“Where’re you headed, looking so fine?” Roni said. Her complexion had lost its flush and returned to normal.
“I’ll be back in a few hours,” Nick said, kissing Olivia on the cheek. “Going downtown to read. I’ll call you before I cross the causeway to see if I can bring you anything.”
“You are the sweetest man alive!” Olivia said, as she always did.
“There’s too much commotion here for me,” he said.
“I understand,” Olivia said.
A moment or two later they heard the front door shut. Nick was gone.
“Did I really say I’d have dinner with Jason? Am I crazy?”
“Maybe,” Olivia said, smiling. “But you have a date. I was a witness.”
“Okay, I’m losing it,” Roni said. “Gimme the poop on Jason. Single? Never been married? Divorced? Kids with three baby mamas?”
“I know he had a pretty serious girlfriend from South Dakota or someplace out there in the wilds of the heartland, whatever that is. See if he’s on Facebook.”
“Excellent idea!” Roni said and pressed the F icon on her smartphone. She pressed in his name in the search bar and waited while the cog spun, searching for answers. “No. He’s not. But his business is here.” She pressed the Like button. “Now he knows I like his page.”
“How utterly romantic,” Olivia said.
“You’re such an old biddy sometimes,” Roni said.
The day passed quickly, and the number of boxes left to open began to dwindle. Jason and his crew were able to connect the phones, computers, stereo, and turntable. By two o’clock a classic recording of Miles Davis was playing all over the house. As soon as it started playing, Roni and Olivia went to find Jason to congratulate him.
“That sounds so great!” Roni said.
“I like vinyl a lot better than CDs,” Jason said.
“Nick does too. He says the sound is richer,” Olivia said.
As promised, Nick called around three o’clock. He sounded happier.
“I stopped at Whole Foods to see this place for myself, and I must say, it’s like Giants Stadium!”
“Really?”
“Yes, well, not really. But when you’re used to shopping at the Whole Foods in Manhattan and barely having room to think, you find all the space stunning! The butcher department is amazing. They have everything, including suet. The produce is gorgeous. Never mind the bakery. So what can I bring home for us for dinner?”
Bring home.
The word stung. Was this her home? Yes, it was. Somehow Olivia had been telling herself that this was her second home. But the facts were that this was now their primary residence. They banked here, they would pay taxes here, and their driver’s licenses would be issued by the South Carolina Department of Motor Vehicles.
“Olivia? Are you there?”
“Yes! Sorry! My mind wandered off for a moment. Um, just bring whatever looks good! You know I love everything you cook.”
“And I love you!” Nick said.
“I love you too! Did you have a good time at the historical society?”
“It was absolutely incredible. I’ll tell you all about it over cocktails!”
Around four o’clock, Roni announced that she was leaving for the day. “You’re pretty sure this guy isn’t an ax murderer?”
“I’m reasonably sure,” Olivia said. “Just go have a good time.”
“I’ll give you a full report in the morning,” Roni said on her way out the front door.
Olivia was alone in the house then. She had spent the better part of the day accessorizing the living room and their bedroom. The space that would be her office had no furniture at all. She simply dropped files and her address book and her laptop there and measured for a desk and chairs. She walked from room to room, trying to decide what else the house would need to make it feel like home. Basically, they had moved Nick’s office intact. It was going to be so ridiculously easy for him to settle in. Somehow she had allowed herself to be stripped of her possessions, and now it made her angry. Nick could just go in his study and there was hardly a perceptible difference between his new space and his old one. He had his desk and his favorite chairs, his maps and books. All of his model soldiers were already in place, except for the glass that would seal them off from dust. Jason’s glass contact person was coming to measure. Nick’s life was in fine shape.
She felt sick inside, and for the first time she recognized that her Manhattan life was behind her. She couldn’t hop over to Saks to check the shoe sales or stop by the Chanel cosmetic counter in Bergdorf’s and have Preston give her face an update. There was no Lobel’s in Charleston to deliver dinner, and on top of everything else, she had no housekeeper. She had no business contacts or clients in Charleston. She didn’t have doctors or lawyers or anyone to do her hair.
“What the hell have I done?” And she asked herself why, for the love of God and everything holy in this world, had she not anticipated her own needs? It’s what I do for a living! She blamed herself. She’d been playing the Denial Game. Denial was stupid. Her life was now in Charleston unless she decided she wasn’t going to spend it with Nick. The thought of her life without him was unfathomable.
She heard the front door open and close. Nick was back. She hurried to meet him in the kitchen, hoping that seeing him would shake off her state of mind.
I just have a lot of work to do, she thought, giving herself a pep talk. And I’m up to the task. It just seems overwhelming, but it really isn’t.
“Hi!” she sang out as though all was right in her world. “Can I help you with anything?”
Nick was in the kitchen unpacking four bags of groceries. “Yes! Give me a kiss!”
Olivia kissed his cheek and then threw her arms around him, leaning into him and hugging him tightly as though she would never let him go.
“What’s all this about?” Nick said, hugging her back. “Are you all right? Did you hear a rat upstairs?”
“No! Thank heavens!”
“Coyotes in the yard?”
“Good heavens, no!” Were there coyotes on the island? Oh, dear God!
“Well then, tell me what’s wrong.”
“I don’t know, I just . . .”
Nick ran his hand down the back of her head, smoothing her hair, and gently he kissed the crown of her head.
“It’s going to be okay, Olivia. I know, this is an enormous change for you . . .”
“It changes everything,” she said in almost a whisper.
“Well, Dr. Nick has the cure for what ails you.”
“You do?”
“Yes. What you need is a glass of wine and a roll in bed with honey.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Olivia couldn’t help but smile, and she felt better just to know that Nick understood her.
“It’s not even dark yet! But I’ll admit, that always cures anything!”
“I know!”
“But I want dinner first,” she said.
“Supper,” he said.
“What?”
“Down here in the Lowcountry, dinner is called supper, especially when you eat at home. Well? Maybe not. Let me think. Technically, you go out for dinner, but you could also say that you’re going out for supper. Maybe supper implies something more casual these days, like going over to somebody’s house for supper. Although Sunday dinner is usually served at around three in the afternoon.”
“On Sunday?”
“I know. It can be a bit bewildering.”
“You’re never going to make a Lowcountry girl out of me.”
“I might die trying, but I will never surrender the cause!”
“Did I tell you that Roni has a date with Jason?”
“No kidding!”
“They’re having supper,” Olivia said, and winked at Nick.
“Oh, you little minx!”
“By the way, we’re going to Nantucket the day after tomorrow.”
“I believe I heard that rumor this morning.”
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“Unless you prefer to stay here?”
She gave him the details and he could only smile and shake his head.
“Of course I’ll come. There’s a museum there I want to visit. You know? I love your business. But tell me this. If they asked you to jump through flaming hoops of fire, I imagine you’d have to do it?”
“It pays the bills, Nick. It pays the bills.”
“Hmmm. It’s time to pull a cork,” he said and lifted a chilly bottle of Chablis from the shopping bag. “And I have a piece of cheese in the bags somewhere. And some water crackers.”
“I’ll find them,” Olivia said, and with that, the third evening in their new home was under way.
She fixed a plate of cheese and crackers and they walked outside with their glasses of wine to watch the sunset, hoping they’d catch a glimpse of the dolphins. Olivia put the food on a table between the rocking chairs and stood against the railing with Nick.
Down on the beach, there were couples walking arm in arm along the water and others with their dogs, chasing balls and catching Frisbees in midair. Overhead the pelicans flew in formation, their wings casting long shadows across their front yard. And fat black-and-white sea gulls were everywhere, walking all over the beach like they owned it.
They watched as four beautiful sailboats went out to sea and then as several fishing boats made their way toward Shem Creek, finished for the day.
The air was deliciously drenched with salt and moisture. Olivia’s hair, which she had twisted up into a knot, began to loosen and curl, creating tendrils all around her face. She kept peeling them off her cheeks and tucking them behind her ears, but the breeze would loosen them again.
“Don’t bother with your hair,” Nick said. “Those lovely curlicues make you look like Botticelli’s Venus!”
“Are you telling me I’m half baked on a clamshell?”
“Not a bit, my darling girl, and you know it. Cheers!”
“Cheers!” They took a sip and Olivia said, “So, tell me what happened at the historical society today. I’m dying to hear!”
“It’s just absolutely astounding. You know, there’s so much to learn about this world and all the many diverse and fascinating people who inhabit it, never mind the ones from long ago.”
Nick’s eyes had that same irresistible dancing twinkle that stole Olivia’s heart when they first met. The recognition of it ignited a quiver through her whole body and her arms got goose bumps. It was a mighty powerful twinkle.
“So who’d you dig up, Nicholas Seymour with the crazy eyes? It’s a good one, right?”
The repetitive sounds of the ocean washing the shore were calming, the perfect background music for a good story. And the sun was slowly inching toward the horizon.
“Dave the Slave.”
“Who?”
He turned to face her. “David Drake, also known as Dave the Potter or Dave the Slave. He was born into slavery in 1801, up in Edgefield County. He made some of the most remarkable earthenware pots ever built.”
“Earthenware pots.”
“Yes. You know, before indoor plumbing you had to bring your water to the house from the well. These pots and jugs were a critical part of life. Earthenware was more desirable because it was impervious to water and didn’t break as easily. ”
“I don’t know how people endured that kind of life,” Olivia said, and cut a piece of Gruyère. She fed it to Nick.
“Thank you. Neither do I. But there are several supremely interesting things about this fellow. First of all, he had only one leg. The legend around him suggests that he lost it in a train accident. To my way of thinking, losing a leg was one way to avoid working in the fields, which was backbreaking labor.”
“Good grief! Do you think he laid himself across a railroad track? He could’ve died!”
“Easily! I don’t know. That would require more research, and one still might not reach a definitive conclusion. Details of slave life are spotty. Cut me another piece of cheese, will you, my pet?”
“Of course!” Olivia cut several cubes and balanced the plate on the rail.
“But anyway, unusual fact number two: he was literate! Teaching a slave to read and write the language was illegal because it was thought literacy would lead to unrest and uprisings.”
“How stupid.” Olivia helped herself to a bite of cheese. “This is so good.”
“Agreed, but as an historian, I seek the facts and try to weigh those facts in the context of their time. No judgment.”
“I know that, but that whole period in time is mortifying.” She fed Nick another bite and half a cracker. “God, I love cheese!”
“I love you! Well, it was an unenlightened era, to say the least. Nonetheless, his first owner, a staunchly religious fellow, was named Henry Drake. He owned a large plantation in Pottersville. Drake felt that the teachings of the Bible would have a positive effect on his slaves, so he taught them to read.”
“That was nice of him. All you open-minded southerners.”
She meant it just as a joke, but there was some truth in that some of her friends growing up in New York assumed the entire South was populated with narrow-minded, Bible-verse-spouting, patriarchal, misogynistic, judgmental bigots, whose ancestors probably owned slaves or condoned the institution. And they all owned trucks for no apparent reason.
“Good grief, Olivia! I know you hate slavery. We all hate slavery. It’s an abomination before God Almighty. But I didn’t invent it and none of my ancestors ever participated in it or thought it was right. Just because I’m a son of the Lowcountry, it doesn’t mean I approve of any part of slavery in any culture one iota.”
“I’m sorry. I’m being rude. Please finish your story.”
“It’s hard to talk about anything related to slavery without your going on a rant. I agree. But anyway, there happened to be another slave on the same plantation with no arms. Henry was his name.”
“Seriously? What are the odds on that?”
“I don’t know. Not high. But if he was born on the plantation, he probably stayed there all his life.”
“I’m sure. Where else was he going?”
“Exactly. So Dave decides he wants to be an artist and make pots, but he can’t turn the wheel with one leg. But Henry can turn the wheel just fine. So Henry turned the wheel and Dave applied the clay and together they built thousands of pots and jars. Like forty thousand. Now, here’s why they were so unique.”
“Tell me, sweetheart,” she said in her best come hither voice, teasing him.
Nick was very excited to tell Olivia this quirky story, and Olivia was excited by Nick’s enthusiasm. Nick laughed and used his Boris voice from Rocky and Bullwinkle.
“Ah, Natasha, my temptress! Your moment will arrive later this evening, when I will treat you to a night of magic in the boudoir!”
“I can’t wait for zee darkness.”
“Okay. Okay. So, anyway, Dave was a poet! He wrote short poems on his pots! How do you like that?”
“Such as?”
“Well, one of them was something like Sure must be the fourth of July, fifes play and flags fly. Then he signed them Dave and dated them. And they’re gorgeous things, beautiful glazes and ingenious design. There are a dozen or so on display at the Charleston Museum.”
“It might be fun to try and buy one,” Olivia said.
“The last one that sold at auction went for over one hundred and thirty thousand dollars.”
Olivia coughed. “What?” She whistled, but no sound came from her lips. “For a clay pot from Pottersville, South Carolina. You’re lying to me!”
Nick laughed and Olivia did too.
“No, ma’am! It’s a documented fact.”
“Maybe we’ll find one for Bob instead!”
Chapter 9
Fishin’
The next morning, after a slow start due to some earnest pyrotechnic gymnastics the prior evening, Nick went downtown to go read at the historical society.
“I want to
read the papers of Laura Bragg,” he said.
“Who’s she?”
“Very interesting character. She was the first female director of a scientific museum in the United States. And she was allegedly very controversial.”
“What did she do?”
“I’ll let you know.”
He kissed her cheek and left.
Olivia set up shop on their dining room table, which would be her workspace until she bought a desk. She began making lists of what she had to do. She needed to find a local upholsterer for starters. She made a note to ask Jason to recommend a good local landscaper and tree-trimming service, a pest-control company, and a housekeeping service. Maybe he might know a good used-car dealer?
Around eleven, Roni came strolling in with coffee from Starbucks.
“Morning! A skinny latte macchiato for you and a Tazo chai for me.”
“Thanks! How was last night?”
Roni plopped herself in the dining room chair opposite Olivia and sighed.
“It was the perfect date, probably only because I’m leaving town. You always want what you can’t have.”
“You just don’t know how true that is.”
“Jason is a blast and funny as a rip! And he has such nice manners! Ah, southern men!”
“You don’t have to tell me!” Olivia said, removing the top on her cup and inhaling deeply. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if coffee tasted as good as it smells?”
“Yeah, it would. Well, you sort of wrote the book on the charms of southern men. We stayed downtown and went to someplace called Fish. Awesome! Just awesome. When we were across the table from each other, he acted like I was the only other person in the room. Olivia? Did you ever meet someone and it’s like you’ve known them all your life?”
Roni had that wistful look, the one Olivia knew from experience had the launching power to send a girl over the moon.
“Yes. Only one. Nick.” Olivia handed the audit notices from the IRS and State of New York to Roni. “Southern men aren’t always scanning the room to see who else came to the party.”
“Hmmm. The last guy I dated in New York hardly knew I was there. Ah well, it’s too bad Mr. Fowler lives in South Carolina. He’s gonna cry for me something terrible. That poor man! Breaks my heart to think about it. What do you want me to do with these?”