Off to the right of A1A as you head south are the random, unzoned living areas. Barren trailer parks making a huge hot aluminum glitter in the sunshine. Other trailer parks with shade and space and waterfront. Tract houses in clusters that vaguely resemble a game of Monopoly. Improbable groups of high-rise apartments. Curiously architectured conglomerations of condominium apartments.
I found Cove Lane a mile south of the Bimini Plaza, turning off AlA between a shopping plaza and a self-service car wash. Two blocks west it changed from business to residential. Number 8000 took up half of the south block, and was far more attractive than I had any reason to expect. They were garden apartments, single story, in gray weathered cypress trimmed white. Ten numbered units, each containing four apartments A, B, C and D–but so laid out, like the spokes of a wheel, with plantings, high basketweave fencing, access drives of white crushed shell, that each have a look of restful pleasure and the look of being near the sea.
A small sign advised me to inquire at Howard Realty, three blocks east, for rental information. There were little hooks on the sign, on which HR hung a gray and white sign saying Apartment for Rent.
At Howard Realty, a sallow, spidery young woman with very thick glasses, a bright yellow blouse and bright pink shorts was minding the store.
“Eight Thousand,” she said, “is as nice as anything you can find up or down this whole beach. It shows what a real smart architect can do. But before we waste any time, or…”
“McGee.”
“The minimum lease period is three months. We’ve got five empties right now, which you can believe me when I say that’s unusual. And the summer rates right now on the cheapest are ninety-five a month without utilities, and that goes up to a hundred and thirty-five on the cheapest from November first to May first. Still curious?”
“So far.”
“No kids and no pets. There’d be two of you?”
“Just me.”
She took me over to an attractive wall panel, about eight feet long and three feet wide, in effect a map of Eight Thousand Cove Lane, with the road, drives, fenced patios shown. Pieces of plywood had been cut to the shapes of the ten structures and affixed to the panel and painted white. Keys hung from hooks in the plywood, under the number for each apartment. Five red tags were hung with five of the forty keys.
“In each unit, is a studio apartment with Bahama beds. C is the small one-bedroom, like this one. B is the larger one-bedroom. A is the two-bedroom job. Heat pumps, wall ovens, tubs and showers, wall-to-wall carpeting, fiberglass draperies, private patios with redwood lawn furniture, completely furnished. We have, let me see, one A, two B’s and two D’s. So I’m wasting my time if I quote a C rate. The D’s are ninety-five until November first, and the B’s are a hundred and sixty two fifty. Two twenty during the season. Being alone you wouldn’t want that A, I guess. Two months in advance.”
“How about maid service?”
“That’s something you’d have to arrange yourself. We’d help you as much as we can, of course.”
“I’d like to go take a look at one of the B units.”
“If… you could come back about four o’clock. I’ll be all alone here until”
“I’m not planning to steal the lamps or the silver or the TV set,” I said, taking my wallet out.
“I know that, Mr. McGee. It’s just that”
I gave her four fifty-dollar bills. “Why don’t you just hang onto this for a little while, and if it’s as good as it sounds, I’ll be back and give you the rest of the two months in advance. Okay?”
Eyes distorted to hugeness by the heavy lenses inspected me, and she nodded and said, “Here. Hang onto the money yourself. I think the B’s in the odd-numbered units are more attractive somehow than in the even ones. Two B and Five B. Here’s the key to Five, Mr. McGee.” She lifted it off the hook and handed it to me. “Hurry back,” she said, smiling.