In this year-long serialized novel set on the Vineyard in real time, a native Islander (“Call me Becca”) returns home after two decades to help her eccentric Uncle Abe keep his landscaping business, Pequot, afloat. Abe has a paranoid hatred of Richard Moby, the CEO of an off-Island wholesale nursery, Broadway. Convinced that Moby wants to destroy Abe personally, and all Island-based landscaping/nursery businesses generally, Abe is obsessed with “taking down” Moby. A series of increasingly disastrous direct attacks (one of which resulted in his breaking his leg) has done nothing to dissuade him. However, he recently changed tactics and is now attempting a smear campaign against Moby.

 

Dear P:

So the beat goes on.

We got an unexpected visit from yet another small landscape company, called Rachel the Gardener (the company is not just Rachel, but it’s not much more than just Rachel). Like Town Gardens, like Jereboam, like Sammy Enderby, these folks too are very aware of Broadway Nursery taking an uncomfortably intense interest in Vineyard matters.

Earlier this week, when the weather was finally above arctic-tundra, we were all sitting around the office at Pequot with no actual work to do. Quincas and I were playing chess (oh, man, that guy just gets cuter every day). Fran and Stu were playing slapjack; Dag and Harp had set up a dartboard. Boy are we an industrious bunch.

A truck drove up, and Rachel the Gardener (the actual gardener named Rachel) got out, and entered the office. She’s a lovely woman in her 60s who has the hardy, beaming energy of somebody who’s spent their whole life doing labor they really love. She was carrying several pieces of paper.

“Morning, all. Is Abe around?” she asked. We shook our heads. The guys returned to their dart game.

“Anything we can help you with?” I asked.

“Well,” she said, “I found these in my mailbox the other day —” and here she laid the papers on the counter. “I’ve been having troubles with Moby’s company and I hear Abe’s the man to talk to about getting some protection.” The guys lowered their darts, we all exchanged looks, and immediately swarmed around the counter.

It was a new batch of “misinformation” about Broadway Nursery that Perth, Abe’s new crony, had created. The pieces looked totally genuine — one appeared to be a CNN story, one was apparently from the Australian Sun (of all places), one looked like it came from the USA Today Web site, one from the Boston Globe, one from the Economist . . .

Here’s a sample of Perth’s latest handiwork: One, Moby recently bought a huge tract of land on the Vineyard and hired a famous (if fictional) botanist to develop plants that will thrive in the Vineyard terrain but might choke out the native growth; Two, Moby is beta-testing his Plan To Conquer the Vineyard in the Maldives, where he is systematically putting all the local nurseries out of business on several islands (“But they’ll be under water soon, so Mr. Moby is already seeking higher ground,” said the report, before going on to suggest that since he’s based on the Cape, the Vineyard is his next obvious target. This piece was complete with lamentations by Maldivian growers who had lost their businesses due to Moby’s incursion.); Three, Moby has met with the CEO of Wal-Mart in order to model his own corporation more on theirs. It’s all less flamboyant than Perth’s earlier work (in which Moby was seen to be cavorting with Cesar Chavez, running a child-slave-labor camp, etc.), but it’s actually more unnerving because now the stories could be plausible news items.

“Honey,” said Fran in her motherly-sarcastic voice, “None of this is for real. It was all created by some Australian con-man Abe hired.”

Rachel looked astonished. “Really?” she said. “But everything in here sounds like something Moby would really try to do.”

At that moment, Abe’s truck drove up. He parked, and walked toward the office as if it were something he did every day (which isn’t true – he shows up once a week maximum).

In brief: Abe came in; Rachel greeted him and presented him with the material; Abe swore it was all genuine news stories; I growled at Abe warningly, but he ignored me. And then Rachel surprised all of us by announcing: “Your staff’s telling me it’s actually fraudulent, Abe. I just want you to know: I don’t care if it is fraud, I just care about what Moby really is trying to do to Island businesses, and I want to work with you to help you thwart him. I’m up for anything.”

Oh boy, it was like somebody handed Abe the Holy Grail. Rachel’s been in business even longer than Abe, and she’s the Big Mama of all the small companies on the Island. “Excellent,” Abe said, with a jaunty smile. “If you would like to step into my office, we can discuss this further.”

They disappeared into the back room. We all spent about 15 minutes exchanging worried glances.

Finally Rachel and Abe came out of the office, both of them looking very satisfied and sharing mysterious, confidential smiles. “So we’ll talk next week, then,” Rachel said in parting.

Abe looked at us all like the cat who ate the canary, then went back into his office.

Can’t wait to see what comes next . . .

Becca

 

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Vineyard novelist Nicole Galland’s critically-acclaimed works include Crossed: A Tale of the Fourth Crusade. Visit her Web site, nicolegalland.com.