Frosty Lesser arrived within five minutes with an armful of books. She was fifteen and looked older because of the maturity of her figure and her indifferent, impenetrable poise.
When Kat went up the walk toward the Lessers’ front door, Sally Ann called to her, “Out here in the cage, dear. Come around.”
She went across the lawn and around to the side door to the screened cage. The outside floods were on, and there was a faint reflected glow inside the high cage. Sally Ann reclined in a white chaise. She was a sturdy, muscular, brown woman with a heavy, affirmative jaw, curly gray hair worn very short. She wore swimsuits in hot weather, slacks and work shirts in cool weather. On the rare occasions when she was forced to wear a dress, she seemed to lose her confidence and authority. She had a good deal of inherited money, and she was very careful with it. She had a rasping voice, complete domination over her husband, an offhand, derogatory attitude toward her three children. She drank quietly, slowly, and steadily all day long every day, without evident effect. She worked in her yard, swam every day, and was a ruthlessly efficient housekeeper and cook. She lied constantly and for no apparent reason, and became highly irritable when anyone tried to trap her in a contradiction.
Carol Killian sat in a redwood chair with her long legs hooked over one arm. She was a slender, dark, brooding beauty, just a few years past her prime, but still exquisite. She never had much to say. Her habitual expression was one of thoughtful intelligence, of perception and sensitivity. But when she did speak, her voice was high and thin and childish, and her every remark exposed the dull innocence and inanity of her mind.
Strangers often thought it was an act and tried to laugh with her, but they merely confused her and hurt her. They soon came to realize that she was a decorative object which had learned to dress itself tastefully, move gracefully, give itself good care and maintenance, and perform a narrow range of household duties. It could talk with a certain amount of animation about clothes, cosmetics and household furnishings. Ben Killian had acquired it long ago, and seemed content to live with it. Over an unstated number of pregnancies — Sally Ann insisted it had to be at least ten — she had carried one as far as six months, and it had lived in an incubator for six days before expiring.
“Fix yourself a noggin,” Sally Ann said. “Carol just went in and brought out some new ice.”
There was a weak, hooded light over the drink table. Kat fixed herself a weak gin and Collins mix and carried it over to where Sally Ann and Carol were, and sat on a redwood bench.
“We were saying that Sammy and Wilma Deegan have to keep finding new groups because they wear the old ones out,” Sally Ann said. “Remember how they knocked everybody out when they moved into the Estates? My God, we thought they were the most wildly amusing people in the world. And in less than a year, dears, they ran out of material. They have these eight or nine routines they can do, and by the third time around you have found out they’re very dreary little people. They have to have the laughs and the enthusiasm and the admiration, dears. They don’t give parties. They give recitals.”
“We were invited,” Carol said. “I wanted to go. I think they’re real funny. They keep me in stitches. But Ben had to be at the boat yard. I just hate to go to parties without Ben.”
Kat said, as casually as she could manage it, “I wanted to talk to you about my house, Sally Ann. They say it’s a better time to sell houses now than a year ago. I thought maybe Burt has said something about how houses are moving.”
“But you can’t sell out and leave the group!” Sally Ann said.
“I don’t know. The effort of hanging onto it seems to be more than it’s worth, really. I think that if I could sell it for a good price, I’d move over onto the bay side of the key. There’s a little lot over there I could buy, and I could have one of those little Bender-Bilt houses put on it, and I wouldn’t have anywhere near the taxes and maintenance. It wouldn’t be like moving back into town. I’d be only about a mile from here. And I would have a little bit of bay frontage. I love Grassy Bay. I love to look out at that bay.”
“Hah!” Sally Ann said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Katty, dear, up until as recently as a month ago, I wouldn’t have dropped you even a clue, but now I can tell you, don’t plan on looking out at Grassy Bay very long. I’m dropping a hint for your own good, dear. I wouldn’t want to see you make a terrible mistake.”
Kat said, indignantly, “If you’re trying to tell me somebody is going to fill Grassy Bay, you’re wrong, Sally Ann. We didn’t let it happen two years ago, and we won’t let it happen now, or ever.”
“Dear Kat, you sound awfully fierce, but there isn’t a darn thing you can do about it. We’re good friends, and I hope we can stay good friends, but you must know by now I don’t go all misty about the birds and the trees and the dear little fish the way you do. We’re going to have a nice big development over there, Kat, and Burt and I are going to have a nice cozy little piece of it.”
“But it’s such a... a wicked thing to do, Sally Ann.”
“To warn you about buying a lot over there on the bay?”
“You know that isn’t what I mean.”
“Kat, you’re a sweet girl, but you don’t face up to reality. Somebody is going to fill that bay sooner or later and whoever does it is going to make buckets of money. So be glad your friends and neighbors are going to do it.”
“I can’t be glad anybody is going to try to do it. I’m going to have to spread the word, Sally Ann.”
“But why bother, dear? It won’t do you any good, you know. You and your conservation buddies will just waste a lot of energy and indignation. It’s gone too far to stop it now. For God’s sake, sweetie, do you think I’d be investing in it if there was any chance it could be stopped? Do me one little favor, though. In return for the favor I’ve done you. Don’t let on where you heard it.”
“Gee, you know, those kitchens in those little Bender houses are just darling,” Carol Killian said. “I saw one and it made me want to be just married and starting out.”
Kat Hubble stood up. “Thanks for the drink and the hot tip, Sally Ann.”
“Now I’m getting nervous about telling you.”
“I had to find out sooner or later, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but I think we were all hoping it would be later than this. Dear, do you want me to ask Burt what he thinks he could do about selling your house?”
“Not for a while, I guess. I think I’m going to be too busy to think about it.”
Kat walked slowly home along the dark street. She could hear distant music over the tinny little speaker at the Pavilion, half lost in a soft sound of the waves against the beach. A meager breeze made false rain sounds in the palms. A whippoorwill, far away, made his sound of weary astonishment. A nearby mockingbird made repetitive improvisation, with a silvery clarity and an undertone of anxiety. Bugs skirred and grated in the unsold lots of Sandy Key Estates.
Frosty gathered up her books when Kat walked in.
“They didn’t make a sound,” Frosty said. “I had a Coke. Gee, thanks a lot, but I couldn’t take any money, Mrs. Hubble. I told my mother I wouldn’t. Anyhow, it’s hardly been more than a half hour. Well... thanks. Thanks a lot. Gee, any time you want me to sit for you...”
After the girl left, Kat went to the phone and called Colonel Thomas Lamson Jennings, A.U.S., Ret., the president of Save Our Bays, Inc. Colonel Jennings lived further north on the Key, on the bay side.
“Tom? Kat Hubble. I know it’s an odd time to phone, but I have to tell you this. That Grassy Bay thing is going to open up again.”