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No doubt, 'Heather is happy here,' I thought. I was glad for her. There was a small vase of flowers on the dresser at the far wall of the room. I noticed her comb beside the vase, a unique comb with a silver edge that broadened and became its handle. I remembered her using it every morning. Getting her hair just right seemed important, as important as choosing the right blouse to wear for the kind of day it would be. The last thing that I noticed before entering Ross' domain, was Heather's straw hat hanging on the wall to the right of the dresser, a large hat with a wide rim that we had bought together in Vegas during our days of fun, happiness, and excitement when we had 'escaped' from Key West.
Ross explained in his office, without giving any details, that he was stationed at this place on some kind of Coast Guard duty. The explanation seemed to justify some the equipment that I saw, including a rather large telescope covered with a black velvet dust-cloth. He explained that the surveillance work was far too boring for a sane man, so that he spent his time there mostly doing scientific research, something to keep his mind sharp and on edge. He showed me some of it, something that Steve might have been able to identify, but not I.
After my visit to the office was concluded, he invited us all to join him for a drink on the porch. He offered a bottle of wine. Heather had offered lemon-aid. Heather's offer won out.
The early evening passed quickly that way, in light conversation, and rather pleasantly in pleasant company. We had a broad view from Ross' high-perched 'castle' by the sea. The perimeter of the seaside porch had been made of glass held in place with a rather wide aluminum bar, wide enough for a few pots of flowers to be placed on it near the house.
The sea lay calm below us, blue and sparkling, reflecting the setting sun. Together with the lemon aid, a batch of cookies had been served. Only a few of them now remained. As I reached for the last one I noticed that the northern horizon had become dark. I needed to stand up to reach for the cookie plate. Still, the dark on the horizon seemed far away. I took another look briefly and soon forgot about it. It was far too pleasant to be thinking about what lay far in the distance. I felt at peace. I felt happy seeing Heather again, and more so to see her so wonderfully happy herself in her New World. I felt joyous for her; joyous to see her smiles again; and joyous also over the realization that we had actually become neighbors. It seemed like a fairytale was unfolding.
Our conversation in the bright evening sunshine reflected this mood. Nobody spoke about the stock market crisis or the possibility for a nuclear war, or anything else connected with politics. We barely noticed that the dark clouds on the horizon had grown larger and had turned into storm clouds. A massive front was now coming down from the North. But who cared? The dark front was still a good distance away.
Eventually the focus of the conversation shifted onto what to do for dinner. Ross looked at the storm clouds and then at his watch. "Let me invite you to stay for dinner," he said, "otherwise you might get caught up in the storm that's coming in. It seems to be coming down faster than has been forecast."
Heather agreed with him and insisted that we stay. By then the dark front stood close enough to cast its shadow on the sea. It had made the sea appear dark and gray all of a sudden, just as the storm front itself, blending gray into gray without a horizon.
"We rarely have visitors coming," Heather added to her invitation.
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