“Nothing, honey, it’s just your classic midlife crisis along with a willing, conniving, underhanded, immoral, big-breasted, low-class blond. He was too weak to resist, I guess, and she set a mean table.”
“I hate blonds.”
“Jonathan is blond,” I reminded her.
“Mom? Jonathan called me last night,” she said sheepishly.
“What? When were you gonna tell me this? My Lord, here come all the secrets! Come on, let’s dump this stuff in the trash, throw the cooler in the car and have a nice walk. We can plan your trousseau!”
“Mom!”
Her exasperated Mom! was what we needed to put Tom away for a while.
“Come on! Let’s go in the Barbados Tropical Garden!”
We entered the small building and were immediately transported to another climate. The lush plantings and trickling water of the fountains created a tiny paradise.
“So, tell me what he said,” I said.
“Nothing. It was pretty stupid, in fact. He talked about tennis and math and wanted to know if I’d done my French homework yet.”
“That doesn’t sound so stupid.”
“Mom! He’s gorgeous, but he’s seriously boring to talk to.”
“Well, young guys are nervous when they call girls on the phone. Just the act of dialing probably gave him a zit.” Safe, I thought, he’s boring. Thank God.
“Actually, it probably did! He had this major goober today, right on his chin.”
“Now that’s power, when you can wreck a guy’s complexion,” I said.
“Whatever. I know why he called me, though.”
“I thought you said he called about homework.”
“Nope. Homecoming.”
“What about it?” Uh-oh, not safe.
“The dance. I know he wants to take me, because Lucy told me. She’s going with his friend Sonny.”
“Well, we’ll see.” I sighed, realizing we had reached another hurdle. I guessed I’d have no choice but to jump it when she pushed me. “Beth, look at this, have you ever seen anything like this orchid?”
By chance, we had the indoor garden to ourselves. We wandered slowly, looking at and smelling the blooms. I heard something and looked up. Someone had accidentally allowed a peacock in the building and there he was at the turn in the path. He spread his feathers and nearly scared us to death. We turned and practically ran from the bird and found ourselves back outside. We laughed at ourselves.
“You should’ve seen your face!” Beth said. “Like the thing was a gorilla or something!”
“Did you think it would bite you?” I teased. “Oh, gosh! That was funny. Come on, let’s go up to the house.”
“Yeah, I love the house. Can you imagine what it must’ve been like to live here during the Civil War?”
“You wouldn’t have been too happy. The Yankees torched the original manor house. This one’s a replacement.”
“So what do I do?”
“About what?”
“Jonathan. If he asks me can I go?”
“If he asks you? Of course you can!” There. I cleared the hurdle like an Olympian. Piece of cake. She grabbed me around the neck and started hugging me.
“Oh, Mom, I love you so much! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Wait now! Listen, it depends on a few things, like who are you going with, who’s driving and when you are to be home…we are going to have to establish some ground rules here, okay?”
“Okay! No problem! Oh, God!”
“Don’t say God, please.”
“Don’t worry! Oh! I’m so happy! Wait till I tell Lucy! What am I gonna wear?”
“Don’t worry, we’ll arm-wrestle your father for a new dress.”
We walked along the path toward the main house, with her arm around my waist and mine looped over her shoulder. Such small shoulders, I thought, so far to go yet.
As we passed the slave quarters, their ghosts seemed to stop their work and wave at me. I looked at the brochure. Antebellum cabin. Indeed, I said to myself. Slave shack is more like it. I couldn’t help but think for a moment about Livvie’s family and wondered if they had ever lived in such a hovel. They must have at some point.
“Hey, Beth, see that little building? That was a slave house.”
“Yeah, I know, come on, we’ve seen it a million times. I want to go to the gift shop.”
“Livvie’s family probably lived in one of those.”
“Really? Gee, I never thought of it that way. That’s totally amazing. I mean, that somebody with her character could be born in a dump like that, that’s incredible!”
“Child? Whoever said that character and integrity had a single, solitary thing to do with money?”
In minutes we had joined a group of tourists on the porch and soon we were walking through the rooms, oohing and aahing over the antiques, the art collection and the proportion of the rooms.
“I love this little bedroom,” Beth said. “When I get married I’m gonna have a room like this for my daughter. And a fireplace in mine!”
I smiled at her. Nothing like a dream, I thought.
“I love the quilts,” I said.
“Yeah, me too.”
When the tour was over we decided we’d had enough history for one day and agreed to go home and take it easy for a while. Later we’d figure out supper and what to do for the evening. Maybe we’d see a movie or maybe we’d drive over to Maggie’s. It was only three o’clock. Too late to see another plantation, too early to decide what to do about the evening. We were quiet in the car. It had been a good outing. The difficult task of telling her about retaining a lawyer was done. I thought we both had handled it pretty well, given the gravity of it. And she had secured permission for her first date, should she get the invitation. She probably would.
We turned left from Lockwood Boulevard onto Beaufain Street and then right on Rutledge Avenue.
“So, you got a lawyer?” she said.
“Yep, and you got a boyfriend?”
“Yep.”
“Don’t worry, sugar, Momma can handle it. Someday, I’ll tell you about my first romance. It was pretty hot.”
“Tell me now.”
“No, I’m pooped, another time.”
WE WERE CURLED up on the couch watching an old Fred Astaire movie when the phone rang. Beth ran to the kitchen like her hair was in flames to answer it. I couldn’t help thinking that she should try out for the track team. After all, there was definitely scholarship money in sports.
“Mom!” Beth’s voice called from the kitchen. “Can Lucy and Charlene spend the night?”
Well, there goes another Saturday night, I thought. “Yes! Just tell them they have to go home early in the morning! I promised Aunt Maggie we’d go to church with her.”
Silence, then giggling, then whispering, then giggling followed by two shrieks of joy and then silence again. She returned to the room and pounced on me.
“God in heaven, girl! You’re gonna kill me one of these days! Who’s Charlene?”
“New talent. Moved here from Atlanta. I love you, Momma,” she said.
“Me too, baby.”
The phone rang again.
“I’ll get it!”
She always shouted like there were thirty other people who were going to block her path to the phone. She got it on the second ring. Must’ve been a world record. I needed to buy a stopwatch.
“It’s for you! Aunt Maggie wants you.”
“Okay, tell her I’ll be right there.” I picked my purse up from the hall floor and dug out my cigarettes and lighter. Any conversation with Maggie was call for a smoke. “What’s up?” I said to my sister.
“Susan, what are you doing tonight?”
“Beth has two friends sleeping over. Why?”
“Well, Grant has a new doctor from the hospital coming for dinner. Precious! I’ve seen him! Can you come for dinner?”
“No way! No blind dates.”
“Come on, it’s not a date! I’m your sister, for hea
ven’s sake, and this guy is a very nice, very successful, very cute, very eligible bachelor.”
I thought for half a second and took a major drag on my cigarette.
“I don’t think so,” I said, “but thanks for thinking of me.”
“Look, I’ve seen him. He is very cool.”
“What constitutes cool these days?”
“He walks with, I don’t know, a swagger or something. I’m telling you, Susan, this would be a major mistake to pass this by. You need to get out!”
“How old?” She had me.
“I hear you smoking. Fifty-four. Divorced. Two boys in college. Ex-wife remarried, and lives in Europe, I might add. Bring your stuff and stay over!”
“Wait a minute, what about Beth? And her friends?”
“Bring them! Heck, I have room!”
“What time?”
“Seven-thirty.”
“What are you wearing?”
“Black tissue linen pants and a tunic top. Sandals. Come on, Susan, you need some fun. Where were you all day? I’ve been calling since noon!”
“Magnolia Gardens with Beth.”
“See what I mean? How many times are you gonna go back to that place? Good grief! You could’ve been getting your hair blown out!”
“Right.” She was annoyingly correct as usual. “Let me talk to Beth and I’ll call you back. Okay?”
“Make it fast or Grant’s gonna find him another dinner partner.”
My first date in Life After Tom. I hung up the phone and called Beth to come into the kitchen.
“Guess what?” I said.
“What?”
“I have a date.”
“Oh, my God! Oh, my God!”
“Oh, my God is right. Now what are we gonna do about you and your friends?”
“Don’t worry! We’ll go to Charlene’s or Lucy’s! Here, quick! Let me use the phone.”
She called them and the news was grim. They couldn’t stay at Lucy’s because her mother was having company and they couldn’t stay at Charlene’s because her little brothers had chicken pox.
“Well, you’ll all have to come with me then! Aunt Maggie said you could all stay over. You can order pizza or something.”
“No way. I’m not going.”
“Why not?”
“This is about trust. You don’t trust me and this just proves it.”
One drawback of living with a volcano is that you never knew when it would erupt. She had quite clearly inherited my father’s temper and showcased it at the worst possible time.
“Of course I trust you! Good grief, Beth, this isn’t about you! It’s about leaving three girls, underage, in my house all night! There’s no way! So, get packed and call your friends and give them the drill! We’re going to Maggie’s!”
“Mom! Please don’t make me go to Aunt Maggie’s house! I don’t feel like doing that! I just want to rent some movies and eat popcorn and gossip with my friends! I mean, look at me! Am I the kind of girl who’d do something stupid? I’m on the honor roll, for Pete’s sake!”
She ran upstairs and slammed the door. Against my better judgment, I was going to give in. For once, I put myself first and justified my decision by adding to my list of excuses that showing up with three teenage girls couldn’t make me look any younger to Dr. Wonderful.
“Beth?” No answer. “I want to talk to you.”
I went upstairs and opened her door. She was finally cleaning up after a week of throwing her clothes on the floor.
“Good idea,” I said, “don’t want the girls to see this mess, right?”
“Oh, Momma, everybody’s a slob at my age.”
“Right. Listen, I’ve been thinking. I’ll go to Aunt Maggie’s early and come home early. Just remember to keep all the doors locked and I’ll be home by nine. Okay?”
“Thanks, Mom. You can trust me, I swear.”
“Don’t swear, help me find something to wear.”
We dug through my closets trying to find something to make me look independent and reluctant but highly desirable. This was a problem, as I had to be there in less than three hours and had no time for liposuction. We finally settled on a long, crinkled, pleated burgundy gauze skirt and a V-necked black silk sweater. I thought I looked like a gypsy but Beth told me I looked hip and thin. Hip and thin. That was the exact phrase I needed to hear.
“Okay, get out of here. I’m getting in the shower. Thanks.”
It had been decades since I’d dressed for a date. I washed my hair and wrapped myself up in a huge towel. I looked in the mirror. Contact lenses, I thought, don’t wear your glasses. I pulled out a trial pack of extended-wear lenses and carefully put them in, blinking like mad until they settled into place. Slowly, I applied my makeup, taking each part of my face one step at a time. I blew out my hair, thinking I needed a haircut. I sprayed Chanel No. 5 all over myself. I got dressed and slipped on a pair of sandals. Then I did the serious hair ritual: round brush, spray with heat, flip it over the head, backcomb a little and spray again. I sort of arranged it with my fingers and sprayed it again.
Downstairs I rummaged through the refrigerator to find something to take to Maggie’s for an hors d’oeuvre, remembering I had cream cheese and green pepper jelly somewhere in the jumble of plastic containers and cartons. All true Charlestonians serve green pepper jelly on cream cheese on little crackers.
I went to the living room to turn off the television and caught my reflection in the huge gilt mirror. I gave myself a good look. I hadn’t worn makeup in a year and I was a little worried about how I’d renovate. Not a Bond girl, but not a librarian either. In fact, pretty cool for forty-whatever, I thought. I sure liked my body better than I had six months ago.
Suddenly, I had second thoughts about leaving Beth here, but quickly pushed them away. Maybe I’ll come home earlier than I told her, I said to myself. That felt better. “Beth!” I called out. “Come give me a kiss! I gotta go!”
I threw the cheese and jelly into a plastic grocery bag with a box of water crackers and waited for her by the back door.
“Mom! You look totally awesome!”
“Thanks, honey! Now remember, no funny business!”
“Don’t worry! Just have fun!”
I closed the door behind me and crossed the yard to my car. It occurred to me that when your children told you not to worry, that would be the perfect time to start worrying. All the way to the beach I worried, first about Beth and her friends and then about just what the hell I was doing rushing out to meet some jackass I’d probably hate on sight anyhow.
“YOU’RE EARLY! Good! You can help me make salad!” Maggie said when I came through the back door, giving me a peck on the cheek. “Look at you, honey chile! You look ten years younger!”
“Thanks! I’m a wreck! I can’t believe I came. I must’ve been crazy. I’m so nervous I don’t even remember driving here. Where’s Grant?”
“In the shower. Honey, just relax and let Roger talk about himself. Men love to do that. You’re gonna like him, I swear, he’s funny as a rip. Go look at my table and tell me what you think.”
“Okay, I brought pepper jelly in here.” I handed her the bag. My hands were shaking.
“You need a glass of wine,” she said and poured me one.
“Industrial strength,” I said and took it into the dining room. Maggie had outdone herself. Her dining room table had a low and long centerpiece of Island wildflowers and Spanish moss mixed with red grapes and lemon halves. All her china was blue and yellow and matched the country French foulard printed linens. Column candles of different heights stood on little plates. I could tell even before they were lit that her balloon goblets would shine in their light. I hoped I would too. I took three big sips and felt better. Oh, what the hell, I thought and went out to the porch to look at the beach.
It wasn’t long before Grant appeared and turned on some music. Eric Satie’s incredible sonata floated through the air. Perfect, I thought, dreamy but not maudlin.
&n
bsp; “How’s the greatest sister-in-law in the world?” he said.
“Fine, fine, like a freaking cow on the way to slaughter.” I gave the old boy a hug. He held me back.
“Well, you look really beautiful! What have you done to yourself?”
“I washed my hair. Amazing what a little soap and water will do.”
“Yeah, you clean up good. Smell good too. Going hunting?”
“Bite me, Grant, I’m nervous enough as it is.”
He started laughing and teasing me. “Oh, what a girl! You sure enough do know how to charm a fellow! Want me to refresh your drink?”
“God, yes. Thanks. Wait, no. I have to drive and I’d better pace myself.”
“Well, make up your mind.” God, he was so smug. I needed to relax. Big time.
“Grant?” Maggie was calling.
“Coming right now, my love, my turtledove! Gotta go. Big boss’s calling.”
Boy, they were all in some mood tonight. Grant was flitting around like a maître d’ and Maggie was setting a “Styled by Martha Stewart” ambush for this guy.
His car pulled up right below me on the gravel drive. Blue BMW. Nice. Better than Tom’s Mustang. Augh! The door opened and I was trapped. Maybe it was better this way. I saw the top of his head. Hair. Another good sign. And then he got out. Not bad. Five ten, maybe, dark hair, some gray, nice jacket. He saw me and smiled.
“Hi!” he called out. “You must be Susan?”
“Yep, I’m Susan.” He came up the steps with a bottle of wine in his hand. He was very handsome.
“I’m Roger Dodds.” We shook hands and I realized mine was clammy.
“Roger Dodds. I used to date a guy named Roger. Dated a Dodds too.”
“Yeah?” He was still smiling. Good teeth. I realized what I said sounded completely stupid, like I’d had a thousand lovers. I only wished. He smelled good.
“That didn’t sound right, I meant—”
“Don’t worry, I know what you meant. Where’s Grant and the Great?”
The Great?
Soon we were at the table and the evening was under way. Roger was from Aiken, South Carolina; he was an oncologist, specializing in women’s cancers. We talked easily about everything from opera to duck hunting. He had lots of interests. Loved to read, travel and cook.