“Right.” Beth struggled to maintain her composure. “Of course.” Never before had she felt so off guard. This was not some frat boy, not even some law school student. This was a man. A man who was angular, tanned, and fit, with longish dark hair that skimmed his collar with curls, and who smelled like something she wanted to guzzle.
“You’re with the local paper?” Max said.
“Yeah. I’m doing a piece on the changing face of coastal communities in the Carolinas.” Beth blushed, knowing she had deliberately inflated the scope of her assignment to make herself sound important. “Maybe, if you have a few minutes? You’d like to comment?” She realized he was taking a lingering inventory of her breasts and blushed again.
“Sorry, I don’t do interviews. Usually, that is.”
“Oh. Well. Shoot. It must be like a thousand degrees today,” she said, not wanting to appear pushy by asking if he would make an exception.
“It is. I just checked. Can I buy you a drink? Nonalcoholic, of course. I mean, I wasn’t thinking of plying the press with alcohol to sway your opinion or anything like that. Unless you want a beer or something. I mean, that’s fine with me.”
Beth giggled. “Sure. Why not? But hey, Max?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you smirking at me?”
“Who me? Never. Never smirked at a woman in my entire life.”
“Right,” she said, satisfied that she had nailed him for the indiscretion of his traveling eyes. But traveling eyes or no, she liked it that he had called her a woman. She liked it very much. It seemed that lately this was happening more and more. And despite his words to the contrary, Max Mitchell was smirking from ear to ear.
They crossed the street to Poe’s Tavern. Max put his hand in the concave area of her lower back in a proprietary and a protective measure, as if the sparse oncoming traffic was a danger to her life. Beth could not recall any one of the guys she had ever dated doing anything beyond taking her hand or elbow to move her across a crowded room. This was different. It made her warm to him even more. The small gestures mattered tremendously to her because she had experienced so few.
They took a seat at the bar and ordered iced tea. They squeezed their lemon wedges into the tea and added exactly three large spoons of sugar to their glasses, stirring it around in an attempt to dissolve it. Beth considered this similarity of taste to be a positive omen of common ground.
“So, Max Mitchell, tell me something.”
“Anything you want to know. My life’s a completely open book.”
“I’m sure. Off the record, how did a nice guy like you get mixed up in a controversial project like this?”
“Controversial? What do you mean?” His perfectly shaped eyebrows were knitted together in genuine concern.
“For real? People here hate change. Don’t you know that?”
“Change is inevitable, but don’t quote me on that.”
Beth giggled.
“I’m not going to quote you on anything unless you want me to. And yeah, change is inevitable. Disraeli said so, like a zillion times?”
“Disraeli? Where’d you go to school?”
“BC. Who cares? I also know that the building you propose to put right on top of Bert’s grave is pretty flipping radical.”
“What do you mean flipping radical? Is that journalismspeak for very?”
“Very funny. I mean, I’m just surprised you could get something so contemporary-looking past the design review board.”
“You’re right. It wasn’t easy. But given the tax revenue it should generate—”
“Ah geez. Money. It’s always about money, isn’t it?” Beth had some idea of what he meant but she was only mildly knowledgeable about taxes or finance in general.
“Seems to be. The root of all evil. St. Paul said that. Or maybe it was St. Timothy.”
“Some apostle. Whoever. Anyway, look around.”
“I’m looking.” But he was only looking at her.
“You’ve got a problem whether you know it or not. All these other buildings are from the thirties and forties or earlier, and if they’re not, they’re built to look like they are. This island has a certain style. If you come in here—where are you from anyway?”
“Atlanta.”
“Cool. Well, I’m just saying don’t expect our population to embrace something that looks like it belongs in a Jetsons episode.”
“Wow. Are you always this hostile when you noninterview someone?”
He smiled at Beth and she blanched. Rude, rude. Professional journalists were not supposed to rebuke their subjects if they wanted their subjects to divulge what they needed to learn and she knew it. But was this an interview? Maybe it was.
“Oh, crap. I’m sorry. You’re right. Let’s start over.”
Max, who seemed to possess a perpetual grin, said, “Right. Crap. Let’s do that.”
He was making fun of her, and as disturbing as it was on one level, she liked it on another. “Okay. So. Tell me about your project, Mr. Mitchell.” She spoke in a deep and very serious voice.
“Well, Miss, Miss…shoot! What was your last name?”
“Hayes.”
“Right! Miss Hayes, when it’s completed, it will blend into the landscape very nicely. Scout’s honor. And I’m going to venture a guess that every resident of this island will be thrilled we built it.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because this is going to be a multipurpose retail space.”
“I heard that this morning. Is that like a mini mall?”
“Exactly! It will minimize the need to go off the island to buy organic groceries. You’ll be able to get a healthy breakfast in a place where you can actually sit at a table, to buy things for your house and garden. You’ll even be able to color your hair to match the fire engines, if that’s what you’re into.”
“Oh please, this hair of mine. Okay, you’re right. We don’t have any of those luxuries here on the island but it’s all just right over the causeway.”
Beth wished desperately that the salon was already open for business because, at that moment, the blazing redness of her hair fed her massive insecurities.
“And gas isn’t getting any cheaper, is it?”
“Actually, it is.”
“Okay, granted, but there’s time. Is it becoming less important?”
“For real.” She looked up at him and he was staring at her again. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I was just wondering…”
“Wondering what?”
“Who are you? Who is Beth Hayes with the crazy hair and eyes like the water around the mystic Isle of Capri?”
Beth didn’t quite know how to respond. No one had ever asked her a question like that. Should she paint herself as an environmentalist or an intellectual? A woman of the world? She decided then just to be herself because what did it really matter what he thought of her? This whole rush of excitement was ridiculous anyway.
“Um, I’m just me. I grew up on this island, sort of, and I went away to school and now I’m back.”
“Fresh out of college?”
His smirk in full blossom was one thing, but now he had implied that she was too young to be taken seriously. So, she said to herself, you do care what he thinks! Look at you! You’re a mess!
“Out of college, yes, but not so fresh. So, how old are you anyway? Like fifty?” Beth said, thinking it was a pretty clever retort.
“What? Um, I’m thirty-seven. And, not married. See?” Max remembered that his hair was getting a little thin on the sides but he thought it could be seen only in certain lights. Maybe he needed to wear more sunscreen. But to buoy his credibility, he held up his left hand.
Beth saw no evidence that a wedding band had ever been there.
“Why would I care if you’re married or not?”
“Because I want to have dinner with you tonight and it wouldn’t do for a woman of your stature to be running around with some Lothario, would it?”
&nb
sp; “Heaven forbid. So, you want to have dinner? Tonight?”
Beth gulped, knowing she was at risk because if he had said, Let’s go jump off the bridge around seven-thirty tonight, she would’ve said, Okay, that sounds like a great idea. She was a smitten schoolgirl with all her good judgment on a temporary leave of absence.
“That was my freaking thought. Seven-thirty? You make a reservation and I’ll pick you up.”
“Okay, that sounds like a great idea.”
She scribbled her address, her cell phone number, and the telephone number at the house on her pad, tore off the scrap, and handed it to him. He gave her his card.
“In case you chicken out,” he said, “you can call my cell.”
“Chicken out? Really? Do you have a reputation I should know about?”
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.”