"So," Miles said, as Phil drove to Pragma Senior Living, "if you move to Pragma, can I have the car?"
"Of course not!" Phil said. "You'll break the darn thing!"
"So you're going to sell it?" Stella asked.
"Unless you want it," Phil said. "I'd trust you with it. Just keep it away from Miles."
It was only a six-minute drive to Pragma, and the Shortmans arrived slightly early. They approached the two women sitting behind the front desk.
"Welcome to Pragma Senior Living," said the blonde woman. "How can I assist you?"
"We're here for a tour," Phil said. "I scheduled it yesterday over the phone."
"Oh yes!" The blonde woman said. "I recognize your voice."
The other woman—a brunette—stood up. "I'm Brenda, the tour guide. You must be Mr. Shortman."
"Yep," Phil said. "I brought the whole family along. That's my wife, Pookie; my son, Miles; his wife, Stella; and my grandson, Arnold."
"You have such a lovely family," Brenda said.
As Phil and Brenda chatted, Arnold looked around the lobby. It appeared to be well-maintained.
"So do your son and grandson live close by?" Brenda asked.
"We live in the same house," Phil said. "Big boarding house. Pookie and I actually raised Arnold—his parents went missing for ten years."
"Oh no!" Brenda said. "I'm glad you found them!"
"Oh, you wouldn't believe what happened!" Phil said. "But I'll spare you the details—I wanna see the theater."
The theater room was mostly gray, which matched Arnold's mood. Phil jumped onto one of the armchairs.
"Look at that screen!" Phil said. "Can you play a movie? I wanna see what the picture looks like."
"No problem," Brenda said. She walked over to the projector and turned it on. She played a film from the sixties, which Phil and Gertie remembered fondly. They could only watch five minutes of it before Brenda led them to the game room.
There was a billiard table, a shuffleboard table, and two five-seat card tables. One card table was occupied by four senior residents.
"We play Bingo after lunch on Saturdays," Brenda said. "There's also a chess club. They meet on Thursdays."
"Sign me up!" Phil said. "I love chess. Used to play it with my grandson all the time."
The room appeared to be clean, but had a strange odor. If Phil noticed, he didn't seem to mind.
The next room they visited was the lounge, where one resident was knitting. A jazz song was playing on the radio.
Gertie gasped. "A piano!" She sat down at it and played a few keys. "Beautiful! I always wanted an indoor piano. I can't play mine when it's raining."
Arnold looked down at the carpet beneath him. Would grandma choose a piano over me?
They didn't stay in the lounge for long, and the next room they visited was the dining area. Though the printed chairs and curtains screamed "senior home," everything was clean, and the tables looked fancy. Arnold wondered if the flowers were fake.
"The residents eat dinner at six," Brenda said. "Breakfast is served at eight a.m., and lunch is at twelve. That said, our schedule is flexible. Would you like to see our menu?"
"Sure would," Phil said. "You have more than just meatloaf, right?"
Brenda laughed. "Yes, of course!" She handed Phil a menu, which he examined closely.
"Lots of options," he said. "They have shrimp on Thursdays, Pookie."
Then Gertie took a look at the menu. "They have hash browns!" she said. "Oh, how I miss those! It's too bad Arnold never liked them."
Their penultimate stop was an available bedroom, which was clean, but not fancy. After giving the Shortmans a rundown on pricing, Brenda led them to their final stop—a bathroom.
"This bathroom was renovated over the summer," Brenda said. "The vinyl flooring is slip-resistant."
"I see the toilet has safety rails," Stella said. "That's good."
"Walk-in shower, of course," Brenda said. "No bathtub."
"I stopped taking baths years ago," Phil said.
Arnold stared glumly at the toilet. The safety rails were the only thing he liked about Pragma. I wonder how much they cost.