"We debated that. Don Exbridge wanted us to hire students from the mainland, but our families always hired islanders, and we felt comfortable with them. They're part of the island experience, you know."
Another chilled bottle of champagne arrived, and another bottle of kiwi-flavored mineral water, and Qwilleran said, "You mentioned that you sold your memberships. Not your real estate?"
The women exchanged a glance that said, Shall we tell him? Then they succumbed to his sincere gaze and sympathetic manner. They were relaxing. They were eager to talk.
"Well," Trudy began, "when we decided to sell our property—which our families had held since the 1920s—we learned we had to sell it back to the club at their price, which was much less than market value. It was in the original contract. Nothing we could do about it."
Carla interrupted with belligerence, "If my husband had been alive, he'd have found a loophole, believe me!"
"The Grand Island Club is controlled by the Appelhardt family, who founded it, and Mrs. Appelhardt, the mother, is a hard woman," Trudy said.
Carla again: "I call her a Harpy! I always felt sorry for her kids. They grew up with our kids. None of them turned out the way she intended."
Trudy: "Poetic justice! She wanted the eldest to be a lawyer. He got through law school but could never pass the bar exam."
Carla: "The next was supposed to be a heart surgeon. And what is he? A perfectly wonderful vet! He always loved animals."
Trudy: "And what about the girl? She's a real flake!" Carla: "And the youngest boy! She's bailed him out of three marriages already." Trudy: "It would be funny if it wasn't so sad." Carla: "Why does he bother to get married?" Trudy: "He's just an easy mark who can't say no." When the merry innkeepers signaled for a third bottle of champagne, Qwilleran stood up, thanked them for their hospitality, and explained that he had another appointment. Leaving them happily relaxed in the wicker chairs, he walked down West Beach Road, marveling at the intrigue behind the Golden Curtain. He picked up his pressed garments, then stopped at the Domino Inn to phone Riker's office. He left the information about the reservation with the secretary.
"He's here. Want to talk to him?" asked Wilfred. "Haven't time. Late for an appointment." Qwilleran knew that his friend's first question would be "How much?"
On the way out of the building he was stopped by the Moseley sisters. "You're a hero!" they said. "The Har-dings told us about the rescue."
"Just happened to be in the right place at the right time."
"We knew Elizabeth very well," said the one with glasses. "She was a student at our school in Connecticut. When we read about Pear Island resort in the Boston papers and made our reservation, we had no idea we were coming to her beloved Grand Island." "Have you seen her since you've been here?" "Oh, no! We wouldn't think of intruding," said the pretty one with a soft voice. "Is she looking well?"
"In the throes of a snake bite one is never at one's best."
"Very true." They nodded, smiling at his arch observation.
"But to answer your question seriously, she seems to be unhealthily thin."
One sister murmured to the other, "She's having problems again. She's not eating. Too bad she can't get away from that environment."
A profile of the rich little mermaid was forming in Qwilleran's mind. "Was she a good student?"
"Oh, yes," said Edith. "All her life she'd had private tutors and was a prodigious reader, but she was a nervous wreck when she came to us. We all worked hard to improve her diet and elevate her spirit and draw her into campus life."
"We succeeded to a degree, and she should have gone on to college, but ... it didn't happen. The reason was never explained. We corresponded for a while, but gradually she slipped away into her small world. Poor Elizabeth!"
Qwilleran concealed his personal curiosity by inquiring, "And now that you've seen her beloved island, what do you think of it?"
"It's not the idyllic spot we expected," said Edna ruefully. "The Bambas are a lovely family, but we doubt that we'll stay our full two weeks."
"The island isn't even pear-shaped," Edith said. "We've taken carriage rides on both beaches, and it's an isosceles triangle!"
Edna said, "You should put that in your column, Mr. Qwilleran."
As he ambled back to Four Pips, he was painting a mental picture of the royal family, brushstroke by brushstroke: the daughter who wouldn't eat ... the son who couldn't stop marrying ... the law graduate who couldn't (or wouldn't) pass the bar exam ... the doctor who preferred to treat animals ... the autocratic mother who was said to be a Harpy.
Upon arriving home he immediately wrote a brief note to Mrs. Appelhardt: "Found these on the nature trail. Hope your daughter recovers swiftly." He signed it "J. Qwil-leran." Then he set out for the Vacation Helpers once more, carrying the botany book and the silver pencil.
Shelley was at the counter. "Back again?" she said in surprise. "Was the pressing okay?"
