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a hawk since I snuck out for a beer last month. Before you know it, she’ll be making me wear one of those ankle monitors like I’m some kind of criminal instead of the man who taught her to tie her shoes.”
    Annamae looked from the older man to the daughter who nodded with obvious gratitude over having found something that made her father happy.
    “Sure,” Annamae said. “Thank you for holding my dog, sir. I appreciate it. His name is Bagel.”
    His gnarled hands stroked Bagel’s bristly fur. “Just don’t take too long. I’m not a dog sitter.”
    “Of course. I’ll be as quick as I can.”
    The daughter mouthed thank you as Annamae grasped the handle again and backed inside.
    Beyond the reception area, a brightly lit check-in desk was bracketed by two thriving fichus trees in front of a curving staircase to a second floor. An elevator chimed somewhere in the background, suggesting the stairs were probably more for show. The Persian carpet runner down the middle certainly looked brand new.
    “Can I help you, ma’am?” A young, dark-haired woman in hospital scrubs sat behind the desk, a diet soda at her elbow.
    Annamae tugged the knot in her scarf tighter. “I’m looking for a resident. Hazel Mae Smith.”
    Hopefully her grandmother didn’t share the disposition of the man in the reception area more interested in his crossword puzzle than the toddler waving a crayon drawing under his nose.
    “Certainly. May I tell her who’s calling, Ms. Jessup?” The desk attendant – Bobbi, according to the nametag decorated with teddy bears in nursing hats – grinned as she picked up her cell phone.
    Annamae ducked behind a fichus tree, staring at the cell phone in horror. “No photos. Seriously. Or I’ll contact your boss.”
    Bobbi gasped. “I wouldn’t dare take a photo. I was just going to show you the story on the Internet so you could be careful.”
    “Surely you understand why I’m wary of trusting you.” Annamae leaned back against the wall, but wasn’t ready to step out of hiding yet.
    “Honey, I let my mama push me into marrying my high school sweetheart and he turned out to be a total jackass – pardon my language. He expected me to wait on him hand and foot all the time, then ran off with my best friend.”
    Annamae inched out from behind the tree. If the young woman wanted to take a photo, a measly fake tree wasn’t going to stop her. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
    “Me too,” Bobbi said, straightening the nametag on her surgical scrub. “I like my job and all, but I lost four years of my life and all my savings. It’s better to be sure.”
    Stepping forward, Annamae swallowed hard. “What was that you wanted to show me on your phone?”
    “Oh, right.” She scrolled her finger across the screen. “Gus from the gas station has been busy gossiping. You’re gonna wanna be careful.” She passed over the device.
    Annamae took it with a trembling hand and scanned the snippet posted on—of all things—the gas station attendant’s social media page. His status update included a grainy security photo that could have been anyone, especially since she was wearing glasses and a scarf. But judging by the number of Likes and Shares, all of Beulah had already seen the news online. How long before the Atlanta media got wind of this?
    Annamae passed over the phone. “Thank you. I appreciate the heads up.” Would her grandmother help her hide out until she could figure out a way to plant herself in the carriage house and recoup? She could only hope. “I’d like to surprise Hazel Mae now, if I may. She’s—ah—an old friend.”
    “Hazel has always had the most interesting friends.” The woman laughed as if this was a great joke, but she made the call for Hazel to come to the commons area, leaving Annamae free to explore more of the downstairs of the retirement home. A game room played host to three ladies bickering over a jigsaw puzzle and two men snoozing between moves on a chessboard.