Islands by Anne Rivers Siddons

one of the only two Scrubs, not including me, who was not Charleston born and bred. It did not seem to have hindered him in any way. He had married into one of the city’s oldest and most distinguished families, and that did not appear to have hindered him, either. I thought I remembered Lewis telling me he was from Indiana, and marveled at the completeness of his assimilation. He was a bit overweight, and his skin was peeling like an old walrus’s hide, and he had a hole in his trunks that just missed being obscene, but his gravelly voice and genial, honking laugh spoke of total self-confidence and I could see that his sheer vitality would have won him entry into more than a few pallid drawing rooms. I did not think that he cared, one way or another.
    Fairlie McKenzie came next to be presented. I had the swift impression that I was being interviewed for a position as house-maid. Fairlie drew the eye like wildfire. Even in her late forties, it was nearly impossible to look away from her. I thought of what Lewis had said about the way she had looked as a young dancer just come to town, and I could see that girl in her as if in pentimento. Her heavy copper hair blew free in the wind and burned in the sun; she had sharp, foxes’ features and astonishing blue eyes and she moved like a beautiful snake, coiled and utterly unaware of her body.
    “Anny,” she said, and Kentucky ran like rich sour mash through her voice. It was the Kentucky of thoroughbred farms, not coal mines. “We’ve all been waiting with bated breath to see what fabulous Mata Hari finally managed to get old Lewis to bring her onto sacred ground.”
    “Not much of one, I don’t think,” I said, and she laughed, but did not say anything else. I did not like Fairlie McKenzie, not then. She was sharp and sarcastic, and her dancer’s body in her black racing suit fairly shouted “tacky” at mine in the Lilly.
    Henry McKenzie came behind her. I loved Henry instantly. I thought most people would. Somehow, he radiated safety. He was the tall, fair-haired one I had noticed, and his brown body was as lanky and limber as a scarecrow’s. He had hazel eyes that seemed half asleep, and a smile that you could only call sweet. Every girl’s mother would have coveted him. It must have been a real loss to the Charleston gene pool when Henry picked the flamboyant Fairlie and moved her into Bedon’s Alley. Lewis had told me Henry was a cardiologist, and spent much of his time, when he could get away, working with native doctors in such agonizingly poor places as Haiti and the wild green heart of Puerto Rico, and even Africa. I thought, spitefully, that there was probably no chance that Fairlie accompanied him.
    “Lewis has told me about your work at the agency,” he said. “It’s wonderful work. I’d like to talk to you about it one of these days. All of the countries I visit need something like that desperately. Maybe you’d like to come with us sometime and just see how we might go about it—”
    “Henry, for pity’s sake,” Camilla said in exasperation and affection. “I’m sure Anny’s got a few other ideas about her life besides serving as an unpaid lackey for you in Hoo-Doo Hollow or wherever.”
    “Well,” Henry said equably, “whatever she wants to do with her life, she sure is pretty.”
    Fairlie snorted. The rest of the Scrubs laughed. Suddenly, it was all right. For that moment, everything was.
    Simms and Lila Howard came last, together. If you were familiar with the city, you would have thought “Charleston” immediately upon sighting them anywhere in the world. Lila was small and neatly curved, and had chin-length honey-blond hair anchored away from her face with sunglasses on the top of her head. She was only lightly tanned, and had a heart-shaped face and large, far-apart brown eyes. She wore a boy-legged blue seersucker swimsuit faded almost to white, and there were little gold hoops in her ears. Her voice was honey and smoke, with