The Book of Eleanor Read Online Free PDF Page B

a glass of wine, but knew the idea was ridiculous. I didn’t know them. Beyond that, I wasn’t even settled in yet, and was certainly not ready to entertain. I guess starting anew on a life alone was proving more daunting than I had expected.
    “Thank you so much,” I said instead. “For everything. You have been just wonderful.”
    “My pleasure, child, and again, I’m sorry for your loss. I hope over time you will come to love The Point—your new home—as much as we have.”
    I leaned forward and drew her into a brief hug with hated tears welling in my eyes. “I’m sure I will,” I said, even as an unfamiliar loneliness raged in my heart.

Angie
     
    The nature preserve beckoned enticingly on my right, but I had other plans. I guided my open Jeep along Beach Road, all the way off South Padre and over the Queen Isabella Causeway, the stiff ocean wind actually buffeting me around on my worn leather driver’s seat. I passed Lighthouse Square quickly, praying for a green light in case Mama was looking out the front windows of The Fat Mother.
    Within minutes, I was at a low, nondescript building that faced seaward on one of the many finger inlets of Laguna Madre, just off the main highway in Port Isabel, a few blocks from the restaurant. I parked my Jeep and took a minute to let the powerful ocean wind caress my face and play in my hair. I tilted my face toward the sun. Responsibilities nagged at me. I knew Mama would need me for dinner setups, but this felt just so darn good. I guess I am a hedonist at heart, enjoying my own outdoor creature comforts.
    Sighing reluctantly, I leapt from the Jeep and raced up to the heavy metal double doors of the building. A small bas-relief metal sign posted on the wall by the door declared it the Wilson Special School. As usual, I slapped the sign gently as I passed through the unlocked right side.
    It had taken us a long time and a ton of begging to get Captain Petey Wilson to part with the startup and rent money for this facility, the South Padre Island Center for Extraordinary Youth, or Wilson’s SPICEY as the residents referred to it. The building had been a church originally, and had passed into the hands of the Port Isabel Town Council when the congregation moved inland to Bayview.
    A gentle wave of sound hit me as I veered left of the main activity room and entered my cubbyhole of an office. A hand- lettered sign on the door proclaimed it as Angie’s office. The letters were misaligned and the spelling off, but I adored it nevertheless.
    The boy who had drawn the placard, David Imuss, had asphyxiated in his sleep one night about a year ago. I’d been heartbroken, but the sign he’d made for me helped keep his memory alive. We’d had a lot of good times together.
    I sighed and checked my desk for messages. No news was good news. I smiled. My position at the school as teacher slash activities director gobbled up time like a corporate Pac-Man. I dropped into the squealing desk chair and opened the lower right-hand drawer. I lifted out the cashbox and unlocked it, using a key kept on my car key lanyard. Separating out the ten dollars tip from the restaurant money for Melvin’s pizza, I slid it into the cashbox, then re-locked it securely. My stash was growing. It was up to four hundred eighty dollars, just from tips and two odd jobs during the past two weeks.
    I let the office door drift closed behind me as I strode into the main hall. Stretching a good forty feet in each direction, the hall provided plenty of room for the various wheelchairs and mobility equipment needed by our kids. Today, they were finishing up the art project I had laid out on the class schedule, making castles from clay, and then drawing them. It had also been a history lesson about the Middle Ages.
    Connie and Emilio, two of the older kids, were signing vigorously at the end of the table. I watched long enough to realize it was a dirty joke before I looked away, embarrassed. Maria, bless her heart,