Page 20 of Somebody to Save
“I understand. Could we please get the appeal process started?”
“Yes, ma’am, I will put in the request now, and you will be notified by mail of the status.”
I thanked her for her help and hung up the phone. Setting it on the table next to me, I leaned back in the chair and stared up at the ceiling, trying to reorganize my schedule so I could be there an extra day of the week.
When Nana fell, we’d moved their bedroom downstairs, which had helped, but she still struggled getting out of bed in the morning and moving around throughout the day. It was harder to recover when you were eighty.
I’d considered moving them into an assisted living facility, but they really wanted to stay in the house they’d lived in for forty years. The house where I’d grown up, as had my mom. And I completely understood, so I was going to make it work.
I always made it work.
I’d just have to go over there before going to work at Lake Hills and on my way back from Grant Events. Moving back in with them had crossed my mind, but I really loved my own space. Even if I didn’t spend as much time there as I wanted to, it was worth having a little corner of the world that was all mine.
Standing, I knew I’d have to rework my schedule later and figure out a solution, because if I wasn’t ready when bingo was supposed to start, I was going to have twenty-plus angry residents on my hands. And that was terrifying.
I arranged the prizes, which included bottles of wine, gift cards, books, and other art pieces. They liked an array of options to choose from.
Turning to the other table I’d set up next to the podium, I dumped the bingo balls into the machine, having to chase down a few that missed completely and rolled across the room.
By the time I heard the first residents out in the hallway, I’d just finished setting up the refreshments and organizing the bingo cards and stamps.
Mr. Rogers was the first one through the door with a gaggle of followers behind him, whom he led from the dining room after dinner.
“Well, good evening, Ms. Addie,” he greeted with a smile.
“Hi, Mr. Rogers. You ready to play?”
“Hell yeah, I’m ready. Ready to win.”
I handed him three cards and a stamp. He walked to the front and took the seat closest to my podium as I repeated the process with the rest of the residents.
They chose cookies and lemonade off the snack table and filed in to find their seats. Bingo night was a well-oiled machine, and I enjoyed it every month. Listening to them smack-talk and lightheartedly rib at one another was hilarious.
At six thirty on the dot, I stood behind the podium—stepping up on a small stool because I was too short for the people in the back to see me over the top of it—and greeted everyone.
“N32, N32,” I said over the microphone, and there were a few groans among the group.
Chuckling, I spun the machine and picked another ball. “B?—”
I stuttered over the word when I noticed someone new walk through the door at the back of the room. I did a double-take and froze.
“What the—” I muttered and quickly cleared my throat. Beckett hovered by the door, wearing another perfectly tailored suit and a cocky, lopsided smile. He slowly strode inside the room and sat at one of the vacant seats near the door.
Shaking my head, I tried to ignore his watchful gaze as I glanced back down at the ball in my hand. “B5,” I said, which was quickly followed by a “Bingo!” from Ms. Marsh in the second row.
I stepped off the stool and walked over to her seat, trying notto pay attention to the warm golden eyes watching my every move.
“Looks like you got it,” I said, and she clapped in excitement. “Go choose your prize, Ms. Marsh.” She wandered up front and perused the prizes that were still left. “I think now is a good time for a quick break.”
There was a round of boos, but I waved them off. “Five minutes, everyone. We can all manage a five-minute break.”
They huffed and puffed but still got up to refresh their drinks and started talking among themselves. When I turned, Beckett’s smile widened, and my stomach flipped.
“Beckett.”
“Bubbles.”
I shook my head and straightened the hem of my pink and orange sweater, tugging the sleeves down over my hands. “What are you doing here?”
