Happiness Key (25 page)

“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, brushing his as she did.

“What do you see?” he asked

“Not drinking water, that’s for sure.” She held the jar
up to the light; then, delighted, she smiled. “What are all these creatures?”

“Life begins in places just like this. Brackish estuaries. You’re holding the result in your hands.”

She saw fish that looked smaller than a grain of rice darting in circles, perplexed, she supposed, that their world had suddenly narrowed. She saw what might be a tiny seahorse and several shrimp, other things too unformed yet to name. But the jar, one random scoop of water, teemed with life.

“When you look at this, it’s not so hard to believe we came from the sea, is it?” She gently submerged the jar, then turned it upside down. When she lifted it, the jar was empty again.

“This is a tidally influenced wetland area. We have twelve islands here in the bay. Some are covered with mangroves, some with sea grape and cabbage palms. The number changes from one generation to another. But all of them are habitat for what you saw in the jar, and for birds and animals. I’ll take you to one.”

Ten minutes later, he made good on his promise. The island Marsh had paddled to wasn’t large—under two acres for, certain—but it was thick with vegetation. And as they moved toward it, the little island came alive as birds began to light in preparation for the night.

They stayed back far enough not to threaten them. Tracy was enchanted. Against the rosy sky, the birds were a moving tapestry.

“Herons, egrets and pelicans nest here,” Marsh said quietly. “We document them. We’ve had roseate spoon-bills—real movie stars, those guys—though not many, and wood storks, but not this time of year. Someone photographed mangrove cuckoos last summer. But I could
list birds and bore you all night. So let’s just watch them coming home.”

She didn’t want to fall under the spell of this place. Her life was too complex, too precarious, to think about the effects of development on the waterfowl and inhabitants of these waters. And she wasn’t convinced that developing Happiness Key in accordance with the regulations already in place would disturb any of it.

But she wasn’t convinced it wouldn’t, either.

Marsh finally turned the canoe back to land. Tracy assisted as he guided, enjoying the feel of the water lapping gently at the sides, the rhythmic pull of the paddle. It was nearly dark by the time they got to his house. She got out and pulled the canoe forward, and he joined her. Together they tugged it up the sand until it was well away from the water.

“You handled that paddle like a pro.”

“Well, you know, in between having my legs waxed and my hair straightened, I have learned a few things in life.”

“There’s that attitude again.” He started toward the house, and she caught up.

“What’s for dinner?”

“Why, are you hungry?”

She was. Ravenous. “I missed breakfast and had a PowerBar for lunch.”

“No wonder you stay so skinny.”

“Skinny?”

“Well, something closely approximating it.” He glanced at her. “Bay’s mother says she lost twenty pounds after I moved back here and stopped cooking for her.”

“You’re friends?”

“That would be a positive spin, but I don’t hold the
divorce against her. I just married a woman I had nothing in common with.”

“Kind of like if you married me.”

This time he grinned. “Nothing that extreme. Sylvia just lives to work, that’s all. She’s a top-notch criminal attorney. She’ll be writing closing arguments on her deathbed. She gave birth to Bay and went back to the office two days later, and didn’t see him again for a week. She wasn’t even sure it was the same kid when she came home for a meal and a good night’s sleep. She thought the nurse had traded him for a better-looking baby.”

That description made even Tracy squirm. “My ex was a workaholic, too. If he wasn’t in prison, we could introduce them. Of course, since she probably wouldn’t have time to spend with him anyway, they still might be a good fit.”

“Sylvia might spring him. She’s that good. Would you want that?”

“Luckily, I don’t have to waste time worrying. CJ really dug his hole deep.”

They climbed the steps to the porch and opened the front door. She expected to be greeted by Bay; instead an older woman in a Wild Florida T-shirt and a long salt-and-pepper braid came in from the kitchen, followed by two black labs.

“I let the poor kid watch a video, and he fell sound asleep in front of the television. I think he’ll be out for a while.”

Marsh introduced Tracy. The woman turned out to be his office manager. She said goodbye, kissed Marsh on the cheek, called the dogs and left.

“I watch her mutts when she goes on vacation. She watches my kid. Actually, she’d do it without the trade. Her kids are all grown.”

Tracy’s stomach rumbled, and he laughed. “Come on. I’ll see what you can gnaw on while I cook.”

She liked the inside of his house. She wasn’t sure what she had expected. Big Mouth Billy Bass singing from the wall. Lava lamps. Framed photographs of Marsh and friends being hauled off to jail. Instead, the house was open and airy, with lots of exposed wood and rooms that flowed into each other. Sofas upholstered in dark leather, chairs upholstered in red plaid, simple rugs over old pine floors. Embellishments were sparse. Some photos of Marsh and Bay together. Some interesting sculptures, and carvings of woodland creatures and birds. Lots of books on lots of bookshelves.

The kitchen was definitely not the original. In fact, she thought it had probably been recently remodeled. Stainless-steel appliances, concrete counters, Shaker-style cherry cabinets. Pans hung from a heavy steel rack over the stove, well used and well scrubbed.

“Did you do any of this yourself?” She thought about her floor.

“A lot of it. It’s a good way to blow off steam.”

He opened the refrigerator, and took out a plastic bag of sliced vegetables and a tub of dip. “This will hold you until the real stuff appears.” He handed them to her and nodded toward a cabinet. “Plates and bowls that way.”

She scooped some of the dip, Southwestern ranch and low-fat, into a small bowl, put it on a plate and surrounded it with the vegetables. Then she went to stand near the stove so he could share.

“Are you one of those women who’s going to tell me what to do in my own kitchen?” Marsh was still in the refrigerator removing ingredients.

“Me? I don’t cook. What would I know?”

He closed the door. “How do you eat?”

She clicked her teeth together. “Like this.”

“Are you one of those raw foodies?”

“No, I love to eat. I’m just too lazy to learn how to make it happen. We had a cook in California, and we ate out when she wasn’t there. Mostly now I just eat a handful of this and a couple of spoonfuls of that.”

“You had your own cook?”

“How far the mighty have fallen, huh?”

He was rinsing fish fillets in the sink now, and setting them to dry on paper towels. “Tell me if I’m wrong, but when I said I didn’t hold my divorce against Sylvia, I didn’t hear any shrieks from you. You don’t hold your husband responsible for yours?”

“CJ? He was completely responsible, except for that big, big part where I married him in the first place. And it’s kind of hard to get around that.”

“So why did you marry him?”

“He was bright and charming, handsome, and filthy rich. He needed a trophy wife, and I thought I needed somebody to take care of me.”

“Did you?”

“Maybe I did, but I don’t now.”

“So he’s in jail, and you’re here starting a new life. And you don’t think about springing him?”

“I never said that. I said—”

“That luckily you didn’t have to waste time worrying.”

“You’re making me sound shallow again. You do it so well.”

He turned and shook his head. “You’re really off the mark this time. I’m just trying to figure out how somebody gets on with their life after something like that. I’ve been divorced four years, and I still wake up at night and think Sylvia’s—”

“Asleep beside you?”

“No, back at the office. Working on a brief.”

“Oh. Got it.”

“So?” He took down a cast-iron frying pan and set it on the stove. He poured oil in to heat and began to bread the fish. Turning it, sprinkling seasoning, turning it again.

“CJ set the tone. I—” She looked away, trying to figure out how to say this. Then she shrugged. “From the moment he realized he was going down, he was on a solo ride. I don’t think he was capable of worrying about the effect on me or anybody else who was involved. It was all about him. Once the shock wore off and I started to pull myself together, I knew the only way I was going to survive was to do the same thing and just worry about myself. I realized CJ wouldn’t even notice if I worried about him, or if I was furious or in total despair. Nobody else was on his radar. Actually, nobody ever had been. But the big bang was what forced me to see the truth.”

“That’s a big hurt. Knowing you’re not even a little bit important to the person who was most important to you.”

“Are we talking about me? Or you?”

“It’s a scary thing, Trace, to realize you and I have something in common. Even down to denying that the divorce was as bad as having our hearts plucked out of our chests.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Was anybody there for you?”

She gave one shake of her head.

“You’re a lot stronger than you look. It’s going to be harder than I thought to knock you down to size.”

“It’s going to take an army.”

He laughed. “Pour us some wine, will you?”

She moved beside him and peered into the pan, which was sizzling. “Are you really going to fry that fish?”

“You were expecting sushi? In these parts we call that bait.” Then, before she could protest, he put a fishy hand under her chin and tilted it, probably leaving crumbs. He bent down and kissed her. Just lightly. The way one friend kisses another. “Be a spoiled brat for the rest of the night, okay? It will make things easier for both of us.”

She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what to do. She smiled up at him, her most blindingly expensive smile, then went to search for a bottle of wine.

By the time Wanda dragged herself out of bed on Saturday morning, Ken was gone. No surprise. Old news. Package delivered in last year’s mail. Her husband was as useless as a screen door on a submarine, and she’d given up on him. What surprised her was that Chase was gone, as well. The fact that the greyhound hadn’t nudged her awake so she could stumble along the road clutching his leash while he peed on everything in sight was even more surprising.
That
was worth pondering.

She pondered on the front stoop, looking this way and that. The fact that the two males who lived in the house were both gone could be significant. Maybe Ken was walking Chase.

“Fat chance….”

The other scenario was more likely. Ken hadn’t closed the door securely on his way to wherever, and Chase had let himself out afterward. She wondered if the day and a half that the dog had been with her was long enough that he would find his way home. It hardly seemed likely.

“Well, ain’t that a kick in the head?”

She considered what to do, but she realized that whatever she did, coffee had to come first. She propped open the screen door, in case Chase came back on his own, then went to start a pot. In the kitchen, she found a nearly full one. At least Ken hadn’t been gone long, since it hadn’t boiled away to nothing. Even if Chase had escaped, he couldn’t have gone far. Under normal circumstances he might already be back at the track, looking for the nasty man with the cigar. But Chase’s leg was bandaged, so he was running slow these days.

She got the largest mug in the cupboard and filled it. Back in her bedroom, she tried to figure out what to wear. Her brain still wasn’t operating properly, not even after two big swigs. She was still staring into the top drawer of her dresser, trying to remember what she was looking for, when she heard the screen door slam and the frantic scurrying of paws.

She turned as Chase came limping into the bedroom. At the sight of her, he sped up the limp and before she could stop him, he jumped up and braced himself against her chest with his one good front leg to lick her face.

Ken appeared next. “You got yourself some kind of dog here, Wanda.”

She kissed Chase’s nose; then she gently pushed him to the floor. That was easy enough now, considering his injuries, but when he was all recovered, she didn’t think anything was going to be easy about having this dog living in her house. Except that he was going to be easy to love.

“Did you take him for a walk?”

“We were both itching to get outside.”

“After the money I paid that vet to prevent fleas, he’d better not be itching.”

“Hope you weren’t worried. I didn’t want to wake you and tell you we were going.”

“Surprised is all. You’ve been ignoring that dog like he was a new piece of furniture. ’Course, you’ve only seen him for a second or two here and there.”

“I can tell the difference between a dog and a dining-room table.”

She sounded grudging, she knew, but she had to say something. She hadn’t drilled gratitude into her kids just to ignore good manners now. “I appreciate the help, Kenny. And the extra sleep.”

“Had breakfast yet?”

“A couple swallows of coffee.”

“Dog and I are starving. What do you feed him?”

She told him where the food was, and how much the vet had recommended. “His name’s Chase. Chase the Suspect, if you want the whole truth.”

Ken grinned. Her heart felt as if it were tying itself into a double knot. She hadn’t seen him smile like that for what seemed like years. She was instantly wary.

“You picked this dog ’cause you’re married to a cop?” he asked.

“I used to watch him run whenever I got the chance. Made a little money on him, too, from time to time.”

“Not half as much as you’ve spent on him now, I bet. Chase and me, we’ll put something together for breakfast. Go ahead and take a shower.”

“You got some reason to be so nice to me this morning? Last time I looked, this was just a regular day in June. Months after the birthday you probably don’t even remember you forgot.”

Ken reached down and scratched Chase, who had gone to stand beside him. “I’m just hungry for pancakes.”

She didn’t know what was up. She was half-convinced
Ken was trying to butter her up along with the pancakes, so he could admit to something once she was in a better mood. Like the fact he’d hired a divorce lawyer, or the name of a woman he was having an affair with, or how he’d lost their life savings in a series of all-night poker games because he had been so depressed.

“I bought real maple syrup last week,” she said, turning back to the dresser. “Have at it. I’ll get there eventually.”

“As dogs go, this one’s not too bad.”

She heard them leave, the man and the dog. Together.

She stared at the neat pile of clothes a little longer. What exactly did a woman wear when she had no idea where her life was going?

Janya was so proud that she had easily passed all the necessary tests to receive her learner’s restricted license, but now she was facing her first real lesson. Rishi had taken the bus to his office this morning and left the keys on the table for her. Just looking at them made her stomach churn.

He had offered to take her for her first drive, but she’d told him that she’d promised Wanda that privilege. It wasn’t really a deception. Wanda had offered, and Janya had accepted. Of course, the real truth was that having Rishi beside her would be distracting. He would instruct with the same enthusiasm he used when he showed her anything new. He would not understand that she was anxious. He would be so certain she was going to do well that he would chatter about things that didn’t matter.

Wanda would chatter, too, but as she did, she would point out the things Janya needed to know. Despite the unpleasantness that had passed between them, Janya thought she could trust Wanda in this. In the matter of
teaching someone to drive, strong opinions were not a bad thing.

She was preparing for the lesson when Wanda knocked, then opened the door and stuck her head inside. “I can come back in fifteen minutes if you’re not ready now.”

Janya was tying her first shoe. “No, please come in. This will give me less time to worry.”

“About what? You’ve been riding in cars all your life….” She frowned. “Or maybe not.”

“The last time I rode an elephant into the jungle, I decided I did not like being so high.”

Wanda got the joke and smiled. “Well, I can’t help that I’ve never been to India, Janya. We’re not all born in interesting places.”

“We do have elephants, and camels. Also trains, buses, cars, rickshaws, tuk tuks and feet.”

“Tuk tuks?”

“A motorized cart. Three wheels. Very unsafe.”

“Do you miss all that?”

Just weeks ago the question might have brought tears to Janya’s eyes. Now she wondered. The country and its people, yes. The customs, culture, sights and smells. Yes. Her parents? That was a different question entirely. These were the people who had chosen not to defend and protect her.

“I think if I spend too much time missing India, I will spend too little time learning to like the United States.” Janya got to her feet, but reluctantly.

“Harder for you than me, that’s for sure. Sometime we’ll drive down to Miami and I’ll show you all my favorite places.”

Janya realized this wasn’t an empty offer. At some time, perhaps when she wasn’t paying careful attention,
she had moved from the role of colorful neighbor to be watched from afar and distrusted, to colorful neighbor and friend. Wanda was so much like women she had known in Mumbai, friends of her mother’s who had protected what belonged to them with a ferocious ardor. The thought made her feel more at home.

“And someday I will show you India,” she said. “It would be the trip of a lifetime.”

“Can we go to the Taj Mahal?”

“Our very first stop.”

“Of course, it might be hard, seeing as it’s a romantic destination and all, and I’ll probably be divorced.”

“I saw your husband walking Chase this morning.”

“I’m not sure what got into him. He made me breakfast, too.”

“Those are gifts to be enjoyed.”

Wanda clicked her tongue, and Janya was not certain what that meant here in Florida. Wisely, she said nothing more.

Wanda made a tour of the room, examining things. “I like what you’ve done. These colors, are they traditional where you come from?”

Janya had painted the little rooms colors that did remind her of home. Deep gold. Creamy turquoise. Their bedroom was the same dark red as the
puja
room—she had asked Rishi to buy too much paint. Batiks hung on the walls with tribal paintings.

“They make me feel happier,” she said.

Wanda stopped beside the table near the sofa; then she lifted the pastel drawing that Janya had done of Olivia and stared at it. “Janya, who drew this?”

Janya was sorry she hadn’t put the drawing away. She had worked on it more this morning to calm herself. She had taken the quick charcoal sketch she had done almost
two weeks ago and used it as a basis for the pastel portrait. So far she was pleased.

“I did, but I’ve yet to finish.”

Wanda looked up at her. “It’s amazing. You’ve caught every little thing about her.”

Janya was warmed by the compliment. She knew Wanda did not come by them easily, making them more precious. “I thank you.”

“And what is this?” Wanda lifted another drawing Janya had been working on. “What an elaborate design.”

“It’s
mehendi.
It came to me last night. Do you know about henna tattoos?”

“Not sure.”

“It’s an ancient art, a way of adorning the body that is not permanent. We do it for weddings and other special occasions. I have been thinking about trying one. Just for fun.”

“It would be beautiful. Anyone would love to have this on some body part or the other.” Wanda looked up. “You never told us you were such a talented artist.”

Janya’s smile slowly faded. “Wanda, perhaps this is not such a good idea.”

Wanda understood she wasn’t talking about the tattoo. “Are you scared to drive?”

It was nice to admit the truth, something Janya might not have felt comfortable doing with Rishi. “My knees may not hold me.”

“We’ll just cruise around a little with me at the wheel, so I can get used to your car. That way I can tell you what you need to know about it. Then, when you’re ready, we’ll just slide you in there and I’ll show you everything. Heck, out here at this end of the key, there’s hardly one bit of traffic. You can go two miles an hour and nobody will care. But you have to do this, Janya. Driving is what
it’ll take to have a real life here in Florida. And don’t you deserve one?”

Then, as if she understood what was needed, Wanda came close, put her arms around Janya, and pulled her close for a reassuring and very American hug. “Now, off we go, little sister. Just you and me and that car out there. Let’s go and raise some hell.”

Grouting was not as much fun as Tracy had hoped. She had decided to take a break from cutting and placing the rest of the tile to give grouting a whirl, but there was obviously a learning curve on the use of the rubber “float,” which didn’t float at all but looked more like the squeegees that her window cleaners had used in Bel Air. She was supposed to squish a nasty-looking toothpastey goo into the spaces, then make smoothing sweeps across the surface. She discovered that an old toothbrush helped pack and smooth the grout to her specifications, but twenty minutes later, when she was supposed to start wiping away the excess with a damp sponge, she hadn’t gotten very far.

“Are we having fun yet?” Tracy wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. She envisioned packing the very last seam on the day the wrecking ball came to destroy the cottage. She was beginning to understand why the tile installers had wanted so much for the job.

She got to her feet and stretched. She felt like one of the pineapples in Alice’s tablecloth. Knotted and shaped to fit somebody else’s creative vision. She stood on tiptoe, just in time to catch a glimpse of Wanda coming up the walk.

She answered the door before Wanda knocked. “Please tell me you want to take me away from this.” She gestured behind her.

“It’s gorgeous,” Wanda said, poking her head in. “When are you going to do my floors?”

“At night. In your dreams.”

“Janya and me had us an adventure. Want to hear about it?”

“Will it get me out of here?”

“Far enough. Janya says she’s got a special place on the beach. We bought sandwiches at that little store by the bridge. Uncommonly good ones, too. Those little hole-in-the-wall places know how to feed people. Put on your bathing suit. Then we’ll come back and get you. It’s a celebration.”

Tracy tried to follow that. “What are we celebrating?”

“Janya and me are still alive, that’s what. We’ll meet you back here in about fifteen minutes.”

“I have bottled water. And fruit drinks.”

“Good. I have pie. Different crust,” Wanda said over her shoulder.

Tracy did as she was told. Fifteen minutes later she had donned her bikini and cover-up, slathered her skin with sunblock, knotted her hair on top of her head, found a beach hat, filled a cooler with drinks, and put new batteries in her portable iPod speakers. She was good to go.

Wanda returned with Janya, and she had Olivia and Alice in tow, too. They might as well have waved a sign saying Lee was gone. Tracy wondered about that. He spoke often about Alice and his concerns about her health, but he rarely seemed to be home to monitor things. Either he was struggling hard to provide for them in a difficult economic climate, or he really wasn’t as worried as he claimed. She hoped that meant he would be okay with Alice teaching at the center.

“Look what we found,” Wanda said. “Are you ready?” She wore a muumuu that looked as if it was straight from
a discount beachwear store in Honolulu. Tracy was nearly blinded by orange hibiscus.

Tracy locked the door behind her. Security was a bigger issue now that Janya’s patio had been trashed. No one else had been affected, but she felt less safe here than she had a few weeks ago. She had asked Wanda to tell her husband what had transpired, but short of developing an informal neighborhood watch system for the five cottages, there really wasn’t much they could do.