Flowers for Her Grave - By Judy Clemons Page 0,12

run?” Casey said, trying to reassure Miss Citrus. “I’ll give you a week of free classes. After that, we can re-evaluate. You can talk to your residents, see what they think.”

“It’s hard to trust their instincts,” Sissy said. “After the last two instructors.”

“What happened with them?”

Sissy looked like she had just sucked on the lime she resembled. “I can’t talk about that. Let’s just say neither of them was as good with people as I’d hoped.”

“I’m good with people,” Casey said.

Death about died laughing.

“Really.” Casey did her best to sound convincing. And good with people. “I can work with all types. Old, young, in shape, out of shape, men, women. I love working out, and getting other people to exercise. I can improve their fitness and…and their lives.” She made herself stop talking to just smile, and tried not to look desperate.

Sissy was wavering, Casey could tell.

“I’ll even throw in a self-defense course.”

Sissy brightened. “Oh, our ladies would like that.” She’d made up her mind. “You can start your trial tomorrow. Pilates at six AM.”

Death groaned.

“Perfect,” Casey said. “What kind of schedule were you thinking for the rest of the day?”

They went over the times the residents were used to exercising, which would take Casey from early morning to evening, with a break in the middle of the day.

“We do have a resident who leads classes part-time, as well, so if we decide you’re right for us, you can plan out a schedule that works for both of you. Since the full-time position is live-in, commuting shouldn’t be an issue. We’ve never had a problem before with the classes spanning the day.” She looked defiantly at Casey, as if waiting for her to challenge this statement.

“I’m sure it would be fine,” Casey said, because what else was she planning on doing with her time? She’d be happy if classes took her from dawn to dark, with short breaks only for eating. That way she wouldn’t have to think.

“Super. We’ll see you tomorrow morning, bright and early.” Sissy hesitated. “Unless you’d like a tour of the facility right now.”

“That would be great.”

Sissy punched a button on her phone. “Maria!”

The receptionist came into the room. “Yes, Mrs. Williams?”

“This is a prospective fitness instructor. Give her a tour of the community, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Sissy,” Casey said. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“At step aerobics,” Sissy said. “Eight-thirty. I don’t do Pilates.”

Casey smiled. “It’s not for everyone.”

“And neither are the hours before dawn.”

Casey shook Sissy’s hand and followed Maria out into the reception area. Casey immediately looked for the woman at the table, but she was gone. Casey wondered when she would see her again, and hoped it would be under favorable circumstances and not when the woman needed somebody to beat up.

“So what did Mrs. Williams tell you about the community?” Maria asked.

“Not a lot.”

Maria snatched a colorful brochure from her desk and handed it to Casey. “We’re an enclosed community for singles and young professional couples. Age ranges from twenty-one to past retirement age.”

“No kids?”

“Our residents prefer an adult atmosphere.”

Casey gave the receptionist a quick glance. Maria’s voice was professional, but Casey thought she heard some judgment in that last statement.

“So this, of course, is our administrative area.” Maria gestured to the large office. “Out here—” she led Casey into the large front lobby “—is the last thing our residents see every day before leaving, and the first thing they see upon their return.”

Casey could appreciate that. She wouldn’t mind seeing those palm trees and smelling those flowers on a daily basis.

“And of course we have the coffee bar in the morning and the…other bar at night.”

“Nice,” Death said. “Nothing like a little partying and hooking up to make a happy home. With the coffee in the morning to help with the hangovers. Think they supply Advil?”

The bar itself wasn’t open, since it was still just morning, but a man stood behind the counter, rag in hand as he dusted bottles and checked their levels.

Maria waved her hand toward him. “That’s Jack Sandoval, the bartender.”

He must have heard his name, or felt them watching, because he turned around. His bright blue eyes were piercing, even from across the room, and a slight, amused grin pulled up one side of his mouth.

Casey liked the look of him, and smiled back. He gave off the aura of being very solid and mature, his hair just thinning on top, his body lean under his white button-down shirt with its rolled-up sleeves. Probably in his forties.

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