Martha Graham gasped, entered the hall as though in a trance. Ted Graham followed, heard the door close behind them.
"It's so—so—so big," exclaimed Martha Graham.
"You want to trade this for our trailer?" asked Ted Graham.
"It's too inconvenient for us," said Rush. "My work is over the mountains on the coast." He shrugged. "We cannot sell it."
Ted Graham looked at him sharply. "Isn't there any money around here?" He had a sudden vision of a tax accountant with no customers.
"Plenty of money, but no real estate customers."
They entered the living room. Sectional divans lined the walls. Subdued lighting glowed from the corners. Two paintings hung on the opposite walls—oblongs of odd lines and twists that made Ted Graham dizzy.
Warning bells clamored in his mind.
Martha Graham crossed to the windows, looked at the lights far away below. "I had no idea we'd climbed that far," she said. "It's like a fairy city."