Another text. Heavens, did someone mix up my phone number with Grand Central Station?
Another group text, this one from the Harmonious Housewives: Music practice canceled tonight. Jeannie’s son broke his arm falling off the jungle gym and Amber’s sister went into labor.
Anna sent a sad face emoji but thanked heaven that something on her schedule had gotten postponed. She adored her weekly amateur musical group and they were playing in the Moonglow Music Festival in the park on Friday evening, so they really needed the rehearsal, but honestly who cared if they sucked buckets? It was a free show and they just wanted to have fun.
For the fifth time, she put her phone down and as she did, it played the ringtone of her favorite song, “Let It Go” from the Frozen soundtrack. Right now, she didn’t really want to hear it. Especially when she saw the call was from Moonglow Cove Memory Care Center.
Don’t answer, she told herself. They could leave voice mail. Yeah, that sounded good, but then the guilt-inducing angel on her shoulder whispered, What if it’s important?
“Babe,” Kevin called from their bedroom. “Have you seen my . . .” The rest came out as a garbled mufflestuffisit.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Anna?”
She recognized the voice of the director of the memory care facility, Myra Marts, and tried not to sound put-upon. “Good morning, Myra.”
“I wish it was.”
Uh-oh. “What’s up?” she asked, her voice coming out chirpy as a bluebird on Adderall. Dial it down.
“I’m afraid Winnie’s gone missing again.”
Anna rubbed her temple with her free hand. Winnie Newton was the midwife who’d delivered her, and the elderly woman had been exceptionally close to Anna’s dad, Heathcliff.
Because her parents had had her so late in life, Anna had never known her grandparents and Winnie had filled their shoes, stepping in as a surrogate grandmother. When she was young, Winnie had had a substantial presence in her life.
Out of a sense of loyalty and sheer kindness, her father had been the one to look after Winnie when she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. Because Winnie’s son, Paul, had been her dad’s best friend, he felt obligated. But Anna couldn’t help thinking the reason ran deeper than that. Her father had lost both his parents when he was young, and Winnie had lost her husband and son too soon. Mutual sorrow could cement a relationship.
Plus, Winnie had no one else to look after her. Since her dad passed away last year Anna had inherited Winnie’s medical power of attorney.
“I don’t expect you to do anything,” Myra said. “We’re out searching, and we called the police. I just wanted you to know. I’m sure we’ll find her soon.”
“Thank you,” Anna said, forcing herself to take a deep breath.
Despite all the safety and security precautions they took at the facility, Anna understood that patients with dementia did take off unannounced from time to time. Myra did her best to create a safe and nurturing environment, but nothing was foolproof. Especially with Winnie, who’d turned out to have Houdini flair whenever she got agitated.
“Please text me when you find her,” she told Myra.
“We will.”
Anna ended the call and stared at the screen, daring the phone to interrupt her again. Problems were stacking up like Jenga blocks, one wrong move and the “to-do” tower would tumble in on her.
Dear Lord, she prayed jokingly, please send me a clone.
What she wouldn’t give for a clone! She took another deep breath and slowly let it out through her teeth. She’d find a way to manage everything. She always did. Where there was a will there was a way. Right?
“Mommy, Mommmmmmy!” Logan came tearing into the mudroom, tears running down his face.
“What is it, honey?” Anna crouched and opened her arms wide. “What’s happened?”
Her three-year-old flew into her embrace. “Al-Allie!”
He sobbed, burying his face against her shoulder. On his heels, her ten-year-old daughter stormed into view. She wore a blue T-shirt with galloping horses imprinted into the material, denim shorts, and her curly red hair was pulled into a ponytail with a scrunchie.
“He came into my room, Mom, and he knocked my phone off the dresser. Look!” Allie flashed her phone in front of Anna’s face. “He cracked the screen!”
There was indeed a hairline crack. Very tiny, but there.
“It was an assident,” Logan wailed.
“I want a new phone. I need a new phone. He owes me a new phone!” Allie flailed dramatically.
“Allie, lower your voice.” Anna got to her feet and leveled a calming gaze at her daughter. “We can discuss this without yelling.”
Logan clasped his arms around Anna’s thigh and shot his sister the side-eye.
Allie glowered at him. “Phone! Cracked! Brat!”
“Shh. You’re upsetting your brother.”
“You always take his side.”
“He’s three and he didn’t mean to crack your phone. You’re lucky you even have a phone. Many kids your age don’t. Suck it up, buttercup.”
The cell phone was a cost they could have waited a few years on. Allie had her own phone simply because Kevin adored gadgets and had buried Anna with research and articles on why it was good for children to have their own phones. Anna had been against it, wanting to wait until Allie was thirteen.
Kevin won when he said, “The GPS tracker will let you know where she is every moment of every day.”
Begrudgingly, she’d agreed to the phone for Allie’s tenth birthday. There were plenty of days when she couldn’t pry Allie from her phone screen that she regretted the decision.
Allie scowled, folded her arms over her chest, and chuffed out her breath. “He’s your favorite. It’s not fair, not fair, not fair.”
From her pocket, Anna’s cell phone dinged and then rang.
Logan boo-hooed.
Allie stormed down the hall.
Kevin called, “What is going on?”
Did she have to solve everything? Fix everyone? Yep, you’re the mom. Comes with the job description.
Well, she refused to feel sorry for herself. Enough of this nonsense. She had to break the mood and turn the ship around, or the entire day would be a wash.
Hmmm, how to get their attention, and snap her kids out of this mind-set? Anna searched the laundry room and her gaze fell on the cymbals.
Aha.
Prying Logan from her leg, she grabbed for the cymbals and clashed them together. Sang at the top of her lungs, “Seventy-six trombones led the big parade!”
Allie poked her head back into the mudroom. “Mom, what are you doing?”
“Line up!” Anna hollered. “We’re going to march this out.”
“Mom!” Allie rolled her eyes hard.
Anna clashed the cymbals.
Allie lined up behind Logan, who was already following her as Anna marched down the hallway.
“Knees high!” she called and started in on the lyrics again. “Seventy-six trombones!”
They proceeded past the master bedroom headed to the kitchen. The kids falling in step with her. Anna clashing the cymbals with resounded emphasis. Kevin came out of the bedroom to join them, making a silly drum major face and waving a golf putter like it was a baton. He got in front of Anna to lead the band.