They brought it on a barge and unloaded it right here!”
“Who cares?” the girls would say.
Beth looked around, swatting mosquitoes on her ankles and behind her knees, and on a disgruntled turn of her heel she walked toward the old house and looked over the harbor toward Fort Sumter. It was beautiful and awe-inspiring to think about the history of it, but Beth also realized she had been alone for a total of perhaps forty-five minutes and she was already bored out of her skull.
“Let’s go home, Lola, and figure out our lives.”
Later, when the washing machine was loaded with more sheets and humming away, Beth was sitting at the kitchen table putting together a résumé. There was a rap on the door. Beth looked up to see Cecily standing there in oversized sunglasses.
“Hey! I called the house but there was no answer.”
“Come on in,” Beth said. “You look like Hollywood in those glasses!”
“I know it, right? And you’d better start wearing them or you’re gonna have cataracts by Christmas with those pale eyes of yours. Humph. So? Everyone gone?”
Cecily removed her sunglasses, wiped them with a soft cloth, and put them in their case. The fact that she cleaned them and put them in a case instead of just tossing them in her handbag greatly impressed Beth, who had never used an eyeglass case in her life.
“You’re probably right. Yep, they’re all gone. Sure is quiet around here.”
“Well, I brought you some tomatoes from Johns Island and I thought you might need some help with cleaning up.”
“Thanks!” Beth put her nose in the brown paper bag and inhaled the perfume. “Man. Wow. Know what? I had forgotten about Johns Island tomatoes. How could I forget about something so powerful?”
“Honey? They are God’s gift to the Lowcountry, ’eah?”
“Yes ma’am. They sure are! It’s all in the dirt. At least that’s what Momma always said. Want a sandwich?”
“No, girl. Those are for you. I’ve got a pile of them at my own house.”
“Well, sit down. Stay for a few minutes. I don’t need any help really. I’m just doing sheets and then I’m gonna do a load of towels. Even I can manage that.”
“Okay. Maybe I’ll have a glass of water.”
“Bottle’s in the fridge.”
“Thanks. It’s terrible outside. Humid? Whew! Terrible.” Cecily helped herself to a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water and ice. “Must be a million degrees out there.”
“Truly. I just walked Lola down to the end of the island and she’s probably gonna sleep for the rest of the day.”
“Can’t blame her. So, what are you doing?” Cecily looked at Beth’s laptop screen.
“Résumé. Gotta get a job and fast or else I’m gonna lose it.”
“Humph. This island’s the kind of place you long for, but it’s not so fabulous for solitary confinement.”
“For real. Mom thinks I should bartend at one of the restaurants or be a hostess or something. Meet some people? Get a social life going? But who knows if they even need help? Like a zillion people are out of work these days.”
Cecily pulled a newspaper from her bag and dropped in on the table.
“Want ads. Give them a look.” Cecily snapped her fingers. “Atlanticville is open now. Want to go over there for brunch? Check it out? They have great eggs Benedict and wicked Bloodys.”
“Great idea! Give me two minutes to do something to the way I look.” Beth coiled her hair up into a rubber band, put Lola in her crate with a treat, grabbed her purse, and they were out the door.
Cecily went down the steps and then called back to Beth from the yard.
“Hey, did you lock the door?”
“Twice, okay? No, wait, that’s the stove.”
In just a few minutes they were parked under a palmetto tree and climbing the steps to the second floor of the old island cottage that was home to Atlanticville Restaurant. Bright oils of local landscapes by Caryn Smith hung against the fabric-covered walls in the main dining room, lending an
“Who cares?” the girls would say.
Beth looked around, swatting mosquitoes on her ankles and behind her knees, and on a disgruntled turn of her heel she walked toward the old house and looked over the harbor toward Fort Sumter. It was beautiful and awe-inspiring to think about the history of it, but Beth also realized she had been alone for a total of perhaps forty-five minutes and she was already bored out of her skull.
“Let’s go home, Lola, and figure out our lives.”
Later, when the washing machine was loaded with more sheets and humming away, Beth was sitting at the kitchen table putting together a résumé. There was a rap on the door. Beth looked up to see Cecily standing there in oversized sunglasses.
“Hey! I called the house but there was no answer.”
“Come on in,” Beth said. “You look like Hollywood in those glasses!”
“I know it, right? And you’d better start wearing them or you’re gonna have cataracts by Christmas with those pale eyes of yours. Humph. So? Everyone gone?”
Cecily removed her sunglasses, wiped them with a soft cloth, and put them in their case. The fact that she cleaned them and put them in a case instead of just tossing them in her handbag greatly impressed Beth, who had never used an eyeglass case in her life.
“You’re probably right. Yep, they’re all gone. Sure is quiet around here.”
“Well, I brought you some tomatoes from Johns Island and I thought you might need some help with cleaning up.”
“Thanks!” Beth put her nose in the brown paper bag and inhaled the perfume. “Man. Wow. Know what? I had forgotten about Johns Island tomatoes. How could I forget about something so powerful?”
“Honey? They are God’s gift to the Lowcountry, ’eah?”
“Yes ma’am. They sure are! It’s all in the dirt. At least that’s what Momma always said. Want a sandwich?”
“No, girl. Those are for you. I’ve got a pile of them at my own house.”
“Well, sit down. Stay for a few minutes. I don’t need any help really. I’m just doing sheets and then I’m gonna do a load of towels. Even I can manage that.”
“Okay. Maybe I’ll have a glass of water.”
“Bottle’s in the fridge.”
“Thanks. It’s terrible outside. Humid? Whew! Terrible.” Cecily helped herself to a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water and ice. “Must be a million degrees out there.”
“Truly. I just walked Lola down to the end of the island and she’s probably gonna sleep for the rest of the day.”
“Can’t blame her. So, what are you doing?” Cecily looked at Beth’s laptop screen.
“Résumé. Gotta get a job and fast or else I’m gonna lose it.”
“Humph. This island’s the kind of place you long for, but it’s not so fabulous for solitary confinement.”
“For real. Mom thinks I should bartend at one of the restaurants or be a hostess or something. Meet some people? Get a social life going? But who knows if they even need help? Like a zillion people are out of work these days.”
Cecily pulled a newspaper from her bag and dropped in on the table.
“Want ads. Give them a look.” Cecily snapped her fingers. “Atlanticville is open now. Want to go over there for brunch? Check it out? They have great eggs Benedict and wicked Bloodys.”
“Great idea! Give me two minutes to do something to the way I look.” Beth coiled her hair up into a rubber band, put Lola in her crate with a treat, grabbed her purse, and they were out the door.
Cecily went down the steps and then called back to Beth from the yard.
“Hey, did you lock the door?”
“Twice, okay? No, wait, that’s the stove.”
In just a few minutes they were parked under a palmetto tree and climbing the steps to the second floor of the old island cottage that was home to Atlanticville Restaurant. Bright oils of local landscapes by Caryn Smith hung against the fabric-covered walls in the main dining room, lending an
Similar Books
