Chapter 42

Allison and Alexis looked perplexed, then suddenly brightened. Alexis spoke in a rush.

“Outer Banks! That’s why you look familiar. Younger versions of you and your Mom are in our scrapbooks. Our mothers used to hang out years ago. We are Allison and Alexis Carlyle from Avon. Ronnie Carlyle is our Mom and she told us that she was your Mom’s little sister. That makes us cousins. Sis, we just screwed our cousin in front of our friends and it was fun!”

“So did they. I don’t see any tears.” Allison giggled. “No biggie. Except for that big dick.”

“We didn’t know we had another aunt.” Bonnie sputtered. “Is the feeling I’m getting what Mark felt when he met us, Connie?”

“Yes. I’m thinking more than cousins. From the looks and smells in this room, the operative word is, ‘Oops’.”

“What rates an ‘oops’?” Sabrina asked. “Other than that I’m only thirteen and gave my cherry to a tall stranger. I’ll do it again, too! Not the cherry part, but the fucking part.”

“Do you have photos of your father in that book, Alexis?’ I asked, knowing the answer. “Did he look like me with green eyes?”

“Actually, he looked a lot like you. He and Mom never married but she said that was the way things had to be. I barely remember him, but Mom told us that he set her up for life so she didn’t have to work if she didn’t want to.” Allison replied instead. “He was killed in an car wreck about eight or nine years ago. We were barely toddlers.”

“Why do you ask? Why is it important?” Alexis wondered. “What is the ‘oops’ and why are you smiling that weird smile? It is more than a just-fucked-my-cousins-boneless smile. Talk to us.”

I took a deep breath. “My father is Alex Allyn. My mother is Bonnie Carlyle Allyn. Her twin sister is Connie Carlyle, the mother of Bonnie and Connie by my father, Alex. Your mother, Ronnie, is their younger and, before this very moment, unknown little sister. Your father is our father. That makes you two our more than half-sisters. Your names are the clincher. Alex Allyn and Bonnie or Connie Carlyle. Alexis and Allison Carlyle. The math is easy once you know the variables. You just fucked your brother.”

Neither of the girls look scandalized, merely surprised. That confirmed it for me. All my sisters acted that way. Hell, so did Charity.

“Charity, Carly and Marcy are going to go nuts when they find two more aunts in the family.” Connie chuckled. “And I see a family meeting in our near future. Our Moms got some ‘splainin’ to do.”

“Tell me about it. Two weeks ago, I was an orphan. Three daughters and six sisters later, I would like to know why we were kept apart for so long.” I said, “But as Caralyn observed, if things were different, a lot of girls would be in very bad positions if not buried and forgotten.”

“Not a word of this goes outside of our group.” Allison, hissing, warned her friends. “I know where you sleep. I’m serious. You guys were just as willing to give it up tonight and he wasn’t our brother yet.” Her smile has a predatory vibe. “You are not innocent here.”

“Speaking of lost innocence, I do not regret one second of the ‘oops’ and plan to do it as often as possible. We can’t get unfucked so we have every intention of enjoying this life of shameless hedonism as long as we enjoy it with big brother.”

“What she said. I take it you have been with our big brother, too?” Allison asked with a huge grin. “How was it?”

“Incredible. But unlike here, we had our evil way with him while his other girls had him blindfolded.” Connie giggled. “And we will come back for more.”

“And why are you here now? Did Amy send you?” I said, remembering the instructions to my XO. “Do we have a situation at home?”

“Not at home, Mark. Things are fine there. Everyone is back upstairs already. The Cymbalines were too curious about the ‘dungeon’, so we thought it best if you gave a demonstration later. Amy sent the last data to DC and shut down the office for the night.”

“After today, ‘Sylvie Santana’ will never be the same. Colonel Billings wants you to call him as soon as you can get home.” Bonnie replied. “He has news for you and a message from the Oval Office.”

“Great. Wonder what the President has to say?” I shrugged, turning to the girls sprawled on the floor. “Questions. Is this room locked and secure? Will you be missed if you don’t get back to your dorm rooms tonight?”

Roxanne, showing me the key, assured me the room was locked and that no one even knew it existed. “We keep our spare instruments here with the unsanctioned rock and roll toys. This room stays locked whether we are in it or not.”

Stella said that they wouldn’t be missed while they were in summer session and no one kept tabs on anything. “They’ll notice if we miss a class or seminar. But we are supposed to be responsible young ladies at this point, dedicated to honing our skills, so they pretty much ignore us the rest of the time.”

“Good. Shut down, stow your instruments and get your shoes on. We’re going for a walk.” I saw Celeste touch her neck. “Get your chokers from Ms Ryan. That is all you’ll be wearing until I order otherwise. Leave your clothes here. We’ll give you whatever we decide is appropriate, if anything, later.”

“Like this? Naked outside?” Sabrina whispered in embarrassed anticipation. She and the other Julliard girls sat wide-eyed, red-faced and hard nippled.

“Yes. Naked, I like you naked and available. Your tits appear to like it also. But ‘outside’ is not what you think.” I ‘voiced’, “Though it will be later, I assure you. Now, get moving. We can’t keep the President waiting forever.”

“You are going to talk to the President?’ Stella gasped. “Really? You can just call him?”

Bonnie grinned. “Actually, he calls Mark for advice. Your brother is his favorite cyber-spy.”

“Welcome to our world.” Sally grinned. “It’s only two blocks and you will get to meet your new sisters. For two of you, your new nieces.”

My newest sisters received solid silver collars with S/S-Zephyr Girl broaches. The others got ½-sheer white, with S/S Airwear closures.

Bonnie nodded approval. She and Connie, wearing solid silver panties, had their badges on a chain belt and carried M-16s. “In this room, you are out of repeater range. If you wish, you can sat phone the Colonel from the underground railway. Mine works in the tunnel. Amy gave me yours. Here.”

“We have to get a move on, Bro. The ambience in this room is so thick I’m getting moist myself and we can’t keep the Commander-in-Chief waiting.” Connie giggled. “So you have been collected by six more girls. Do we need to buy another building?”

“We have acres of floor space now, more than nine blocks of clean tunnel, the Speakeasy and eight buildings, not counting Patty’s, Maggie’s, Diane’s, and Phoebe’s places, plus the house Charity and I have in Chapel Hill. And my house in Asheville. If we run out of room, something is very wrong.” I chuckled. “A new building actually sounds pretty good but has to be adjacent. Maybe we can negotiate a deal for the one on the north side of the original Zephyr House. Ask the Demon Trips to check into it when the mist parts.”

I put my shorts back on. Celeste and Quincy checked the cameras and we paraded out into the tunnels. I dead bolted the grid and kept the key to the door at the top of the stairs.

“And here we are. The Lost Private Railroad of the Rich and Richer. Home is about two blocks north. Dinner is getting cold.” The musicians were astounded and clearly relieved not to be naked on the street. “As I said, outside but not outside. Celeste will fill you in on the history. One word, one hint to others and you feed the fishes.”

Quincy and Bonnie lit the tube, leading the pack while I earpieced Amy. “What’s up, Number One? Trouble at the homestead?”

“Not sure how to answer that, Sir. They’ve been sending data to the Colonel since you left. All the domestic conspiracy hits are keeping the Feds very busy, but we are safer with fewer bozos concentrating on our neighborhood.” She sighed. “I held back the little bits of Asia data they unearthed until you could review it. We’re not cleared to hear it anyway. Getting nothing may be what has our friendly spooks so spooked.”

“Or they could be updating us on the treaty negotiations, wondering why we know things the CIA doesn’t or calling to get more advice.” I countered. “Can’t know until I call DC.”

“How was the trip through the ventilator duct? Does it really go to Julliard?”

“That is a whole ‘nother story. I found two more sisters. Picture Ellie-sized with Bonnie’s face, blue eyed and Rochelle’s tits. In duplicate. Expect them and four of their friends for dinner.” I laughed. “All six seriously need showers. They have solid silver or half-sheer white collars now. But that is all I am letting them wear. Tell the other Z-Girls. Celeste and Quincy have it all on video.”

“You’ve been naughty! Looking forward to movie night.” She chuckled. “It is almost 11:30. Want anything in particular for a late snack? Testing is done for the night and the proctors are getting ready to go. They have to grade and evaluate the scores in private.”

“Very naughty all day. Whatever you have leftover from the buffet will be fine. Do the proctors need a ride or an escort through the tunnels?”

“Sir, we have it covered. I’ll ask the Tanners to fix you a plate. Leigh arranged for Nell to bring the bus. Some are going to Ryan’s, some to Riverside Drive. Rochelle is taking Tara, too. They will probably be gone when you get home.”

“I would rather they all stay at Ryan’s for the night with Wendy, Pamela, Tina, and Leigh on guard duty.” I suggested, “Tell them the threat level may be down, but it’s not out. We can’t cover the apartment buildings on Riverside, Ryan’s and here. Have Emma work something out with Laura. Otherwise we have to spread our forces too thin.”

“We’ll still have Bonnie, Connie, Emma and our Ninjas. Nell can pick up Emma and go to the pier with Belinda. We have our Humvee and Audrey’s Hummer. Laura, Norm and, now, Mike are at the Bat Cave. Nat and Smitty went to Bright Star.” She agreed, “Chandler’s Row and the pier have not been primary targets so we have situational flexibility.”

“Good. Laura will probably send the Pennys where she thinks best anyway. When you send the freight car to get the explorers, please bring yourself, the newest Asia hits, and my working laptop. And food.” I said, “Billings sent an information packet when the Cymbaline’s IDs came through. I put the printouts with the other background checks in the safe. Would you be a dear and bring those, whatever we have on the new Pennys, Cynthia, Elaine and my parent’s estate distribution? Hell, bring everything he sent about all of us.”

“With all the new relatives popping up, you getting weirded out a little?”

“A little, actually very, surprised at my parents and mysterious aunts. I want to know how much DC found out but isn’t telling and why.” I answered, “Did the Colonel suspect I had six sisters? If so, how does that fit into his plans? Is blood loyalty to me beneficial to our cause? Whatever, I’ll call from here while I wait for the stuff from the safe. Come down when you’re ready.”

By this time, I was at the station, meeting my delectable group of girls. They were fascinated by the binging frame and St. Andrew’s Cross. Jeez! What was up with these girls? The Cymbalines I could almost understand, but the J-Girls, too? Extreme research?

“OK, ladies. The elevator will be here soon and I want you all to go up and get settled in. The Zephyr Girls will find you some personal space and get you tuned in to the house rules. Sisters, I want you to be ready to come back down for an Allyn/Carlyle meeting with Charity, the Sprouts, Phoebe, Felicia, Elaine and Cynthia if I call.”

I hustled them to the freight car door. “Celeste, start editing the movies with Ellie and the others. I have to touch base with our friends in DC then I’m going to have a ‘house’ meeting with Amy. We’ll probably be in the Speakeasy if I need you.”

The elevator began to make noises, so I stepped away and used speed dial. “Good Evening, Colonel Billings. What can we do for you?”

“Nice of you to call, Major Allyn. The C-in-C is getting jumpy. First, I’ll say that the situations in Asia are working out in our favor. The food or fist diplomacy, indirectly and gently applied, has made an impression. This makes our job easier.” He laughed. “It would be a good thing to keep your eyes open, but don’t tell us how you can see behind closed doors.”

“Is that why Mr. President is jumpy? Invasion of privacy without a FISA warrant and all?”

“Of course not. I’ve given you a free hand to snoop wherever you need to protect the country. You have sworn to act in our best interests. If there’s heat, it gets to me first. I make heat go away. When necessary, you are considered a ‘confidential informer’. ‘Nuff said.” He responded quickly, “The POTUS called earlier and your people told him you were out of touch. He got worried about your safety because of the various threats, nothing more than that. And that you are a volunteer, more-or-less, bringing more to the table than you contracted for years ago. Security consultant to commander of an urban assault and defense force is quite a leap.”

“Tell me about it. That he knows people like us exist is part of his job. That he has been in contact with us specifically is not so good.” I admitted. “Got more local news, Sir?”

“Sgt. Parrish assures us that the information you sent to Police Plaza, combined with our resources, have given the NYPD some very sharp teeth. The Borough Presidents, the Mayor and Police Commissioner are on the warpath. The city is working from the top down rounding up the persons of interest. Most are being remanded to Federal Custody.” He laughed again. “25,000 cops are looking at thousands of suspects. They are taking the kidnapping personally. The upshot is that you folks can drop to DefCon 2 for a few days unless your analysts discover otherwise.”

“Good news!” Not that I would get careless with our personal safety. “I spent part of my ‘away’ time tonight organizing and consolidating our recent assets. Then there is the part about getting our lives back on schedule, the students in school, my clients, equipping the Clinic, etc.”

“Tell your medical staff the CDC will be there tomorrow morning with bells on. Be ready. Your protective detail will be reinforced this week also. You need an inner circle of confidants, a strategic team so to speak, and more demo/bomb squad people.”

“That does not make me feel better.” I chuckled. “Is there something you not telling me?”

“Just filling in the gaps and completing specialty groups. Ellis and James are needed to build their team on long Island and will not be available on a predictable basis. The team has to be ready for out-of-area action. They still work directly for the DoD.”

“I guess I’m doing something similar, reviewing areas of expertise and building teams. It’s easier to have the parts in place before they are needed. Training in a crisis sucks. Is the President busy? I got the impression he had something to say.”

“The chit-chat window closed, fortunately. He’s with SecTreas, the Fed Chair, and Securities Exchange people. They are anticipating a lot of action in the markets and want to prevent a crash. The big banks will be convinced to offer cheap loans to companies returning manufacturing capacity stateside.” He sighed. “If they are willing to make long-term commitments, we might come out of this non-war looking better than ever.”

“Even with no embargo, I figure the supply line for cheap plastic crap is going to dry up for a while. When on-hand inventory runs low, the big box discount houses will have to buy domestic or suffer greatly.”

“What you said. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He ended the conversation abruptly. “Never keep the President guessing. Better yet, don’t give him things to guess about. Puts us in the limelight and I don’t like it. Shadow Shields and bright lights are not a good combination. I can deal with or redirect heat, but in the future, lets agree to stop the heat quietly before it gets to the Oval Office. Be invisible. It is never good to let politicians know your name. Got bad guys to watch.” Click.

Did we just get reined in, warned, chastised or promoted to unquestioned problem solver? I just stared at the phone until the car opened. It stared back. He has to remember that he was the one who initiated the first conversation, maybe under pressure from the Boss, but no way was he going to drop that in my lap. There must be a hidden warning to be clarified when he calls tomorrow.

Amy and Felicia got off and Ellie took the car back up. XO had three computers and Feelie had a small wireless printer. The files were in shoulder bags. Curious. I suppose the snacks were in Amy’s backpack. Both looked apprehensive.

“Markie, we need to talk.” Felicia whispered nervously. “I think I need to sit in on this session.”

My brain began to make connections. “OK. We can do this in the Speakeasy. Amy, call up and have the Demon Trips power up the impromptu super cluster, turn everything else off and lock my office.”

We waited a minute while she talked to the Bakers. We were assured that the house was secure, the streets were clear and calm, and that the eleven proctors were with Tara at Ryan house. Most of the girls wanted to either crash or make with girl talk. Karen and Irina, with help from the Baxters, were watching the monitors. Laura had been allocating like a tactician possessed. When the dust settled, she, Norm, and Belinda would be at the Bat Cave. Nell, Tina, Mike and Emma would hold the pier. Wendy, Pamela and Leigh were stationed at Ryan House, leaving Nat and Smitty at Bright Star and my sisters here.

“That makes sense. No one is too far from support. I’m sure the police are ramping up patrols around Cooper Square, so Rose’s people are safe. The pier has a narrow approach and Park Police overview. Chandler’s Row is virtually bullet proof and off the radar. We can back up Ryan’s and vice versa.” I noted. “And, as usual, the Z-Girls have it under control.”

With the house in order, we went quietly uptown to the hidden lounge. Inside, we found large banquet tables and set up shop. “Here’s the deal. Alexia and Allison are my more-than-half sisters it turns out. Their mother, Ronnie, is the younger sister of Mom and Connie. They lived in Avon, just a short ride from Nag’s Head, Bonnie and Connie’s home, which explains why my family spent a week at least every year on the Outer Banks.” I sighed. “Just how big is the family and why were all of us kept in the dark?”

“So we need to run a deep, Patty Plus grade check on your parents, you and all the new girls from Lulu forward.” Amy suggested. “Felicia through Phoebe, too. We know where everyone else came from and who their parents are. Sorry Felicia, but you go back to the origins and your input is valuable.”

“Precisely, but deeper. Like we did with the detective work last night. We’re looking at hospital records, credit card statements, property taxes, dependents, tissue donors, school transcripts and anything else the first round of hits turn up.”

“How can we help?” Amy asked. “We brought our laptops and extra sat phones.”

“Just a sec.” I created a small network and then linked it to the mainframe cluster upstairs. “Boot up to our search engines. Start inputting the names and whatever we know about the Cymbalines, the instructors and the Z-Girls. Omit anyone of which we’re sure.”

“Good. We know for sure about the first twenty or so to join the house. There is no question Frieda, Toon, Eve, the Baxters, Leah, Diane, the Bright Stars, Lulu, Jenny, Karen, Irina, etc. are who they appear to be.” My XO added, “We shouldn’t waste search time there.”

Felicia piped up. “Are there any limits to time, geography or nationality?”

“None. Enter the names; fill in the addresses and birthdays as known. Type ‘All’ into the ‘Include’ field, ‘none’ into the ‘Exclude’ box. Enter ‘1960 to Present’ in the ‘From-To’ field.”

“Got it. Where to start.” Feelie inquired.

“Amy will start with Billings’ reports. I’ll break into Julliard and let you in. You will harvest information there from the names I highlight. Load that into your search.” I explained. “If similarities are revealed, dig deeper. For both of you, when you hit enter, the big computer will begin. Nothing is off the table, nothing. As the hits are returned, create a search for any new names and banking, change-of-address, travel, or sibling information. Run it similar to the Roadie/terrorist searches. If something is a dead end, put it in a desktop file and go in to more promising searches. Dead ends might develop a pulse when more data turns up.”

“What is the field at the bottom of the screen?” From Amy, “That is new.”

“The mainframe will be telling you things as the search is refined. For instance, if my parent’s credit cards show up in the same city Tina’s do, the main frame is looking there for additional connections. You have Y/N authority to stop it. Chances are you want it to continue.”

“Cool. Your folks hanging out at South Beach with Tina’s parents while we were at computer camp would be strange, but no more so than phantom aunts.” Felicity chuckled. “As for me, I’ve always suspected I was adopted. I don’t look at all like the O’Malleys, more like Mark and, today, his sisters, but too short. Even the Sprouts are going to be statuesque and look at Charity. She’s only thirteen. Until now, I never considered a genetic connection. But with Allison and Alexis, height is no longer an excluding variable.”

“Think about when we were separated. They sent you to The School of the Arts in Winston-Salem and me to the School of Science and Math in Durham. The S&M School didn’t even have a sophomore class. Somehow I got admitted, with Britney, to a class that didn’t exist. Maybe, just maybe, they discovered the truth about our relationship or knew something unspoken, and pulled strings to put an end to it.” I wondered, “Should you call home first? Get the word from your mom? She is a nice woman and will probably come clean if asked directly. But reassure her that you’ll always consider her your Mom.”

“Not just yet. I would like to have more ammunition when I call.” She hesitated. “I might be your whole or three quarter sister. I could be Alexis and Allison’s full sister. Or we can turn up more Carlyles. Or the resemblance could be entirely coincidental. Green-eyed blondes are not an endangered species.”

“Evidence suggests that there are no Allyn sisters or brothers, but you never know.” I said. “I didn’t know about Connie and Ronnie, either.”

“You both share characteristics with Yvonne, Justine, Astrid and Audrey, too.” Amy giggled. “Coincidence or cosmic influence?”

“Nothing to do but get started. I’ll deep search my parents and you two know where to start. I’ll do the O’Malleys too, while I’m at it.” I looked at my girls. “We should talk as we work. Random bits may make sense to the next person.”

Over the course of the evening, puzzle pieces fell neatly into place. More pieces than we expected. The real key was my folks’ vacation schedule and their business trips. Dad was an aerospace engineer with knack for trouble-shooting and problem solving before the little issues left billion dollar piles of smoking rubble on the ground or downrange. That translated into a very lucrative career as a consultant, analyst and traveling expert overseer. NASA, the defense contractors and contract manufacturers all wanted his approval nearly every step of the way from concept to rollout. They paid him well. He earned his money if the reviews meant anything.

Mom was a sought-after technical writer. She could translate tech-speak to English in several European languages, notably German and Swedish. It didn’t hurt that she understood the science. She was popular in her own right. She didn’t give it away either.

Between the substantial incomes and smart investments, they became quite well off. They traveled extensively on business and for pleasure.

It was not the case when they started out. The backstory: Both were small town kids from the mountains and met at Penn State. They graduated early, married, and took jobs at GE where both continued in Master’s programs while working in the jet propulsion division. Soon, headhunters were offering small fortunes to accept positions at other firms.

This put them in touch with a host of people with problems who would pay a lot to make them do away. Two things became apparent: They would be better off in the long run, financially and emotionally, opening their own consultancy. Their parents eventually disowned them. Neither set approved of either spouse. Neither set approved of their liberal lifestyle. Neither set approved of anything new. Alex had no siblings. Bonnie had two sisters, one a twin.

Ignoring the angry advice of the fathers, they spent their savings on a very large house on the outskirts of Asheville and opened an office. The first years were lean and then I came along. From this point we found the facts, but have to guess the motivation to make such drastic choices.

By all accounts, Mom had a difficult but successful pregnancy, but got pregnant again three months after I was born. Too soon. That one nearly killed her. Between her medical bills and my Dad being compelled to take jobs far away just to keep their heads above water, life was rough.

The childless couple next door, after some serious soul searching, at first fostered and later adopted the second child, maybe to ease the financial burden, maybe to take the childcare pressure off Mom. That was Felicia. She was my full sister. Unfortunately, Mom could have no more babies. She wanted a house full.

That was probably when the secrets began. Felicia was never told of her origins and my folks likewise kept mum. Two or three years later when the businesses became wildly successful and we were rolling in money, my sister remained with the O’Malleys. They treated her as their own and my folks never had a chance to bond with her, so no traceable effort was ever made to reunite Felicia with her biological family.

As far as we were concerned, Felicia and I were only children, living next door to each other. Somehow, somewhere, six months were added to the newly created birth certificate of Felicia Siobhan O’Malley. However, the old hospital and obstetrician’s records revealed the truth but were either ignored or hidden. Probably the latter, out of sympathy. Baby Felicia, born to Bonnie and Alex Allyn, July 21, 1981.

That’s when the vacations became important.

Bonnie’s twin, Connie, and their sister, Ronnie, subsidized by my folks, moved to the Outer Banks. Needless to say, my grandparents wrote them off, probably at the insistence of their conservative Pentecostal preacher who seemed to run the little town, even the newspaper. The editorial page reminded me of Jeremiah Austin’s diatribes.

Later working vacations to Tallahassee and Florida State University put my folks in touch with an alternative lifestyle community forming on the edge of nowhere in St. Mark’s, about twenty miles south. An ambitious and poorly informed developer tried to build an assisted-living retirement community in a seriously inappropriate location, on the edge of a swamp. It consisted of six cottages surrounding a central kitchen/dining/recreation building encircled by a wide roofed porch. The cottages had a living room, kitchenette, three bedrooms and two baths. They were connected to the communal area by screened breezeways. The mosquitoes were carnivorous.

The eldercare facility died in bankruptcy. This was not the charming postcard Everglades. A group of students and young faculty bought the place, cheap. Repairs began immediately on Cloud Nine Village, the non-commune communal community.

The idea was for a group of college pals to live together, share meals and entertainment but to have private space, off limits to the others. Dorm life for grown-ups. My folks bought in, owning one of the cottages, a two-acre lot and one sixth of the community building and the fifty acres of swampy wasteland. That was 1986. According to local hospital records again, and these were very clear, in March of 1988, Martha Gustafson gave birth to Zoë. A. Allyn is listed as the unmarried father. Zoë had two Moms, Martha and Beatrice, both extremely liberal lesbians, both pharmacists. I strongly suspect Dad’s mojo and my Mom’s influence had a lot to do with granting the couple’s wish to have a child. They tell the story in their blog, created later.

Travel records confirmed that my folks were staying in their cottage.

The other Cymbalines lived there. But there are no obvious familial connections with the remaining three writers. I should pay better attention.

Pippa Joplin, with her English Professor mom, a pacifist, trust fund woman.

Paige Turner, who was abandoned by her Mom. Her single dad works in the FSU Chemistry Department.

India Sutra-Sunrise whose parents were hippie types who changed their names and taught in the FSU Art Dept.

A committed gay couple who won a lottery and never worked another day owned the other cottage. They also basically attended to the everyday nuts ‘n bolts of the tiny community. Can you say ‘OCD’? My parents arranged for Dennis and Calvin to rent out ‘our’ house from September to May in return for maintenance. Snowbirds gotta be somewhere when it’s brutally cold up north. The ‘retired’ couple could charge as much as they wanted and keep it all after paying the monthly collective bills.