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“No, no. You’re right. It’s a very sad commentary on the times,” she said.

“It’s unfortunate there was no one else living close enough to help.”

“I come from a very small family and everyone else is gone.”

“I’m the youngest of nine. But no matter. You must be anxious to get home.”

“‘Frantic’ is a better word. I’ve been dealing with a couple of home health care agencies, trying to get someone on board. So far, we haven’t been able to make anything work.”

“It’s not always easy to find someone suitable. Your ad says you’re looking for a registered nurse.”

“Exactly. With my uncle’s medical problems, he needs more than a home companion.”

“To be truthful, I’m not an RN. I’m a licensed vocational nurse. I wouldn’t want to misrepresent my qualifications. I do work with an agency-Senior Health Care Management-but I’m more like an independent contractor than an employee.”

“You’re an LVN? Well, that’s pretty much the same thing, isn’t it?”

Solana shrugged. “There’s a difference in training and, of course, an RN earns far more than someone of my humble origins. In my own behalf, I will say that most of my experience has been with the elderly. I come from a culture where age and wisdom are accorded respect.”

Solana went on in this vein, inventing as she went along, but she needn’t have bothered. Melanie believed every word she said. She wanted to believe so she could make her escape without feeling guilty or irresponsible. “Does your uncle need around-the-clock care?”

“No, no. Not at all. The doctor’s concerned about his managing on his own during his recovery. Aside from the shoulder injury, he’s been in good health, so we might only need someone for a month or so. I hope that’s not a problem.”

“Most of my jobs have been temporary,” she said. “What are the duties you had in mind?”

“The usual, I guess. Bathing and grooming, light housekeeping, a little laundry, and maybe one meal a day. Something along those lines.”

“What about grocery shopping and transportation to his doctor’s appointments? Won’t he need to be seen by his primary care physician?”

Melanie sat back. “I hadn’t thought about that, but it’d be great if you’d be willing.”

“Of course. There are usually other errands as well, at least in my experience. What about the hours?”

“That’s up to you. Whatever you think would work best.”

“And the pay?”

“I was thinking somewhere in the neighborhood of nine dollars an hour. That’s the standard rate back East. I don’t know about out here.”

Solana covered her surprise. She’d meant to ask for seven fifty, which was already a dollar more than she usually earned. She lifted her brows. “Nine,” she said, infusing the word with infinite regret.

Melanie leaned forward. “I wish I could offer more, but he’ll be paying out of his own pocket and that’s as much as he can afford.”

“I see. Of course, in California, when you’re looking for skilled nursing care, that would be considered low.”

“I know and I’m sorry. We could maybe make it, you know, like nine fifty. Would that work for you?”

Solana considered. “Perhaps I could manage, assuming you’re talking about a straight eight-hour shift, five days a week. If weekends are necessary, my rate would go up to ten an hour.”

“That’s fine. If it comes down to it, I can contribute a few dollars to help offset the expense. The important thing is that he has the help he needs.”

“Naturally, the patient’s needs are paramount.”

“When would you be able to start? I mean, assuming you’re interested.”





Solana paused. “This is Friday and I do have a few things to take care of. Could we say early next week?”

“Would Monday be at all possible?”

Solana shifted with apparent uneasiness. “Ah. I might be able to rearrange my schedule, but much would depend on you.”

“Me?”

“You have an application you want me to complete?”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary. We’ve covered the basics, and if something else comes up, we can discuss at the time.”

“I appreciate your confidence, but you should have the information for your files. It’s better for both of us if we put our cards on the table, so to speak.”

“That’s very conscientious. Actually, I do have some forms. Hang on a second.”

She got up and crossed the room to a side table where her handbag was sitting. She took out a folded set of papers. “You need a pen?”

“That’s not necessary. I’ll complete the application at home and bring it over first thing tomorrow morning. That will give you the weekend to verify my references. By Wednesday, you should have everything you need.”

Melanie furrowed her brow. “Couldn’t you go ahead and start work on Monday? I can always make calls from New York when I get home.”

“I suppose I could. It’s really a matter of your peace of mind.”

“I’m not worried about that. I’m sure everything’s in order. I feel better just having you here.”

“Your decision.”

“Good. Why don’t I introduce you to Uncle Gus and I can show you around.”

“I’d like that.”

As they moved into the hall, she could see Melanie’s anxiety surface again. “I’m sorry the place is such a mess. Uncle Gus hasn’t done much to keep it up. Typical bachelor living. He doesn’t seem to notice all the dust and disrepair.”

“He could be depressed. Elderly gentlemen in particular seem to lose their zest for life. I see it in their lack of personal hygiene, indifference to their surroundings, and limited social contacts. Sometimes there are personality changes as well.”

“I hadn’t thought about that. I should warn you he can be difficult. I mean, really, he’s a sweetheart, but sometimes he gets impatient.”

“Short-tempered, in other words.”

“Right.”

Solana smiled. “I’ve seen it before. Believe me, the shouting and tantrums roll right over me. I don’t take any of it personally.”

“That’s a relief.”

Solana was introduced to Gus Vronsky, in whom she took an avid interest, though she said very little to him. There was no point working to ingratiate herself. Melanie Oberlin was doing the hiring and she’d soon be gone. Whatever the old man was like, foul-mouthed or disagreeable, Solana would have him to herself. There’d be plenty of time for the two of them to sort themselves out.

That Friday afternoon, she sat at the round Formica table that served as her desk in the dining area of her small apartment. Her kitchen was cramped, with scarcely enough counter space to prepare a meal. She had an apartment-sized refrigerator, a four-burner stove that looked as inadequate as a toy, a sink, and cheap wall-mounted cabinets. She paid bills from this table, which was usually covered with paperwork and therefore useless for eating purposes. She and her son ate sitting in front of the television set, resting their plates on the coffee table.

She had the Vronsky job application in front of her. Close by she had the copy of the application she’d taken from the Other’s perso