“And now I must hurry to the bus stop or I will miss the next bus.”
Janya turned away again, but Tracy stopped her. “You took the bus? If you’re just heading home, why don’t you come with me? I’ll drop you off. It’s not out of my way.”
“Thank you, but that’s not required.”
“Well, right, of course it’s not. But I’m offering. It’s no skin off my nose.”
“Skin off your nose?” Janya wrinkled hers.
“It’s no trouble. Just another way of saying it.” Tracy glanced at her watch. “But I have to leave right now. I can’t seem to find Herb Krause, and I’m hoping he’ll stop home for lunch. You know how these senior citizens are. They swear Social Security doesn’t extend as far as a fast-food hamburger.”
She realized she was leaving Janya in the dust. The woman’s English was excellent, although with hints of the rounded vowels and distinctive rise and fall in pitch that late-night comedians loved to imitate. But Tracy had been speaking quickly, probably too quickly. She paused.
“So, are you coming?” she asked, after she thought Janya had been given enough time to process everything she’d said.
“Yes, thank you.”
“I’m parked out front.” Tracy circled her, strode through the door and out into the hallway.
In the reception area, Janya paused, then looked chagrined. “I’m sorry, but I forgot my groceries. I must go back. Please go on without me.”
Tracy waved off the suggestion. “I’m not in that much of a hurry.”
Janya disappeared the way they had come, leaving Tracy beside the community bulletin board. Tracy tapped her foot, glancing over the notices while she waited. Somebody wanted a job babysitting for the summer. She shook her head at a copy machine photo of a calico cat with a phone number and “Reward” in bold letters beneath it. Business cards littered the board. She took a pad out of her purse and jotted down numbers for a roofer and plumber. She hoped Wanda Gray had been exaggerating the problems at her cottage, but considering the state of Tracy’s own, she doubted it.
Half of the board was devoted to official notices, county and city. One, in the most prominent spot, stood out. The heading read “Henrietta Claiborne Recreation Center” and below that “Job Openings.”
She scanned the notice, starting at the bottom and working up. The center was looking for weekend maintenance personnel. They needed another swimming instructor for the summer. Keeping a bevy of little kids from drowning was a nightmare. Tracy knew that from experience, having been required to do it in college.
At the top of the notice was the most important job, taking up more than half the space, with “filled” scrawled across it in a felt tip pen. Recreational supervisor. The position was temporary, terminating in the fall when the present supervisor returned from maternity leave. She read the list of duties. She was only halfway through when Janya returned with two plastic bags in hand. But by then she’d figured out that the unfortunate new employee had the task of managing the youth program for the upcoming summer, as well as leading a hefty number of activities. Whoever had taken the position at this late date deserved a CEO’s paycheck.
“All set?” Tracy led the way. In the parking lot, she motioned to what was fast becoming a vintage BMW convertible roadster. “Hop in.”
Janya stroked the silver paint. “I think you must enjoy driving this.”
“I learned to drive in this car.”
“It’s that old?”
Tracy felt the question to the tips of her toes. “Ancient, and so am I.”
Janya smiled. “Neither of you is quite ready for the grave.”
Tracy unlocked Janya’s door. “My ex thought the car was. When we got married, he wanted me to sell it, but I was sentimentally attached, so we squirreled it away in our garage. My father bought it for me, or I guess I ought to say he was there when I bought it. He took me to the dealer the day I got my learner’s permit and told me to pick out anything I wanted, while he sat in his car and talked to his receptionist on the car phone.”
She straightened, realizing how that had sounded. She no longer hung out with people who understood that kind of life. To friends at home, this would have been wryly funny, particularly those who knew that dear old Dad and Summer, the receptionist, were now married and raising a second family.