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