gh for anyone with Latin blood, Ms. Nancy?" Mrs. Drake asked her Negro housekeeper, after the restaurant had been purchased. "And can you believe that Mr. Hawthorne sold that cute little diner to them? It had so much potential."
             Ms. Nancy went on cleaning the French doors in the kitchen, which provided a view to the cow pastures behind the house. She didn't look at Mrs. Drake, and Mrs. Drake didn't notice. She had taken a new emery board to her fingernails and was hurriedly buffing away.
             "That whole neighborhood is just going straight to hell, and that little sandwich shop is not helping one bit. I don't know how you can stand to live in that neighborhood, Ms. Nancy."
             Tweedy climbed back into his cruiser and headed back down to the church. The Reverend's receptionist was sitting on the church steps picking at her nails, which needed a touch up from her manicurist.
             "Fifteen dollars a month," she mumbled. "Fifteen lousy dollars."
             ...