Happiness Key (16 page)

“No, it’s a good idea,” Tracy said. “These two men are connected some way we haven’t figured out yet. Every little bit of information’s important. I’ll research this and send off for it if I can.”

Alice had been silent, tying up what was left of the trash. Now she spoke up. “Do you think the men will come back for this bag now that we’ve finished with it?”

The other women turned to her, and Alice grinned. “I’m joking.”

Wanda put her arm around Alice and gave her a hug.

Tracy didn’t have an office so much as a rec room. The recreation supervisor was housed off the indoor swimming pool in a large rectangular expanse dotted with sofas, tables for strategizing with staff, and shelves filled with games and supplies. The saving grace was a wall of glass doors that looked over the shuffleboard courts. Good, too, was the picnic table next to the building for lunches or powwows when weather permitted.

Tracy’s desk was in the corner closest to the doors, so if she turned her head, she could keep an eye on activities taking place at the courts. She had an antiquated computer and printer, her own telephone line, and a sign on her desk that read Children Should be Seen, Heard and Adored.

She had arrived on Monday morning, and after half an hour with Gladys, making sure she was signed up for every perk, Gladys turned her loose to familiarize herself with the rec room, and to begin planning for a staff meeting on Friday with the ten counselors and six teachers who would be helping her run the youth program.

“Just two little things,” Gladys said before she left Tracy to wander the room and take note of all the equipment in the adjacent storage room. “Our arts-and-crafts teacher just quit, so you’ll need to find another one. And—”

Tracy held up a hand. “Umm, Gladys? Recruitment is my job?”

“We assumed you’d want to find somebody you’ll enjoy working with. We’ll advertise in the usual places, of course, but at this late date, you’ll probably need to go out and beat the bushes.”

Tracy already knew that even though the counselors were chosen from responsible high school students, the teachers were more mature individuals, at the very least college students home on vacation.

“She?” Tracy asked. “The arts-and-crafts teacher?”

“She,” Gladys confirmed.

“She must have had an excellent reason to quit so close to start-up.” Something about the way Gladys was glossing over this made her suspicious.

“She just decided she would prefer a job…” The other woman turned up her hands. “Okay, when she found out Bay Egan was enrolled again, she quit on the spot.”

“And the reason?” Tracy kept a calm tone and a friendly smile.

“Last summer he glued her flip-flops to the floor.” Gladys inclined her head toward a far corner. “You can still see the residue if you look, even though we sanded and painted over it. Then there was an incident with scissors and bathing suit straps.”

“And we’re letting this kid come back?”

“Woody and I know Bay and his father rather well. The boy’s been through a rough time. When Marsh and Sylvia, Bay’s mother, divorced, Marsh pressed for joint
custody. He hoped Sylvia would take more of an interest in Bay that way. She’s an attorney in New York, and very intent on climbing the corporate ladder. But even though she has every right to see Bay whenever she chooses, she’s more or less abandoned him.”

“I’m sure that’s tough. But he lives with his father, right? Is their relationship a problem?”

“Marsh may be a bit permissive.”

Tracy was forming a picture here. “Permissive because he’s too lazy to be a good parent? Or permissive because he wants to make up to Bay for everything that’s happened?”

“Oh, the second, no doubt about it. You do have some insight into families,” Gladys said, sounding genuinely pleased.

“Maybe I need a five-hundred-pound gorilla teaching arts and crafts.”

“Until you find one, you’ll have to teach the craft segment yourself, so I’d get right on this. Oh, and the second thing I wanted to tell you. The shuffle board—isn’t that cute? That’s what they call themselves. Shuffle board. Anyway, the board wants to meet with you at four. There are three of them, dear men every one. They’ll meet you on the court.”

Tracy made certain not to roll her eyes. She had spent yesterday reading up on the game, and she was even more certain shuffleboard was just for old people who weren’t strong enough to sock a volleyball over a net.

Gladys turned at the doorway. “Oh, one more thing. The outdoor pool is officially open now, but the swimming program hasn’t moved outside yet, so you’ll hear lots of activity next door. Make sure you introduce yourself to the instructors and anybody else who comes through. They’ll have lots of good ideas for you.”

They did, too. As the day progressed, Tracy was greeted by an assortment of men and women from the janitorial staff, and the executive, sports and teaching staffs, all with strong opinions. The rec center employees ranged from barely courteous to friendly. One of the friendliest explained that some of the barely courteous had applied for Tracy’s job, but they would come around when they saw how well-suited she was.

The more she delved into the varied facets of what had to be an overly optimistic job description, the less sure Tracy was that anybody would praise her. Very clearly her predecessor had not been obsessive so much as certain that the only key to success was a schedule organized down to the minute, accompanied by copious notes. Tracy told herself this wasn’t going to be any harder than keeping track of CJ’s personal schedule and social obligations. But by four, she knew she was lying. Friday’s staff meeting was fast becoming a war council. She had a list half a mile long of items for the agenda. She hoped the counselors and teachers had been well-chosen.

Her head ached, and her vision was blurry. She was afraid she was going to have to dig up the cute little Jimmy Choo reading glasses her ophthalmologist had prescribed back in the days when she still had money for doctor’s visits. She was even more afraid that before the summer and all the paperwork were over, she might need something stronger. At least now she had insurance.

She stood and stretched, almost glad she had to meet with the shuffle board. The court was in shade now, and apparently a swimming class was in session next door. The chlorine fumes and the shrill blowing of a whistle were making her headache worse. She was ready for fresh air and relative quiet.

Just outside the rec room door, she stood on tiptoe and stretched. The outdoor pool glistened beyond the shuffleboard courts, which were state-of-the-art. Hedges separated the two, but they hadn’t yet grown high enough to be a real demarcation. Turning back toward the table, she noted that the wall along the side of the building was a dirty beige and looked in need of repainting before the tournament. But there was potential here, after a little sprucing up. Room for more picnic tables, and places for people to rest in the shade of the building while they watched or waited to play.

She was examining the shuffleboard courts when she heard footsteps behind her. She turned to greet the board and froze. Despite temperatures in the low nineties, she was a block of ice. Then the blood rushing into every extremity set her free, and she was ready to run. But it was too late.

“What are
you
doing here?” A familiar-looking man with a narrow mustache bore down on her. There was no chessboard in front of him today, and she was surprised by how quickly he could move. He was flanked by two others who, unfortunately, looked every bit as familiar.

“Who told you we were coming here?” he demanded.

Tracy ran through half a dozen responses. She hadn’t realized her mind could work that fast.

“Let me guess,” she said, since none of the other choices were better. “You’re the shuffle board.”

“Are you stalking us?”

The thought was so preposterous that she couldn’t help herself. She giggled, but she sobered immediately when she saw she was the only one who found the question funny.

“First, I want to apologize,” she said, trying for sincerity and humility, although without much practice
neither came naturally. “I didn’t realize how rude and demanding I must have sounded the other day, but I was so focused on finding poor Herb’s family I wasn’t thinking of anybody else. And upsetting your table was absolutely accidental. I figured at that point, the best thing I could do was to leave. But I really am sorry.”

They circled her, and she felt like a gazelle in the middle of a pride of lions. Ancient lions, but still…

“Who are you?” the man with the glasses demanded, lifting a fist in the air. “And why are you still after us?”

She edged away from the court. “I’m not after you.”

“Then what are you doing here? Who told you we’d be—” The truth must have occurred to him, because he stopped and stared in disbelief. “Tell me it’s not true.”

“Here’s the truth, and really, it’s not so bad. I
am
the new recreational supervisor, but I had no idea you were the shuffle board. I mean, let’s face it. Palmetto Grove’s not a raging metropolis, but there are more than a few people walking the streets, so I didn’t expect the three of you.”

“Who the hell hired you?”

“The usual suspects.” She smiled brightly, although she remembered as she did how poorly that had gone over before. “So who won the chess game?”

They stared at her.

“I guess it doesn’t matter,” she said, backtracking quickly. “I hope you found all your pieces.”

The skinny man she’d nicknamed the hoverer squinted at her. “I know the Woodleys. I’m going to tell them what you did.”

“Well, you can, but honestly? I think they’re between a rock and a hard place, and they need me to organize your tournament. So they aren’t going to be all that
thrilled to fire me on my first day at work. Wouldn’t it be more productive if we just tried to get along?”

“Do you know one end of a cue from the other, girlie, or how long a regulation cue even has to be? Do you know how much a disc has to weigh? What the penalty is if a disc is touching a line? The differences between a hook shot and a hesitation shot?”

She was starting to get annoyed, but she tried to remain pleasant. “I know the basics, but if we work together, I can learn the rest.”

“I bet you think shuffleboard is about as stupid as chess,” Mr. Mustache said, moving closer and pointing his finger at her chest.

She hesitated one heartbeat too long. He nodded with more vigor than she expected. “You
do
think it’s stupid. The Woodleys went and hired a supervisor who thinks the game is stupid!”

“I never said that!” Tracy stepped backward and found herself on the grass between courts. “I admit, the other day, I was overbearing, because I wanted to help one of your friends. Now, get over it, okay? I apologized. I’ll do everything possible to make your tournament a good one.”

She never got to hear a reply, because suddenly a child came hurtling through the open door of the rec room. His head was turned, as if he were trying to outwit pursuers, and before Tracy could yell a warning, the boy was on the court heading straight toward her. She leaped forward, and, fanning out her arms, she swept the old men to either side, then lunged for the all too familiar boy. Bay saw her just in time, spun around, dodged the stumbling old men and Tracy, and kept running.

Right across the courts, over the hedge and into the outdoor pool.

“Unbelievable!”

Water sprayed everywhere, and the splash befit a whale. Tracy took off after him, sending her sandals flying as she ran. At poolside, she spotted Bay floundering in the deep end. She wasn’t exactly certain whether he was trying to put an end to his miserable little life or simply recovering from the sudden shock of finding himself in the water. Whichever it was, tempting as it was to let him sink to the bottom, it was not a good idea—especially on her first day at work.

Cursing under her breath, she dove in fully clothed, aiming for a spot a few feet away from the place where he struggled. She surfaced, spotted the boy and with, one splashing sweep, hauled him against her and tried to pull him to his back.

“Let go of me!” He kicked out at her, and when that didn’t work, he tried to punch her. Expecting this, she was ready. She’d taken lifesaving at summer camp in the Sierras, a skill that had been required later as part of a class in college. And she knew exactly what she had to do.

Outmaneuvering all his attempts to drown her, she towed Bay to the ladder and shoved him against it.

“Climb!” she sputtered.

He pushed away, twisting and squirming, but she grabbed him again, this time by the nape, and shoved him at the ladder.

Arms reached down and hauled Bay out of the water. Tracy climbed out and shook back her hair. She recognized the woman in a black Speedo. They’d been introduced earlier, but she couldn’t recall her name.

“Appears you lost something,” Tracy told her.

“Bay Egan!” The woman, in her forties and comfortably maternal in appearance, gripped Bay’s shoulders.
Clearly she was so upset she could hardly speak. “Did you tie all my lockers shut?”

Bay struggled, but the woman gripped him harder. “Well, did you?”

“It was a ’speriment!”

Tracy shook herself like a Labrador retriever, and water flew everywhere. “What did he do?”

“He brought a bag of zip ties in his swim bag this afternoon, then he said he had to go to the bathroom. When he didn’t come back fast enough, I left the other kids with the parents and my assistant, and went looking. When I caught him, he was threading ties through the holes where the padlocks are supposed to go, pulling them as tight as he could. He’d gotten more than half!”

“What kind of experiment was that?” Tracy asked Bay.

“None of your business!”

“You know what? I think you were experimenting with making everybody furious,” she guessed.

By now the shuffle board had arrived.

Mr. Mustache was shaking with anger, wheezing as if he were trying to find words vile enough. Her forbearance was used up. She stuck her finger in his chest. “Don’t you dare say a word. I was trying to keep him from running you over. He would have knocked the three of you off that court like so many shuffleboard discs. So zip it!”

“What is this commotion?” Gladys came forward. Tracy hadn’t realized she was there.

“Bay took it on himself to make sure half the lockers won’t open again without some major intervention from our janitors,” the swim instructor said. “When I caught him, he came barreling out here and ended up in the pool.”

“I dove in after him,” Tracy said, hoping that might win
points. She was almost sure she needed them. Gladys had probably been standing there long enough to hear her lecturing the old man.