Less than a week later, Deb had the biggest group in her basement office since the big orange truck unloaded everything and drove away when she first moved in.
Terri took up her usual sprawl on the blue sofa despite wearing her coffee-brown uniform. She’d tossed her somewhat pointy brown hat on Deb’s old wooden desk, where it kept strange company with two sleek black flat-screen monitors.
Gina Vanover sat beside Terri in similarly formal attire, even if it wasn’t quite as stylish as her after-church peach pantsuit. Deb had to admit her more conventional dark gray version likely projected the authority she needed to deal with a building full of rowdy teenagers in the throes of spring fever.
Annie Griffith, on the other hand, perched like a flowery beam of joy on one of Deb’s not-quite-co
