“Yes, nice to meet you, sir. I’m Steve Plofker.”
Dad bristled at Steve’s deference to his age. “So you’re the next-door neighbor who was nice enough to take my grandson to a ball game and give him a job to boot?”
“Yeah, but the favor works both ways, you know? It’s great for my dogs to have company because it keeps them from getting lonely and neurotic. And what fun is it to go to a baseball game without someone to talk to? Charlie is a really fine young man. We’ve had a lot of fun together since we met.”
“So I’ve heard. I’m a baseball man myself,” Dad said, probably thinking he wouldn’t mind sitting in the owners’ box.
“Really? Well, I’ll see what I can do about some more tickets, then. You around for a while?”
“Oh, yeah. Just ask Jackie where to find me. I’ve been up at Murrells Inlet for a bit.”
“I hear the fishing’s pretty good up there,” Steve said and winked at me.
He actually winked. Please. Well, I thought I might gag, but I was pretty sure that Daddy saw it too and had an instant suspicion that Steve’s attentions were directed toward me and not Mom. I was afraid of that.
“You like to fish?”
“I’ve been known to drop a hook in the water. Now and then.”
“Well, when you get a day off let me know. Been getting some bodacious flounder. I like to go gigging too.”
“That sounds great,” Steve said, nodding his head like a bobblehead figurine. “Dogs on the porch?”
“Yep,” I said.
“Would it be okay if I just go get them?”
“Of course!”
Steve went inside, and Dad turned to me and said, “You’re pretty trusting to just let that guy walk in your mother’s house like that.”
“He’s a doctor, Dad, and FYI, that house belongs to you too.”
“Still,” he said.
“Ya gotta learn to trust, Dad.”
“Humph,” he said. “Trust. Look who’s talking. Humph. I gotta get on the road. And FYI to you? That sonofabitch has his eye on you, not your mother.”
“Then he’s dreaming.”
“Let the poor schnookle dream. He’s got a funny-shaped head.”
“Yeah, well, there are a lot of brains in there.”
Why in the world would I come to Steve’s defense? Daddy looked at me and harrumphed again. “Tell my grandson not to wear a rut in the road with that skateboard. I’ll call y’all tomorrow.”
I threw my arms around my dad’s neck. “You’re the greatest, Dad, do you know that?”
“You’re still my little girl, Jackie, and you’re the apple of my eye.”
He kissed me squarely in the middle of my forehead and got into his car.
“Be careful!” I called out, and I waved and waved until he was out of sight.
It was almost six when Charlie came home, sailing through the house, calling for me. “Mom! Mom!”
“Out here!”
You’d think we were a bunch of shut-ins with the amount of time we seemed to be spending outdoors, but frankly with the broiling heat and ferocious humidity the most comfortable place in the house was the porch, where we had breezes coming at us from three sides. I was sitting in a rocker, enjoying the end of the day, finishing reading that morning’s paper. These days people said “What do you read the paper for? You can get the news instantly on the Internet.” Well, I’d say to them, there’s a lot more in the paper than news. There are feature articles and opinions and announcements. I loved getting newsprint ink on my hands and clipping out different articles for friends. How many pie recipes had I sent Miss Deb over the years? And how many articles on growing lavender and other useful herbs to Mom?
“Whatcha doing?” Charlie asked.
“Just reading. How’s the new skateboard?”
“Completely totally awesome. I mean, totally awesome!”
“So you had a good day with Guster?”
“Amazing. Mom, I have to talk to you about something.”
“What?”
“Well, I’ve made a decision.”
“And?”
“I’m staying here.”
I sat up straight as though someone had knocked the wind out of me. “No, you are not!”
He held his hands up in the air. “Hear me out! Just hear me out!”
“This had better be good.”
“Okay, look. I never get to see Glam and Guster, and they’re both here. That’s one thing. And number two, I’ve been gone for over an hour and you didn’t have to come with me. It’s safe here. And three, I love it here.”
“Look, Charlie, I understand, and I don’t entirely disagree with you. But we have a home in New York. And there’s Aunt Maureen and all your friends at school. Why don’t we try and come here more often? I mean, there’s no reason why we can’t spend summers and holidays here.”
“You don’t get it, do you?”
“Charlie, your daddy’s buried in Brooklyn.”
Charlie’s mood fizzled right in front of me. He didn’t want to go home to our house in Brooklyn. But that was where we belonged. He had had a few terrific days, and I could understand why he wasn’t anxious to return to the old grind.
“Look. We still have a few weeks before you start school. Let’s just try to enjoy ourselves.”
“I hate it when you talk in we because then I know the answer is going to be a big fat no. Like when you say, ‘Let’s eat our Brussels sprouts. Come on now! We don’t have all night!’ It’s better here, Mom. For all of us.”
Chapter 10
. . . into the ground, at the precise spot where the beetle fell, my friend now produced from his pocket a tape-measure. . . . Legrand begged us to set about one to digging as quickly as possible.
—Edgar Allan Poe, “The Gold-Bug”
Annie
Margaret Donaldson was a goll-dern certified Houdini/Svengali/Einstein, and I know that’s not very ladylike language, but I cannot be emphatic enough without strong words. I worship her. Not literally. But I think you get my drift. I could not pass a mirror, a window, or a stainless-steel appliance without taking a look at myself. Dang, sustah!
Buster’s car wasn’t there. I had missed him. Oh, well, too bad for him! At least I told myself that. There had not been such a dramatic change in my appearance since the day I threw off my peasant blouse, stepped out of my cutoff jeans, and slipped on my wedding gown and veil. It was only natural that I would wonder what the only man I had ever loved would have said if he could see me. And to be completely honest, I wanted him to see what he was missing. No such luck.
I waltzed into the house to find the kitchen empty and no supper on the stove. Good! Let’s take the new and vastly improved Annie Britt out to dinner and see what happens. I was ready to go break some hearts—if I could find a live one, that is.
Charlie and Jackie were on the porch reading. I swung the screen door open, stepped out, and let it slam behind me. It was that kind of a moment for me.
“Ta da!” I sang out to announce my arrival. I struck a glamour-girl pose and asked, “So what do y’all think?”
“Glam-ma! You look . . . amazing!”
That precious child was so generous and kind. And smart.
“Mom! Holy cow! It’s the new you!”
I had spent most of the day at Ms. Donaldson’s studio. She’d brought in Hailey from the Allure Salon to do my hair and two of her assistants to redo all of my makeup. Then we’d taken a ride over to Gwynn’s, where a wardrobe specialist had sold me three new outfits, from head to toe, including foundation garments that worked one miracle after another. It was too warm to be mummified in elastic, but I looked the best I had looked in a very long time. Like my momma used to say, “Pride knoweth no pain.”
“I’m thinking crab cakes tonight at Station 22 Restaurant. Anyone care to join me?”
“Sounds great to me,” Jackie said. “You look way too fab to stay home.”
“They have flounder and hush pupp
ies?” Charlie asked.
“Yes, flounder, no, hush puppies, but they have awesome coconut cake. How’s that?”
“Sweet! Good sub!”
I was simply going to have to dust off my deep fryer and make that skinny little angel a mountain of hush puppies.
“Go wash your face, Charming Charlie, and let’s go show off your gorgeous grandmother.”
Within the hour we were climbing the steps to the dining room at Station 22. I was wearing all white linen with lots of turquoise jewelry, and my salt-and-pepper hair had been shortened by at least five inches into an angled bob that gave it lots of bounce and movement. The only thing I wasn’t thrilled about is that they had confiscated the three red lipsticks in my purse and made me swear to never wear red again, using some nonsense about it running out into the little lines around my lips. Now, if that was really happening, wouldn’t I have known it?
To be dead honest, I really couldn’t say that I looked younger, but I certainly was more contemporary and I felt, well, elegant in a casual kind of way.
We were greeted by Marshall Stith, the proprietor, whom I had known since childhood.
“Mrs. Britt? Can this be you? Not that you needed to change a hair on your lovely head, but my dear, you look fantastic!” He spun me around to take a 360 view of my new look, and all the guys at the bar, whom I had known since the sandbox, whistled and applauded. Men are so silly. “And here’s Jackie and young Charlie. Charlie, where are you going to college, son?”
“Charlie? Tell Mr. Stith what grade you’re in,” Jackie said.
“Aw, come on! I’m only going into fifth grade,” Charlie said and laughed.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Jackie. What a terrible tragedy,” Marshall said.
“Thank you,” she said.
Well, we got to the table and had started looking at the menus when the first drink arrived. “Mark Tanenbaum and Larry Dodds wanted you to have this cocktail to salute your new persona. It’s a Cosmopolitan, which I think they meant to be an opinion,” Marshall said. “Can I get you something, Jackie?”
“White wine would be fine. Thanks. And a 7Up for Charlie, please?”
“Sure thing!”
Their drinks were delivered almost instantaneously, and we touched the sides of our glasses. “Cheers!”
I waved at Mark and Larry and blew them kisses. Jackie cleared her throat. It was a very small glass, which was a good thing, because by the time we ordered our flounder, crab cakes, and mahimahi, there came Marshall with another cocktail.
“This one is from Johnny Disher and Bill Roettger,” Marshall said and leaned in to whisper in my ear. “It’s called Sex on the Beach.” He put another glass of wine in front of Jackie. “Your wine is from Steve Reeves. He’s a very nice man.” She had barely made a dent in her first.
“Really?” I giggled and whispered back. “Tell those old goats they’d better look out! I just might take them over the sand dunes—one at a time, of course!”
“What am I missing, Mom?”
“Nothing, sweetheart. Just my old friends being goofy.” I waved at the guys and blew more kisses.
Jackie gave them a small-fisted wave, then groaned loudly, which only made me blow more kisses and I thanked goodness Charlie had left the table to put money in the jukebox. Apparently, according to my prude of a daughter, grandmothers were not supposed to behave in any manner that approached the outskirts of flirting.
“So Dad was here all day. I’m sorry you missed him.”
“Well, I’m not.”
“Well, if he’d seen you he would’ve fainted.”
“I seriously doubt it. He probably wouldn’t notice a thing. So did he ask about me?”
“Of course!”
I could tell she was lying, but I let it go.
“That’s nice,” I said. “What did he say?”
“Oh, you know, ‘How’s your mom? Where is she?’ You know, that kind of thing.”
“Um-hum,” I said thinking, Yeah, sure, he probably said, “Is the old bag home?”
“You should’ve seen him with Charlie. He’s really mellowed.”
“You know, with him it was always all one way or the other. Either he was so mellow that you felt like sticking a compact mirror under his nose to see if he was still breathing. Or when he didn’t like something he was so sarcastic it made me want to curl up in a corner and cry. I don’t miss that part at all.”
“I don’t remember him ever acting like that.”
“Then, my dear, you have a very, very selective memory.”
It did not serve anyone well to remind her of all the times her father had insulted her in public to voice his displeasure instead of taking her aside and speaking to her with respect.
“Maybe. Well, he was a doll today.”
“No one could be happier to hear that than I am.” I drained my glass.
Charlie returned right as they put our food on the table. “What are y’all talking about?” he said.
“About your day with Guster,” I said. “So y’all had a good time?”
“It was the best possible day, Glam. It really was.”
Just as Charlie was about to launch into a recitation of everything that had happened that day, Marshall appeared with yet another cocktail.
“Don’t worry! This one’s considerably weaker.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“Well, it’s from David Kenney and Mike Richardson. It’s a Salty Dog.”
“That’s the name of Glam’s house!” Charlie exclaimed. “What’s in it?”
“Well, it’s got some vodka and some grapefruit juice and some salt around the rim.”
“How do you get the salt on there like that?” Charlie asked.
“When you’re all done with dinner, you come and find me and I’ll show you! How’s that?”
“Cool,” Charlie said and began to scoop his fish away from the bones and eat it with gusto. Marshall’s flounder was always exceptionally fresh and sweet. “Can y’all pass the ketchup? I could eat flounder every night of the week.”
“Me too, sugar,” I said.
I waved and blew more kisses to my old childhood friends, and Charlie caught me.
“Glam?” He looked toward the bar and then back to me with the funniest expression on his beatific little face. “Are those decrepit old dudes flirting with you?”
“No, darling, we are pretending to be flirting,” I said.
“Yeah, and they just pretended to send you three cocktails!” Jackie said and rolled her eyes.
“They’re some of my oldest friends on this island and would never step one toe over the line of propriety.”
“Oh,” Charlie said, and I think he got the gist of it. “So they’re just fooling around?”
“Exactly!”
After dinner, Charlie got a lesson in how to sugar or salt the rim of a glass, Jackie went to the ladies’ room, and I gave every one of my old friends a good smooch. Lord have mercy on my soul and body, there’s nothing like a native island prince to make a girl feel good.
It didn’t take long to wind up dinner and return to our porch. Charlie was so full of flounder and cake and so tired from the day that he put himself to bed. When Jackie and I went to his room to tuck him in, he was already fast asleep.
“I doubt if he even brushed his teeth,” she said.
“Oh, phooey on that. His teeth aren’t going to fall out tonight!”
“You’re right,” she said. “I’m too rule-driven.”
“You said it, not me.”
“I get that from you! Come on. Let’s sit outside for a bit.”
The tide was changing, and there was a nice breeze as we settled into our rockers on the porch.
“Let’s leave the lights off so we can see the ocean,” I said.
It took a few minutes for our eyes to adjust to the night, but soon we could see brilliant stars and the silver sparkling of phosphorescence all over the water. The birds were asleep, and all there was to
hear was the occasional music of the rustling of palmetto fronds against one another and the lazy water washing the shore. It was as idyllic a paradise as even a honeymooner could want.
“So tell what else your father had to say for himself,” I said.
“Well, he met Steve.”
“Oh, really? How did that go?”
“Okay, I guess. Daddy practically invited him to go fishing on the hope of getting invited to a RiverDogs game.”
“Well, that’s typical. Always trying to get something for nothing.”
“Whatever. And he’s got some lame idea that Steve has his eye on me, which is the biggest waste of time in the world if he does.”
I realized right then and there that it was true. Not only was Buster no longer interested in me, Steve was attracted to Jackie. Without a thought in the world that the news might upset me, she’d confirmed what I already knew. I could feel myself blushing, and I was grateful for the darkness.
“Maybe I’d like a glass of wine. Can I get something for you, Jackie?”
“No, thanks. If I want something, I’ll get it.”
“Okay.”
I went inside quietly, and in the kitchen I poured myself a goblet of some kind of Merlot that I found in the pantry left over from the other night. I stood at the sink and took a long sip, wondering if I would be able to redo my makeup the same way in the morning. Probably not. What did it matter anyway? There was no one to look at me for any other reason than basic social pleasantries. Oh, it had been fun at Station 22 to have all my old pals hoot and holler and buy me drinks, but they were either still married or divorced and dating someone half their age, and besides, we all knew one another too well for romance. Not to mention, even if it was only on a technicality, that I was still legally married to Mr. Britt.
I heard a car coming. I looked out the window and saw Steve pulling into his driveway. There was someone with him. A woman. I hurried back out to the porch.
“Jackie?” I was almost whispering. “Want to see something? Look over there.”