People who tell me their age are silly. You’re as old as you feel.”—Elizabeth Arden They were now all hanging around the lobby. Opal had seen to it that Fay had made it back to her room and then she returned. Then Essie made Marjorie and Opal wait while she went somewhere.“Now, where did she go?” asked Opal.“To check on the you-know-what of the you-know-what,” responded Marjorie.“Oh, of course,” replied Opal, looking confused.Within ten minutes, Essie had returned. She plopped herself back down between the women and whispered one word: “yellow.”Then the three women rolled their walkers to the front desk. Phyllis, the front desk clerk, was speaking with an elderly gentleman. He was asking about an upcoming trip—not the infamous botanical gardens one; it sounded like he was discussing a shopping trip. Happy Haven frequently took residents out for shopping at outlet malls or grocery stores. Some residents liked to keep some of their favorite foods in their small refrigerators in their apartments.
