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.At the northern tip, planted in a neatly-orchestrated perimeter, grow trees which, when viewed from the air, look like a giant European cathedral.Ellsworth had designed and planted them some seventy years ago.During the war, he and his company lived for several months in a cathedral.The Germans had them pinned down, but they couldn’t penetrate the walls of the church or its catacomb.When Ellsworth bought the Zuta, he spent a few years planting trees to match the dimensions.To match the walls in his mind, he planted palm trees in two perfectly straight lines, each tree six feet apart and some three hundred feet between the parallel rows.Now most were nearly fifty feet tall and looked like columns at what might have been the end of each pew.Towering above the palm tops like a net are the canopy-like branches of sixteen water oaks—eight on each side—that, unlike the sprawling live oaks, shoot straight up nearly sixty or seventy feet, then mushroom at the top like a nuclear cloud.At one end, forming what might be the front wall, grow twelve Japanese magnolias and twelve Drake elms.In the middle of those, forming what one might call the narthex, are twelve orange trees butted up against eight lemon trees and then finally, two kumquat bushes.If the kumquats mark the front door, then four hundred feet away at the opposite end, forming the back wall, stand eight cypress trees, spreading at the base like a Victorian woman’s dress as she bows to curtsey.In the middle of those, where the priest might stand, grows one single giant magnolia, its massive arms spreading out beyond the windows of the church, reaching out over the water of the Buffalo.Unc said he’d started coming here with his dad when he was just a boy.When Ellsworth died, Unc kept coming.Judging by the fresh trimming of the palms, and the clearing of debris from beneath the trees and inside the borders, that hasn’t changed.Tommye looked around.“I can’t understand how Jack never liked it here.”Uncle Jack was never interested in the Zuta except for what it could get him.We both knew that.I smiled.“I’m glad Unc held onto it.It’s the only hang-up left in your dad’s development.”“What do you mean?”“Well, it sits in the middle of twenty-six-thousand acres of prime development.Sticks out like a sore thumb.Unc’s not selling, so your dad has to, by law, give him access.That puts a crimp in his development.”“Funny.”“What’s that?”“The thing he wanted least is now the thing he needs the most.”“It’s fitting.”Some time back, Unc had created a mock campground in the middle of the Sanctuary.Two logs, touching end-to-end in an L-shape, formed benches.It was midmorning when we arrived, and I built a small fire.I made some coffee, scrambled some eggs, and even managed to not burn the biscuits.I handed Tommye a warm cup of cow-boy coffee, and she leaned in and stared down into it.“You’ll make someone a fine husband one day.I could get used to this.”“It’s called the comfort of necessity.”She sipped, stirred the eggs around her plate, and asked, “Got any girlfriends?”“I got a few I go out with.”She raised both eyebrows.“You always had those.That’s not what I asked.”“I stay pretty busy.”“Hmm-hmm.” She wasn’t buying it, her smile told me that.She eyed her watch, pulled a small silver container from her pocket, and popped another pill.I spread some jelly on a biscuit and handed it to her.She licked the jelly spilling out around the edges and then bit into it.Her T-shirt read I LUV LA.I pointed to it.“I flew out there once.”“Where?”“L.A.well, Studio City.”“When?”“About three years ago.”She calculated.“Why didn’t you call me?”“I did.”“My roommate didn’t tell me.”“That’s cause I didn’t talk to your roommate.”“Who’d you talk with?”“I talked with you.Or rather to you.Some guy picked up the phone, then held the phone up to your ear.You mumbled a few things I couldn’t understand, and then the line went dead.”She nodded, looked down into her cup, but said nothing.I prodded.“Is that what all the pills are about?”She shrugged, the honesty painful
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