Not all of them though. A couple of them survive, many of them using old photos and creative use of image software to keep the material fresh looking. There’s something about those that Charlotte likes. The little cards with perfume, the glossy paper that crinkles just so, the amazing fashions of times past, and all the rest.
And getting a new magazine to read by the pool on a perfect day? Well, things in this life may be weird and mostly bad, but this is a bright spot.
“Yay,” Charlotte says, hopping up from her seat. “I’ve got the towels, the sunscreen, and your sunglasses. I’m ready to go.”
Tabitha laughs and hands off the package. “I’ll get my suit on and be back in two minutes.”
It’s more like five minutes, but Tabitha hurries back wearing a light wrap over her suit and her flip flops slapping her heels. They almost match. The wraps are like robes, except breezy and not embarrassing to wear outside on the paths to the pool.
They hurry along, chatting and waving to friends outside. Charlotte feels surprisingly good today. Not just good for here, but really good. At the pool, they join an impromptu game of water volleyball, which is hilariously bad, but even more fun for the lack of skill.
Exhausted by the exercise, Charlotte flops down on a deck lounger and slips on her sunglasses. Tabitha is half-dozing next to her under the shade of a large umbrella, her tablet on her chest and her hand still holding the edge of it.
Charlotte’s mocktail has been delivered. It’s positively overflowing with ridiculously cut fruit and colorful plastic pokers of various kinds. It’s enough to make her grin.
She glances at the attendant behind the bar and raises her glass when she catches his eye. “You’ve outdone yourself today!” she yells across to him and he laughs. Her noise makes Tabitha snort in her sleep.
It’s something of a game with some of the younger girls and the bar guys. How outlandish can they go without tipping over the glass? This one is definitely a winner.
The clock on the wall of the pool house says they have over an hour before their meal, so she settles back to enjoy some sun. Once the fall turns the days breezy and cool, they’ll turn on the heat in the pool and it will be a race in and out to the changing rooms.
After a while, Tabitha moves in her sleep and the tablet begins to slide off her chest. Charlotte reaches out and snatches it before it can hit the concrete. Unable to sleep and having already taken a first, rushed glance through the magazines, Charlotte decides to look at the uploads of their new city for today.
She clicks on the icon and pays attention to the outdoor recreation photos in particular. Supposedly, they’re working on hiking paths that will be suitable for riders as well. If there’s anything Charlotte is looking forward to, it would be horseback riding. They don’t yet have that here, and a long winding trail through forested hills is far superior than any riding arena could be.
Sure enough, there are pictures and Charlotte eagerly scans them. A big park-like green is heavily featured today, which is also of interest. Right now, there is open voting at all the camps so that women can register their preferences for sporting facilities in that area. As long as they leave enough wide-open green space, Charlotte doesn’t care what else they put there.
Like everyone else probably does, she searches for something that might hint at the location of the new town. So far, almost everyone agrees it can’t be too far from the eastern seaboard, probably somewhere between Pennsylvania and South Carolina. The trees make it seem that way. The truth is, almost everyone around here has found something they’re sure they know, which only serves to prove how large an area that is.
As Charlotte skips through photos, going from the outdoor facilities to the school to the housing tracts, she finally recognizes something. It’s never happened to her before, so it’s exciting. She expands the photo featuring a row of half-finished houses, ones that look no different than any other middle-class subdivision of recent origin.
Behind a blue-gray house at the end of the row there is a fence. On that fence there are placards and advertisements. Those aren’t the kind of thing one puts on a fence to surround construction. And they’re all targeting a specific audience. Horse fanciers. Veterinary services, saddle and tack, boots, hats…all of it. What draws her eyes most is the sign that reads:
Tabby’s Feed and Seed.
There are only a few places her mother has ever placed an ad like that. Each one of them was related to one of Charlotte’s riding competitions, usually as a supporter of the competition itself. It’s possible that one of those arenas, which are usually on the outskirts of established cities, has been taken up as a part of the town being constructed for the women. Possible, but how likely?
A few of those arenas are located in what can only be called rural areas, so perhaps it’s more possible for those. They would want to build it someplace defensible, but not developed, a place not too far for the workers to commute. But how likely is it that she would find such a clue?
Charlotte scans the picture again, looking for anything familiar to any arena she’s been to. There’s nothing. If anything, she finds herself eliminating arenas. The wide-open area couldn’t be one, the lack of a city eliminates another, the flat land yet another.
Tabitha wakes like her body is on a timer. She stretches and yawns. “Oh my goodness. That was
