Return to Sullivans Island (13 page)

He stood up and put twenty dollars on the bar. Then he laughed, pushed his hair back, and placed his sunglasses on his face. “No. Not at all. See you later.”

With that, Max Mitchell left Beth Hayes sitting alone in her world, on a barstool at Poe’s Tavern.

Beth swallowed hard, gave his back a little wave, and said to the empty space between them, “See ya!” And then she thought, Wow, he must be loaded.

When Beth got home, the first thing she did was to clean up after Lola. In her haste, she had forgotten to put Lola in her crate and now there were some political statements from her dog to discover and deal with. Lola did not appreciate being left alone. When she had the entire house to herself, she turned over wastebaskets and tore apart the contents. Needless to say, she allowed nature to take its course behind every chair in the living room and on the pale aqua bath mat in Maggie’s bathroom.

“Oh no! Lola? Bad dog! You are a bad girl!”

The phone rang loudly and Beth hurried to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Beth! It’s your Aunt Maggie calling from beautiful California to see if everything’s going all right! How’s that little dog?”

Beth stepped back and looked at the telephone receiver. Was Maggie psychic or what? She laughed with a trace of nervousness that she knew her Aunt Maggie could detect.

“Who, Lola? Lola’s great! Great!”

“Well, good, darlin’. So, what’s going on with you?”

“Well, I got a job freelancing for the local paper, which I’m pretty excited about. And I got another part-time job as a hostess at Atlanticville.”

“Well, shugah, you didn’t waste any time, did you? Whew! That’s good! Maybe you’ll meet a young man to, you know, have dinner with?”

Beth gulped. Had someone from Poe’s Tavern called her aunt to say she’d been seen in the company of a male member of the species? This conversation was just too bizarre.

“Yeah, who knows? Stranger things have happened.”

“You’re telling me?”

They talked for another minute or two and then said goodbye.

“If you need anything—”

“I’ll call, Aunt Maggie. Don’t worry.”

Beth put Lola on her leash, took her out, brought her back inside, and deposited her in her crate. There was a little puddle by the leg of a kitchen chair.

“This has to stop, Lola. You’re almost three years old and you know it’s wrong. What am I going to do with you?”

Lola’s ears were down, flat against her cheeks, and Beth could see the guilt all over her little dog’s face. She made a mewing sound to express her regret and Beth just shook her head.

“Kids,” Beth said.

Beth did some rechecking to be certain that all was in order and then felt a panic rising. She had a date or was it a date? Yes, she decided, it was. What to wear? Where to go? She decided to call Cecily. If Cecily knew where the best eggs Benedict were, she might have an idea for dinner too.

“Hey! You busy?”

“No. What’s up? You okay? You sound nervous.”

“No, I’m good. I’m good.”

“So, what’s going on?”

“Where’s a nice place for dinner in Charleston?”

Cecily was quiet for a moment and then she said, “Mmmm? Is somebody we all know and love going on a date?”

“Well, I don’t know if you’d call it that exactly…”

“So, then…what is it?”

“Well, it’s sort of business…”

“You mean monkey business. Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, if you want great food and an elegant atmosphere, go to Peninsula Grill. If you want, you know, something smaller and more intimate? Take him to Fulton Five.”

“And where is Fulton Five?”

“Um, hmm. Right where it should be. Number 5 Fulton Street, off King, right past Saks on the right.”

“Oh, right! I know that place. It’s adorable. I guess I should call for a table.”

“I would. It’s pretty popular. So, what are you going to wear, and what about your—pardon me—hair?”

“I’m going to shave my head and wear a push-up bra, okay? What kind of a question is that?”

“I’m just saying…”

“I’ll find something in the closet. I’m sure I own one clean dress.”

“I’m coming over.”

Within the hour, Beth heard the slam of a car door and looked out of the kitchen window to see Cecily climbing the steps with a shopping bag.

“Hey! You didn’t have to do this, you know.” Beth held the door open for her.

“Don’t you have a glass of ice water or something? You could drop dead in this heat.” Cecily dropped the bag on a kitchen chair.

“You’re telling me?” Beth opened the refrigerator and handed Cecily a bottle of water. “What’s in the bag?”

“Accessories, because I know you and I know you ain’t got nothing to wear. And you better not be wearing those skank flip-flops on a date, you hear me?”

Beth giggled and Cecily smiled, glad that Beth wasn’t offended. The fact was that Beth wasn’t offended in the least because she looked up to Cecily, probably in much the same way that her own mother had that kind of simpatico relationship with Livvie.

“Well, Miss Makeover, it turns out that I have a simple black linen dress and some sandals that work just fine.”

“Handbag?”

“Um…”

Cecily reached into the bag and pulled out a red leather envelope bag and held it in the air.

“Perfect!” Beth said.

“Jewelry?”

“Uh…”

This went on until Cecily was satisfied that Beth would look well-turned-out that night.

“My goodness, I feel like Cinderella going to the ball!”

“You are. So? Who’s Mr. Wonderful? Could it be one of those cute guys from Atlanticville? Which one? I’ll bet it’s Alan, right? I knew it! I just knew it!”

“Excuse me, but I would never date somebody I work with.”

“You don’t start until Thursday, if I remember correctly.”

“Still. Anyway, I met this guy who is building this new building where Bert’s was and I had to write about him for the paper—”

“What paper?”

“The
Island Eye News.
I got a freelance assignment, and so—”

“And just when did all this happen?” Cecily crossed her arms, turned her head to one side, raised her eyebrows, and sucked in her cheeks.

“Look at you, standing there like Judge Judy!” Beth giggled. “Today, actually. It all happened today. It’s been kind of crazy around here.”

“I’ll say!” Cecily ticked off the events on her fingers. “Let’s see now. Got a second job, found a man, got a date…shoot, girl! It’s not even four o’clock!”

“Dinner’s at seven-thirty. He’s picking me up.”

“And the man is picking her up. Dang! What’s his name?”

“Max Mitchell. From Atlanta.”

“Max Mitchell. Sounds like an alias. How old is he?”

“Um, thirty-seven?”

“Thirty-seven! Beth Hayes? Your momma would beat your behind!”

“It’s just business!”

“Look at your face! You’re as red as a blister! Don’t you know it’s a sin to tell a lie?”

“I ain’t lying to you! I never lie. It’s business and that’s all it is.”

“Humph. I gotta go.”

“You do? Shoot! There was something else I wanted to tell you.”

“What’s that?”

“Last night, I was out on the porch with Lola and…”

Beth told her the story about the slamming noises and the mess she found in her grandmother’s bedroom. Cecily listened intently with narrowed eyes.

“Honest?” Cecily said.

“Could I make this up?”

“Probably not. Humph. Well, I know about the bed because I have seen it myself. And I’ve seen plenty of fool things in that mirror too but I don’t like noises and carrying on. That’s not good.”

“I haven’t been in there since last night. I switched on all the lights in there and left them on too.”

“Well, let’s go have us a look and see what we see.”

“I hate this stuff,” Beth said.

“Who doesn’t?”

Together they went to the bedroom and opened the door. The lights were still on and the room was still a wreck.

“Humph,” Cecily said. “Must have scared you to death.”

“Only half to death. Actually, it made me mad.”

“Can’t blame you for that either. Well, I know what to do. Let’s clean this up and then I’ll give this haint my grandmother’s favorite kick in the sheets.”

“Sounds good to me,” Beth said. “I knew you’d know how to handle this.”

“Yep. Thank the Lord I had the grandmother I did!”

When order was restored Cecily went to the kitchen and returned with a box of salt and a broom.

“What are you gonna do?”

“Watch me. You got any tape?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll get it.”

Cecily swept the floor clean and sprinkled salt in all the corners of the room. When Beth gave her the tape, she took a piece and covered the keyhole in the door.

“I’m gonna put some salt here for good measure,” Cecily said as she shook some more over the windowsills.

“I’m not gonna ask…”

“Old Gullah remedy for haints and hags, that’s all. Just let me know if you hear anything tonight.”

“Okay, thanks. Speaking of tonight, what do you think I should do with my hair?”

“Lord, that hair! Wash it and pull it back in a bun. It’s too hot and humid for anything else.”

“You’re right.”

“Anyway,” Cecily said as she put the salt back in the kitchen cabinet and picked up her bag, “it looks more professional. For business and all.”

There was a pause in the conversation as Cecily reinforced her opinion that Beth was maybe ten percent delusional in her grasp of the truth.

“Right! Business! Hey, thanks for all this stuff, Cecily! You’re the best!”

Cecily started down the steps and turned back to face Beth. “You’re right, I am.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” Cecily said.

“Do you think my Aunt Maggie is clairvoyant or something?”

Cecily looked at Beth long and hard. “Yes, but no more so than anybody else with plough mud in their veins, and mainly when it comes to this house. But, you? This ain’t no business of mine, but somebody’s got a date! Yes ma’am!” Cecily laughed then and it was clear by the singsong of her high pitch that she meant to make Beth laugh too.

And Beth did laugh, for the rest of the afternoon in fact, but in between those small bursts of laughter, she wondered about Max Mitchell and what he was thinking.

By the time quarter to seven rolled around, Beth was a scatterbrained bundle of nerves, wandering from room to room, talking to herself.

“Okay, it’s just dinner. No biggie. Right? Right. Okay. I’m cool. No problem.”

She decided to turn on some music, but as she rifled through the huge stack of CDs, she honestly couldn’t decide what to play. If she used her own music that she had upstairs, he probably wouldn’t know any of it. Worse, she couldn’t remember what her aunt and mother had played when she was six, which would be music from his era.

“What about the Beatles?”

The Beatles were always safe, she thought. Or the Stones. But there was no Beatles music to be found. Or anything by the Rolling Stones.

“Shoot! They took everything worth a crap with them to California!” There was, however, a
Johnny Cash Greatest Hits
and something from Pottery Barn that described itself as retro cocktail music.

“Cocktail music. Good. This is good.”

After a minute or two of unsuccessful starts, she managed to get the stereo playing and she adjusted the volume. Then she realized she had not prepared anything for cocktails and felt a rise of panic.

“There’s wine in the refrigerator. For goodness’ sake, Beth, get it together!”

Rushing to the kitchen, she swung open the door of the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of white wine whose stick-on price tag was still attached.

“Thirteen dollars. Okay, not too cheap. This is fine.”

But for her Uncle Henry, Beth’s family lacked a serious focus on things like great wine or the other trappings of an epicurean’s existence. She reached for a can of generic-branded salted nuts and an unopened bag of Goldfish from the cabinet and dumped half into two small bowls. She placed two wineglasses with everything else on the counter with some funny paper cocktail napkins anchored under the nuts. Her aunt and mother loved the character Maxine and thought all the cartoons of her were a riot. Beth wasn’t so sure about that as her humor ran in other directions, but she was pleased with the small offering of drinks and snacks she had pulled together. It was surely better than nothing and it seemed very appropriate to offer her dinner companion, business or not, an adult beverage before going out for the evening.

“Seven on the nose,” she said to herself. “So where is he?”

Beth looked out the kitchen window. No sign of Max. Maybe he was lost. Maybe he got caught by the drawbridge. Maybe he had a flat tire or a wreck. She had his number but didn’t want to call him. After all, it was only just seven. He didn’t know it would take half an hour to get to downtown, did he? No, probably not. He didn’t even know where they were going! She went back to the living room to check herself out in the mirror one more time, pulling at the hem of her dress and checking her teeth, even though she had brushed, flossed, and used the Water Pik, adding mouthwash to it the way her dental hygienist did. Beth decided she looked pretty good that night and not at all like a kid just out of school.

She wondered if she should light candles and just as quickly she dismissed the notion.

“Candles? I might get raped!”

Then she had a fit of giggles. She was so nervous it was difficult to swallow, much less think straight. She decided to let the ocean breezes work their magic. The heat of the day was broken and the air on the porch was thick and delicious. That’s what she would do. She would tell him hello, pour him a glass of wine, take him out to the porch, and tell him a little bit about the house and its history.

“All set,” she said to the thin air, as though the house was coaching her, and reapplied her lip gloss for the umpteenth time.

She looked out the kitchen window again. Still no sign of Max. It was now seven-fifteen. Her heart sank. Was she being stood up? Did he think this was a joke? God! She was so stupid! He wasn’t coming at all! She could feel the perspiration of humiliation on the roots of her hair and the back of her neck. She checked her cell phone for missed calls. Nothing. Actual tears began to well up in her eyes.