dog harness. The dog is a professional through and through.

When we take our leave, Vincent smiles at me and says, “See you again next week, I hope.”

Audrey gives me a hesitant look. How can I disappoint such a thoroughly pleasant man?

I say, “Sure—if it’s okay with Audrey.”

“You bet,” she says, beaming at each of us.

Later, I have an idea. I send a text message to Charlie:

Margaret: I’m volunteering at a local board and care place where I’ve met a delightful patient named Vincent. Big fan of yours. Would you be willing to stop by and meet him sometime? He’d be thrilled.

He replies a couple of hours later:

Charlie: Yes, but not until the week after next. New book coming out for the holidays and I’m up against some tight deadlines with the publisher.

I recall reading that the much-anticipated sequel to Bicoastal is coming out soon.

Margaret: Can I circle back with you in a couple of weeks?

He texts back with a thumbs-up emoji.

I smile, anticipating how excited Vincent will be to receive a visit from the great Charles Kittredge. But there goes that old flutter in my gut, followed by the familiar flush of heat – my conscience signaling that I’m not arranging this meeting as an act of kindness to the old gentleman, but to further my own agenda with Charlie. Not fair, I argue to my conscience. This is for Vincent. Kind of.

. . .

On a walk the following day, I ask for Audrey’s advice on how to talk to Michael when I bring him the red bike. “I want to take the responsibility off his shoulders for the whole incident,” I say. “He needs to understand that he wasn’t the one who messed up.”

“I dunno. I’m not sure this is really about a bike. I’m not even sure it’s about you neglecting Michael when he was a kid, although you seem to carry a helluva lot of guilt about that.”

“Then what is it about?”

She pauses. “I think it’s about basic communication. This may seem harsh, but it sounds like nobody in your family ever communicates about the important stuff.”

“Michael complained earlier this year that I never listen.”

“That cuts two ways. If you want someone to listen to you, first you have to speak.”

“Wow. When you put it like that, it sounds obvious . . . but I never thought of it that way before.”

She grins. “It’s always easier to analyze someone else’s problems. Like when you made me see how everyone’s been putting pressure on me about Nathan. That should be obvious too, but I was clueless.”

“Maybe this is something we can continue to help each other with,” I say. “It’s cheaper than paying a couple of shrinks.”

She laughs at this remark. “That’s a deal. Hey—I may need your help with something else.”

“What’s that?”

“Two weeks from now, my company has a full week of planning meetings scheduled. I don’t think I’ll have time for the board and care visit. Would you be able to take Petey on the rounds by yourself? I hate to disappoint those nice old people.”

“Sure, I can do that,” I say. “As long as the director is okay with it.”

“Oh, he won’t mind,” she says with a wave of the hand. “I’ll call first to explain the plan, but by next week everyone at the place will know you. Besides, walking Petey around the facility isn’t exactly rocket science.”

Petey rakes a paw against Audrey’s leg. Don’t insult me, he seems to say.