“We do since Bay and I came back from New York. It’s been in my family for four generations. I’ve made some major changes to make it more energy efficient, but it’s still the same old house.”
“It actually survived all the hurricanes that came through?”
“Not without damage, but yes.”
She studied the house. There was an indigenous grace to the design, as if from the beginning the plan had been to ensure that life inside would be comfortable and simple.
She noted most of the windows were open. “Tell me you have air-conditioning.”
“When we need it. The breezes are great, and the ceiling fans work wonders, but humidity’s always the villain.”
“How did those previous generations stand it?”
“My grandmother slept on the porch between May and the end of September. Even when the rain swept sideways.”
“So where are these birds?”
“I’ll show you.”
She hadn’t expected a canoe trip.
The canoe was made of wood—hand-crafted, she guessed—and both sleek and light. She saw Marsh watching for a reaction. She wasn’t sure what he expected. A protest, perhaps? Or a complaint that her hair might frizz? Instead, as if it were a matter of course, she accepted insect spray, then helped him push the canoe into the water until only the stern remained on the ground. When he gestured, she stepped in and positioned herself at the front. She was ready when he pushed off, paddle in hand. Then she plunged hers into the water and paddled as he guided them into deeper water.
Little Palmetto Bay was, as the name claimed, little enough. The bridge crossing it was only a mile and a quarter long, and relatively low, and until it had been built in the 1970s, Palmetto Grove Key could only be reached by boat. Once a small commercial port, the harbor at Palmetto Grove had silted with time and changes in the landscape, and now was only a pleasure boat destination. Because of this, the bay was in less danger than some in more desirable locales.
“Where are your mangroves?” she asked, surprised that the bay was so easily reached, with nothing but reeds and waving grass to slow them.
“The last hurricane rearranged the coastline and destroyed them. Just a bit farther to your right, they’re beginning to come back.”
“Mother Nature, the great developer.”
“Eventually, I hope, ours will begin to recolonize. In the meantime, I can put my canoe in at my house instead of up the road at the boat launch.”
“So explain to me why you can look at this scenery every day, enjoy the water and the sunsets and the alligators, and the people who would buy condos at Happiness Key aren’t allowed to.”
“You know the difference.”
She did, of course. Marsh and his house probably did have an impact on the environment, but not on the scale of a major development. The land he lived on had probably looked much the same centuries ago. When a developer completed Happiness Key, everything in the vicinity would be different.
“What’s to say that even if I sold my land to Wild Florida, somebody else wouldn’t come in and build another development nearby?”
“Some of the key is protected by the state or county. Some of it’s already been left to Wild Florida in trust. You have the only significant acreage in jeopardy. Yours is the only parcel that’s both large enough and well-suited for building. Yours is the only one that stretches from one side of the key to the other, and nearly out to the point.”
“Which makes it that much more valuable, I’m afraid.” They were gliding into the bay. The sun was low in a sky rapidly changing colors. They were bathed in violet and hot pink.
Marsh turned the canoe so they were moving along the shore. From this vantage point, everything looked so different. Not simply patched together by unkempt scrub, but rich in texture and color. Startled birds rose toward the sky, some with snowy wings spread wide and legs dangling low. Tree limbs hung out over the water, and she thought she saw a snake hanging from one. She made certain not to search the bank for alligators.
“Hold up.” Marsh stopped the canoe, and she twisted to look at him.
“Let me show you something while we still have good light.” He took a quart canning jar and scooped it into the water. Then he passed it to her. She had to lean back to get a good hold on it, but she finally wrapped her fingers around it,