“You really don’t believe in marriage?”
Beth was amazed that someone of his age wasn’t interested in having a wife and family. Not that Beth was in a hurry to secure a mate. Frankly, her biological alarm clock had yet to tick or tock.
“Maybe I just haven’t met the right woman,” he said. “Besides, women get married, have babies, and they get fat and cranky. Then they nag you to the grave. I’ve seen it with too many of my friends. And to be honest, who really wants to spend twenty years trying to convince their children to do the right thing all the time? I mean, it’s hard enough for me to convince myself to do the right thing.”
“Aha! A Bad Boy?” Her hands began to perspire.
“Oh, not really. I’m just too busy for love, I guess. I haven’t been in one place long enough to think about marriage and commitment. Right now it’s all about career.”
“You seem pretty sure about that, that women get fat and cranky and turn into nags. My mom’s not a nag. Never was. And my aunt? Well? She’s not actually a nag, per se. She just wants to know that everything is as photogenic as possible.”
Max chuckled at Beth’s choice of words. “Photogenic? What do you mean?”
“Well, I guess the difference between my mother and her sister is that we just live our life without photo ops and my Aunt Maggie’s life is completely styled. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah. I do.” Max’s eyes seemed to regain some of their former light. “So, you only have one aunt?”
“Gosh no! I have three aunts and two uncles. My Uncle Henry is…”
Beth went down the list of all the relatives of her immediate family, their colorful personalities, and as alcohol will lead one to do, she revealed their approximate assets. Max listened, especially when she got to her celebrity twin aunts from Florida.
“Even I know who they are!” he said. “Wow! They have to be worth, I don’t know, a lot.”
“Yeah, they’re pretty much rolling in it. Uncle Henry’s not exactly broke either.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, and he’s in charge of my trust fund, which is kind of a pain in the neck.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because he’s tighter than a gnat’s fanny—excuse me—and he rolls over every dividend back into the account. Might be nice if I had a decent car, don’t you think?”
“You poor thing, a trust-fund baby. I should have known there was a good reason why you are so much more sophisticated than other girls your age.”
“Oh, sure.”
Max leaned across the table, poured her more wine, and said, “No, I’m not kidding. I am really looking forward to getting to know you, Beth. Who would have thought I would meet someone so fascinating on Sullivans Island?”
6
The Mother Ship Is Calling
[email protected] Mag, Beth’s met someone. Hope he’s not a rape artist. See what you can find out? xx
[email protected] Worrywart! I’ll call Cecily and nose around. xx P.S. God, I love a cause!
[email protected] Old woman! Cecily ain’t telling you nothing! She’s in cahoots with Beth! xx
[email protected] Watch me work! xx
AFTER DINNER, BETH and Max took a stroll along the sea wall of the Battery. Now and then he took her arm and crossed it over his, and she resisted leaning into his shoulder. That would have been too much, she thought, although the urge to do so was strong. But the night was like a perfectly ripened peach, the stuff of delicious memories. They stopped along the way, leaning on the railings over the dark choppy waters of the harbor. They talked about the past glories of Charleston and how important history was to every Charlestonian. Over the course of the evening, they had grown more familiar and comfortable with each other. Imps and angels seemed to have conspired, casting their spells all around them, to remind them of all that was so irresistible about summer nights and the Lowcountry. Max was at the pinnacle of his most engaging self, and naturally, Beth was thoroughly mesmerized.
When she laughed Max thought her voice sounded like wind chimes, infecting him with an overwhelming desire to seduce her. But Max would not seduce her. That was not his style. He would maneuver events so that she would come to him. He was a loner. He wondered why he was unable to really allow himself to fall in love. The truth was, he was afraid of love and he knew it. Then, when the affair ended, he could claim no responsibility for her broken heart. At least that was his fleeting thought then, in that moment.
When the night grew late and it felt as though the city had turned in for the evening, Max drove Beth home and, as a gentleman should, he walked her to her door. The ocean rolled quietly in the distance, whooshing in tiny laps and withdrawing with the most remote of sighs. The tide was dead low and the air was still. Beth stopped at the top step and turned to face him.
“Well, it’s late, huh?” she said, wondering if he would try to come in on the excuse of wanting to see the ocean again. And then what would happen?
“Yeah. It’s almost midnight. But I have to say, I hate for the night to end.”
“Me too. Gotta work tomorrow.” Why, she wondered, did she say that? Why not just yawn in his face? I’m no damn seductress, that’s for sure, she thought.
“Yeah. Well, thanks for a great evening,” Max said. “Dinner was delicious. Good choice.”
“No, thank you! I thought dinner was great too. Really great.”
“Okay, well, good night then.” Max took her hand in his and kissed her palm. No one had ever kissed the palm of her hand in her entire life. She blinked hard, wondering if he was going to kiss her on her mouth. Sadly, she had overjudged his intentions. He cleared his throat. “Take care of that lip.”
“Right. I’ll do that. Thanks.”
“And if you need any help with that article, just let me know.”
“Thanks. I’ll do that.”
He had not said, See you soon, or I’ll call you tomorrow, and Beth resisted the bit of disappointment she felt because of it. She told herself it did not matter. She was reasonably confident that she would see him again. Inconceivable as it seemed, she thought that this was probably what the beginning of mature love might feel like. How did any sane person tell the difference between love and infatuation anyway? She’d had her share of love affairs, but the way she was feeling now was vastly different from anything she’d ever known. This felt like emotional quicksand. She was happily sinking and didn’t want a rope. She wanted to pull him in with her. And she had a glimpse of them together, years ahead in the future—in a house with children. Maybe there would be an old-fashioned garden swing that he would make and attach to the limb of a tall live oak. Maybe there would be…who could say? Everything was possible. It did not seem too saccharine or that far-fetched an idea. Even though she had always professed that marriage was not for her, she would surely wind up with someone, wouldn’t she? Why not him? What was happening to her resolve? But how had she gone so off-kilter so quickly? Had she not sworn a thousand times that she had no intention of getting sucked into the black hole that was marriage? Well, so what about that? she thought. She was frightened but her fears were completely eclipsed by her deep attraction to him.
She watched as he descended the steps. He paused at the bottom, turned, and gave her a little wave. Cast in the scant ambient light, standing down there in the grass, was the most handsome man she had ever seen. So, he didn’t kiss her after the first time they went out to dinner, so what? Smiling, she unlocked the door, and nearly floated into the house.
“Wow,” she said to no one.
Lola, who had been behind the plastic grillwork of her portable prison for five hours, began yelping in earnest, piercing Beth’s bubble.
“Okay, okay!” Beth sighed and knelt, unhooking the latch. Lola bounded out, jumping into Beth’s arms and licking her face with so much highly energized desperation it seemed as though Lola must have thought B
eth was never coming home. “Come on, miss. Momma’s gotcha.”
Beth decided to take her out to the front yard without her leash, hoping Lola would stay close. She carried her down the steps and deposited her on the grass. It was dark on that side of the house. In the shadows, Beth watched as Lola sniffed around and then slipped behind a lantana bush to fertilize the pine straw.
She marveled over the fact that the island smelled exactly the same as it had when she was a small child. Salty. Wet sandy earth. Safe. Alive. She could almost feel the grass growing, rising under her feet. Stars twinkled overhead. She wondered for the hundredth time, Who was Max Mitchell? She scooped up Lola and went inside.
“I’ve got a story to tell you, Lola. Your momma’s feeling a little bit weak in the knees.”
After she locked the screen door and the actual door of the house behind her, she passed the living room, stopping to put Lola on the floor and to turn off the lights. The large mirror had a foggy center and every hair on Beth’s body stood on end.
“Oh no!”
She had seen that fog often enough to know that a visitation was imminent. She shivered and Lola began to whimper, racing toward her crate in the kitchen as fast as her little legs would carry her.
Beth could hardly breathe she was so stricken. The pointing finger came first, attached to a fist that waved back and forth. It was a warning not to do something.
“Please, no,” she whispered. “Please leave me alone. God, I hate this!”
But she couldn’t walk away and she couldn’t stop watching. Slowly, slowly she began to make out the unsmiling face and torso of Livvie Singleton. Livvie was wearing a dark dress with a white lace collar, probably something like what she would have worn to church. To Beth these things meant Livvie was not fooling around with her but had appeared to tell her something serious.
“What are you trying to tell me? Don’t get involved with Max?”
Livvie folded her hands as though satisfied that Beth understood her message. Beth felt her spirits sink and sink like so many stones thrown in a river.
“Why?” Beth said aloud. “Why? Tell me why!”
But the image of Livvie faded until it was gone, leaving Beth tormented and superstitious and her mind swirling in the scent of lemons.
“Dammit! I hate this house! Dammit!”
Fearful that she was in for an all-out assault, she decided to peek into her deceased grandmother’s room to see what wonders might be found there. But when she opened the door, all was in order. Beth breathed a deep sigh of relief.
She closed the door and called out loud for the record, “This house is too much, sometimes. Too much! Make it stop! Do you hear me? I hate this!”
She swore that in the morning she was going to go down to the rectory at Stella Maris Church and make an appointment with the priest to bless the house with holy water and prayers. Not that she was completely sold on those kinds of rituals, but it couldn’t hurt anything and it might actually do some good. It was nearly one o’clock in the morning and Beth was a little fed up with this world and the other.
“Lola? Come on, baby! Time for bed!”
Lola was in the very back of her crate. She opened one eye to Beth, showing zero desire to move. Beth reached in and pulled her out, putting her up on her shoulder like a baby.
“If you think I’m sleeping without you, you’re a crazy dog. You need to protect your momma tonight. Okay?”
All through the night Beth could hear whispering in the halls. Or maybe it was the wind of the incoming tide. Either way, no sleep was to be found. Finally, she nodded off just as dawn was breaking and slept hard until almost ten. Still exhausted, she awoke to over-cast skies, no appetite, and an email from her mother.
Two jobs—wonderful! How’s it going? Did he show up?
Beth emailed her back:
Everything is great. Yep, we had a great dinner downtown. He’s dreamy! Hostessing at Atlanticville—starts Thursday—should make a little moola with that. What about you? Did you start classes yet?
What she wanted to say was, Why in the world do we keep this god-awful scary house? Do you really understand what goes on around here? Why is it necessary for us to have this connection with the dead? What good did it really do anyone? It’s just so weird. And useless. Because the fact of the matter was that Livvie could show up in a gold chiffon gown beaded with pearls and wag her finger at her about Max until the cows came home and Beth knew that she would still do exactly what she wanted to do.
It was around noon when Cecily appeared to pick up the bills and to water the plants. Beth, struggling to write something about Bert’s and waiting for a return call from the rectory, was nursing a cup of cold tea and some measure of anxiety that Max had not called. Not that he needed to call or had promised to call, but she just wished he would so she could hear his voice. She was posturing and smiling, hoping Cecily could not tell what was on her mind. And every time she thought about Livvie’s warning, she pushed it out of her head.
“So, how was your business dinner?” Cecily asked with a straight face, smelling secrets in the air.
“It was great, actually.”
“And what did you find out about him?”
“Um, that he’s a really sweet guy? I mean, really wonderful.”
Cecily looked hard at Beth. Beth decided the ceiling was a far better place to focus her attention than her friend’s face.
“Oh law. Girl done fall down the rabbit hole.” Cecily, who recognized Beth as a friend, slipped into Lowcountryspeak when she wanted to razz Beth without offending her.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Means your goose is cooked. Done like dinner. Time to get you a haircut. You need one anyway if you’re gonna be any kind of professional-looking hostess. Besides, it’s too hot for all that hair. And you know what? Go whole hog. May’s well see the eye doctor too. As long as you’re traveling downtown, that is.”
“I’m traveling to hell is where I’m traveling.”
“Mmm, mmm. You said it, sister, not me.”
Beth made an appointment to see an ophthalmologist on King Street, and at Cecily’s insistence, she agreed to see a woman named Hailey at the Allure Salon.
“Where is it?”
“It’s farther up King Street past the Francis Marion Hotel. Let’s see if she can work you in.”
Beth listened as Cecily exercised her most diplomatic powers of persuasion to secure the all-but-impossible-to-nail appointment.
Darlin’? You are an angel from heaven! Do you hear me? An angel! Thank you so much! Yes. Her name is Beth Hayes. Okay!
“Kinda hard to tell you no, huh?” Beth said.
“Humph,” Cecily said. “You’ll be grateful. Trust me.”
“I do!” Beth said.
Now, if Beth’s mother or aunt had bullied Beth to immediately change her appearance, Beth would have shown them a gnarly tooth. But because it was Cecily, Beth took it in complete stride. The truth was that Beth lacked the self-confidence to do these things for herself, and besides, she wouldn’t have known whom to call in a thousand years. Cecily was eons ahead of Beth in terms of navigating the world—well, Charleston at the least. This was going to completely decimate the budget, but for the first time in her life, Beth didn’t care.
Cecily went about her business, taking hanging baskets down, picking off the dead leaves, and giving them a good soak while Beth went back to the kitchen and her laptop. Her notes were a jumble of facts that made no sense to her. Why had she ever thought that writing a simple newspaper article would be so easy?
Her email pinged to alert her of an arriving message, and sure enough, it was another one from her mother. It was short and sweet.
Check this out! Classes are wonderful! Love you!
There was a jpeg attachment with pictures of her mother under the Eiffel Tower and another of her drinking café au lait in an oversized cup at a little sidewalk table in some random bistro. She wondered if some French guy named J
acques had taken the picture, and just as quickly she decided only if Jacques was the name of her waiter. Her mother looked so completely happy and completely stress-free. Beth printed the pictures, stared at them for a few minutes, and then taped them to the refrigerator. They would remind Beth why she was there. Her mother deserved this thrill, and at the end of the day, Beth knew it would be good for her as well. Then, she wondered how in the world her mother could just pack up her stuff and leave her and Simon for a whole year? Wouldn’t she have pangs of longing for her husband? But then, maybe women her age didn’t have pangs anymore. But wouldn’t she be missing Beth or feeling even slightly guilty that she was stuck there in a spook house that raised a ruckus all on its own? Apparently, not so far.
“What’s that?” Cecily said, returning the empty watering can to the floor of the pantry closet.
“Look at my momma. Isn’t she beautiful?”
“Will you look at our Miss Susan in Paris, France? My oh my. I thought I’d never see this day. She looks like she’s my age.” Cecily let out a long sigh. Then Beth followed suit.
“Yeah, I was just thinking the same thing.”
“Well, I best be moving along. Got too much to do for a Tuesday. I need Monday back!”
Cecily looked at Beth and flicked a stray lock of her hair. Beth could hear her thinking, Well, finally! Goodbye to that nonsense!
“I’ll call you when I am all done.”
“Don’t be late, ’eah? Hailey’s one very busy lady.”