one.”
“And we have a new used stove.”
“You been putting it to any use?”
“Now and again.” She closed her magazine. “Me and the other women out here have been trying to find Herb Krause’s family.”
“What for?”
“Tracy…Ms. Deloche has all his stuff and nobody to give it to.”
“She could probably put it out by the road, make a case for not knowing what else to do if his family ever shows up.”
“Maybe. But she’s not ready. None of us are.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because he was a lonely old man, and we didn’t do much for him when he was still breathing.”
Ken met her gaze. “That soft heart of yours always gets you in trouble.”
“Hard as a rock.” She leaned forward just a little. “You willing to help if we need you?”
“Me? What could I do?”
“You got access to records. You know you do.”
“You want me to see if Herb was a war criminal? A terrorist?”
“More like a drunk driver with a record we can follow to his family, Kenny. For pity’s sake, is that beyond you?”
The coffeemaker snorted, as if it were daring them to drink what it had brewed. Ken took the dare, then held out the pot to her. She saw he’d made extra, and some tiny part of her was ashamed—but not very.
She shook her head. “I’m fine. Are you going to help, Kenny, or not?”
“Just let me know what you need. I’ll do what I can.”
She could think of a hundred more important things she used to need from him, but she was smart enough not to go for broke. There was enough that was broke around here already.
She got to her feet. “I’m going to take my shower. Maybe the water heater’ll get fixed and I won’t freeze my buns off every morning.”
“I’m working all day, and I’ll probably be gone by the time you get out.”
“Then I’ll see you again sometime.”
He looked as if he wanted to say more, but she headed for the bathroom. She wasn’t stupid. A woman learned to take whatever she could get. That was the only way the female of the species had survived. And she planned to survive a very long time. Even if these days she was eating pie for breakfast.
Friday’s staff meeting had gone better than expected. Of course, Tracy’s expectations were as low as her opinion of Wild Florida, but even considering that, she couldn’t complain. Her predecessor had hired competent, mostly likeable teachers and counselors, many of whom had done this before. The old hands had filled her in on which children needed a little extra attention and which could be counted on for leadership. They had responded well to her agenda, taken her suggestions and even offered their own.
The biggest problem still facing her was an arts-and-crafts teacher. But the counselors had agreed to start lanyards on Monday during the arts-and-crafts period. What was summer camp without lanyards, anyway?
After the meeting, she’d come home armed with the tools she needed to install tile. Everything had been right on the shelf at the building supply store on the outskirts of town, and she’d used a Memorial Day coupon that saved fifteen percent. Even though she’d winced at another expenditure, the money she would save doing it herself carried the day.
Over the past week she had finally removed the last layer of linoleum, and Saturday she patched cracks in the concrete floor, scraped and sanded. She stayed up until midnight readying everything. The floor was turning into therapy. She could visualize the finished product.
She planned to spend all day Sunday snapping chalk lines and laying out tile to be sure she didn’t need adjustments. But when she took a break to retrieve and leaf through the previous day’s mail, she saw something more interesting than bills.
Wanda was outside hosing down her car, and Tracy beckoned. Wanda wore shorts that left nothing about her rear end and thighs to the imagination, and she had paired them with a tube top of prison-jumpsuit orange. Tracy was reminded of CJ. Orange was not his best color. Nor Wanda’s, for that matter.
“You look like you been rode hard and put away wet,” Wanda said.
“Thanks. I’m putting down tile in my house.”
“You’re doing it on your own?”
Tracy glanced gloomily at the ragged stumps that had once been manicured nails. “Too expensive otherwise.” She saw Janya down the road watering Herb’s trees, and beckoned to her, as well. Janya had a fluid walk, like a river flowing, and as she approached, Tracy simply