Emilie Richards - Happiness Key

The old man still wasnt answering.

Tracy Deloche made a fist and banged the border of Herb Krauses screen door, wincing when a splinter won the round.

Flipping her fist, she dug out the offending sliver with nails that were seriously in need of the attentions of her favorite manicurist. Unfortunately, sweet-natured Hong Hanh was more than two thousand miles away, filing and polishing for outrageous tips at the Beverly Wilshire hotel, while Tracy banged and shouted and tried to collect Herbert Krauses measly rent payment so she could put something in her refrigerator and gas tank.

Mr. Krause, are you there? she shouted.

Well, whats up with that? she muttered when nobody answered. She could see his ancient Dodge sedan parked behind the house. Shed been sure her timing was perfect. Apparently she was as good at collecting money as she was at everything else these days.

Tracy flopped down on a wooden bench beside three carefully arranged orchids in clay pots. Something green and slimy flashed past her and vanished in the Spanish moss mulch. Florida was like that, teeming with things that darted at you day and night, some with more scrawny legs than a bucket of fast-food chicken.

Happiness Key. She almost laughed.

CJ, her ex-husband, was responsible for the name of the development where Herbs cottage and four others stood. In a rare stab at poetry, CJ had called this hole the yin and yang of Florida. On one side, white sand beaches with tall palms swaying in a gentle tropical breeze; on the other, Floridas wildest natural beauty. Mangroves and alligators, exotic migratory birds, and marshes alive with Mother Natures sweetest music. Who couldnt find happiness here? Particularly CJ, who had expected to expand his considerable fortune wiping out most of that music when he developed the land into a marina and upscale condo complex for Floridas snowbirds.

From the side of Herbs cottage, Tracy heard an air conditioner grinding, and the sound made her teeth hurt. Visiting him was like summering in Antarctica. How long before the ancient window unit ended up in the Sun County landfill, and she was down hundreds of dollars for a replacement? Herb was older than the mangroves that blocked access to the bay, older than the burial mounds at the far end of Palmetto Grove Key, where Floridas first residents had dumped their dead. No surprise his internal temperature control was out of whack. Tracy was just glad the old man paid his own electric bill. Evicting one of the states senior citizens to save a few bucks would get her just the kind of publicity she didnt need.

Shed already had enough of that in California.

Leaning back against the concrete block wall of the cottage, she folded her arms and closed her eyes. Since rolling out of bed that morning, she hadnt looked at a clock, but she supposed it was almost nine.

The air was beginning to sizzle. May on Floridas Gulf Coast might as well be full summer. Of course, she hadnt yet lived here in full summer, so maybe June was going to be that much worse; maybe June was going to be unbearable. But considering how unbearable her whole life had become since her divorce from CJ, what were a few degrees here and there? Let the humidity condense into something thick enough to eat with a spoon. What did she care? She would take it and make something of it.

That was her new mantra. And she hadnt paid some West Coast guru or his slavish followers to find it for her. Shed found it all by herself. For free.

A door creaked nearby, and for a moment she thought maybe Herb Krause had found his way across the frozen tundra of his living room. Then she heard what sounded like a broom moving back and forth over concrete. She opened her eyes and leaned forward to see Herbs neighbor, Alice Brooks, garbed in a voluminous red-and-white housecoat, sweeping her doorstep. It wasnt the first time. Tracy paid only as much attention to her renters as she absolutely had to, but even she hadnt failed to notice Alice outside with her broom morning, noon and night.

If her life ever came down to primly snapped house-coats and a stoop clean enough for surgery, she would wade into the gulf until the water was over her head. Then she would simply make herself at home on the bottom and expire.

Alice looked up from her stoop, and her eyes met Tracys. She seemed puzzled to find her landlady sitting across the lawn on Herbs bench. For a moment she gazed around in confusion.

Tracy pushed herself to her feet and strolled across the wide expanse that separated the cottages. Alice was next on her list anyway, and since Herb was either avoiding her or out for the morning, she might as well move on. Somebody had to pay rent today or Tracys checking account was going to be as naked as a Paris Hilton video.

Good morning, Alice, she said, as she covered the distance. She smiled, although the effort seemed to bead, like perspiration, in the resulting creases. Never a moments rest, huh?

Sand. And trees. Alice shook her head.

Uh-huh. Tracy wasnt quite sure what was up with Alice, who always seemed the slightest bit off-kilter. Well, I just thought Id pick up everybodys rent checks before the sun gets higher.

Alice nodded, her wide forehead crinkling in confusion. Today?

Right. May fifteenth. Rent day. Remember, I said it would be easier if everybody paid on the same day?

Alice nodded, but she still looked confused. She wore wire-rimmed glasses that were the silvery-gray of her hair, and little button pearl earrings with old-fashioned screws to hold them in place. Deep lines fanned out from her nose to the corners of her mouth, which always drooped and today looked sadder still. Tracy had a feeling the past years hadnt been filled with happy moments for Alice.

Welcome to the club.

A voice rang out from the house, what sounded like a childs, maybe a girls, from the high pitch. She had already noted a newish Saab in the driveway beside Alices ten-year-old Hyundai.

Im sorry, Tracy said. Sounds like you have company. I could come back in a little while if thats better.