47 47DR. LANE, NEIL STEPHENS, AND HIS FATHER CONCLUDED their tour of Latham Manor at the entrance to the dining room. Neil took in the hum of conversation, the animated faces of the well-dressed seniors, the overall ambiance of the beautiful room. White-gloved waiters were serving, and the aroma of freshly baked bread was enticing.
Lane picked up a menu and handed it to Neil. “Today the main course is a choice of Dover sole with white asparagus, or chicken salad,” he explained. “The dessert choices are frozen yogurt or sorbet, with home-baked cookies.” He smiled. “I might add that this is a typical menu. Our chef is not only cordon bleu, but also a dietary specialist.”
“Very impressive,” Neil said, nodding appreciatively.
“Neil, we tee up in thirty minutes,” Robert Stephens reminded his son. “Don’t you think you’ve seen enough?”
“More important,” Dr. Lane said gently, “do you feel that you might recommend the available suite to your clients? Without meaning to pressure them, I can tell you that it won’t last long. Couples especially are attracted to the large units.”
“I’m going to speak to my clients on Monday when I get back to New York,” Neil said. “The place is most impressive. I’ll certainly send them the prospectus and recommend that they come up and look over everything for themselves.”
“Wonderful,” Dr. Lane said heartily, as Robert Stephens pointedly held up his watch, turned and began to walk down the corridor to the front door. Neil and Dr. Lane followed. “We like having couples here,” Dr. Lane continued. “Many of the guests are widows, but that doesn’t mean they don’t enjoy having men around. In fact, we’ve had several romances develop between single guests.”
Robert Stephens slowed and fell into step with them. “If you don’t settle down soon, Neil, maybe you should put in your application. This place may be your best chance.”
Neil grinned. “Just don’t ever let my father move in,” he told the doctor.
“Don’t worry about me. This place is too rich for my blood,” Robert Stephens declared. “But that reminds me. Doctor, do you remember receiving an application from a Mrs. Cora Gebhart?”
Dr. Lane frowned. “That name is familiar. Oh yes, she’s in what we call the ‘pending file.’ She visited here about a year ago, filled out an application but did not want it activated. It’s our practice to phone someone like that once or twice a year to see whether they’re nearer to a decision. The last time I spoke to Mrs. Gebhart, I had the impression that she was seriously considering joining us.”
“She was,” the elder Stephens said shortly. “All right, Neil, let’s be on our way.”
* * *
Neil tried calling Maggie once more from the car phone, but he still got no answer.
Even though it was a beautiful day and he played excellent golf, Neil found the afternoon unconscionably long. He could not shake the ominous feeling that something was wrong.