Fear of Frying (12 page)

She spotted Benson nearby and interrupted herself. "Benson, Allison and I have a date to talk computers. I haven't seen her around. Next time you run into her, would you ask what would be a good time?"

“She told me. She's excited about talking to you. My mother and I aren't much into cyber-stuff, as she calls it. I'll check with her right now." He was back in a minute, to invite Jane upstairs to their private quarters.

“
I'm
off to do leatherwork," Shelley said. "Possibly to design an exotic garment that will shock and delight my husband. See you later.”

The private quarters upstairs were wonderful, open and airy. There was a large central room that ran the length of the front of the building like the top of a
T.
Running back from the center was a kitchen and dining area. There was a big fireplace at the far end, which must have been directly above the fireplace in the lobby. To each side of the kitchen was a bedroom, sitting room, and bath suite. One was Benson and Allison's, the other Edna's. The perfect setup for both family life and personal privacy.

“This
is
fabulous!" Jane exclaimed as Allison showed her around. A counter ran along the entire front of the main section. There were six windows, with bookshelves between each, making them appear to be recessed, like dormers. At the far window, nearest Allison and Benson's suite, a very fancy sewing machine was set up. In the area behind it sat a huge quilting frame with a half-done red and green Christmas quilt on it.

The next window area was a desk for Allison's computer and printer. Cabinets beneath held paper, and the shelves next to it had a bookstore's worth of manuals. The third window contained a profusion of colorful house plants. A few of them were very fragrant, filling the large room with their perfume.

The other three windows, on Edna's end of the main room, were almost empty by comparison. A single old, well-shaped rubber plant was in front of one, a colorful miniature totem pole in another, and the third was bare. Edna's bookshelves were sparse, too. Only one was full, and it consisted entirely of paperback mysteries. Another had a pile of crossword-puzzle magazines, several dictionaries, and a thesaurus. Edna's end of the room contained an entertainment center with a big television, VCR, and cabinet full of videotapes, mainly, Jane noted, documentaries, musicals, and costume dramas.

“I could stay up here and never, ever go out!" Jane exclaimed. "You've got everything I love."

“We're lucky to be living now, aren't we?" Allison said. "I can be a complete hermit, but between the satellite dish and the computer, I'm also in touch with the whole world. What more could you ask?"

“Closer medical facilities," Edna said from the top of the stairs.

“Oh, Edna, no fretting, please. I'm fine," Allison said. "Jane and I are going to play on the computer."

“Have you seen that black knitted scarf of mine?" Edna asked.

“It's right here," Allison said, opening a drawer. "Some of the fringe was coming loose and I fixed it. What are you up to today?"

“Just prowling around," Edna said, wrapping the scarf around her neck. "Want to see how the classes are going. Benson's taken charge of the kitchen for the day." She donned a heavy coat, stuffed a pair of hand-knitted gloves in her pocket, and said, cheerily, "Have fun, girls," as she went back down the stairs.

“I've got a pot of coffee ready. Decaf, I'm afraid. Edna won't let Benson even buy the straight stuff for us."

“Why's that?"

“Because I'm not supposed to have any. I have a little heart problem, and Edna is determined to watch over my health whether I want her to or not. She's a dear, dear person, but I think she loves me too much. She never had a daughter, and my mother died before I even met Benson, so Edna's taken over being my mom. Unfortunately, she treats me like I were her beloved idiot child who requires constant care. She means so well that I can't bear to tell her I'm capable of running my own life.”

Jane didn't think Allison resembled an idiot child, but she did look like a sick woman. Possibly much sicker than she was letting on. Her coloring was anemic, she moved slowly and carefully, as if in slight but constant pain, and she spoke rather slowly, needing more breath to do so than most people. Edna was probably quite right to worry about Allison's health. She clearly wasn't well.

“But maybe she's right," Jane said hesitantly. "About living closer to a good hospital."

“Oh, she probably is," Allison said cheerfully. "But I couldn't live anywhere but here. I'd wither away. And it would be even harder on Benson. This is where he's meant to be. He wasn't even upset about the land-restriction thing. I'll boot up the computer.”

They sat down side by side, and as the computer went into action, Jane said, "What land-restriction thing?"

“Oh, I'm sorry. I assumed you knew. We were up front about it with the city council and school board. I didn't mean to be obscure. That crazy Lucky Smith — you know about him? He fell into religion about the same time he fell into the clutches of a band of environmental nutcases. He's never liked us since Benson had him arrested for being drunk in the lobby the first year we were here, so Lucky figured these people would help him with his revenge on us.

“I've researched this crowd since then. They'd been part of Greenpeace, but were too militant even for Greenpeace's agenda. They broke off and apparently go around the country, butting in to various communities and causing trouble. It seems they're top-heavy with radical but very bright, thorough lawyers. For some reason, they descended on this county and decided it should revert to wilderness."

“It looks pretty much like wilderness to me right now," Jane said.

“No, there are buildings and people. I think we're supposed to give the entire county back to the raccoons and possums," Allison said. "According to them. So they moved in two summers ago, signed themselves up as registered voters, and pushed through a zoning regulation that was cleverly worded to look quite harmless, but was aimed at ruining us."

“You and Benson specifically?"

“We are 'representative of the rape of the land,' as one of their recent press releases said. According to their regulations, we could continue to operate the resort as long as we wanted. But we couldn't add any additional structures — this was just as we were completing the Conference Center — and we couldn't `increase the drain on public resources.' I believe that's how it was worded."

“What's that mean?"

“It means we can't increase our water or electrical usage. And we can't even put in a water purification system, because it would require an additional structure to house the machinery. Fortunately, by the time this stupid thing went into effect, we'd already had one season's use of the Conference Center and the new bathrooms in the cabins, so the basic usage was based on those figures. But we can't expand — add new cabins or any new facilities."

“Surely they can't dictate to you that way."

“No, they tricked the voters of the county into dictating to us. When it was all done and we realized what had happened, we consulted a couple of attorneys and it seemed hopeless. We could propose a reversal of the zoning and have it put to a vote again. But nobody but us was influenced by this — at the moment — and we'd have to conduct an expensive election campaign by ourselves, which we can't afford to do. The alternative is to defy the law, let ourselves be brought to court — they'd love to see that happen — and try to have the zoning restrictions declared unconstitutional. Again, a huge expense with nobody to share the burden."

“Surely you have friends and supporters who would help," Jane said. "All those neighbors who are attending your classes today, for instance."

“Oh, everybody's sympathetic. They're not to blame for this situation. The wording of the vote was so deceptively innocuous, we all fell for it. Even Benson thought it only meant that nobody abutting our land would be able to put in a sleazy trailer park or a garish tourist trap. He voted for it. When we discovered what it really meant, and the environmentalists got their way and started announcing openly that they were targeting us as an example, all our friends and neighbors rallied around. But, Jane, these aren't wealthy people. Many are retirees on limited incomes. A great many of those who do have the money to help are really Chicagoans who have a second home here and can't vote. And frankly, most people in the county still don't grasp that it's going to happen to them as well when the group is through with us. They see it as a vendetta against us, which they sincerely regret, but refuse to understand that we're just the test case."

“You don't seem as angry as I'd be about this," Jane said.

Allison smiled. "I'm not supposed to allow myself to get angry. And while I am furious at anyone else taking away our freedoms, in purely practical terms, it isn't as bad as it sounds. We don't want to expand this place to be the equivalent of a Wisconsin Disneyland. We like it as it is. We didn't move here to get rich, but to have a good life. And that's what we've got.”

Jane glanced around the big, warm, inviting room. "It sure is."

“. . and even if we wanted to leave, we couldn't," Allison went on, punching some keys on the computer keyboard. "We can't sell it. Well, legally we can sell it, but then the utilities go back to ground zero."

“What does that mean?"

“That anybody who might buy it couldn't use
any
county water or electricity."

“My gosh! That's horrible. Could they put up windmills or something?”

Allison shook her head. "Nope. Those are structures. Forbidden. Our investment here has become, in legal terms, an enormous white elephant.”

"I'm so sorry to hear that," Jane said. . "Oh, don't be. I wasn't wanting pity. Just explaining the situation. Like I say, we very much resent strangers coming in and usurping our rights. But they're not really keeping us from doing anything that's important to us. Benson and I have no intention of leaving. We came here with the idea of living out our lives in this building. So the fact that the land is impossible to sell is really okay. We have no children to leave an inheritance to, so there's not that concern."

“What about Edna? What if she outlives both of you?" Jane asked bluntly.

“Oh, she's entirely likely to. She is, in her own words, a tough old bird. Edna also has quite a nest egg of her own. She inherited from a spinster aunt who was a whiz at investing. And Edna's no slouch at it herself. That's the only thing she's interested in on the computer. She buys and sells stocks through it. I guess that's really another reason we aren't as upset as we might be. If both Benson and I truly became infirm, we could give this place to a nature reserve and live on Edna's money. She'd like nothing better. She keeps begging us to let her buy something in Chicago and move back."

“And you won't consider it?"

“Not now. Probably not ever, if we can help it. Edna's marvelous and wouldn't lord it over us that we were financially dependent on her, but we don't want that. And it all comes back, in the end, to the fact that we love it here. And we love our independence, even if we have to fight Edna for it," she added with a grin. "So are you interested in seeing the stock program?”

The discussion was clearly over.

“Actually, I'd rather see what kind of games you've got," Jane said.

“A woman after my own heart," Allison said. "Most of them are shareware. I'll make you copies and you can mail checks to the creators of the ones you like. I've got a great graph program, too. Do you knit or needlepoint?"

“Both. Badly.”

Allison laughed. "Well, I can help you make absolutely beautiful charts. What you do with the actual work is your own problem.”

Two hours passed like minutes. Jane went away with a dozen disks with new games and a promise from Allison that if Jane would bring her laptop back later in the day, she'd see if she could figure out a few problems Jane was having with it.

“I have to take a nap after lunch," Allison said, "but anytime after two would be fine.”

Jane went down to the dining room, where people were just beginning to drift in for lunch. Seeing no sign of Shelley, she decided to take her disks back to the cabin before she lost them. It was starting to drizzle and there was, once again, the faint, distant rumble of thunder. So much for bird-watching.

Shelley was in the cabin, changing her sneakers for boots.

“Make anything naughty out of leather?" Jane asked.

“Not unless you consider an eyeglass case naughty," Shelley said. "It was fun, though. The guy teaching it had all sorts of neat stuff to show us. I fell in love with a zippered notebook. I figure by the time I took lessons, bought all the materials and tools, and wasted half of them learning how to do this, I could have a really great notebook like it for just under two thousand dollars."

“Sounds like a bargain to me," Jane said, taking. a towel to her hair, which had gotten damp on the walk back.

“Yeah, so I bought his for ninety," Shelley said. "Take a look."

“Wow, that is neat," Jane said. The notebook, a deep reddish brown leather, had a deeply incised paisleylike pattern all over it. "What are you going to keep in it?"