Island. Norman couldn’t help calling it, the anointment, to her attention again.
::::::Well, that’s all right. I’m not going to make an issue of it. He has a little boy’s excitement over these things, these social things. And on 60 Minutes he looked so self-confident. On national television!::::::
From the ferry slip they headed east on an avenue called Fisher Island Drive. Norman enjoyed explaining that this was, in fact, the only street on Fisher Island. Yeah! The only one! It went all the way around the island in a great loop. Oh, a lot of roads led off of it, as she could see, but these were all private roads leading to private property.
The scenery was not the lush tropical show she thought it would be. There were plenty of palm trees… and plenty of sea views… but where were all the estates she had pictured? There were a handful of small houses, which Norman had said were called “casitas”—casitas! She had to come to exclusive Fisher Island to see casitas!?… although she had to admit they were a bit more elegant, if a casita can ever be called elegant, than the ones in Hialeah.
They came upon a few large houses with nice green lawns and big banks of shrubbery and gorgeous flowers—bougainvilleas?—but the island really seemed like a big compound of apartments. There were a couple of boring modern apartment towers glass glass glass glass sheer facade sheer facade sheer streaked facade, but there were also lots of lower apartment buildings that looked older and more elegant… painted white… lots of wood… You could imagine them to be part of a tropical paradise, but it would take some doing. Then—
Wow! Now, there was an estate! A huge manor house—wasn’t that the term, manor house?—at the top of a hill, with landscaping too grand and too glorious to take in from a moving car like this… huge banyan trees, the ones that looked absolutely prehistoric, with their twisted multiple trunks and immense limbs reaching up higher than any tree’s she had ever seen—
Norman clearly enjoyed knowing it all. The place had been a “Vanderbilt estate,” but today it was the Fisher Island Hotel and Resort. Norman motioned toward it as if it were his. The pleasure he took in this stuff got underneath Magdalena’s skin. It was all part of… something… she couldn’t stand.
Not far beyond the hotel they arrived at the Fisher Island Marina. Now, this place was impressive. More than a hundred boats, many of them real yachts, were docked in slips—Norman called them slips—many close to a hundred feet long, and some much bigger. The whole scene radiated… money… even though Magdalena couldn’t have begun to break it down into categories. There were so many employees going onboard the boats and coming off and walking along the wooden… wharfways?… between the slips. There were so many flags, so many playful names lettered toward the front of the gleaming, grand white hulls, Honey Bear, Gone with the Wind, Bel Ami, so many plump, smooth, buttery, bejowled owners—or that’s what she took them to be—whom Norman greeted ever so casually, ever so amiably, with his Hi Billys and Hi Chucks and Hi Harrys and Hi Cleeves, Hi Claibornes, Hi Claytons, Hi Shelbys, Hi Talbots, Hi Govans—::::::but they’re all Bucks and Chucks, aren’t they—americanos! The whole lot of them!::::::
At that moment Norman said, “Hi, Chuck!” Another Chuck! Chuck and Buck! A big, meaty, red-faced man came over… clad in a work shirt, sleeves rolled up, and a baseball cap, both bearing the legend FISHER ISLAND MARINA.
“Hi ya, Dr. Lewis! How you hangin’? Oh, I’m sorry, ma’m.” He had just noticed Magdalena, who was standing behind Norman. “Didn’t mean that like it sounded.” Didn’ mean ’at lack it sayundid.
His big face turned even redder. Magdalena had no idea what he was talking about.
“Chuck?” said Norman, gesturing toward her. “This is Magdalena, Miss Otero. And Magdalena?… Chuck. Chuck’s the dockmaster.”
“Real pleased to meet you, Miss Otero,” said Chuck.
Magdalena smiled faintly. This Chuck was not just a plain americano. He was a thoroughbred. He was a real cracker. Her hostile feelings rose again.
Chuck said to Norman: “You goin’ out?” Ayot?
“Thought I’d give Magdalena her first cigarette boat ride,” said Norman. “Come to think of it, the tank may be low. We’re going a long way.”
“No problem, Dr. Lewis. Just take her on over there by Harvey on your way out.” Jes taker on ovair by Harvey on ya way ayot. His voice got on