but I have not heard back from her. Since her health is poor, I would be grateful to know if you have heard from her, and if she is well. I know from speaking to your mother that you and she are not on the best of terms, but I hope you can reassure me that she is all right. She is a remarkable woman, and has always spoken highly of you and your family. Thank you.
Sincerely—Lucille Sanford
After receiving this letter, Henry had written his mother at once, alarmed to hear of this latest likely debacle:
Mom,
I just heard from your friend Lucille that you’ve moved to Catalina—what’s going on? Have you won the Lotto or something? You’ve got everybody worried—please fill me in on your situation ASAP so I know you’re okay. Ruby and Moxie say hi.
XXXOOO—Henry
When a month passed with no reply, Henry decided to try the local Sheriff’s Department instead. Their reply was succinct:
Mr. Cadmus,
Regarding your inquiry about your mother, it may help you to know that many of our residents place a high value on their privacy—it is the chief attraction of an island lifestyle.
Cordially—Sheriff’s Deputy Tina Myrtessa
Island lifestyle? Gee thanks, officer. Yeah, that was it; he just could see his mother burning up the tennis court, or bicycling all day and dancing all night like the seniors on those adult diaper commercials. Obviously Deputy Myrtessa didn’t know his mother. At least it proved she was still there, though, and not homeless somewhere. Ticked off maybe, but all right.
Over the following months Henry sent several more letters, his tone becoming increasingly urgent and annoyed by her failure to reply. The last straw was when his last letter came back marked RETURN TO SENDER—what, she wasn’t even accepting his mail now?
That was it: Like it or not, he had to consider actually going there to find out what the hell she thought she was doing. Had she gone senile? Joined a cult? Shacked up with someone? Part of him doesn’t want to know, would have been so content just to let his mother vanish off the face of the Earth and take his past with her. That’s what she’s become to him: a relic of his personal history, sole repository of unwanted memories. A burden. Plus there was that other thing—the whole Catalina thing. Why did she have to move back there of all places?
With no regard for disrupting their busy routines or the amount of traveling and expense involved—starting with round-trip airfare from Chicago to L.A.—Ruby had decided it for him:
Oh, we have to go. That’s all there is to it.
The tanned, sarong-wearing desk girl at the Formosa squints at the address and says, “Gosh, I’m not sure…” Then she brightens: “Shady Isle. You know what? I think this is that new condo development around the other side of the Casino. You just have to follow the shore road all the way around the point and go up the hill.”
“Is it close enough to walk?”
“Oh, sure. I mean, if you don’t mind a little hike. It’s just outside of town.”
Ruby asks, “You think we can make it there and back before dark?”
“Oh yeah—no prob.” The girl snaps her fingers. “Hey, if you guys want us to watch your daughter for a while, we can do it—we do childcare at competitive rates. We’re state certified.” She hands them a business card. “Or if you ever want to like go out for the evening? Have a little romantic honeymoon? A lot of the guests like it. My granny’s so great with kids.”
“Thanks. We’ll have to take you up on that some other night.”
“Any time, just let me know.”
Out front, Henry says, “It’s getting kind of late. Maybe we should wait ’til the morning.”
“No way. I can feel you stewing about it, and it’s ruining my vacation. Let’s get this over with before you have a coronary.”
“Sorry. You’re right, I’m just procrastinating.” He takes a deep breath as if preparing for a high-dive. “Okay, let’s do it.”
“Hey, I just want you to be able to relax. I love you, you know.”
“I love you, too. Thanks for helping me deal with all this.”
“What’s a good wife for?”
They push the stroller along the crescent waterfront, following the sidewalk away from the business district toward the northern tip of the bay: the stone jetty and the domineering red-roofed fortress of the Casino Ballroom.
“It’s not an actual casino,” Henry says. “I don’t know why they call it that. There’s no ballroom either, as far