In this serialized novel set on the Vineyard in real time, a native Islander (“Call me Becca”) returns home after many years to help her highly-respected but 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. He is convinced that Moby wants to destroy Abe personally, as well as all Island-based landscaping/nursery businesses. Abe is now obsessed with “taking down” Moby before Moby can damage Pequot or any other Island grower. His melodramatic efforts have so far led to failure and embarrassment, but does that blunt his dedication to warning the Island of Moby’s encroaching evil? No.

Dear P:

Aaaarrrgghhh, I should never have come back here. You know how when you walk through Times Square, crazy megaphoned people in costumes demand your attention, and nobody even knows who they are? We don’t have that kind of anonymity here on the Island, and I wish we did.

Monday was the Possible Dreams auction. I was Uncle Abe’s “date” and we had good seats, since Pequot Nursery had donated a Dream: the winning bidder got to have Pequot’s founders — Uncle Abe and Aunt Gwen — design and install a Pequot-style garden for them. (They’re famous for a certain kind of design — native plants, xeroscaping, etc). The winners had to actually purchase the plants themselves, though.

So the first tickle here, as you know, is that Aunt Gwen is now ex-Aunt Gwen, having recently left Abe — and Gwen is the actual designer. Second tickle: she now works for Richard Moby! But rather than canning the Dream, she’d offered Abe a deal: she would design the winner’s garden, as a “Pequot-designed garden,” as long as the winner had the option of buying the plants (at a huge discount) from Broadway Nursery (that’s Moby’s).

This is exactly the kind of thing that would normally make Abe apoplectic, but he had accepted it so graciously that the whole Pequot staff was suspicious. And now, here at the auction, I got really antsy when our Dream was the next one up.

There was a spirited cross-fire of bids from two summer residents who were each renovating their properties. One of them balked at around 10 grand and Susan Klein, who was auctioneering the dream, had someone bring Abe a mike, to let him whip them into a frenzy of desire for the Dream.

“If the bidding goes up to $15,000,” he offered, “we’ll throw in all the plants, too, and the winner won’t have to buy anything.”

At the same moment, two things happened at once: the balker bid $15,000, which Susan accepted, and there was a kerfuffle on the other side of the tent, near the bar. Another hand-held mike was sent through the crowd in that direction to someone who remained sitting, so we couldn’t see who it was. “Hey, if the bidding goes up to $20,000,” said the Teflon-smooth voice I recognized as Richard Moby’s, “Broadway Nursery will throw in a ten-thousand-dollar mature magnolia tree. Y’ever seen a magnolia tree? Gorgeous!”

This, of course, got a huge and appreciative reaction. Susan turned back toward us. “How about that? We’ve got businesses cross-pollinating their donations! Art would be so proud of you both! Okay, do we have twenty? I’m looking for twenty? No? We’re still at fifteen? Anyone want to make the leap to twenty? Somebody at least give me sixteen —”

Abe leapt up and grabbed the mike from the jovial woman in her day-glow green volunteer shirt. “That’s not an acceptable addition to this Dream!” he shouted into the mike — silencing the tent (which is nearly impossible to do). “Magnolia trees do not belong in traditional Vineyard gardens. This is exactly the sort of pandering that Broadway Nursery —”

“Take it outside, boys!” Susan hollered heartily, as if this were all a staged joke. And then, more productively: “Somebody cut Abe’s mike.”

That was easier said than done since the sound crew had no way to know which mike was with which speaker. So both speakers kept it up:

“Hey, this is for charity, buddy!” Moby’s voice rang out over the sound system. “I wouldn’t do this for just anyone. C’mon folks, 20 grand and you get a magnolia tree — a magnolia tree! A big one!” Applause.

“No you don’t!” Abe shouted back, his weathered complexion the color of hibiscus tea. “You don’t even carry magnolia trees, you hypocrite!”

At this point, the sound-man wisely cut both mikes, but the two of them screamed at each other, ignoring the growing buzz of the crowd and Susan’s firm: “Please, gentlemen... and I do use the word loosely...”

“We carry anything our customers want us to carry,” Moby retorted across the length of the tent. “Unlike some rigid, snooty–”

“Hey, you two,” Susan said, the jocularity strained now. “There’s this organization called Martha’s Vineyard Community Services, you might want to check it out, it has these mental-health and anti-violence programs...”

“Fifteen thousand includes plants from Pequot,” Abe repeated with finality. He sat down.

Richard Moby immediately raised one arm. “I’ll bid 20,” he hollered. “Magnolia tree included.”

Beside me, I felt Abe lurch to rise in protest, but I grabbed his arm and pulled him down. “Shut up,” I whispered fiercely. “If you protest the bid you’re losing money for Community Services, and that makes you the villain, not him.”

A moment later, to a roar of approval around us, Richard Moby had the winning bid.

“...going twice, SOLD! See how easy things can be when you boys are willing to play nice?” Susan Klein approved.

“Let’s see how nice we play when I actually build his garden for him,” Abe growled under his breath.

“Sometimes I wish you weren’t my uncle,” I said frankly. But not out loud, of course.

Love

Becca

With special thanks to Susan Klein. On Thursday, August 14 at 7:30 p.m. Susan will be joined by Bobby Norfolk of Missouri to kick off a celebration of spoken-word at Featherstone with a storytelling concert for adults.

Be part of the Your Name Here campaign: any person or business donating $250 or more to Martha’s Vineyard Community Services can get a mention in Moby Rich. For more information, please contact Jan Hatchard at 508-693-7900, extension 374.

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