“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?'
