CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Clarence waved as Mrs. Hatly walked on down the hall.
“Have a good nap, Mrs. Hatly. See you at supper.”
“God willing, if I’m still here.”
She always said that. Her frail voice always pulled on his heart. Her eyes twinkled, and her laugh sounded like a sweet melody—that Jenny Wren in the spring.
“Silly,” he said. “You’ll be here. Where would you go?” And yet … what if something did happen to her? He didn’t like to think about it, but since he’d been at Hillcrest Homes—six weeks—two residents had died. “Good night, Mrs. Hatly.”
“Good night, Clarence.”
He watched her walker-dance down the hall. She turned into her room farther down, stopped at her door and waved. Blew him a kiss.
Clarence jumped. First time for everything. He blew her one back just as Harold showed
