“Is he expecting you?” the receptionist asked.
“No … well … no, he isn’t,” Arden fumbled, grabbing a big bag brimming with food off a table in the lobby and giving it a shake for emphasis. “It’s sort of a, well, surprise. I brought him lunch.”
“Oh, you must be Arden,” the receptionist said, smiling.
“What? How…? He’s talked about me?” Arden finally noticed the little gold sign in front of her that stated the receptionist’s name. “Really, Patty? He has?”
“He has. Many times,” Patty said. “All good things. He really cares for your mom, too.”
Too, Arden thought, biting her lip to keep her from saying it out loud.
“Jake’s in the music therapy room right now,” Patty said. “Big room next to the cafeteria. You can go on back. Surprise him.”
Patty gave a dramatic wink that Arden immediately believed could imply a million things. “Thanks,” she said.
As Arden walked down the brightly lit hallway, music bounced off the walls and echoed in the corridor.
Arden stopped and tilted her head.
“Frosty the Snowman”? she thought. To kick off summer? Am I still dreaming?
She stopped at the edge of the music room, poked her head around the corner, and did a double take.
Jake was playing a trumpet and sporting a Santa hat while standing in front of a group of roughly twenty seniors, all of whom were clapping and bobbing their grey heads vigorously.
His eyes were closed, and his body was one with the trumpet, swaying, swooping, dipping with each crescendo as his fingers flew over the keys and the brass instrument danced.
Arden immediately thought of famed trumpeters like Louis Armstrong, whose music her mother loved, and Doc Severinsen, who Lolly had watched for decades on The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson.
He looks so handsome, Arden thought. So lost in the music.
Arden began to nod her head along with the seniors, and she shut her eyes, again remembering the day her mother taught her to build a proper snow woman.
She didn’t notice the music had even stopped until she heard Jake’s voice boom, “Any requests?”
Arden popped open her eyes, her face immediately turning red, as twenty grey heads turned her way.
Arden vigorously shook her head no. Jake chuckled and walked over, wrapping one muscular arm around Arden’s waist and pulling her into the room. Upon her entrance, he lifted the trumpet to his lips and played a dramatic flourish, as if she were royalty.
Arden giggled.
“We have a surprise visitor!” Jake announced in a faux English accent. “A queen of words!”
The seniors smiled, some giggling along with Arden.
Jake gave Arden a surprise peck on the cheek and whispered into her ear, “It’s good to see you. I’m in the middle of music therapy. It can really help patients with MCI and dementia recall memories from their past.”
Arden again thought of the snow woman, and then of the snowflake charm.
“Actually,” Arden said aloud, surprising Jake as well as herself, “I do have a request: ‘Let It Snow.’”
A few of the seniors clapped their approval.
Jake bent at the waist. “Anything for m’lady.”
And, with that, Jake lifted his trumpet, and Arden could have sworn she was once again in the middle of winter, happy for the holidays.
*
“So? What prompted this surprise?” Jake asked, taking a healthy bite of the roasted turkey sandwich that Arden had picked up at a farm stand and deli on her way to see him. “This sandwich is awesome. It’s like we had planned this.”
Arden smiled at the deeper meaning of his sentence. As she watched Jake eat, she thought of the little farm that had seemed to call to her—like the dream she had last night—as she was driving. The farm stand was beyond adorable. It was lined with baskets overflowing with homegrown produce: blueberries, early white asparagus, eggs, fresh herbed chèvre, beets, lettuce, and spinach. The deli was operated out of a restored barn, its old doors pushed open so you could see right through to the fields beyond, which were filled with bleating goats jumping around like excited children.
A man and woman draped in aprons ran the stand and deli, and they seemed to communicate to one another without saying a word.
Just a few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have stopped there, Arden thought. I wouldn’t be here. I want what that old couple have. I want what my parents had.
“I was supposed to call you for a date.”
“What?” Arden asked, returning from her thoughts.
“I was supposed to call you for a date.” Jake stopped, his eyes twinkling. “Remember? So? Is this a date?” he continued, raising his eyebrows and nudging Arden with his knees.
“I’m the writer,” she said. “Let’s call it a meet-and-greet.”
“Wow,” he said, taking another bite of his sandwich. “So romantic.”
The two were sitting on facing benches outside Lakeview. It was one of those stunning May days, as Lolly used to say, that made her “soul ache.”