Avalon like a great amphitheater; the expensive houses perched up there like sentinels, their picture windows overlooking the village and the perfect crescent beach below. “What a place to live. It looks like Greece or something.”
“Yeah, it’s a nice place to visit…”
The island is nearly as beautiful as Henry remembers. Even after thirty-plus years it is much the same, the harbor entrance still dominated by the Coliseum-like Casino and its stone jetty, the picturesque moored boats and the same old rickety green fishing pier. At least from here the town looks the same, too: the tourist shops and restaurants along the brick promenade, the bars and hotels—perhaps it is all just a bit more deliberately quaint than he remembers, a little more Disneyfied and upscale, but basically the same. After all, it was a tourist trap back then, too. He just saw it with different eyes.
The most visible difference now—and Henry noticed this while the ferry was still far away from the island—is the amount of development that has taken place on the mountainous flanks of Avalon: enormous white banks of luxury terraces climbing arid sea-cliffs that had previously been the province of wild goats and pigs. Construction has obviously been booming.
“Should we try to track down your mother first, or should we get a bite to eat?” Ruby asks. Henry knows she is just being supportive; none of them has eaten yet, and Moxie is getting cranky, but if he needs to do his thing, she’s there for him.
“Pancakes! Pancakes, mommy!” Moxie moans theatrically. “Pa-a-a-ancakes!”
“Thanks, honey,” he says gratefully to his wife. “No, let’s eat. There’s no rush.”
“Coffee for you folks?”
“Yes, please. Decaf.”
“Same for me.”
“All we have is Sanka.”
“That’s okay. As long as it doesn’t have caffeine—caffeine makes me insane.”
“Two Sankas…” The waitress scribbles briskly on her pad, then looks up. Her nametag reads, Glennis. “Do you need a couple more minutes, or do you know what you’re having?”
“I think we know. I guess we’ll both have the Two-Egg Special, eggs over easy, with rye toast. And could I get a side order of avocado with that?”
“Sure thing.”
“Thanks so much. Oh, and a glass of orange juice, and—”
“Pancakes, daddy, pancakes!”
“—and the Short Stack of pancakes and a glass of milk.”
“…O-kee-doke. Will that do it for you folks?”
“Yep, that oughtta do it for now. Thanks, Glennis.”
“Thank you. Your order should be right out.”
After the waitress leaves, Ruby grins and says, “You always get so folksy in places like this.”
“It’s just neighborly.”
“Shoot, I should have asked for water.” Ruby is just noticing signs apologizing for the island policy of not serving water unless it is requested. “After being out on that deck in the wind I could drink about a gallon.”
“Tell her when she comes back.”
As they sit and wait, enjoying the late breakfast ambiance and the view of the beach promenade, they become aware of a babble of conversation issuing from the next booth:
“—and I think you’ll agree that restaurant prices here are comparable to dining out on the mainland.”
“Yes, but what about the water shortage? Is that a problem?”
“Not at all. As you can see there are longstanding conservation measures in place. There’s plenty of water to go around, don’t worry.”
“I just wonder how they can keep building condos right and left if the water supply is limited.”
“Every new construction has to submit an environmental impact statement to prove it’s sustainable. It’s all very environmentally friendly.”
“But is it those low-flow toilets and fixtures? I hate those.”
“Not at all—our units have nothing but the most luxurious bathroom appointments. A little later we’ll take a drive up there and you can see for yourself.”
“Gee, I just don’t understand how it can be so inexpensive…”
“Not everyone wants to live on an island year-round. These are residential retirement units, not vacation property—we’ve designed them specifically to appeal to independent-minded folks like yourselves, people who are alone in their golden years and may be seeking more of a sense of belonging, of community.”
“But I heard condos here start at half a million dollars.”
“We use a sliding scale; some of our residents do pay that.”
“So they subsidize people like me. How do they feel about that?”
“You can ask them yourselves—I think you’ll find they’re all very warm and welcoming. It’s just like our brochure says: ‘Come for a look, stay for a lifetime.’”
Henry steals a backward glance and sees a party of elderly ladies and a tall, lustrous blond woman. The blond is the one making the sales pitch, and is wearing a name tag