Lessons of a Lowcountry Summer by Rochelle Alers

bedroom, where she had set up her temporary office. She plugged her laptop into a telephone outlet and checked her e-mail. There were three new messages.
    Hope read Derrick Landry’s from WLKV:
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    Hope, The show’s producer has decided to push back the broadcast launch for “Straight Talk” to accommodate your full medical recovery. Please advise as to a tentative start date. Cordially, Derrick.
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    The second one was from Lana, wishing her well.
    The third was from Kendall:
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    Hi, Baby. I hope you are well. Miss you. Love, KC.
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    Hope shook her head. Sorry, KC, I don’t do threesomes.
    With a click of the mouse, she deleted his message.
    She answered Lana’s and Derrick’s e-mails, then inserted a new disk and began outlining the topics she wanted to cover in her book. It was after two when she finally turned off the computer and readied herself for bed.

Eleven
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    Sea, wave, low places and the high air.
    â€”Hilda Doolittle
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    T heodore Howell mounted the half dozen steps to the wraparound porch and unlocked the front door. Jeff, a native New Yorker who now made his home in Los Angeles, had built a vacation home on a South Carolina Sea Island reminiscent of a Louisiana Lowcountry plantation-style house. The smell of freshly hewn wood was redolent in the air. The interior smelled new.
    He smiled. Foul-mouthed and at times irascible, his agent had made good on his promise to assist him in completing the pilot. Jeff had arranged for a private jet to fly him and his family to Savannah, Georgia. It had been raining when the jet had touched down, and less than an hour later they had been on their way to the landing to wait for the ferryboat to take them to McKinnon Island. Luggage for five had taken up most of the cargo space in the SUV, and that had meant he and Helen would have to return to Savannah to shop for enough food to last at least two weeks. He flipped a wall switch near the door, and warm, gold light from sconces mounted on walls and columns separating the living and dining rooms brightened the gloomy interiors.
    Turning, Theo met the curious gazes of his brothers and sister. “Chris, I want you and Brandon to unload the truck and put everyone’s bags in their room. Then get out of those wet clothes.” They had preferred standing out in the rain during the ferryboat ride to McKinnon. He smiled at Noelle. “If you want, you can come with me and Miss Helen.”
    Noelle stared at Theo, her expression impassive. “Where are you going?”
    â€œBack to Savannah to shop for groceries.”
    She pushed back the hood to her bright yellow slicker and rearranged her braided hair.
    â€œNo, thanks.”
    He gave her a narrowed look. His sister had been unusually quiet during the coast-to-coast flight. She hadn’t eaten any of the food served by the flight attendants, and she had spent the time either sleeping or listening to her disc player.
    â€œSuit yourself. I expect you to have all of your clothes put away before we come back.” He directed his attention to his brothers, who were checking out the stereo equipment behind the doors of a massive armoire. “Chris, you’re in charge. And I should not have to remind you that I don’t want strange kids in the house when I’m not here.”
    Christian gave Theo an incredulous look. “You’re buggin’.”
    â€œI may be buggin’ but the rule still stands, Mr. Personality.” Christian’s grin was sheepish. There was something about the seventeen-year-old’s personality that was infectious. He made friends easily, and girls were drawn to him like a moth to a light. He had a deep voice and a smile sensual enough to make older women forget his youth.
    â€œWhich room is ours again?” Brandon asked. He was to share a room with his brother in one of the two first-floor bedrooms, while Theo would take the other.
    â€œYou and Chris get the