#masonhall

The woman who came to retrieve Cara was neither as deferential as Penny nor as icy as Ms. Carrington. In fact, with her mass of black hair held back with a white bandanna and her faded sweatshirt and denims, Beatrice Thurmond looked too laid back, too chill to be a supervisor. She gave Cara a warm smile. “You look like your Mom. And you got a touch of your Pappy in you.” “You knew Pappy?” She…

Days like this made Cynthia want to scream. The pounding rain. The flooded inbox. A leak in the west wing. Supply delays. State inspectors. Staffing issues. Mrs. Grant’s vendetta against Mrs. Cornelius. Mr. Oliver camped out in the great room. A dozen other residents with twice as many needs and complaints. And God forbid … She glanced out the window.  “Christ,” she said and picked up the phone.…

“If you had only listened to Granny, you could be off to college, too,” Audrey chided as gently as she could.  “If I wanted a degree in nursing or teaching or business, yeah.” “Those are perfectly respectable careers.” Audrey pushed the pantsuit into her daughter’s hands. Cara groused. “But they’re not me. I want to be on stage. I want to sing. Dance—” “Sleep on a grate in Center…