Jane thought about mentioning that this was exactly what Liz was advocating, entertainment that was also useful, but decided it wouldn't go down well with Eileen in her current cranky mood — which she'd already blamed on them.
“What about Marge and Sam? Do they have children in the school district?”
Eileen shook her head. "No, they don't have kids. I think they both wanted them, but it never happened and Sam had a real prejudice about adopting, being adopted himself and all."
“He's not happy about it?" Shelley asked.
“He is, that's the weird thing. But he wasn't adopted as a little baby. He was in foster care until he was four or five or so. He won't talk about it, but it must have been miserable. You'd think being taken out of that situation and being treated like a little god by adoptive parents would make him feel just the opposite."
“They favored him?" Jane asked.
“Do they ever! He was a good student, never in any trouble, and when he started the car business, he did it on his own. Got a bank loan. Never asked for a cent from them. I didn't know him then, of course, and he's never said, but I've always thought it was because the very thought of owing them money would have been awful. Anyway, they thought it was great. Still can't stop talking about it. Oh, rats, I've gotten away from them and I'm still letting them get on my nerves. That's dumb."
“How does Marge manage with them?" Shelley asked. "She doesn't seem to have — how can I say this nicely? — your 'backbone.' "
“She manages fine. For that reason. Or maybe she's really stronger than I am. I don't know. She just does what they want her to, and goes on her way without getting her knickers in a twist. The minute somebody tells me what to do, I'm fighting it — even if I'd like to do it. Marge just goes with the flow. No nerves at all.”
Jane thought about this assessment for a moment. It was pretty much what Shelley had told her, too. But her own limited acquaintance with Marge didn't bear it out.
“She was certainly nervous last night. Early in the evening, I mean," Jane added hastily, not wanting to bring the subject back to the disappearing body. "She nearly had hysterics over seeing someone in the window the first night, and at the campfire dinner she was as jumpy as a cat.”
Eileen considered this. "Yeah, I guess you're right. But that was unusual. I guess it's just being in strange surroundings or something. I don't think she really likes this outdoorsy stuff. Wild animals and things. I'm not crazy about it either, but it doesn't scare me.”
Her voice had slowed and she was staring past Jane and Shelley. They turned to see what she was looking at.
Marge and Sam had come into the dining room, arm in arm. They were whispering to each other and smiling. Marge's fair face was flushed. Her tidy hair was slightly disarranged. She looked girlish and very happy.
“She doesn't look nervous today," Shelley said. Eileen grinned. "No, she looks like a woman who just had a good bang.”
After a few seconds of stunned silence, Eileen went on, "I can hardly believe it. I don't think I've ever seen them even touch each other, much less act. . romantic. Amazing.”
She started laughing. "Maybe all they've needed all these years was for Sam to get a bump on the head to make their marriage perfect. I might try that on John. Excuse me, please.”
She got up and went to greet her brother-in-law and his happy wife.
Shelley and Jane stared at each other for a minute. "It could happen," Shelley said finally. "I suppose if I'd been told Paul was dead, and then found out he wasn't, I'd have been hanging on to him for dear life."
“So instead of being lying — and possibly crazy — scum, you and I have become heroines. The ditsy ladies who saved an ordinary marriage and turned it into something deliriously wonderful?”
Shelley cocked an eyebrow. "I think that's overstating it a bit."
“I think it's nonsense," Jane said. "There's something going on here that has nothing to do with us. That man was dead last night, Shelley."
“Jane, as much as I hate to say it, we must have been wrong. Look at them. Just look! Sam is alive and well and looking like he might just seduce his wife right here in the midst of the cornflakes."
“Sure. And what we saw was an amazing configuration of wet leaves that happened to look precisely like a dead Sam Claypool with his head bashed in," Jane said. "Uh-huh. Sort of like those people who can see the face of the Virgin Mary on a pepperoni pizza.”
Twelve
Benson entered the dining room and called for everyone's attention. He said he was going to pass out a list of sample classes that the group could attend or learn about. He introduced the instructors individually, and the crowd that had slowly gathered in the lobby and dining room, as local people who had been invited to participate.
Jane and Shelley glanced down the list: Leatherwork, quilting, fishing, boating, local history, local flora and fauna, bird-watching, aerobic exercise, swimming, language lessons — the list went on forever.
“The school board and city council are welcome, of course, to delete any of these they don't want and add their own instructors and subjects," Benson said. "This is just an example. Not all of these classes will actually be held today. The asterisked ones indicate literature only, which is being put out on a table in the lobby. There are sign-up sheets out there, too. It would help the instructors to know approximately how many people to expect.”
Jane glanced at the schedule. There was nothing in the first two-hour slot that interested her. "I think I'll see if Allison is free to gossip about computer stuff," she told Shelley.
“You aren't dying to know about You and the Mammals?"
“Mammals, schmammals," Jane said breezily. "But I do want to go on the bird-watching hike if it doesn't start raining again. It looks like it will."
“Well, I'm going to the leatherwork class," Shelley said.
“Sounds kinky to me."
“It probably won't be, but one can always hope," Shelley said.
They went to sign up and unfortunately got behind Sam and Marge. Sam had his right arm around his wife and didn't let go even to sign up for the classes he wanted. They were so absorbed in each other that they didn't even notice that the women behind them were the ones who had announced his death. Jane noticed Sam was signing both of them up for several classes.
The first class wasn't to begin for fifteen minutes, so Jane and Shelley went back for another cup of coffee. Shelley looked thoughtful. "Jane, this must be costing Benson a considerable amount, bringing in all these people."
“Aren't most of them local?"
“Probably," Shelley said, "but he's still got to at least feed them and probably put a couple of them up for the night. He couldn't ask them to do this and then charge them for food and lodging. He's really going all out to impress us. It was very smart of him to invite the local people. It makes us seem less isolated. He's created a feeling for what this place is like when it's busy and full of people having a good time. Very clever."
“Shelley, what do you think of this summer camp thing?”
Shelley thought for a moment. "I'm not sure. I thought it was a great idea at first, but as irritating and belligerent as Liz is, she has a point. Parents or organizations should pay for summer camp unless it's primarily educational. Why should taxpayers fund it? If we were here on behalf of an inner-city school where the kids have little opportunity to really get a big dose of nature, I'd probably favor it. I guess it does come down to a question of exactly what does constitute education?”
Jane nodded. "I don't think anyone has a good fix on that anyway — despite Liz's views. We'll never go back to straight reading, writing, and arithmetic. And we probably shouldn't. I know my kids have benefited personally from some school activities that weren't strictly academic.”
She spotted Benson nearby and interrupted herself. "Benson, Allison and I have a date to talk computers. I haven't seen her around. Next time you run into her, would you ask what would be a good time?"
“She told me. She's excited about talking to you. My mother and I aren't much into cyber-stuff, as she calls it. I'll check with her right now." He was back in a minute, to invite Jane upstairs to their private quarters.
“I'm off to do leatherwork," Shelley said. "Possibly to design an exotic garment that will shock and delight my husband. See you later.”
The private quarters upstairs were wonderful, open and airy. There was a large central room that ran the length of the front of the building like the top of a T. Running back from the center was a kitchen and dining area. There was a big fireplace at the far end, which must have been directly above the fireplace in the lobby. To each side of the kitchen was a bedroom, sitting room, and bath suite. One was Benson and Allison's, the other Edna's. The perfect setup for both family life and personal privacy.
“This is fabulous!" Jane exclaimed as Allison showed her around. A counter ran along the entire front of the main section. There were six windows, with bookshelves between each, making them appear to be recessed, like dormers. At the far window, nearest Allison and Benson's suite, a very fancy sewing machine was set up. In the area behind it sat a huge quilting frame with a half-done red and green Christmas quilt on it.
The next window area was a desk for Allison's computer and printer. Cabinets beneath held paper, and the shelves next to it had a bookstore's worth of manuals. The third window contained a profusion of colorful house plants. A few of them were very fragrant, filling the large room with their perfume.
The other three windows, on Edna's end of the main room, were almost empty by comparison. A single old, well-shaped rubber plant was in front of one, a colorful miniature totem pole in another, and the third was bare. Edna's bookshelves were sparse, too. Only one was full, and it consisted entirely of paperback mysteries. Another had a pile of crossword-puzzle magazines, several dictionaries, and a thesaurus. Edna's end of the room contained an entertainment center with a big television, VCR, and cabinet full of videotapes, mainly, Jane noted, documentaries, musicals, and costume dramas.
“I could stay up here and never, ever go out!" Jane exclaimed. "You've got everything I love."
“We're lucky to be living now, aren't we?" Allison said. "I can be a complete hermit, but between the satellite dish and the computer, I'm also in touch with the whole world. What more could you ask?"
“Closer medical facilities," Edna said from the top of the stairs.
“Oh, Edna, no fretting, please. I'm fine," Allison said. "Jane and I are going to play on the computer."
“Have you seen that black knitted scarf of mine?" Edna asked.
“It's right here," Allison said, opening a drawer. "Some of the fringe was coming loose and I fixed it. What are you up to today?"
“Just prowling around," Edna said, wrapping the scarf around her neck. "Want to see how the classes are going. Benson's taken charge of the kitchen for the day." She donned a heavy coat, stuffed a pair of hand-knitted gloves in her pocket, and said, cheerily, "Have fun, girls," as she went back down the stairs.
“I've got a pot of coffee ready. Decaf, I'm afraid. Edna won't let Benson even buy the straight stuff for us."
“Why's that?"
“Because I'm not supposed to have any. I have a little heart problem, and Edna is determined to watch over my health whether I want her to or not. She's a dear, dear person, but I think she loves me too much. She never had a daughter, and my mother died before I even met Benson, so Edna's taken over being my mom. Unfortunately, she treats me like I were her beloved idiot child who requires constant care. She means so well that I can't bear to tell her I'm capable of running my own life.”
Jane didn't think Allison resembled an idiot child, but she did look like a sick woman. Possibly much sicker than she was letting on. Her coloring was anemic, she moved slowly and carefully, as if in slight but constant pain, and she spoke rather slowly, needing more breath to do so than most people. Edna was probably quite right to worry about Allison's health. She clearly wasn't well.
“But maybe she's right," Jane said hesitantly. "About living closer to a good hospital."
“Oh, she probably is," Allison said cheerfully. "But I couldn't live anywhere but here. I'd wither away. And it would be even harder on Benson. This is where he's meant to be. He wasn't even upset about the land-restriction thing. I'll boot up the computer.”
They sat down side by side, and as the computer went into action, Jane said, "What land-restriction thing?"
“Oh, I'm sorry. I assumed you knew. We were up front about it with the city council and school board. I didn't mean to be obscure. That crazy Lucky Smith — you know about him? He fell into religion about the same time he fell into the clutches of a band of environmental nutcases. He's never liked us since Benson had him arrested for being drunk in the lobby the first year we were here, so Lucky figured these people would help him with his revenge on us.
“I've researched this crowd since then. They'd been part of Greenpeace, but were too militant even for Greenpeace's agenda. They broke off and apparently go around the country, butting in to various communities and causing trouble. It seems they're top-heavy with radical but very bright, thorough lawyers. For some reason, they descended on this county and decided it should revert to wilderness."
“It looks pretty much like wilderness to me right now," Jane said.
“No, there are buildings and people. I think we're supposed to give the entire county back to the raccoons and possums," Allison said. "According to them. So they moved in two summers ago, signed themselves up as registered voters, and pushed through a zoning regulation that was cleverly worded to look quite harmless, but was aimed at ruining us."
“You and Benson specifically?"
“We are 'representative of the rape of the land,' as one of their recent press releases said. According to their regulations, we could continue to operate the resort as long as we wanted. But we couldn't add any additional structures — this was just as we were completing the Conference Center — and we couldn't `increase the drain on public resources.' I believe that's how it was worded."
“What's that mean?"
“It means we can't increase our water or electrical usage. And we can't even put in a water purification system, because it would require an additional structure to house the machinery. Fortunately, by the time this stupid thing went into effect, we'd already had one season's use of the Conference Center and the new bathrooms in the cabins, so the basic usage was based on those figures. But we can't expand — add new cabins or any new facilities."
“Surely they can't dictate to you that way."
“No, they tricked the voters of the county into dictating to us. When it was all done and we realized what had happened, we consulted a couple of attorneys and it seemed hopeless. We could propose a reversal of the zoning and have it put to a vote again. But nobody but us was influenced by this — at the moment — and we'd have to conduct an expensive election campaign by ourselves, which we can't afford to do. The alternative is to defy the law, let ourselves be brought to court — they'd love to see that happen — and try to have the zoning restrictions declared unconstitutional. Again, a huge expense with nobody to share the burden."
“Surely you have friends and supporters who would help," Jane said. "All those neighbors who are attending your classes today, for instance."
“Oh, everybody's sympathetic. They're not to blame for this situation. The wording of the vote was so deceptively innocuous, we all fell for it. Even Benson thought it only meant that nobody abutting our land would be able to put in a sleazy trailer park or a garish tourist trap. He voted for it. When we discovered what it really meant, and the environmentalists got their way and started announcing openly that they were targeting us as an example, all our friends and neighbors rallied around. But, Jane, these aren't wealthy people. Many are retirees on limited incomes. A great many of those who do have the money to help are really Chicagoans who have a second home here and can't vote. And frankly
, most people in the county still don't grasp that it's going to happen to them as well when the group is through with us. They see it as a vendetta against us, which they sincerely regret, but refuse to understand that we're just the test case."
“You don't seem as angry as I'd be about this," Jane said.
Allison smiled. "I'm not supposed to allow myself to get angry. And while I am furious at anyone else taking away our freedoms, in purely practical terms, it isn't as bad as it sounds. We don't want to expand this place to be the equivalent of a Wisconsin Disneyland. We like it as it is. We didn't move here to get rich, but to have a good life. And that's what we've got.”
Fear of Frying jj-9 Page 9
