CHAPTER I. THE DECK
Your hero extends an invitation.
A memoir. And what will you remember? Well, for a start, fellow bookstore owners can shelve me under Merrywood. With the other lions of literature. Though I answer in person, and proudly, to Anselm. A distinctive name! Thank you, and having introduced myself, I can introduce the story, with a further distinction. A good character also answers to a call.
I live in the city. So I had to take a drive. One invitation remained behind, in a desk drawer, the envelope of forwarded address. Another was fully on display, a festive deck her pedestal. And what a welcome! You too would toot your horn. At least you should.
Hallelujah? Well, mine eyes had seen a glory. Blue eyes, bountiful curls, button nose, and bantam figure, I paint the proof in worship. And she was some picture, mounted on a sturdy railing, framed by a cloudless sky. Out of this world? You might fancy a fairy, floating over a magic flower pot—a spring blossom opens in the sun! Our budding rose held some pale gold nectar, a goblet glinting in her grasp. And a playful tongue tickled the rim, twitching toes stroked the pottery, loose skirt teased the painter, breeze-billowed at the knees. A picture is worth a thousand words? Well, the bare feet made a statement. And the fluttering lips had something to say—the person of interest was talking to herself!
Like what you see? Join the party! A stained glass door slid open to a vibrant patio; a wrought iron gate swung onto a calmer colonnade. And the steady column of celebrants was escorting champagne down a private pathway to the beach. A yellow brick road? A golden promenade, everywhere you look! Sculpted shrubbery set the stage, rich redwood made the decking, emerald ivy garlanded the house, a wealth of wisteria crowned the colonnade. And purple parasols plumed a table circle, where white-jacketed waiters dazzled the drinkers, ruby cocktails bejeweling the ring. My potion packed a punch, loose laughter lent more warmth, and a little industry furthered the festival. A buzz was in the air? Indeed, a party of bees sounded out a swath of jasmine. You might hear a concert, playing in the petals. Nature had another show—a bluebird flitted from the fence, goldfinches livened the foliage, and a streak of red flashed across the flora, a carmine-throated hummingbird darting past the pollen to hover by a rarer nectar. A flower girl has an attraction.
Paradise? Well, a young angel looked over the garden. And saw that it was good. The free spirit commended my cowboy cool, I have every confidence. She could also observe some opulence: a tall man in tuxedo, his wife in strapless gown. The couple were delighting in a dance of love, to the timely encouragement of Mozart. And the bare batons of the conductor’s feet.
We were blessed. The party had a presence. The sea shimmered in salute. A spirit had moved across the waters? Well, she was transported by the waves—the waves of music. And her blessing was backed by a further beat, the breaking of the surf.
Fortune had a smile. The girl was something else. And the sun was shining, couples swaying, drinks were on the house. You get the picture. You also have an invitation. The party has just begun.
Merrywood! . . . Pretty picture, huh? . . . She has completely gone to your head!