Jeopardy In July

Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Suddenly, everyone in the lobby sprang into action. Maybe sprang wasn't the right way to describe it, but two dozen old people were suddenly on the move, grabbing their walkers and canes, pulling dog treats out of their pockets, calling Marley's name and moving towards us at varying speeds. It might've been a little alarming but for the fact that they all looked so happy. I heard a familiar giggle behind me.

"Jessie Sandler!" I said. "What brings you all the way from Hollywood? If you and Marley were heading to the beach, you took a wrong turn, my friend."

She giggled again. "Hey, Jamie! How's it going? Believe it or not, we came here on purpose. We're here every week to do pet therapy with the residents and visit my Uncle Teddy. How about you? You're pretty far from Hollywood yourself. Looks like you got that blue paint out of your ears!"

The last time I'd seen Jessie had been a few weeks earlier at Precious Paws, her 1960s-rock 'n' roll-themed dog rescue where we had painted 'masterpieces' with the dogs while dancing to the Rolling Stones.

"That paint took a long time to wash off," I laughed, "but I had a blast! Did you sell the pictures?"

"Yes! I meant to tell you, I took your idea and made greeting cards and stationery. I also framed some of the prints and they're selling like wild. We made enough money to buy dog food for a year! Any time you're ready, we can do it again. My new dogs would love to paint--you know, express their creativity."

Only Jessie would think dogs had creativity to express. I was pretty sure my cat, Mr. Paws, wasn't stifling any artistic urges. He had no trouble expressing himself, especially when I left him alone overnight. Then, his royal highness would share his feelings by knocking a plant off the windowsill or a knickknack off a shelf--exactly what Picasso must've done when he was pissed off.

"I'd love to!" I said. "Don't know when, but soon." I stood up, leaving Marley to his admirers (which included my cheery new friend Herb) and pulled Jessie aside. "Do you know who Shirley and Clarence Petersen are? I was supposed to meet them here."

Standing next to Jessie, I marveled at how petite she was. Her energy and sparkle made her seem much taller than she actually was. Maybe because she was always smiling, I didn't pay attention to her other features, like her dark hair streaked with purple, or her pixie face with those sleepy eyes.

"I don't think I know Shirley," she said, "but Clarence is my Uncle Teddy's poker buddy." She scanned the room. "Nope, he's not here. Do you have their phone number?"

I shook my head. "I left it in my office, I'm such a space case."

Jessie walked me over to the front desk where a middle-aged black woman was busy answering the phones. After waiting patiently for the woman to notice her, Jessie interrupted.

"Hey, Glenda, quick question--have you seen the Petersens? They had an appointment with this lady and they're late."

Glenda gave Jessie a surprised look. "Didn't you see? Clarence Petersen was just taken away by ambulance. He collapsed on the shuffleboard court."

"How awful!" Jessie exclaimed.

I felt guilty that I hadn't been more sympathetic when I saw him carried out. It's like when you're stuck in traffic because of an accident and all you think about is how inconvenient it is for you. You forget that someone else is having a really terrible day. Maybe the stress of a looming divorce had made Clarence ill--although it seemed to me like he was the one pushing for it. Change was hard and I couldn't imagine doing it at the age of eighty-three.

"That's terrible news," I said. "I didn't know that was him they were carrying out. I hope he's okay." I looked around the lobby one more time and shrugged. "Well, I guess I'll get going, Jess, but I'm glad I got to see you and Marley."

"Do you really have to go?" she asked sweetly. "I could give you a tour."

Since I'd planned to spend several hours on the Petersen mediation (now officially canceled), I had nothing else going on. And while I had zero interest in learning about the whirlwind excitement of assisted living, I did like hanging out with Jessie.

"Sure," I said. "Why not?"