Ivis Bainbridge stood on the belvedere that overlooked
Seabright Village and the Pacific Ocean. She hugged
herself against the knife-sharp wind rushing in from
the sea， not even slightly short of breath after her
vigorous climb to the rocky hilltop.
The view was dazzling. Ivis could look down on the
four buildings that comprised the Seabright Village
complex. To her right the small community of Rock-
away Beach was spread out like a map. The town lay
several miles south of San Francisco s city and county
line， on a windswept， wooded hillside above the Penin-
sula shoreline， geographically isolated from the main-
stream of Peninsula life.
The isolation would soon end， Ivis mused， now that
Route 380 was open， the new freeway carrying traffic
up over Sweeney Ridge to join the Bayshore Freeway
at San Francisco International Airport. And what a
rotten shame it was that this beautiful， uncrowded
strip of mid-Peninsula coastline would soon be choked
with jerry-built crackerbox housing developments， that
land values would skyrocket. But at least Seabright
Village would remain exclusive and impregnable on its
rugged headland near the terminus of Route 380 at
Cabrillo Highway. Its ample acreage ensured that
nothing else would ever be built close to it.
Landward and seaward， the vista was stunning， as
12
were the four airy condominium buildings situated at
the center of thirty landscaped acres. Each of the four
buildings contained six deluxe apartments. So far only
~u ~ng One ~ ~x~ie~. T~xe ~he~ ~ld he ~ead~
for tenants in a few weeks. The buildings were angled
onto a high rocky bluff some 250 feet above the shore-
line of the point and a small beach called Emerald
Cove. Built for comfort， looks and durability， Seabright
Village was constructed of steel， glass， concrete and
prime redwood. No expense had been spared to make it
beautiful， inside and out， and to have it blend felicitously
with the terrain.
An early riser from long years of self-discipline， Ivis
had risen at dawn to perform her daily yoga ritual.
Bundled warmly against the wind， she had left her
$250，000 apartment and climbed the steep graveled
hill path behind Seabright to the belvedere to wait for
the first light. After a week of heavy rains the weather
was gloriously clear and cold.
At seventy-five， Ivis Bainbridge s superb physical
health normally kept her in high spirits. Not so this
morning， as she watched the dawn turn the sea to
liquid amber， then cobalt blue， with tufted whitecaps.
At a time when most of her contemporaries were either
dead or shuffling around in retirement homes， Ivis
remained clear-headed and lively， not about to surren-
~~ der to senility. She had a lot of good years ahead and
intended to live them to the fullest. If Ruth Gordon
could hit her eighties， so could she.
Perhaps the new venture was slightly clouding her
usual radiant optimism. At one o clock she would drive
over the ridge to the airport and pick up her son， John
Sampson， flying in from L.A.
|
内容加载中，请稍后...
商品评论（0条）