Fortunate Harbor (14 page)

She began to jot notes, then she glanced up. “Investment groups are a no-brainer. Attorneys, too, and accounting firms. For now we won’t try doctor’s offices. More patients than staff, and short on space for conference and break rooms. Realtors might not be too bad, except these days they’re broke.”

Wanda admired her logic. Dana finally held up her pad. “We’ll start with these. I think we want to be forthright. We’ll tell them that bringing pies right to them is part of our opening week strategy, and we’re hoping they’ll enjoy the pies and recommend us.”

“I never had a problem pushing a special at the Dancing Shrimp, but this feels personal.”

“You believe in your pies, right? They’re delicious, and they’re a bargain. Right?”

Wanda nodded. “Let’s go.”

Thirty minutes later, Wanda had to admit that giving away pie wasn’t all that challenging or ego bruising. The receptionist at the first law firm had immediately opened the doors to the inner sanctum, and before Wanda and Dana could set two pies on the conference room table, three attorneys and a paralegal had gathered to argue over the selection. Better yet the paralegal and receptionist had promised if they liked the pies, they would stop by to purchase a selection for their next bimonthly staff meeting.

They were welcomed at the next three stops, as well, and
departed with the feeling those pies might reap benefits in the future. One accounting firm had a dour receptionist who refused their offer, and another had closed early for the afternoon. But they stopped by an insurance firm that hadn’t been on Dana’s list when they realized it took up more than half a hallway. They left pies with an enthusiastic audience.

“Let’s try Creative Investment and Development,” Dana said. They had reached the top floor and were down to three pies. Creative Investment appeared to be the only tenant on the floor, and Wanda hoped she and Dana could dispense with the rest and call it a day.

“You’re good at this. You ever done this kind of thing before?” she asked Dana.

“You saw my résumé. I’ve done just about everything else, but never door-to-door sales.”

“Moving so much must have been a trial.”

“It’s not the best way to raise a child, but Lizzie has asthma, so we’ve been looking for the right climate. We’re hoping the warm weather and gulf air will keep it at bay. So far she’s done well here.”

“We’re all hoping you stay. We like having you at Happiness Key.”

“You’re like one big family, aren’t you?”

“We get along okay. And family’s a good thing when you have a child with health problems. Yours helps when they can?”

“It’s just me and Lizzie. But we manage fine.”

Privately Wanda thought that was a shame, but they were already at the door to Creative Investment, and besides, she sensed the conversation had reached its limit.

“You gonna talk ’em up, or shall I?” Wanda asked.

“I blow your horn better than you do.” Dana pushed the
door open. She smiled at the receptionist and gave the speech that was now refined to perfection.

“Pies?” The woman’s eyes lit up. “For anybody here who wants them?”

“We hope you’ll spread them around, so more people can sample.” Wanda held up the two she carried. “We have peach and luscious lemon, and Dana there has an Elvis Surprise.”

“Elvis?” The woman leaned over her desk as Wanda explained the story and listed some of the ingredients. “Just a minute. I’m going to find Mrs. Statler.”

Now Wanda remembered why Creative Investment and Development sounded familiar. Edward Statler was the director or president or something, and he was the man Tracy’s ex-husband was staying with.

“Mrs. Statler?” she asked, as if she couldn’t figure out the connection.

“Mr. Statler is our CEO, and Mrs. Statler just stopped by a little while ago.” She lowered her voice. “She is a
huge
Elvis fan. You have no idea. She actually has one of his stage costumes on display in her house in a climate controlled case.”

“Bingo,” Dana said softly, as the woman headed down the interior hallway.

“If I could sing worth a darn, you’d be hearing all about fools rushing in, about now,” Wanda said under her breath.

Apparently Mrs. Statler wasn’t hard to find. The two women returned in less than a minute. Mrs. Statler was perfectly bronzed, and blonder than she had a right to be. Wanda guessed the woman was somewhere near her own age, although she could have been surgically altered to look that way and be several decades older. Her hands were nearly smothered in diamonds; her shoes had cost more than the renovations at Wanda’s Wonderful Pies.

“Did I hear this right? You have an Elvis Surprise pie?”

Wanda gave the spiel again, then held it out. “We’re sharing our pies as part of our opening day promotion,” she said. “This one’s got your name on it, Mrs. Statler. I hope you enjoy.”

The woman beamed, although nothing wrinkled in response. “And what else do I see there?”

“Luscious lemon, which is the best lemon pie you’ll ever taste. And peach, which makes use of some of Georgia’s finest, plus a hint of Florida oranges to go along with them.”

“I am
so
intrigued. And if these pies are anywhere near as good as they look, I’ll be calling tomorrow. I’m having a reception at my house, and I’m not at all satisfied with the desserts my caterer suggested. Elvis Surprise would be absolutely perfect. If I like it, can you deliver twenty, a week from this Wednesday?”

Wanda didn’t even blink. “Not a problem.”

“And twenty more, a mixture of flavors, I think. Will forty pies feed two hundred people, maybe a few more? It’s quite a large reception. You’ll send me a list to choose from?”

“I will, and if there’s something you’d like that’s not on it, I’ll make it for you anyway. I have a hundred tried-and-true recipes.”

“I like the way you do business.”

All the worries of the day evaporated. Wanda smiled at Dana, who looked enormously proud of herself.

Wanda thought maybe
she
liked the way she did business, too.

The Henrietta Claiborne banquet couldn’t have been scheduled for a more inopportune time. For the past week, in addition to planning summer youth camp, Tracy had been forced to work nonstop on banquet plans, too.

At least she’d had no personal life to interfere. In fact, she had welcomed falling into bed after long days and getting up early to repeat the process. That way she hadn’t had time to brood too long over CJ’s new love life or the absence of messages from Marsh. She had worked herself into a stupor, medicated with fast food and Wanda’s pies, and geared herself for the next round.

Now banquet day had arrived. Normally she had Saturdays off, but there was nothing normal about the rush to put together an event worthy of the rec center’s benefactress. Tracy was dressed for work by seven and on the road fifteen minutes later. She picked up orange juice and
two
chocolate-covered doughnuts at Randall’s, but by the time she arrived at the center her fingers were sticky and she was empty-handed.

Gladys was already in place at the reception desk.

“You could just live here,” Tracy said. “We could put a cot in my office. Or you could sleep on the sofa.”

“Don’t think I haven’t considered it.” Gladys looked tired and heavier.

Tracy was glad her own job required so much running around that her admittedly poor diet hadn’t settled on her hips. “You still have things to do?”

“We haven’t been able to contact Henrietta. I thought if I tried all the numbers we have early this morning, I might get lucky.”

“You don’t think she’s going to blow this off, do you?”

Gladys chewed her lip. Then she lowered her voice. “There’s a word that describes a woman who’s so impressed with a few people who treat a stranger nicely that she writes the town a check the size of the Grand Canyon.”

“Nuts?”

“Eccentric. She’s just the sweetest little thing—”

“Little?”

“Oh yes. Somewhere under five foot. Ninety pounds soaking wet. And genuine right down to her toenails. Which are probably painted passionate purple or Day-Glo orange. Anyway, she’s the soul of kindness, but she’s, how shall we say it? Flighty? We’ve reminded her and reminded her to be here. But I’m not sure she’ll remember.”

Tracy thought of all the work she’d done to get ready for the banquet. Using her minimal artistic skills to set up a table with youth camp journals and craft projects. Helping Janya select and add photos to a lovely bulletin board display. Drilling her best campers until they could repeat their script if a hurricane swept in and the rec center fell down around their ears.

Her eyes narrowed. “She’d
better
be here.”

“Yes, well, I see where you’re coming from. Now why are
you
here so early?”

“On the way out last night I checked the nursery. It’s a mess, and if she shows up tonight, I’m sure she’ll want to see it.”

The nursery, where limited child care was provided, was the rec center’s weak spot. As a whole, the facility lacked little. But the designers had underestimated the need for a suite of rooms where mothers could leave babies and preschoolers so they could participate in the programs. The planners had reasoned that mothers could afford to hire their own babysitters or use the two day cares in town.

Unfortunately, they hadn’t factored a recession into their equations, a recession that had led to the closing of one day care center and severely reduced hours at the second. Now the limited spots were always booked, with long waiting lists during classes. Hard feelings often ensued.

Last night before leaving, Tracy had taken a good look at the scuffed and stained walls, the games with missing pieces, the peeling decorative decals, the battered wooden cubes where children stored their belongings. She planned to make a list this morning and sweet-talk the custodial staff into quickly sprucing up the place. If necessary, she would find a herd of preschoolers and bribe their moms to bring them in to hide the worst offenses.

“That nursery.” Gladys shook her head, and her third chin wobbled. “Woody tried to tell the planners we needed to spend more there and less other places.”

Tracy listed several other things she had planned for the day.

“Be sure to leave enough time to run home and change for the banquet and the tour,” Gladys said. “I had to buy a new dress this week. I’ve gained so much weight, I couldn’t fit into anything I had. This has to stop.”

“Maybe we both ought to do the early-morning dance class to shape up.” Tracy smiled encouragement.

“It would be nice to work on my weight problem with somebody who understands.”

Tracy couldn’t think of a thing to say to that. She wasn’t sure what Gladys meant, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She gave a brief wave and started down the appropriate hallway.

An hour later she had done what she could in the nursery. She had stored some toys and disposed of others, remade the lone crib with brighter sheets, moved two tables to cover the worn spots on the nylon carpet and tacked a package of cheerful alphabet letters on the bulletin board, which had contained nothing but printed information about the center. For the rest, she went in search of one of the weekend custodians.

Al was a middle-aged curmudgeon with a thick Russian accent who maintained a daily schedule as rigid as the chalk-board Tracy had just scrubbed clean. Today he grumbled his way through her sweet talk, but in the end he agreed to wash walls and baseboards, even slap a coat of paint on the worst stains if she promised to leave him alone so he could work in peace.

She made a quick trip to the hardware store with a piece of the baseboard, and when she returned with paint, she found him gesturing wildly to a woman Tracy had never seen.

From experience, Tracy knew Al’s English was basic at best, and when it didn’t suffice, he lapsed into hand gestures, and finally his native tongue. Personally, she was glad she didn’t understand Russian, since she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what Al was saying by the time he got to that point.

“Why don’t I see if I can help you?” Tracy said, inserting herself between the woman, who looked to be in her seven
ties, and Al, whose eyes were flickering back and forth as if he was searching for a weapon.

“I’m afraid I’ve been annoying.”

“Al, I’ll take it from here,” Tracy said. He made a gesture that was probably rude in every language and stalked off.

“I’m sorry,” Tracy apologized. “He’s really a good worker, but his first language is Russian, and when his English fails, he goes a little crazy. He’s already frustrated because I asked him to do a few things he hadn’t planned on.”

“I can’t imagine not being able to communicate.”

“When I moved here I thought I was living on another planet. So I can sort of relate.”

“Where did you move from?”

“Bel-Air. California,” she added.

“Yes, I know Bel-Air. This would feel different. So tell me about this room.”

Tracy had a million things to do, but she had learned the hard way that even the friendliest smile and sweetest excuse didn’t offset rudeness. “It’s our drop-in nursery for preschoolers. I’m afraid what you see is what you get. Don’t judge the facility by this. It’s the only flaw. The rest of the place is unbelievably perfect.”

“It looks well used.”

“Oh, it is. It’s in constant use, with a long wait to get in and a lot of moms who can’t take classes because there’s no space for their children.”

“You need a bigger space.”

Tracy nodded, held out her hand. “You must be new to the center. I don’t think I’ve seen you. I’m Tracy Deloche, supervisor.”

“My friends call me Nanette. And I have been here once or twice, but I always like to see how things are going.”

Tracy did a quick exam. Definitely mid-seventies. Thin
white hair in a halo of corkscrew curls. Eyes that reminded Tracy of the two doughnuts she’d consumed earlier, chocolate brown with wide doughnut hole pupils. Rail thin, maybe a size subzero. The woman wore a coral polo shirt, khaki pants and no jewelry, and most likely she had shrunk to her present size. She looked like a thousand other Florida senior citizens, right down to her comfortable white sneakers.

“Have you been up front yet?” Tracy asked. “Gladys, the receptionist, will find somebody to show you around if you’d like.”

“I’m in favor of sneaking around. You find out so much more.”

“Well, sneak to your heart’s content. We have a big banquet tonight, so the place is bustling with preparations.”

“What does a supervisor do?”

Tracy heard the seconds ticking by. “A little of everything. Right now I’m organizing the summer youth camp. During the school year I oversee youth and adult programs, and supervise the leaders. I develop new programs when we need them.”

“Fundraising, too?”

“Not usually. Not unless it involves a new program. That’s Woody’s department.”

“Something tells me you’d be good at it.”

The observation surprised Tracy. “Why?”

“Well, you’re lovely and well-spoken, and even though you’re frightfully busy, you’ve taken the time to be kind to an old lady this morning. Kindness is key, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know. Is it? I thought you had to be ruthless and calculating to make money.”

“That’s certainly one model. But that always comes back to bite you.”

Tracy thought about CJ. “Although some people are really good at escaping consequences.”

“Sounds like you’ve had some experience.”

“More than I ever wanted.”

Tracy heard a noise in the doorway and turned, hoping this wasn’t Al, back to gesture, this time with scrub brushes and cans of paint.

Gladys came into the room, a smile as wide as Little Palmetto Bay on her face. “Mrs. Claiborne!” She glanced at Tracy, and her eyes said it all. Gladys was hoping, praying, that Tracy had behaved herself.

“Mrs. Claiborne?” Tracy frowned. “Nanette?”

“If you were named Henrietta, wouldn’t you opt for a nickname?”

“Wow.”

“I was hoping to remain undiscovered. But I did well enough. The place is in good hands. I’m delighted.” Henrietta shook hands with Gladys, who was cooing like a mourning dove—or possibly gargling on anxiety.

They were still shaking—Tracy was afraid Gladys had lost muscle control of her hand and couldn’t release Henrietta’s—when Al stomped back in and began to gesture.

Tracy tried to wave him back. Al was glaring. Any moment the torrent of Russian would begin.

Henrietta smiled at Al, and the torrent of Russian began.
Her
torrent, both guttural and musical. In a moment Al was beaming, and the two were clustering and hissing consonants like old pals. Henrietta turned back when she and Al had finished.

“I promised him we’d move on so he can do his job. He’s a very nice man, you know.”

“I always thought so.” Knowing a cue when she heard one, Tracy headed toward the door.

“He suggested you begin English classes here.”

“The high school’s got that covered, but come fall we’re going to offer a monthly night of activities for all their ESL students, along with tutors. I thought it might be a nice way to teach a recreational vocabulary and have fun at the same time.”

Henrietta winked at Gladys. “She’s a keeper.”

Gladys was looking less like a mole in the sunlight now. “We think so.”

Henrietta stopped just outside the room where Al was already scrubbing walls. “So why haven’t you organized a fund-raiser to expand your nursery facilities?”

Gladys didn’t mince words. “Asking people for money when there’s so little to go around seems futile.”

“Not if you have a benefactor who’s willing to match dollar for dollar.”

Tracy and Gladys looked at each other.

“Yes, me,” Henrietta said. “And if you just reorganize your space, you won’t need to add on to the building. Do a usage assessment. You’ll need equipment, renovation, I’m sure. I suspect you need full-time personnel and some training for volunteers, too, but the cost shouldn’t be too bad.”

“You’ve already done so much,” Gladys said.

“Yes, and the town needs to shoulder the rest of the burden. But a little incentive is always welcome. And I know Tracy can organize something people will want to support. I bet she already has ideas.”

“
I
actually have an idea,” Gladys said. “Tracy got me thinking about it.”

Tracy, who had
no
ideas about anything except getting through the evening, was properly grateful. “Glad to help. Uh…what is it?”

“We have a Biggest Loser contest!” Gladys looked delighted
with herself. “We organize teams based on how much weight needs to be lost. All the entry money goes to the center, with prizes for the winners. We have a nutrition consultant give classes and diet tips, special exercise programs, weekly weigh-ins. Anybody can be on a team.”

“You mean like the TV show?” Tracy had seen commercials.

“More teams, but yes.”

“I think it’s charming. Delightful!” Henrietta’s eyes were twinkling.

“Woody and I would both join in the fun,” Gladys said. “We need it.”

“It’s a wonderful summer activity,” Henrietta said.

“Summer? You mean, soon?” Tracy tried to imagine the work a new project was going to entail.

“Oh, don’t worry. You form a committee to help make all the plans. I’ll be on it myself,” Henrietta said.

“Long-distance from Rhode Island?”

Henrietta shook her head. “Oh, no. I suppose none of you know, do you? My house in Newport’s undergoing some serious restoration, so I’ve decided to stay in Florida for the summer.”

Tracy was just coming to grips with the fact that the darling of Palmetto Grove wanted to work hand in hand with her. So far she had made a good impression on Henrietta, but that could change. At least Palm Beach was on the other coast.

She smiled brightly. “Well, great. Palm Beach is definitely closer.”

“Oh, no, I’m going to be right
here
. I’ve decided to stay on my boat in your harbor. I hate the summer social whirl back home.” Henrietta put her hand on Tracy’s shoulder. “I just know that you and I are going to be friends. And I’ll be right on the spot. You can count on me.”