Here's the next section, there's a couple new characters, I hope you enjoy!
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After leaving the walking trail and taking a very long bubble bath, Maude almost felt human again. At least better than Erma, she thought in dismay.
The dining room at the independent living apartment building, Redbud House, was full of conversation seasoned with sadness. The mood, like a foul smell, continued to rise up to the top floor apartments The penthouse apartments housed the core group of investors from whose brain child, Cottonwood Arbor, had emerged. They were a hodgepodge group, all from different walks of life, yet all had ended up in the town of Wheatbury, either through lifetime work or now retired.
As investors, they had a private floor of well accommodated apartments to themselves, with a conference room in the center of the floor plan. Tonight, the room was being used as a dining room for the board members.
Nicholas and Esmeralda Reyes had their heads bent together over their cell phones, comparing notes in hushed Spanish, their restaurant, now actually owned by their children, catered the meal.
Marcella, sat sipping her spicy tomato juice, while checking her twitter account for tweets about today’s events. Harold, sequestered on a sectional sofa in the corner, was fielding calls from the local news sources giving comments and answering questions. Ben and Maude hunched over the computer, as they checked the email account for the visitors. Many condolences were rolling in, along with inquiries for openings on the waiting list. Seniors were pragmatists.
A knock on the conference room announced the arrival of the Reye’s family’s catering van, with the night’s meal. No one was in the mood for dining room fare after the ordeal. Comfort food of homemade chips and salsa, tamales, stuffed poblano chilis, and arroz con leche. Was just the kind of comfort they all needed. Flavorful and robust food helped to fill the void they were feeling.
“Yes, she was a dear woman,” Harold’s voice boomed from the corner, his voice carried no matter the distance. “No, the Arbor Village Estates have no comment at this time, the circumstances are being investigated.”
Maude and Ben turned toward Harold’s voice, in curiosity of the conversation happening on both sides of the cell phone connection.
“Of course,” Harold with a practiced phrase, “We will release a statement as soon as the authorities allow.” Maude caught Harold’s gaze and he gifted her with an eye roll in answer. Local news, made for cautious handling.
“Do you think there will be a big fall out for Cottonwood Arbor Village?” Ben whispered to Maude as they scanned through the last page of email and communications from the day. “I sure hope not, the last thing we need right now is to have the resident’s families to raise concern over the safety of the facilities.”
“Harold knows how to spin the story,” Maude , “As long as we are on this side of his spinning, I think we will be fine.”
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Dr. James Mertzen watched the models showcase the newest product the network was taping for SSN. The “boot scootin’ bootie,” the orthopedic boot that had wheels on the bottom, was supposed to make having to wear a boot for ankle and foot soft tissue strains and breaks more fun and functional. The wheels on the bottom raised and lowered to match the height of the other leg’s shoe. Vernon thought it looked like a broken hip ready to happen.Oh well, as an orthopedic surgeon it wasn’t too bad, a two for one benefit, money now, money later.
The models for the product were spinning one legged donuts in front of the green screen, showing off their paper white teeth and fresh young faces. They were in their twenties, not barely ambulatory patients in a nursing home. The good doctor wondered if he truly would be liable if one of the seniors were injured wearing the boot. He rubbed the bridge of his nose hoping to rub the tension out of his forehead
He’d better talk to the legal eagles on this one before it aired. All he needed was another lawsuit. Mertzen was already in Lowell Barry’s pockets much deeper than he ever envisioned he would be beholden to anyone.
The Senior Shopping Network(SSN) was his brainchild. He’d put all his money into it and so far it had been a success. He’d used his entire inheritance from his father’s estate, 200 million dollars .
Before buying the network he’d studied his competition, and found they sold anything and everything under the sun on their channels. However not necessarily the senior targeted items that his network showcased.
Vernon rubbed his eyes, and watched the screen.
HIs cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He wanted to ignore the nuisance. He wasn’t on call. Wasn’t in the clinic and for once had no patients in recovery at Wheatbury Regional Medical. There was really no reason to have to check his phone, other than pure human curiosity.
“Mertzen”
“Well, hello there Jimmy, Lowell here. Am I catching you at a bad time ole buddy?”
“Oh course not...Barry. What do you want?” Rubbing his forehead, just above his brows, James knew a full blown headache was now on it’s way.
“Do I have to want something to call my frat buddy? Maybe I just want to catch up, make a golf tee time with my friend.” said Barry, his voice as greasy as the diner’s burger James had eaten for his lunch. And having the same effect on him, as nausea and heartburn began it’s way up his GI tract to keep his headache company.
“But you don’t want to play golf do you, Barry? You want something, what now?”
“Well,” Barry said, “remember that little ole shipment of AgeRedo that you just promoted on the SSN? Well...I need you to donate 100 cases to Cottonwood Arbor, from both of us of course.”
“That’s a $5000.00 donation, so are you writing me a check?” Mertzen growled.
“Nope, you owe me….remember…..Jimmy? You owed me then, you owe me now….you will always owe me. Remember, once a brother, always a brother. Can you recall the Alpha Kappa Lambda pledges, brother?” Barry said, with a snide tone to his voice as he continued. “I believe in brotherhood as friendship of the highest calling. And... I accept the membership in Alpha Kappa Lambda as binding for life.”
James cringed, Barry’s constant dramatic pauses made him want to strangle him.
“You seem to have a very selective memory, Barry. There are several more parts to the pledges, yet you only remember the ones you choose.”
“That’s because those are the only ones that matter, as long as you are practicing medicine and have patients who might mind if they knew the truth.
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