in the Enclave with the idea that I could fill the post of recording secretary. And it was she who advised me to run for the Town Council, where I could assist her further in promoting the kinds of policies that will most benefit the first citizens, and, by extension of course, all the lesser inhabitants of the valley. As I said, the council voted me, among all their number, to conduct their meetings and serve as first among equals, as the mayor! So it is in that capacity, as well as in my professional position as a Realtor, that I have the honor of welcoming you to Lambtown.”
John and Lizzy were struck dumb by all this eloquence, while the younger members of the family had already wandered away. But Mr. Bennet’s greater preparation for this speech, or more tenacious mind, had allowed him to follow all the twists and turns, and now he judged it time to turn the conversation into a more fruitful channel. “I congratulate you, Mr. Collins, on achieving so fortunate a position in life, and at such a young age. We’re pleased to be settling for a time in Lambtown, where my sister Evelyn Bennet lived for many years, and are looking for a suitable house to rent. My daughter Lizzy tells me that my sister’s house would not be large enough for our whole family—”
“Ah, yes, the Evelyn Bennet residence,” interrupted Mr. Collins. “Four bedrooms, but only two baths, alas, as is frequently the case in older houses. Such a pity; the absence of modern amenities takes so much value out of our older homes. In a newly built house of that size, of course, you would see at least three full baths, plus a half-bath downstairs and maybe another in the service quarters. Should you wish to put it on the market, however, I’ll do the best I can for you. There are those who find the Craftsman style charming, and will put up with the inconvenience for the sake of curb appeal.”
Finding her voice, Lizzy thanked him politely but said her aunt’s house was not at present for sale. Mr. Collins seemed inclined to dispute the wisdom of this, but Mr. Bennet cut him off.
“It’s our present need for housing that concerns us,” he said. “We don’t expect to live here permanently, so our interest is in rentals, not houses to buy; and we hope to find something of five or six bedrooms.”
“Allow me to persuade you to reconsider,” protested Mr. Collins. “Even if your stay is not permanent—though who would not wish to remain in such a beautiful place as the Santa Ynez Valley, which, I flatter myself, has no equal anywhere in the country—as a business decision it is always to your benefit to own, not rent. Whatever norms may apply in Ohio, in California the advantages of home ownership are unequaled. The market here is almost continuously appreciating, and in this area, a small ranch on land that can be subdivided is an excellent investment, even over the short term. I could show you—”
“Thank you, Mr. Collins, but we are not equipped to take on the responsibilities of a ranch: we are city folk, and know nothing about farming or animal husbandry. And as I still own my house in Columbus, buying a second property would have tax disadvantages. We want to keep things simple, and are looking to rent, not buy.”
Mr. Collins tried to argue the point from a variety of directions, but was at last compelled to divulge that he knew of no rental houses in the area of the size desired by the Bennets, though he would let them know if anything turned up. Mrs. Bennet, who had been favorably impressed by the young mayor’s account of his social connections, now tried to redeem her family’s standing in his eyes by asking casually if they would be seeing him at the Red and White Ball.
Unfortunately, this sally backfired. “The Red and White Ball? Oh, no, Mrs. Bennet, by no means. I don’t know what you’ve heard, but allow me to give you a hint, as one who understands the local society best. It can do you no credit among those who really matter to be seen at that event. I’m sure it is all for a very good cause, and many of our Latino residents are respectable members of the community. As mayor, I naturally stay on good terms with everyone—but that doesn’t mean I would rub shoulders with them at a public event! You won’t wish to confine your acquaintance to row-crop farmers and the managers of convenience stores. To be sure, some of the best families will buy tickets, as a courtesy to their employees. Still, you should choose wisely where you go while you’re making your first impression here. I assure you, people will be watching, and if you aspire to be noticed by the leaders, you’ll be careful what company you keep.”
Fortunately for the Bennets, since Mr. Collins proved to be of no use whatever in locating accommodations for them, the client Melvin Perry had mentioned expressed her willingness to lease her house to them for a year. It was a brand-new construction in a planned community on the outskirts of town, intended eventually to face a new golf course. The golf course itself was still under construction, however, and the owner preferred not to move in until after all the sod was laid and the tractors and odors of fertilizer had dispersed.
To Mr. Bennet the noise was odious, the concatenation of architectural styles in the faux-grand mansionette even more so; but Mrs. Bennet was delighted. The pillared portico, Sub-Zero refrigerator, master shower with jets squirting from all directions, and golf course all expressed the person she wished to appear to be as she made her debut in Lambtown. By the beginning of the next week, their furniture had been delivered and they were settling in.
The Red and White Ball now became the focus of discussion in the family circle. Inquiries had uncovered the intelligence that it was so named for its dress code—red gowns for the ladies, white tie for the gentlemen—and for its Valentine’s Day theme. On hearing this, Mr. Bennet declared that no force on earth could get him tricked out in a rented monkey suit and demanded to hear no more on the subject—a command that received as much deference as his commands generally did. Mrs. Bennet was torn between concern that their attendance would give the wrong impression and fear that there was no other immediate way to make her debut in the neighborhood. The younger generation, unencumbered by worries about social standing, simply felt it would be fun to dress up and dance. Even Mary thought there was no great harm in a little amusement in the name of charity, once she heard it spoken of at church as a popular annual event. So Mr. Bennet was persuaded to buy tickets for the rest of the family, so long as they agreed not to pester him about his determination to remain at home.
After a shopping expedition to Santa Barbara to buy their dresses and rent evening clothes for John and Lydon, Lizzy set to work in good earnest on her aunt’s house, clearing out furnishings and possessions that could not be used for the library or by the family—the necessary precursor to giving the contractor recommended by Mr. Perry free rein to destroy and to build what would be required to transform the house into a library.
She had found a serviceable used pickup truck at a lot in Santa Barbara; once all the excess linens, beds, lamps, and so forth were inventoried, she was ready to deliver them wherever they might be needed. On her rounds of meeting Aunt Evelyn’s friends to deliver their bequests, she had inquired about local charities that would take such goods, but nobody seemed to know of any—Salvation Army, Disabled Veterans, and the like were all too far off to be helpful. It was impossible to drive around the valley, however, without realizing that the poor were everywhere—living in the mobile home village by the highway, working in the fields, cleaning the motel rooms the Bennets had stayed in when they arrived. She decided to call on the priest at the Catholic church, since he had a large farmworker congregation, to seek advice.
Our Lady of Guadalupe proved to be housed in a repurposed Grange hall at the less desirable end of town, a simple clapboard structure with a corrugated tin roof. The parish offices were around the back, and Lizzy explored the premises until she located Father George Austen, an elderly, fragile, and ill-tempered-looking person. She introduced herself and explained her dilemma.
Father Austen glared at her for a moment, and then invited her to sit down. “You have some household items for the needy,” he repeated in a cracked voice.
“Um, yes,” said Lizzy, wondering why he seemed confused about such a simple matter. “Roughly half the contents of my late aunt’s house, in fact.
