the door and not be flooded by memories of a different life.
She’d been surprised to find the physical labor—cutting flooring into manageable sizes, then wrestling it into rolls to haul outside—had been fun. As she scrubbed away mildew, cobwebs and just plain dirt, she’d imagined she was scrubbing away the past two years, getting back to something cleaner and more basic. For the first time since CJ sat her down to tell her that life as she knew it was over, she had looked forward to getting up in the morning to see what she could accomplish.
Now she had a chore she was not looking forward to. One more household item had to be wrestled to the curb for trash pickup. She didn’t want to leave Herb’s mattress in his cottage. And if she waited, it would have to remain there another week, a reminder she didn’t want to face every time she went inside.
She foraged for dinner—not difficult, since she rarely ate much at one sitting. She ate a few strawberries, three whole wheat crackers spread with goat cheese and half a dozen smoked almonds. She was ready to roll.
As she was halfway out the door, the telephone rang. This was so unusual she felt compelled to answer. The voice at the other end was familiar.
“Sherrie.” Tracy looked for a place to sit, tossing a couple of home improvement magazines on the floor so she could park herself in the easy chair. “It’s nice of you to call.” She was surprised at the edge in her own voice.
“I’m sorry, Trace. We’ve been out in Colorado. Wade had a conference, and I tagged along. I came back to an epidemic of strep throat.”
Sherrie Falmouth had been Tracy’s roommate at Cal State Long Beach. Her husband was a successful plastic surgeon in Scottsdale, Arizona, and was often on the road presenting papers or donating his skills to selected charities. Although the two women had been almost inseparable at “the Beach,” their friendship had waned after graduation. Distance and different lifestyles had been major contributors. Sherrie had married right out of college and started a family almost immediately. She and Wade had two adorable little girls, and when she and Tracy talked on the phone, Sherrie was usually obsessed with preschools, toilet training, or the exhaustion of trying to cope and still have something left over for Wade at day’s end. Tracy’s suggestion to hire a full-time nanny, so Sherrie could start having fun again, had never taken root.
Still, despite growing apart, Sherrie was the friend who had hung in with her when CJ’s exploits became public. It was Sherrie who helped pack what was left after the Feds vanished with their spoils, Sherrie who made arrangements for a van to carry everything to storage. And now, not surprisingly, it was Sherrie at the other end of a line that hadn’t exactly twittered with activity since Tracy’s arrival in Florida.
“Are the girls all right now?” Tracy asked.
“Just fine. But I’m a wreck. How are you?”
This was a question Tracy had never had trouble answering in the past. Now it presented all kinds of challenges. She knew herself to be a lot of things, some of which might not be that appealing. But she’d never been a whiner.
She concentrated on facts. “I’ve been working hard getting this place in shape so I can stay here until it sells.”
“You’re doing it yourself?”
“Yep. Oh, and I’ve had a couple of setbacks. Actually, I just had one, repairs I have to make to one of the cottages or the renters won’t pay. But the old guy in the next cottage had a doozy. He died. Just like that, and I found him.”
“Wow, bummer!”
“You’d better believe it. That part was really bad for him. The fact he won’t be around to pay rent anymore’s bad for me, but at least I’m still walking and talking.”
Sherrie made a tsk-tsk noise. “Did you know him?”
“Not really.” She decided to be honest. “I kind of tried to avoid him. I was busy, and I’m new at this. I’m not sure it’s a good idea to get involved with the renters.”
“Ah, Trace, who do you get involved with?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean, as long as I’ve known you, you’ve made a point of just dipping your toes into relationships. You never just jump in and risk getting in over your head.”
“Well, I was kind of over my head with CJ, wouldn’t you say? I mean, I married him, I divorced