It had never been enough to only believe in what could be proven by science. Apparently, it wasn’t enough for a lot of people, or how could you explain the bulging parking lots in the many churches every Sunday morning? If you asked the average churchgoer what kept them in the pews, they might say that weekly services kept them in step with the goal of righteous living and reminded them that they had a community to which they belonged. And, of course they went to church in an attempt to connect with whatever their concept of God was.
Gracie told me I seemed happier than I had ever been and I thought that I knew why. With all the difficulties her young life seemed to attract, for the first time in years I was finally in step with her. I liked it very much that I knew more about her now, even though I did not always like what I knew.
The distinct pace of the Lowcountry had reset my clock. I had found a community of people where I felt at home. I had a job that was all about making people happy. But I loved my job best when the day ended, and the customers had long gone home to their beds. I would climb up to the sunset deck on the excuse of double-checking the battened hatches. I would stop for a minute to feel the breeze, have a nightcap of salt air and marvel at the enormity and astounding beauty of the skies overhead.
I was not an unusual specimen. Any morning or evening all year long, people paused to watch streaks of jewel-toned opalescence of color scream across the sky, sighing and remarking at the magnificence of nature’s outbursts. Visitors, residents and natives alike never took these things for granted. You did not dare. Mother Nature’s spoiled inner child could read your thoughts. If you ignored her she would slam the Lowcountry with a storm so great that it rattled your teeth, or weather so hot that you laughed at the face of hell. No, we were all well advised to nurture a generous respect for Mother Nature’s nature.
A healthy imagination naturally resulted from living in this tiny corner of the world. It was commonplace to spend some time looking for signs or warnings from nature about what was in your future beyond the weather. The old man had returned to my dreams and while his dour expressions were worrisome, I could not carry his chains in addition to my own and those of my daughters.
It was Sunday morning. Gracie was over at Alex’s house allegedly studying. He was supposed to be tutoring her in Spanish and she was to help him with a poster for some history project.
Mimi was at my house, measuring for curtains, when I answered the phone in the living room and took it out on the balcony. It was Gretchen from New Jersey.
“Hey! What’s going on?”
“I got an offer for your house!”
“What’s the offer?”
“Four ninety-five!”
“What? Woo-hoo! I can’t believe it! Gretchen! That’s wonderful!”
“Time for a yard sale? I have these girls who can organize it for you. . . .”
“Yes! By all means. Good Lord! I have to come back and take out what I want, right?”
“Yes, and the sooner the better. This couple wants to close by the end of October. They don’t think they will have a problem selling their co-op in Manhattan—the market’s very hot right now because of interest rates and all. But, one thing, there’s a problem with the roof,” she said. “My Sandy got up on the extension ladder and he says the flashing around the chimney needs to be replaced. The good news is that if his guys do the work it’s not going to cost you an arm and a leg.”
“That roof has been leaking since the day we bought the house. Fred had at least ten different companies look at it. Does Sandy really think it’s just a flashing problem?”
“Linda? If Sandy Prater says it’s a flashing problem, then that’s what it is. How old is the roof anyway?”
“Probably twenty years or more.”
“Probably time to replace it but you know what? Let the next owner do it. Just fix the flashing. I mean, the buyer isn’t asking you to replace the whole thing.”
“Yeah, if I put up gray tiles, they’ll want beige.”
“You’re absolutely right.”
“How much does Sandy think it will cost?”
“I don’t know; I’ll have to ask him. But we could take the offer contingent on you paying for the repairs. What do you think?”
Four ninety-five! Four ninety-five! That was all I could think about. Holy Mary. It was a fortune.
Gretchen went through all the details I needed to know for the moment and we said good-bye.
I went back inside to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water, adding some cubes of ice. My mind was racing. Was there anything in that house that I needed? The furniture was old, the pots and pans were old, the rugs were worn out, and the linens were practically rags. There wasn’t a lamp in the whole house I was emotionally involved with or a table or chair that I missed. Old Mr. Epstein’s furnishings suited me fine. I knew I needed to go through the house again just to be sure, but I was almost certain that beyond the things I had brought with me, I could leave the rest behind. The cost of moving everything would probably exceed the value of it. Besides, none of what I had would fit in this little house. If and when I moved, I would buy what I needed to fit the new space.
“I’m thinking a pretty chintz for your bathroom window and the sliding glass door in your bedroom,” Mimi said, coming in. “You know? Something cheerful! Who was that on the phone?”
I held my hand across my heart. “Four ninety-five,” I said.
“For what? Four ninety-five what?”
“Four hundred and ninety-five thousand dollars for the house in Montclair!”
“Lord have mercy! Mother McCree! Linda! Honey, I was gonna take you to GDC and buy remnants but now we’re going to Southeastern Galleries! Four hundred and ninety-five thousand dollars! That’s almost half a million!”
I did not make the smart-ass remark on the tip of my tongue but said instead, “I gotta sit down, and GDC is perfect. I can find everything I want right there!”
“Why, with that much money you can buy a gorgeous house and furnish it too!”
“Yeah, but I shouldn’t spend it all. I should save some of it, right?”
“Except that you’ll have to pay capital gains taxes. And why in the world would you want to give all that money to the government? Don’t they have enough?”
“Well, I can’t think about that right now. Anyway, for the moment I’m very happy right here in this little spot.”
“Maybe we should go to a spa! You know? Get wrapped up in seaweed and mud and sweat out our toxins?”
“That’s disgusting!”
“We could get massages. Oh! Wouldn’t you love to have someone rub your back and feet? What have you got to eat? I’m starving!”
Massages? I didn’t want some stranger putting their hands all over me. Too weird. Doctors were bad enough.
“Let’s go out,” I said. “I’m in the mood for a burger.”
“Great! Now that you’re rich, you’re buying! Let’s take my car.”
“Yeah, and after lunch we can buy me a new one. My poor Blazer has eighty-three thousand miles on it.”
“Save it for Gracie and get something nice for yourself—maybe a convertible!”
I stopped to lock the door behind me and thought about myself in a convertible. I suddenly realized I had never envisioned myself in something sporty like a Mustang or another car with any kind of pizzazz.
“You know what? You’re right! Let’s go to Poe’s Tavern over on Sullivan’s Island and we can pick up Gracie on the way back.”
I had yet to visit Brad’s house other than picking up or dropping off Gracie and Alex. There was no reason that I should have gone inside. It was important to keep my professional distance, and if Amy’s reappearance at the restaurant was an indication of how well I was doing, I was not doing very well. Although, technically, Louise was the one who had burned Amy’s card. Fat lot of good it had done. She called Brad all day long anyway.
Amy did not count Louise and me among her treasured friends and we did
n’t care. Brad merely thought our attitude was amusing. And most importantly, to our mutual delight, we could tell that she was driving him a little crazy.
We arrived at Poe’s and were seated right away. The bar area was crowded and most of the tables were filled. We sat for a moment, reading the menu and commenting on Edgar Allan Poe’s short life.
“He used to live on the island, you know,” Mimi said.
“Um, I know that,” I said.
“Well, you’ve been gone a long time. I thought you may have forgotten. He wrote ‘The Gold Bug’ here, you know.”
“Um, I know that too.”
When she spoke to me like that, I wanted to reach across the table and smack her. Isn’t that awful?
“What’s it gonna be, ladies?”
“I’m gonna have the Tell Tale Heart Burger,” I said, “with a side of Edgar’s Drunken Chili.”
“That’s with a fried egg, Applewood bacon and cheddar cheese. And how would you like that burger prepared?”
“Medium, please, and mayonnaise on the side.”
“No problem. Coleslaw, potato salad or French fries?”
“Fries. Show me no mercy.” I handed the menu back to her.
“And for you, ma’am?”
“I’ll have the Pit and Pendulum burger with fries too.”
“Medium?”
“Perfect,” she said.
We ordered iced tea and as soon as it arrived, the gossip began to flow. In the next minute, our waitress put the chili in front of me and I all but dove right into the bowl. With the news from Gretchen, I was suddenly ravenous. The day was hot and humid, but fortunately we were sitting in a small booth, in the back of the restaurant under a ceiling fan where it was a little cooler.
“So what are you gonna do about your trip?” Mimi said, reaching over with a fork and helping herself to a bite.
“Mmm. This is so good! I’m gonna talk to Louise and work it out, I guess. Here, take all you want.”
“Thanks. I am so thrilled that you’re going to get such a great price for your house,” she said. “Fred would die if he knew.”
When she spoke about Fred like that, I wanted to reach across the table and kiss her! Wasn’t that awful too?
“Then let’s tell him!”
“You’re bad,” she said.
“I know.”
We chatted for a few minutes, devouring the chili. The burgers arrived and we proceeded to devour them too.
“I haven’t been over to Sullivan’s Island hardly at all since I got here,” I said. “This place is getting packed! Is it too cheap?”
“No!” Mimi said. “It’s too good! And, darlin’, you’ve got burger dripping down your arm.”
“Oh, great. Think it would be gross to lick it off?” I used my napkin and my sister looked at me in utter disgust. “Sorry. Anyway, I’ve just been too busy to do anything and now I have to go back to New Jersey and move out of there whatever I want to keep and sell the rest.”
“Well, check out storage because you have two girls who are going to have their own apartments soon.”
“Bite your tongue!”
“Well, it’s true! Do you think Lindsey is going to want to stay in a dormitory forever?”
“When she finds out what it costs to rent an apartment in Manhattan? Yes!”
“Well, it won’t be long and I wouldn’t throw away anything you might be able to recycle. Besides, she might find a place in Brooklyn. Who knows?”
“Brooklyn? Lemme tell you something, rent in Brooklyn is about the same as the city. Everyone commutes by subway and—”
“Doesn’t the thought of Lindsey going down in a subway all by herself scare the turkey stuffing out of you?”
“Yes, it does and thanks for bringing it up.”
Sometimes my sister said the most insensitive things. Did I worry about Lindsey being in New York City by herself? Was she kidding? My face must have transformed into the reflection of maternal frustration and resignation to a life of futility, anxiety, despair and all the other charms of motherhood because she piped up.
“Oh! I didn’t mean . . .”
“Mimi? If you had one daughter in New York on her own and the other one was like Gracie, you’d be looking for a liver donor.”
“And a wig maker! You said it. Gosh, it’s got to be a terrible source of stress for you. . . .”
Sure, remind me again.
“If I had the time for the luxury of a nervous breakdown, I would have had one years ago. You know what I do? I don’t think about it. I pull a Scarlett. If I worried about everything there is to worry about concerning their safety, I’d never sleep. And, I don’t sleep that much as it is. Or well. Pass the ketchup. Please.”
“Well, darlin’, there’s always me. I don’t have kids to worry about, so why don’t you let me take over for Lindsey. I’ll say a novena every day.”
“Okay, deal. Perfect. Lindsey is now officially your cross. But while you’re on your knees, say two for Gracie. She’s enough for ten women to fret over.”
“Momma always said she could raise one hundred sons for the strength it took to raise one daughter.”
“Half the planet says that! How would she have known? She only had us! Anyway, back to Brad . . .” I squirted a puddle of ketchup on my plate and dunked my burger in it, and to my sister’s horror I took a bite large enough to satisfy a starving gorilla and continued talking. “So, apparently Amy lost her job when Brad’s enemy took control of the firm and then, when she found out that Loretta got her head cracked open like a coconut . . .”
“You do have the most delicate way of putting things,” Mimi said and giggled.
“Wha evah! So, she follows him down here and is staying with some friend of hers—probably another little slut—and now she’s looking for a job.”
“What do you care?”
“You know what? You’re right! I guess I just feel protective of him like everyone else in the restaurant does. I’m sure we’ll all relax when he gets all his blood work back. He’s awfully young to have anything serious the matter though, don’t you think? Anyway, the problem is that she calls him all day and she wants to push her way into his life. I mean, his son’s not ready for another woman hanging around, especially considering her age. She’s only twenty-two! Anyhow, I know Alex! He’s sensitive . . . what?”
I looked up to see that Mimi had stopped eating and was grinning from ear to ear. My face was turning bloodred; I could feel it.
“What?” I said again.
“I theenk my sustah ees a leetle beet beetten by the looove buuug!”
Her Spanish accent needed work.
“That’s absurd. That’s positively absurd.”
“Girl? It ain’t absurd at all. Look at you! You’re as red as every Chanel lipstick and nail polish on the cosmetic counter at Saks Fifth Avenue!”
“I’m just embarrassed, that’s all.”
She started to giggle and I could feel the beginning rumbles of a temper tantrum coming on. I sat up straight, took three sips of my tea and took a deep breath. I felt better then, knowing I was back in control.
“Okay,” she said. “You don’t like him one little eyedropper full, you and your Tell Tale Heart Burger. You’re just pals.”
“He’s my boss, Mimi. Can you think of anything more pitiful than getting involved with your boss?”
“Yes, I can. Watching someone you love with a stupid girl closer to his son’s age than his own as she occupies all his free time, convinces him he’s a God, and screws him so wildly, madly and frequently that he winds up in the emergency room—that, my dear sustah, is pitiful. You may not know it and you may never know it but you are dead in love with Brad Jackson and I can see it all over you—not just your face. It’s in your words, your eyes, your complexion and even your mannerisms change when you talk about him. You’re a dead duck, honey chile. So, you gonna let that common whore just have him without a fight?”
“Mimi! You are so off base here, y
ou don’t even know it!”
Was my sister losing her mind?
“Tell me your sad story when Amy walks by you sporting a diamond from Crogan’s as big as a kumquat! I love you but you’re in denial. When is the last time you had to compete for anything?”
“I don’t know. I . . .”
“That’s what I thought. Linda, I love you. You know that. But besides taking Gracie off your hands so that you can race back to New Jersey and transport the family heirlooms ready to take their rightful place in the paradise all around us, I’m gonna tell you something you might not like to hear.”
“Do I have a choice?” My appetite disappeared.
“No,” she said and leaned forward across the table so close I could smell the artificial sweetener from her tea on her breath. “In all my life I have never seen you fight for anything except to make a good home for your daughters. What in the world are you afraid of? Do you really imagine that this little tart has one half to offer him of what you do? She hasn’t lived long enough to learn anything except that by lifting her skirt she can get some attention.”
“Well, bully for her.”
“Listen to me. You and I were not brought up that way and yes, the world seems to have gone crazy sometimes with everyone having sex like it’s the same thing as a hello, how are you. I don’t behave that way and neither do you—and if you do, you shouldn’t. . . .”
“Don’t worry. The closest thing I’ve had to a sexual encounter lately was the PAP smear I had before I left Montclair.”
“Good Lord! Anyway, anybody can screw like a little tramp these days. All you have to do is watch one episode of Sex and the City and you can learn everything you need to know. But with a young girl like her, she wants to be taken care of. Women take care of men, not the other way around. Believe me, from what you’ve told me about Brad and Loretta, he’s never had a real woman in his life to take care of him. He’s got a son and a business and he needs a woman, not a tramp.”
“That’s probably why he loves Louise so much.”
“And why you love Louise too. You’re all in love with the same person. Brad Jackson. Now we just have to get Mr. Jackson to realize that he’s in love with you.”