“It’s quite lovely.” Harriett walked across the road to the nearest bush and reached out to stroke one of its flower-laden branches. “Eradicating Scotch broom isn’t easy. The bees will move on eventually—perhaps you should consider learning to live with it?”
Leonard shrugged. “Personally, I’m not opposed to the idea, but apparently many of my neighbors consider the plant a bit garish.”
“Garish?” Harriett laughed.
“I know, I know.” Leonard grimaced with embarrassment. “Rich people are nuts. If you’d come to me back when I was growing up in Brooklyn and told me I’d be spending all my time with these fancy assholes, I’d have headed straight to Coney Island and jumped off the Wonder Wheel. But in this case, they happen to be right. The Scotch broom has to go. It may be pretty, but it’s also a fire hazard. This stuff lights up like kindling, and as you can imagine, we’re very safety conscious these days. After everything that’s happened this summer, all the mothers out here are popping more Xanax than ever.”
“If I were them, I’d want to keep my eyes open and my wits about me,” Harriett said. “I’ve heard Xanax can lead to dementia, but here at the Pointe, it appears to make people go blind.”
Leonard gave her a funny look. Harriett’s sense of humor didn’t always translate.
“The families will all clear out next week after Labor Day, am I right?” she asked.
“Yes,” Leonard confirmed. “The gentlemen sometimes fly in for weekends during the off-season, but the kids and the moms will be gone. School starts on Wednesday in the city. By Tuesday, they’ll have all shipped out.”
“Then next week sounds like an excellent time to get rid of the pests. Can you ensure the Pointe will be empty? My process is proprietary, and I don’t want to show up with a stack of NDAs for your neighbors to sign.”
“I’ll make sure it’s just the three of us. So you think you can do it?” Leonard asked.
Harriett scanned her surroundings, taking careful note of the bright yellow bushes in each yard. “Oh yes, I’m positive,” she assured him. “In fact, I think I’m going to enjoy the challenge.”
“Wonderful!” Leonard said. “Now, how about breakfast?”
They hopped in a golf cart parked at the curb, and Leonard drove in the direction of a tall white wall at the easternmost tip of the Pointe. None of the other estates appeared to have fences, much less a fortresslike wall.
“Someone likes their privacy,” Harriett noted.
“This is my compound,” Leonard admitted. “I put up the wall in the nineties when my house was the only one here. Back then, the wall was all the security we had on the Pointe. I suppose it’s no longer necessary, but it does a good job of deterring unexpected guests. I’m afraid I’m a bit of an introvert,” he added, almost bashfully.
“And yet you’ve surrounded yourself with people.”
“Occupational hazard,” he said. “Business is all about networking.”
A gate in the wall opened as they approached, and Leonard steered the golf cart down a long drive. His house was positioned on the eastern tip of the Pointe, with his nearest neighbors half a mile away in either direction.
“So, this is all yours?” Harriett asked. The grounds seemed as vast as those at Versailles. The tall white wall hadn’t spared them from the Scotch broom; Harriett noted that the bushes were as plentiful here as they were on the rest of the Pointe.
“One of the benefits of being a pioneer,” Leonard explained. “I got here first, so I chose the best land for myself. Then I leased the other lots.”
“The lots are leased?” Harriet was astounded. “There’s not a mansion here that’s worth under ten million dollars. And you’re telling me the people who built them don’t own the land underneath them?”