Page 19 of Just The Way You Aren't

With Chelsea down, however, I do have to do a lot more juggling. But I’m used to juggling. Unlike a certain schedule-loving, Armani-wearing, Mercedes-driving, one-and-done wonder I now know. One-and-done referring to his attitude toward Silver Hearts in general. He wants to write a big, fat check and never have anything to do with us again. I know his kind. PR-seeking corporate sharks looking for Silver Hearts to solve their image problems. It makes me so angry seeing pictures posted all over Facebook and Instagram showing businessmen in aprons ladling out soup to the homeless or presenting a big cardboard check to a shelter. False smiles, false sentiment.

I realize I’m projecting a lot on Damien. After all, he didn’t come to us with a cameraman in tow, trying to get footage of himself helping one of my seniors with her socks for a TikTok reel. He came alone. Wearing the suit, yes, but that could have been a miscommunication. He’d been muttering a lot about someone named ‘Alfred.’ Maybe that’s his assistant who accidentally screwed up.

Still, he’d kept his nose in his phone the whole time we were delivering meals! He’s a man chained to his schedule, no matter what comes up. What kind of life is that?

No, no, no. He’s not my type. He might have sexy muscles under his starched shirt. And a really nice smile. When he does smile, that is. Did he even do more than smirk when he was with me? I don’t think so.

So, he’s glued to his schedule, his work, and his routine and he doesn’t even really smile. Plus, he lives in a mansion. The closest I’m ever going to get to a mansion is seeing one inBetter Homes and Gardens at the dentist’s office. We are worlds apart. This is not a man I should be thinking about this much.

I try to push Damien Langley out of my mind, but he ends up only going to the back burner, simmering in the background while I make my visits in our brand-new refrigerated van.

Mrs. Baumgartner answers her door this time in a nice floral dress, and her face falls when she sees me. “Oh. I thought the handsome young man you’re seeing would be with you.”

I worry she actually might be getting a little dementia because I distinctly remember Damien and me setting her straight on that point a few days ago. Damien a bit more emphatically than me. Maybe I should call her daughter and recommend she be taken in for a scan?

No. Her older son is just about as adamant as Juana and Roberto’s son about getting his mother in an old folks’ home. While her daughter wants Mrs. Baumgartner to spend her retirement savings and pension on getting more help at home, I’m told her son doesn’t want her money dwindling any more than it already has and wants to put her in the most inexpensive situation possible in order to preserve his inheritance.

It’s really sad how many elderly have to turn to Silver Hearts because of family situations just like Mrs. Baumgartner’s.

“Mrs. Baumgartner,” I finally say kindly. “Damien and I aren’t dating. We’re just… I mean, there’s no ‘we.’ I’m saying he… was just volunteering that one day. We… that is to say he and I… I mean, we’re definitely not a ‘we.’ There’s no relationship there.” God, what is wrong with me?

She gives me a knowing grin and waves me into her home.I heat up her lunch, as usual, still kicking myself for stuttering over my response. I sounded about as believable as Pinocchio.

By the time I get back into the living room, Mrs. Baumgartner is already on the phone with Mr. Katz. “…yes, I did ask her where he was. She got all flushed—so adorable. And you remember how he fixed my stove? What a heroic young man.”

It was a bit heroic, actually. I can admit that. Then I picture Damien in a Superman suit in my mind and, I have to say, he’d look really sexy....

I shake my head and return my attention to Mrs. Baumgartner. This time, she’s looking at old Tucker’s wet nose, but that’s because he’s forced himself into the frame with Mr. Katz. He likes Mrs. Baumgartner, too. Whenever a volunteer walks him by her house, she always comes out to give him a hot dog. Tucker is the most spoiled dog I know. Aside from my own pets, that is.

“I’m just going to see myself out. Have fun watching Family Feud!” I say, waving to Mrs. Baumgartner. I would have stayed longer, but I don’t want to discuss Damien Langley anymore.

It’s bad enough that I’m seeing Damien again tonight, I think to myself at the Alvarez’s house while helping Roberto navigate his way from the TV room to the kitchen for lunch. Damien has magnanimously penciled me in for an hour of his time to discuss the fundraiser. Five o’clock. Sharp.

The woman named Rhonda who told me about the appointment, bulldozing over any objections I may have had, made sure I knew the “sharp” part. I consider showing up late just to see what happens. Will Damien’s world really end? Or maybe he’ll just spontaneously combust.

“What are you thinking about so hard?” Juana asks mewhile I cut up Robertos homemade tamales. “A certain young man, perhaps?”

I blink at her. “Not you, too. Has Mrs. Baumgartner called everyone?”

Juana grins. “Of course she has, sweetheart. But I know that look. That is the look only a man can put on a woman’s face. Nothing is more frustrating than a man.” She smiles fondly at Roberto.

My heart squeezes. Roberto Jr. is already in the process of declaring the elder Roberto unfit to manage, well… anything. He’s right, in a way, but he’s also trying to strip his mother of her rights. “I’m having an attorney come by tomorrow to discuss your situation with you,” I delicately remind her. “With Roberto Jr. and with Mr. Powers. You know Silver Hearts is always going to be here for you, right?”

Juana’s smile turns sad and she pats my hand. “I know you will always be there for us. Even if we end up in a home.” Her eyes welled with tears. “Robby says he will put Roberto in a home and take me to live with him. I can’t do that to my Roberto. I suppose living in a nursing home would be all right if Roberto and I could stay together.”

My temples pound under the pressure of my anger. Someday, I’m going to take the stick right out of Roberto Jr.’s backside and beat him with it. As it is, I feel so helpless. But my legal aid assures me Juana is competent enough to advocate for both of them, and I hang onto that assurance with both hands. “Everything will be okay,” I say softly.

She nods. “Yes, I know.” She squares her shoulders. Juana is a true warrior at heart. “Roberto, you must eat, dear. Then you can have ice cream.”

Roberto looks up hopefully. “Ice cream?”

“Yes. Your favorite. Chocolate.”

He digs into his tamales with renewed fervor.

I smile at them both, then glance at the clock over the kitchen sink and wrinkle my nose. There is just enough time to get to my appointment with Damien at five o’clock.Sharp.“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I have to go.”

“Your man?” Juana guesses correctly.

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