Lowcountry Summer (15 page)

“Yeah. Sorry. Jeez. Y’all ought to get a room,” he mumbled as he passed Linnie and Belle and walked toward Chloe. “Groooooss.”

They ought to get
two
rooms, I thought, and took a deep breath. Eric’s comment to them had done nothing to cause a pause in the action. I walked right up to Belle and poked her hard on the shoulder with my index finger. Startled, she pulled away from the young man and looked up. In the passing of less than two seconds, I noticed that her beau had thick black eyelashes and brazen onyx-colored eyes, a wide mouth with full lips, and more teeth than Farrah Fawcett. I wondered momentarily if he resembled his daddy and if his mother was in good health. Hmm. But I had a job to do and it was not the best time to inquire.

“Excuse me? Just what do you two think you’re doing? And who are these two young men? Who invited them?”

“Oh, Aunt Caroline! Lighten up! This is my friend Juan.”

My thermostat readjusted itself to boil. My jaw was clenched like a sprung bear trap yet I managed to speak.

“I don’t think you just told your aunt to lighten up, did you, dear? And another thing, we don’t behave this way in front of your little sister. Or your father, is that understood? It’s vulgar and crass. So! Now! Let’s start again, shall we?” I took a deep breath and looked from Belle’s face to her friend’s. “Hello, young man. I am Isabelle’s aunt Caroline Levine.” I began to extend my hand for him to shake, then thought better of it and quickly pulled it back and ran my fingers through my hair. From the looks of him, I was suddenly fully aware that his hand may have traveled to parts unknown without the benefit of soap and water afterward.

“
Buenas tardes, señora
.”

Great. No hablo the mother tongue.

“Will you be staying for dinner?”

“I thought you said they weren’t invited,” piped in Linnie, who now stood away from her “friend,” hands on her hips, head to the side with a sullen, defiant expression.

“Watch your mouth, young lady. You can behave yourself or your friends can leave at once. So what’s it going to be?”

Linnie shrugged her shoulders and whispered something in her “friend’s” ear.

“It’s impolite to whisper,” I said.

“Cut the crap,” Belle said to her. “Don’t make trouble.”

“Language?” I said.

“Whatever. This is Antonio. Antonio, this is my aunt Caroline. She’s in charge of the world.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said.

Well, I thought, at least he took an ESL course or something. And that he looked uncomfortable gave me some relief that at least he had the decency to understand that cavorting around with my niece in broad daylight was not exactly kosher. How old was he anyway? He looked way too old for high school. I was certain of that.

“Thank you. Now! I am going to excuse myself and see if I can help my brother rescue dinner.”

I walked across the lawn to the barbecue area Trip had built at the end of the pool. And most important I traveled in a stride of certain purpose to show those young fools what poise and dignity looked like.

“Trip! Hey! Oh, my! What happened?”

“I know!
Look
at this mess!”

There lay the steaks, gorgeous thick rib eyes, covered in the icky chemical bath of the fire extinguisher. The King of the Grill did not show well as king. King’s executioner perhaps, but not king.

“Bummer! Too bad,” I said. “I’ll take that julep now.”

“I think maybe it was the oil in the marinade that caused the sudden burst of flames. Think I can hose them off? I mean, do you know how much money steaks cost?”

I just looked at him like the lunatic I knew he was. Money, money, money.

“Yes, I do know how much steaks cost, and no, you cannot hose them off and eat them because you will be poisoned and die. In fact, we will all die a miserable and painful writhing death of gastrointestinal nightmarish proportions that you can only even imagine!”

There was a pregnant pause in our conversation as Trip accepted the fact that the steaks were indeed beyond salvage and consumption.

“You sound pretty sure about that.”

“I am. Now. Where’s the fish? And. I’m parched.”

“How am I going to clean this grill? This is completely disgusting!”

“Trip? Throw the steaks in the garbage, close the lid of the grill, and let’s go inside. Somebody’s thirsty?”

“This is very disappointing,” he said.

“To say the very least.”

Sometimes Trip could be maddening.

“How’s your friend Bobby?”

I was surprised that he remembered to ask. Maybe he did have a sensitive bone after all.

“Bobby’s happy to be alive and probably out of commission for a while.”

“That’s too bad.”

“You’re telling me? Now, who are the young men with my nieces?”

“Landscapers.”

“Great.” Poor fellows, I thought.

It wasn’t my place to make a judgment. Indeed, most Mexican families I had ever met had better family values, stronger loyalties to each other, better work ethics, and a greater sense of dignity and respect for others than most of the rednecks in the Southeast. It was the landscapers who were at risk. They could do so much better.

Inside, Rusty was brushing Chloe’s hair up into a ponytail and Eric and Amelia were moving around chairs to set the table on the adjacent screened porch.

“Hey, Caroline!” Rusty said. “Trip? I thought we should eat on the porch. Too many bugs outside.”

“That’s fine with me but the steaks have entered into family lore,” he said.

“I threw up,” Chloe said to me for reasons unknown.

In my world, the subject of vomit and other foul bodily functions that spew, emit, or blast forth are usually better left untold when in polite company.

“Yes, you did,” I said, when I wanted to say,
You made yourself throw up, you silly little girl,
but because she was only seven years old and because part of me felt genuine empathy for her that because of her boozehound mother, she was trapped in her unfortunate situation, I did not. “Chloe, dear? If you get invited to Buckingham Palace, don’t tell that to the queen, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, and scampered off to the den to watch television.

“We need paper towels and a spray cleaner,” Eric said.

“There’s pollen everywhere,” said Amelia. “Look.” She held up a yellow finger.

“Yuck. Under the sink,” Trip said. “Longest pollen season in the history of the world.”

“Messy stuff. So, Trip? What happened to the steaks?” Rusty said.

“Torched them,” Trip said, and then added in a theatrical voice worthy of Richard Burton’s Hamlet, “The mighty flames gave me the opportunity to check out the reliability of the fire extinguisher.”

“Yikes. I’m assuming it worked?” Rusty asked.

“Worked great but I may have totaled my new grill.”

Rusty giggled.

“Darling? Don’t you worry about your new baby. I’ll have Gloria shining, good as new, by tomorrow,” Rusty said. “Meanwhile, we’re ten for dinner and I don’t think there’s enough fish to go around.”

“Gloria? As in Gloria the Grill?” Amelia said, and she could not restrain the giggle that came bursting through her clenched teeth. “That is so lame!”

“Amelia?” Rusty said with a warm smile that glowed all over everyone. “Any grill that costs that much should have its own name. So, it’s not just any grill, you see. It’s
Gloria
.”

“Not to be confused with Henry the Hibachi?” Eric said.

“Yep. Or Vinnie the Viking!” I said, referencing their kitchen appliances. “Although a hibachi grill is a poor relative next to Gloria out there. Now, then. Dinner?”

“No worries,” Eric said. “I’ll get pizzas for us. They can have them here in thirty minutes!”

“Eric? Darlin’? Pizza’s okay, but I think this may be what the world’s currently calling ‘a teachable moment.’ Rusty? What do you think?”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“Well, I’m thinking there are probably at least three entrées we can pull together and we can teach all the girls what you do when there’s a kitchen disaster. Eric? Go get all your other cousins and their boyfriends. The boys will clean up the porch and all the women will help put together a meal. Tonight is the opening of the Wimbley Diner! Chloe can design the menu.”

Over the next fifteen minutes or so, after Trip finally poured Rusty and me a glass of wine, we got the complaining mostly out of the way, and finally we were beginning to reach an understanding—they had to help if they wanted to eat—and get organized. After all, Trip, Rusty, and Aunt Caroline only have so much patience, kiddies.

But like many things, life had become instantly different in many ways for my nieces and for my brother and Rusty. All these untried arrangements required some thought and trials. So, I assembled them all and gave them the plan for the evening, which was met with less enthusiasm than I had hoped. The young men weren’t the problem. They took rolls of paper towels and Windex and out the door they went to tackle the layer of pollen. It was the girls.

“I’m not even that hungry,” Linnie grumbled.

“Me either,” Belle said.

“Of course y’all aren’t starving!” I said with a smile. “But the men have to be fed!”

“Why?” Chloe said. “Why can’t they feed themselves?”

Actually, I thought, that’s a good question. Rusty must have thought so, too, because when I looked over at her, she had stretched her eyes wide and was nodding at no one in particular.

“Because they’re babies,” I said. “We’re the nurturers—such as we are, that is.”

Rusty spoke up. “And because if men don’t eat they get cranky. Maybe it’s blood sugar or something, but they get cranky like old dogs! Isn’t that right, Caroline?”

“Yep! So why don’t you girls dig through the cabinets, the fridge, and the freezer and see what you can find.”

“You mean, like it was our house?” Chloe asked in all innocence.

“Well, yes, and it is your house, Chloe,” Rusty said. “Now you have two houses.”

“Wow.
Two
houses,” Belle said with sarcasm, and opened the freezer. “Well, there’s ravioli in here that doesn’t look too bad.”

I ignored the remark and Rusty sighed.

“I just bought it last week,” Rusty said. “There’s garlic bread in there somewhere, too.”

“I could go for a grilled cheese or some mac and cheese,” Linnie said, holding up a block of good-quality Cheddar cheese and a box of Chef Boyardee macaroni and cheese.

“You eat that stuff?” I said to Rusty.

“Trip buys it at Costco. By the case. He loves it.”

“Linnie?” I said. “Why don’t we make it from scratch and let’s make the instant one, too, and we can see which one we really like? You know, like a food challenge?”

“Because I don’t know
how
to make it from scratch?” Linnie said, without a shred of charm.

“Ah! But I do! I used to make it for Eric all the time! I’ll show you how. No biggie. And there are some sausages in there from Bobby that we can fry up with the mac and cheese.”

“How is Bobby?” Rusty said.

“We’re on hiatus.”

“What’s I-ate-us?” Chloe said.

“High-a-tuss,” I said, and smiled at her. “It means my boyfriend and I are giving our relationship a little time off.”

“Why? Did you have a big fight?”

“No, honey. We’re still great friends. It’s okay.”

“Oh. Okay, if you say so. So what’s going on this menu?” Chloe asked. “Fish and salad? Grilled cheese sandwiches? Mac and cheese with sausage? How do you spell
sausage
?”

“
S-a-u-s-a-g-e
. And ravioli,” Belle said, and still staring into the freezer, she pulled out a foil bag of garlic bread. “Here! Got it.”

We put it all on the counter and everyone chose which entrée they would make. Belle grated Parmesan and Cheddar cheese while Linnie chopped onions.

“I’ll make salad,” Rusty said.

“I’ll boil water,” I said, and began to fill a pot. They all stopped and looked at me. “Oh, come on! I have a sense of humor, too, you know? How about if I get on that mac and cheese? Darlin’? Grate us two cups of Cheddar, okay?”

“Sure,” Belle said.

“Thanks, precious.” I winked at her and she rolled her eyes. “Linnie, when you’re done . . . hey! Where’d you learn to chop like that?”

Her knife moved across the cutting board so quickly I was astounded.

“Food Network. I’m like OCD for it.”

“Wow. You might be the new president of the slice-and-dice club!”

“Thanks,” she said, and unintentionally released the tiniest of smiles.

“Well, when you’re done, why don’t you take Chloe to the den and show her how to make a menu with the computer.”