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CHAPTER ONE

JUNE 1987

Augusta Stern did not want to retire. She had no interest in learning to knit, studying a new language, or filling her plate at some overcrowded cruise ship buffet. She did not want to "slow down," take "time for herself," or surrender to any other nonsensical euphemism designed to make her feel better about being made to give up the work she'd been doing for most of her life.

The first mention of Augusta's retirement had come from the hospital administration five years ago; the second, two years after that. But this time, it was more than a mention. This time, Augusta had been summoned directly by the hospital's new director of human resources—a man far more competent and precise than his sluggish predecessor. Mr. Willard's office was small but tidy and smelled pleasantly of Lemon Pledge. After gesturing to the hulking device on his desk that Augusta recognized as a computer, he explained how he had been tasked by the head of the hospital's administration to modernize the workings of his department. "We're putting all employee records on a new network. Soon our paperwork will be entirely electronic."

Augusta stared at the computer between them, wondering what any of this had to do with her. "Fascinating," she replied.

"It is," the balding director agreed. "Though it requires a good deal of data entry work. Take, for example, the pharmacy department, of which you are an illustrious member. Even as we speak, the members of my staff are typing the personal information of every pharmacist into our new database." When Augusta failed to respond, Mr. Willard continued. "Tedious stuff," he admitted. "Unfortunately, the process has necessitated a close review of the records—dates of licensure, birth dates, et cetera—for each and every employee. In cases where irregularities have been identified, my staff has been forced to make further inquiries to ensure accuracy going forward." Augusta forced herself to look him in the eye. "How admirable," she said. She curved her lips into a smile, but she could feel her heart racing in the back of her throat.

"I'm glad you approve," Mr. Willard said. "Of course this transition marks a significant shift from our past way of doing things." He glanced at a folder on his desk that bore Augusta's first and last name. "I see from your records that you've worked at this hospital for a little over fifteen years."

"That's correct," Augusta said.

"And according to your employee questionnaire, you'll be turning seventy this fall?"

Augusta willed her cheeks not to redden. "Yes," she murmured. "Seventy years old. On October third."

"You have been a very valuable member of this institution, Ms. Stern. It's not my intention to coerce you in any way, but given your approaching milestone birthday, I was wondering whether you might be reconsidering retirement?"

For the briefest of moments, Augusta closed her eyes. The answer to the question came to her slowly, like a malted milk shake through a too-narrow straw. It pained her to say the words out loud, but she knew she did not have a choice. In the most respectful manner possible, Mr. Willard was telling her what she already knew: the dates in her paperwork did not add up. With all the confidence she could muster, Augusta proffered her reply.

"In fact, I am," she announced. "I've decided to retire at the end of the month."

If Augusta was to face the end of her career, she was determined to do so with her dignity intact.

* * *

On Augusta's last day of work, she dressed with even more care than usual. Thanks to a lifetime of healthy eating, daily exercise, and the diligent application of Pond's Cold Cream, her skin was still a wholesome pink. Her hair had been freshly colored for the occasion. From her closet, she chose a timeless white blouse, a blue cashmere cardigan, and a pair of low pumps that her niece had selected. "Frumpy shoes really age a person," Jackie always said. "That and the wrong color lipstick."

At the pharmacy department's farewell party, Augusta accepted a piece of cake and a glass of cheap sparkling wine. Several of the pharmacists made heartfelt toasts, along with a few of the nurses. When they asked about her future plans, she told them she was moving to Florida in September. Her niece had found her a two-bedroom condo in a small retirement community called Rallentando Springs.

"That sounds wonderful," they told her. "All that sunshine—you're going to love it!" Augusta pretended to agree, but inside, she was not convinced.