Bulls Island (18 page)

“I just worry, J.D. That’s all. No, I am not a
freaking
tree hugger, thank you, but I also know I won’t have my company involved in a project that’s in any way irresponsible.”

“Irresponsible?”

“Environmentally irresponsible.”

“Well, thanks for the clarification. Number one, we are not touching the impoundments and we are building no bridges. The chemistry of the water impoundments of Capers is identical to Bulls. Two, the contract is signed and the check has cleared the bank, so you’re
in this,
unless your firm wants a lawsuit. Number three, you come waltzing in here after all these years and you don’t know the first thing about me and how I work. I was a boy the last time you saw me…the time you walked out on everyone. My family may have a reputation for doing business in an unorthodox manner, but that’s not how I operate.”

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to imply—”

“Yes, you did. You did mean to imply…”

“It’s just all these articles…they say such terrible things.”

“Yes, they do, but let me tell you something, okay?” He balled up the wrapper from his sandwich and threw it on the table. “We’ve got more salt marsh and brackish water than we have uplands over there by almost eight hundred acres. Needless to say, there are more varieties of bloodsucking bugs than all the noodles in China. In addition, Bulls Island has the largest loggerhead nesting refuge outside of Florida…and
I
have a personal commitment to protect it. And to top it all off, we have nut jobs picketing at the dock by day and slashing our tires every night. Between you and me? I never would have touched Bulls Island. But Mother got her hands on it and it’s a helluva lot better for me to develop it than a pack of Yankees with no conscience!” He stopped and took a breath. “Now, do I have a partner or do I have an adversary?”

“Um, it appears that you have a partner who’s a half Yankee with a raging conscience. And her partner seems to have become a man with a formidable temper.”

He leaned back in his chair and stared at me. I had made him angry because I had not chosen my words well, and I had assumed that he was in it just for the money. I was wrong all the way around. The tension in the room was palpable.

“I guess you grew up okay,” he said. “Principles and all that.”

“You, too. I guess. You want a cookie? Sugar might sweeten you up.” How principled I was remained to be seen.

“No, thanks. Trying to quit.”

“Coffee?”

“Never touch the stuff.”

“Yeah, me either. So, let’s have a look at the plans, I guess, right? I’ll just clear this stuff up.”

He unrolled a stack of architectural drawings and I could tell he was looking around for paperweights to keep them flat.

“How about coffee mugs?”

“That’ll do ’er.”

I grabbed four mugs from the kitchen area and anchored the drawings with them.

“Okay,” he said, “first of all, we need a meeting with the architects, the contractors, and the wildlife guys to really examine the specifics, but to get started, let’s look at this aerial view of the island, because the natural geography presents some special challenges.”

“How big is the island? I mean, square miles?”

“A little under eight. But it’s about six and a half miles long. Anyway, in stage one of this, we’re only planning to develop about two hundred acres for private housing—single-family structures, two to an acre—and then a clubhouse, one small hotel, a golf course, a general store, and an emergency medical facility. The primary question, of course, is what to keep—I mean, whatever is of historic value should be kept, don’t you agree?”

“Of course. I mean, you’re talking about things like the Dominick House, right?”

“Yep, and the shell middens and the old fort and so forth. But most importantly, we want this to be as green a project as possible. We want hiking trails and nature trails and so forth.”

“Hey, J.D.?” I asked.

“Yeah?”

He looked up at me and I could feel blood rushing to my face again.

“This is very exciting. This project, I mean.”

“I’ve thought about this a lot, Betts. If we couldn’t build a life together for ourselves, at least we can build one for somebody else.”

J.D. was twisting my heart with almost every word he uttered. How was I going to make it through the next few months without falling in love with him all over again?

He gave me a broad outline of each area of the project and I began
to see exactly how much time and thought had gone into every segment of the job—how to run power over there, sewage, freshwater—the problems of providing for basic needs had been carefully studied. When we got to the drawings of the golf course and the clubhouse, I could see that Bulls Island was going to be magnificent and that the Langleys’ intentions were that it would remain basically unspoiled in spite of development. But I had my suspicions still because people had a tendency to screw up the world no matter their good intentions, so why would this be an exception?

When it got to the point that we were becoming bleary-eyed from trying to take in the enormous scope of our work, J.D. suggested that we call it quits and I reluctantly agreed.

“I’m having dinner with my father tonight,” I said, standing next to the table as he rolled up the drawings.

He cleared his throat at my remark. He had not asked me anything about my personal life and he surely knew that I had not been in touch with my father or my sister.

“Your sister is as crazy as a mattress fulla bedbugs, you know.”

“You’re telling me?”

Somehow, we said good-bye. Somehow, we did this with professionalism and courtesy. But we both knew that it was a matter of
when
not
if
trouble would find us.

H
e’s
pretty fabulous,” Sandi said after J.D. left and my mental and emotional equilibrium had been partially restored. “If you don’t mind me saying so.”

“I don’t mind, and that’s the problem.”

“He’s married, right?”

“Yeah, to a complete nincompoop.”

“They got kids?”

“Nope.”

“Does he know that you do?”

She had guessed.

“Nope, and let’s keep it that way, understood?”

“Understood.”

“Sandi? Wonderful as you are? Indispensable as you are to me, especially now? Letting that news hit the streets would be an instantaneous deal breaker for us.”

Sandi removed her eyeglasses and stared at me while she cleaned them with a tissue.

“I have no knowledge of your personal life,” she said. “No knowledge whatsoever.”

“Right. Okay, it’s after five-thirty. I’m going to meet my father for an early dinner at O’Farrell’s. Why don’t you get out of here and go have a nice evening?”

“Good. Thanks.” She pulled open her bottom drawer to remove her purse.

“And Sandi?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks for everything—the office, the makeover, the lunch, your discretion…”

“Look, this is a great deal for me. I get to stay with my brother, even though he lives like you don’t want to know. And decorating was actually fun. Who doesn’t love to spend somebody else’s money? But your makeover? That was like doing a rescue mission—”

“Stop! You’re so fresh!”

“Ha! Gotcha! Lunch was just a phone call, and that discretion thing? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I gave her a wave and left the office for the first time that day. The heat had broken and the skies threatened to burst. Classic. I knew we would be bombarded by rain and crackles of lightning for an hour or so and then it would seem like midday again. I couldn’t have cared less.

I drove Sela’s car over to the parking lot closest to her restaurant. As I made the turn onto King Street, I looked in my rearview mirror and saw a man in a car across the street staring at me. What the hell? Was I being followed? Was this the long arm of Vinny following me around through the cell-phone camera of some hired thug? How stupid! What did he expect to learn? I told myself it was all my imagination and to get over myself.

The first pelts of rain began to fall as I pushed open the door to Sela’s place. She was behind the bar.

“Hey!” she called. “I haven’t heard from you all day! How’s it going?”

I climbed on a bar stool and gave her a half hug across the bar.

“Whoo! I came early because Daddy’s meeting me here at six. I thought we could grab a fast glass of wine or a Coke or something.”

“‘Daddy’s coming at six.’ Um, you said that like this is an everyday occurrence for you. So you called him, huh? White wine? Bottle with a straw?”

I laughed at that and nodded in agreement. “Sure. White’s good. Anything. I don’t care as long as it’s got a big splash of alcohol in it. Oh, Sela. What a day. I feel like I’ve been here for a year.”

“I’ll bet. So, start from the beginning. How was your dad on the phone?” She put the goblet in front of me and filled it with an unfamiliar Chardonnay. “Do I have to beat it out of you?”

“You know what? It’s a big fat mess, but we’ll get it straightened out. He was a sweetheart. Cheers!”

“Cheers, yourself! See?”

“Yep. You were right, as usual. But we have a lot of fences to mend and it’s not all going to happen over one dinner.”

“No, I imagine not. So, how’s the new office? I can’t wait to see it.”

“J.D. liked it. At least I think he did.”

“Um, I think I’ll have that scotch now.”

“I’m telling you, Sela, this has been a day out of Hollywood.”

“Details, please?” Sela poured two fingers of a rare eighteen-year-old single malt into a tumbler. “I’m just gonna sip this if that’s all right with you.”

“Sip. Yeah, he called, I called him back, he came over for pastrami on rye, and we went over the plans.”

“JMJ, girl. Aren’t you the cool customer? So how was it? Electric? Terrifying? I mean, is there heat?”

“What the hell do
you
think?”

“I think that this is gonna be the hottest summer on record.”

“If I can get through this assignment with my virtuous reputation intact, it will be a miracle.”

“Holy crap. Did he put the moves on you?”

Her face looked so solemn and her wording of the question was so dated that I burst out laughing.

“Put the
moves
on me? Heavens, no! He was the perfect gentleman, I’m happy to report.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear it.”

“I’m not. Being in the same room with him was just about all my nerves could handle. You know, I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“Truly. So what did you think?”

“I think—” I felt a tap on my shoulder.

It was Daddy, shaking out his umbrella and smiling from ear to ear.

I jumped down from my seat and threw my arms around his neck. He hugged me back so hard I thought he might have cracked a rib. At that moment nothing mattered, all the years, all the lies…we would figure it out. Sela had stepped away, probably to give us a moment’s privacy, I thought.

Finally, we stood back and had a look at each other.

“You look wonderful, Daddy. Really wonderful. I can’t believe my lucky eyes are finally so filled with you! Oh my God! How are you?”

“Well, I’m afraid I’ve become an old coot. But look at you! You’re a woman…” His eyes filled with tears and he reached for his handkerchief. I had forgotten that he used handkerchiefs. “I promised myself I wasn’t going to…”

“It’s okay, Daddy, I cried all last night. Oh! Gosh! It’s really you! This is a very big deal.” Thankfully, Sela returned at that moment.

“Come on, Mr. Vaughn, I’ve got a special table for you two.”

We followed Sela through the restaurant, back through the kitchen, and to a storage room that served as her wine cellar. She had quickly set up a small table for two with flowers in a Coke bot
tle, votives, and cloth napkins spread out to serve as a makeshift tablecloth.

“Well, it’s not exactly Per Se—”

“Oh, Sela! It’s perfect!”

“Can an old man give a young woman a hug?” Daddy said, and hugged Sela politely.

“Mr. Vaughn? I’d love a hug! I’ll be back,” she said, and left us alone.

“It’s a little chilly in here,” I said.

“I guess it has to be,” he said as he held my chair for me.

“Still the gentleman…thanks.”

I snapped my napkin across my lap and looked at him as he took his seat. He had aged quite a lot, but the changes in me were probably much more profound in his eyes. As J.D. had observed, the last time we had seen each other, we were practically children.

“Always a gentleman,” he said with a smile. “Some things such as good manners still matter. Well, to me at least. So tell me, my beautiful Betts, where do we start?”

I reached across the table and took his hand in mine. “I think I’d like to start by saying how sorry I am, Daddy. I am so sorry and I hope somehow, by God’s grace, you will find a way to forgive me—”

“No, baby, I’m the one filled with regret. That I let all these years pass and never came looking for you. Well, it’s just completely reprehensible and—”

Just then, the door opened and a waiter put a bottle of champagne in a cooler on our table. He quietly removed the cork with barely a hiss and poured for us. Another waiter followed with a platter of some very yummy-looking hors d’oeuvres, broiled shrimp impaled on toothpicks with tiny onions, crab cakes nestled on toast points, garnished with tartar sauce and a minuscule sprinkle of mustard sprouts, and baked marinated citrus olives stuffed with almonds. This was very fancy fare for O’Farrell’s, even if we were in Sela’s cellar, the newly appointed hideout for extremely dysfunctional-family reunions.

“Well, Daddy, either we’re going to spend the whole evening apologizing for things we can’t change—”

“Or we’re going to make a fresh start. What do you say? I think we should make a fresh start.”

“I say we have both been a couple of knuckleheads and we should leave the past—”

“Behind us where it belongs!”

We touched the edges of our glasses and silently toasted the future.

“So, what about Joanie?” I asked. “I take it she didn’t want to come?”

“Joanie is the other knucklehead in the family. I don’t know what to say about your sister.”

“Well, as I hear tell, she has some concerns about your health.” I popped an olive in my mouth and was surprised at how good it was. “Here, try one of these. It’s incredible!”

“Thank you.” He took one, ate it, and raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Imagine that! I thought olives were only for martinis!”

“Live and learn, right? So, you were telling me about your health?”

“Betts, the reports of my ill health are greatly exaggerated. I’ve never felt better in my life. My only problems are the normal ones that accomp’ny advancing years. I creak a little in the morning, but as soon as I get moving, I do just fine. As a rule, I walk her crazy dogs down to the Batt’ry. You know, to take the air?”

I loved that he said “Batt’ry” instead of “Battery.” And “accomp’ny” rather than “accompany.” He had traces of that old Charleston accent that I had not heard in ages, and on hearing it again, I was flooded for the umpteenth time in twenty-four hours with waves of nostalgia and sentimental feelings.

“Joanie is complicated, Daddy. She always was and she always will be.”

“I think she would be a lot happier if she fixed herself up, you know, made an attempt to dress like a lady. Then she might actually find a romantic interest, you know what I mean?”

“Well, romance isn’t for everyone, is it? You’re still single; in fact, we all are.”

“Yes, that’s true. I mean, I can understand in some ways why you never married. Your mother’s death was very traumatic for you and for all of us. But like most parents, I had always hoped to have grandchildren, you know? A little scamp to take fishing? A little girl to take to the fair or out for an ice-cream cone?”

I was so close to telling him about Adrian that I had to clench my jaw.

When he saw me withdrawing, he said, “Oh, listen to me rambling on…what’s the difference? I have
you
back and that’s more than good enough for me! This is a night for celebrating what we have, not for wanting more.”

“It’s human nature to always want more. It’s okay.”

“So, tell me why you’re here? You didn’t tell me.”

The door opened again.

“Menus? We have a couple of specials tonight that are not on the menu…”

The hyperpolite waiter rattled off a pasta dish, some kind of mahi-mahi concoction that sounded awful, and a special stuffed pork belly that I wouldn’t eat for love or money.

“Do you know what you’d like to have, Betts? I’m going to have the chicken potpie.”

“Me, too.”

“It’s the best thing on the menu,” Daddy said. “Sometimes, when I can escape your sister’s eye and Sela’s disapproving glares, I sneak in here, sit by myself in the back, and have one. Although I must say, I usually don’t wash it down with champagne.”

“What do you normally have?”

“Oh, you know me…or you’ve probably forgotten…”

“Or I never knew. Just tell me. Let’s not dwell…please?”

“You’re right. Well, I like a Manhattan, but I like mine made with Maker’s Mark and two cherries. After that, I usually just drink water or tea. But I still like to have a cocktail.”

“A Manhattan. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“So, you haven’t told me.”

“Told you what?” I thought, told you a thousand things that would probably send you right into cardiac arrest?

“Why you’re here?”

“Oh! Gosh, yes. There are a few stories to tell. Well, I work for ARC Partners, which is a…”

I gave him the general picture of what I did and he seemed quite proud. Most importantly, he absolutely seemed to understand every aspect of my business. Joanie was a liar. Daddy was not senile in the least.

“So what exactly are you doing in Charleston?”

“Do you want the long answer or the CliffsNotes?”

“CliffsNotes first, details later.”

“Developing Bulls Island with the Langleys, J.D. specifically. How’s that for weird karma?”

Daddy leaned back in his chair, inhaled for a long time, and then exhaled even more slowly.

“Well, that’s one way to enter the city. I hope you weren’t expecting a parade in your honor.”

“Daddy? That’s pretty chilly coming from you, especially given the occasion. Seriously, if what you rely on for facts and information comes from what you read in the papers, then you would be grossly uninformed.”