Finding Libbie (33 page)

Monday morning, Emily walked into work a half hour before it opened to get her department’s registers ready for the day. As she was putting her purse away in the employee break room, the store manager, Carson Wheetly, came up to her with a thick manila envelope.

“Hi, Carson. What’s up?” Emily said.

“Happy Monday morning,” he said, handing her the envelope. “We had problems Saturday with the registers again, and the bookkeeper is in a tizzy. Apparently, none of the registers balanced properly. The cashiers had to write everything down manually, and then they keyed it in later when the registers started working again. We’re asking all the department managers to check the credit card and check receipts against the register tape to make sure they are correct. I have a feeling that some cash sales were keyed in as checks or credit cards, so that’s why the cash is off.”

Emily sighed. “Great. Sounds like this is starting out to be a good day. We really need a new register system. These are ancient.”

Carson nodded. “I know. We’re constantly telling corporate that, but you know how slow everything goes.”

Emily nodded. She went to bookkeeping and retrieved her cash register drawers, then walked out on the sales floor to the women’s wear department. She managed both women’s wear and outerwear, along with accessories. After locking the cash drawers into the registers at the large square counter that served all three departments, she began working on the long list of credit card and check receipts.

Methodically, she went down the register tape and checked off the amounts against the pile of checks and credit card receipts. She found a couple of instances where a check had been keyed in as cash and one credit card receipt that had also been keyed in as cash. If the register had been working properly, it would never have allowed this to happen.

Allison, a sales associate in her department, came in just as the doors to the store opened for business. She was a short, petite girl with long dark hair, and she had worked with Emily for two years. Allison groaned, telling Emily how crazy Saturday had been—busy, and with register problems. Emily showed her the couple of mistakes she’d found so far, and Allison sighed with relief that it had been another sales associate who’d made those mistakes and not her.

“But you can’t blame her. It was so busy.”

Emily continued working on her project, while Allison helped customers and rang up sales. Another credit card receipt didn’t match any on the register tape, so Emily glanced down the long strip of paper at unmarked checks. There it was, halfway down. She checked it off and made a notation on a pad of paper that it had been keyed in wrong. When she looked at the name on the credit card receipt to write it down for the bookkeeper, she stopped short.

E. Wilkens.

Emily stared at the name.
E. Wilkens.
She looked at the signature on the bottom of the receipt. It was shaky but otherwise a nicely handwritten script.
E. Wilkens.
Elizabeth Wilkens?

“Oh my God,” Emily said under her breath. “It can’t be.”

Her heart now pounding, she looked at the name of the clerk who’d keyed it in. Allison.

Emily shoved the paperwork under the desk and went in search of Allison. She found her in the dress section, zipping up dresses and straightening a rack.

“Can you believe how messy this is? I swear, the girls on Sunday didn’t straighten anything,” Alison complained.

“Allison. Look at this. Do you remember who this was?” Emily asked, shoving the receipt under her nose.

Allison glanced at it. “Why? Did I key it in wrong?”

“Well, yes, you did, but that’s not why I’m asking. Do you remember who this person was? E. Wilkens. Does the name ring a bell?”

Allison looked at the receipt again and then shrugged. “Not really. We were so busy on Saturday.”

“You have to remember,” Emily said, exasperated. She looked over the receipt. “It was at 2:35 p.m., and she bought a yellow dress and a cream-colored spring coat. Don’t you remember selling a yellow dress to anyone?”

Allison frowned, deep in thought. “Yeah, I do. It was at that time that we had a bus of elderly ladies come in all at once. Oh, yeah, I remember. It was that sweet older lady who comes here about once a month with a group of ladies from some nursing home or something. But her name doesn’t start with an
E
. People call her something else.” Allison looked directly at Emily. “You know who she is. You’ve waited on her before, too. She’s short, like me, and tiny, with her long silver hair pulled up. She has a nice smile. I just can’t think of what the other ladies call her.”

“Libbie?” Emily asked, picturing the elderly woman Allison was talking about.

“Yeah. That’s it. Libbie. What’s that short for, anyway?”

“Elizabeth,” Emily said, hardly able to believe that she’d found Libbie. And here, right under her nose. She’d actually waited on her before and talked to her. She was a quiet, sweet woman who loved blue, emerald, and yellow dresses.

“Are you okay?” Allison asked. “You look dazed.”

Emily nodded slowly. “Do you remember where the ladies come from?”

Allison thought a moment. “I think it starts with an
S
. Spring Valley? No. Wait, it’s Spring River, somewhere north of here. That’s what one of the ladies said. That they ride almost an hour here from up north.”

“Thanks, Allison,” Emily said, rushing back to the counter. She pulled out her phone and searched for Spring River, Minnesota, and sure enough, an assisted living facility popped up. Emily stared at it, hardly able to believe it.

She’d found Libbie.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Emily could barely make it through the workday once she’d learned about Libbie. The moment she arrived home, she sat down at the table where Jordan was working on his laptop and opened her own. She looked over the list of care facilities that she’d composed, and there it was, Spring River Assisted Living.

“Did you have a good day?” Jordan asked.

Emily looked up at him, excitement rising inside her. “I found Libbie.”

Jordan’s eyes darted up and met Emily’s. “Really? I thought you’d given up on all that.”

Emily frowned at his condescending tone. “No, I hadn’t. But I ended up finding her by sheer coincidence. Her name was on a charge slip at the store for Saturday. She lives in an assisted living facility about forty miles north of here.”

“Now what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to go visit her.”

Jordan stood and walked over to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of beer. He twisted off the cap and leaned against the counter. “What exactly do you think visiting her will accomplish?”

“I’m not sure. I just know that I have to see her and make sure she’s okay.”

“I don’t understand why you think her happiness is your problem. She was married to your dad long before you were born. You have no connection to her. At the very least, you’ll probably annoy her. Or you just might dredge up painful memories that she’s tried to forget.”

Emily closed her laptop and walked into the kitchen to stand across from Jordan. She hated that he didn’t support her on this. Or on much of anything, for that matter. She crossed her arms.

“Or I may make her happy by letting her know there are people who’d love to see her again. My grandmother, Carol, and even June, her old neighbor; they all want to see her. Why can’t you see the positive outcomes of my finding her?”

Jordan shook his head. “I think you’re trying, unrealistically, to conjure up a happily ever after for Libbie. This isn’t a fairy tale or a romantic novel. Not everyone has a happy ending.”

Emily looked up into Jordan’s eyes. “What about us? Do we get a happily ever after?”

A crease formed between Jordan’s brows. “What do you mean by that?”

Emily took a deep breath. “We’ve been together for ten years, yet in that entire time you’ve never talked about us someday getting married or having a family. Our entire life has been about you getting through another semester at school so you could further your career. But what about us? When are we going to move forward in our relationship?”

“I’m with you, aren’t I? Why do we have to have a formal commitment to be considered a couple?”

“Maybe I’d like one.”

Jordan walked past her to the table and turned around. “This isn’t the time to discuss it. I have one more year of school, and then I can teach in a college somewhere. We can discuss our future then.”

“So I’m supposed to wait another year? I’m supposed to move away with you and hope that you want a future with me? Why can’t we discuss it now?”

“All this nonsense about Libbie and your dad has affected you. I’m with you, Emily. I don’t need a piece of paper to tell me to be with you. Besides, there are no guarantees in life with or without a marriage license. If you need an example, look at your dad and Libbie.”

Emily’s mouth dropped open at the fact that he’d use her dad and Libbie’s relationship against her. She stared at him as he began working again, a sign that the discussion was over. Disgusted, she walked past him and into the bedroom, where she kicked off her heels and lay down on the bed. Jordan was skirting the issue, like he usually did. She’d spent the last ten years putting her life on hold for him, believing that in the end she’d be able to finish college and they’d marry and have a family. But now she didn’t believe any of that would ever happen. It saddened her to think that the last ten years may have been for nothing.

Emily thought of nothing else that week besides seeing Libbie. Even though she now knew who Libbie was and had helped her on occasion at the store, she still didn’t know anything about her life other than the fact that she lived at the Spring River Assisted Living facility. She’d looked up the facility online and was pleased to see that they had a detailed website with photos. It looked like a nice place, nestled in a wooded area beside the river just outside the small town of Spring River. The building was painted light gray with white trim, and there were flower boxes at each of the resident’s windows. The place boasted lovely apartments with kitchenettes, a shared dining room, an entertainment room, and a communal television room with a huge widescreen TV and cushy chairs all around. Outside were a cement patio with beautiful flowers in brick planters and a large lawn with paved walking paths. Emily was pleased Libbie was living in such a nice place.

On Wednesday, Emily took a deep breath and called Spring River to check on visiting hours. She hoped that she didn’t have to be a relative to be allowed to visit, and she worried how it might look if a total stranger just appeared to see Libbie. Since Monday, she’d thought about what to say if they asked how she knew Libbie. She knew she should tell the truth, but saying she was the daughter of Libbie’s ex-husband would sound strange. Maybe a long-lost relative? But who? Then she thought of Carol. Maybe, if they asked, she could just say she was the daughter of an old friend of Libbie’s. It wasn’t really a lie—after all, her father did know Libbie.

She dialed the number on the website and waited, her heart hammering in her chest. A pleasant voice answered the phone.

“Spring River Assisted Living. How may I help you?”

“Hello. I was wondering when visiting hours were.”

“Oh. Well, relatives and friends can visit anytime they wish between the hours of nine to nine. Are you a relative of one of our residents here?”

“Actually, I’m the daughter of an old friend of one of the residents. My mother wanted me to check up on her.” The lie had come out so easily it surprised her.

“Oh, well that would be nice. May I ask who you’d be visiting?”

“Elizabeth Wilkens.” Emily’s spine tingled just saying her name.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. For a brief moment, Emily feared that Libbie didn’t live there after all. But then the woman spoke.

“Elizabeth? Oh, you mean Libbie.” Another pause. “You say you’re the daughter of an old friend?”

“Yes. Would I be allowed to visit?”

“Oh, of course. Yes. Libbie would love for you to come visit. You can come any time. Or we have a family visiting day every Sunday from noon to five. The residents bake treats, and there’s always coffee and punch. It’s the day many families come to visit.”

“That sounds nice. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Will you be coming that day?”

Emily thought the woman’s voice sounded strange, like she was eager, or hopeful, that she’d come visit. “Yes, I think that day will work out fine. Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome. I hope we see you then.”

After Emily hung up, she let out a long sigh of relief. It was finally happening. She was going to see Libbie. Suddenly, her excitement turned into panic.
Yikes! I’m going to see Libbie! What am I going to say to her? How will I explain who I am?

She decided she’d take it one step at a time. She had until Sunday to come up with a plan.

The week crawled by for Emily. She and Jordan spoke very little to each other all week, and then on Friday night he brought her roses and apologized for being insensitive to her need to see Libbie.

“I should have tried harder to understand you wanting to meet her,” he told her as he handed her the flowers. “Sometimes I try to be so logical that I forget that logic doesn’t explain everything a person feels. I’m sorry.”

Emily accepted his apology and they went out for a romantic dinner that night. Emily couldn’t help but feel resentful. This was how Jordan generally operated. They’d fight, he’d apologize with flowers, and then all would be fine again. But he surprised her even further with what he said during dinner.

“I do want us to be married someday, Ems. As soon as I finish my degree and have a full-time teaching position, we can start planning our future.”

Emily was taken aback. She’d never heard him utter one word about marriage before. Had her admission that she hoped they’d marry someday jolted him awake? Or was he just trying to placate her so she’d move with him in the fall? She knew she shouldn’t feel that way, but that thought sat right below the surface. She pushed it aside for the night and enjoyed the evening.

Sunday morning Emily was nervous as she got ready to see Libbie. Jordan had left early to golf, so he didn’t know she was going today. It took her half an hour to figure out what to wear, and then she still changed three more times. Should she dress up? Should she wear jeans? She settled on a pair of black dress pants, a royal-blue silky T-shirt, and a pair of low-heeled pumps. She wanted to look mature and responsible without overdoing it. Emily wasn’t sure how Libbie would perceive her, so she thought dressing nicely might make her seem more normal and not like some crazy person butting into her life.

Although, in truth, she felt like a crazy person butting into Libbie’s life.

Finally, Emily got into her car and headed north on the highway toward the town of Spring River. The drive was beautiful, with lush pine, oak, and birch trees lining the roadside. In this part of the country, you could drive fifty miles without passing a house or town. Emily drove through only one small town that consisted of two churches, two gas stations, and a bar before she finally saw the sign announcing Spring River.

Emily rode through the sleepy little town before her GPS told her to turn right after crossing a bridge over a narrow river. She followed the winding river for a couple of miles before the assisted living facility came into view.

Emily slowed down and gazed at the place. It was built on a small hill overlooking a wide spot on the river. A sloping lawn stretched from the riverbank up to the front of the facility, and the building curved out slightly on each side of the main entrance. Emily guessed that the curved sections were the residents’ apartments, allowing some to have a view of the river. She hoped Libbie’s room had a view.

She pulled her car into the crowded parking lot. The woman she’d talked to had been right—many families came to visit on Sundays. As she stepped out of her car, she heard voices coming from the back of the building. She followed a path that led to the back and soon saw all the visitors and residents milling around. Chairs and small tables were set about, and a massive lawn spread out a long distance. The river flowed from the front of the building around to the back, and large, lush trees grew along its edge.

It looked tranquil here, even with so many people milling around. Emily thought it was a wonderful spot to grow old and enjoy your sunset years.

“Hello? May I help you?”

A voice spoke beside Emily, making her jump. She placed a hand over her heart as she turned to see who was there.

“I’m sorry,” a woman dressed in a nursing uniform said. “I didn’t mean to startle you. You looked a little lost.”

“That’s okay,” Emily said. “I was admiring how beautiful this place is. It’s so peaceful.”

The woman smiled. She looked to be in her forties and had dark brown hair and friendly brown eyes. “Thank you. That’s exactly what we’re going for—peaceful and calm. The residents like it that way.” She put out her hand. “I’m Angie, the supervising RN here.”

“Hi, Angie. I’m Emily.”

“Nice to meet you, Emily. Are you here to see a relative?”

Emily paused.
Well, here I go.
“I’m actually here to see an old friend of my mother’s. Libbie Wilkens.”

Angie’s smile faded and a stunned look crossed her face. “Libbie? You’re here to see Libbie?”

Emily nodded. “Yes. Libbie Wilkens.” Her mind began to race. What if something had happened to Libbie this past week? What if she’d lost her chance to meet her?

Slowly, the smile reappeared on Angie’s face and grew even wider. “Oh my goodness. You must be the woman who called earlier this week. You actually came. Libbie has a visitor.”