Four
“Get off the damn deck, Delilah. You’re asking for splinters,” Meg said, pulling her sister up by her elbow, surprised to feel how thin Dee had become. There was barely a hint of muscle tone in her sister’s puny arm. “Calm down. Come inside, we’ll talk. Good Lord, Dee.”
Dee clutched Meg’s arm as her sister pulled her up out of her anguish and frailty.
Just as she always had.
“I’m sorry, Meg, I swear.” Dee was sniffling now, her mascara streaking down her hollowed cheeks, forming little tributaries across her face. “I’m just… I’m gonna lose my mind. I’ve been holding it in the whole way here and I know I deserve your wrath, but I’m begging you for mercy, Meg. Even though I don’t deserve a lick of it.”
“Well, at least you’re contrite if nothing else,” Meg muttered as the screen door slammed shut behind them. “Though I guess you’ve got to be, huh? Is that your play here, Dee?”
Dee shook her head. “I honestly don’t have any agenda here, no game, no plan. That’s the whole problem. I’ve hit rock bottom, Meg. I’ve messed up and I know you don’t feel sorry for me and I don’t expect you to. But I need you, Meg. I really do, and when I say you’re my last chance and my last hope, I mean that in the most fundamental sense of the word. You kick me out of this house and I have nowhere to go and no money to get to anywhere even if I did.”
Meg eyed her sister up and down. No one knew her better than she did.
Dee was telling her the truth.
“So, you didn’t show up here because Bonnie tracked you down?” Meg asked as she turned on the television in the living room to drown out their conversation. “I mean, it’s a little funny, the coincidence.”
Dee looked confused. “Who the hell is Bonnie?”
Meg sighed. “Bonnie Rampkin. Dad’s attorney handling his estate. It’s been a year, but it looks like it’s settled and if we want our cut of what’s left, we have to abide by his wishes.”
“What are you talking about?” Dee’s cheeks were already flushed from being in the heat for the brief moment they’d been out on the deck. “I figured he left you everything and that was that.”
“That was not that.”
Their father had died a little less than a year ago and it ate Dee up every day how she hadn’t been here for him or for Meg. Dee also knew their father had mortgaged the crap out of the motel so there wasn’t going to be much left over for anyone to live off. She’d wired Meg ten-thousand dollars to help with funeral costs, since apparently their father hadn’t made payments on his life insurance in years.
Which was just like him, bless his heart. Especially since his heart was the reason he died in the first place.
“You really don’t know?” Meg’s hand was shaking now, a nervous tic of hers that only Dee noticed most of the time.
“Know what?” Dee mumbled, fumbling around in her purse, hoping she had at least one more cigarette left. “Just tell me.”
“The motel,” Meg started. “It’s worth diddly. But the land… you know, it’s beach-front. And developers are buying up land on Front Beach like crazy. We’re the last ones standing, so to speak.”
Dee was paying close attention now.
“How much?” Dee’s voice cracked on the much.
“Highest offer is five million,” Meg said. “But we’d be crazy to take less than three. And it might even be more if we wait longer.”
“Five million…”
“Yeah. Figured that was why you were here. Bonnie’s been trying to get in contact with you to sign some crap. Since you get half of it.”
Dee couldn’t believe her luck. Yesterday she’d been a woman destitute, desperate for a handout. She’d considered taking up a repugnant truck driver’s offer back in Dothan to let him watch her pee in the bathroom for a hundred bucks.
And now she might be worth at least a million and a half dollars.
“Holy hell,” Dee couldn’t help but grin. “Well, ain’t that something.”
“Thought you’d like that,” Meg was the one grinning now, but it was an unsettling kind, the kind Dee knew to be very afraid of.
“What’s the catch?” Dee asked, because of course there must be one. It couldn’t be that easy, not for the Beckett girls.
“Dad won’t let us sell the motel or the land,” Meg replied. “Until we’ve both worked together for at least a year as partners. Running it.”
Dee flopped down on the wicker chair that had been in their family since they were kids. The cushion was just barely thick enough at this point to save her bony ass from feeling the wicker underneath. She’d flopped down on it in exasperation many times throughout their lives.
But she’d never been this disappointed, maybe ever.
“We’re supposed to run The Siesta together for a year,” Dee confirmed, solemn. “And then we can sell it?”
“Yep,” Meg answered; her voice flat. “Ain’t that a hoot?”
Dee sighed.
Hoot wasn’t the first word that had come to her mind.
Five
It was true.
Their father, Robert Beckett, in all his wisdom, had spent years of his life begging his daughters to reconcile and died never knowing why it was impossible for them to do so.
Their father had never known them like he thought he had.
And that wasn’t his fault, all he’d known was how to love them, because that’s what Robert Beckett did best. In the end, it was why he was a terrible motel owner. The man was a sucker for a sob story and there had to be at least tens of thousands of dollars in unpaid motel bills because he believed everything people told him.
It had always frustrated the girls.
Robert had called Dee every day, even when sometimes he didn’t reach her for weeks. She’d saved as many voicemails as she could, never wanting to forget the sound of his accent and his tone. He was a man who spoke from the bottom of a barrel, and Dee knew she’d never love anyone as much as she’d loved her dad.
But she’d never be able to tell him that. And it was the great tragedy of her life.
Meg and Dee shared a cigarette, the way they’d done when they were teenagers, usually escaping to the pier so their father wouldn’t catch them. They’d dangle their tan legs over the aquamarine waters of the Gulf, people-watching, as they inhaled and exhaled their teenage angst, passing a menthol back and forth until it was all the way down to the dirty filter.
“If Dad was still alive I’d kill him for pulling this,” Meg said as she handed Dee the cig for her turn.
Dee laughed. “Yeah. I’m not too happy with this one. Convenient that he only grew some balls in death because he knew he wouldn’t have to deal with us.”
Meg chuckled, and Dee enjoyed knowing that, this time, it wasn’t at her expense.
“Very Robert Beckett of him,” Meg nodded. “There wasn’t a week that went by where he didn’t try to get me to call you.”
“Yeah?” Dee wasn’t surprised, but she wanted to tread carefully around the topic.
It was a minefield.
“Yep,” Meg replied. She took one long drag and then smashed the rest into the seashell-shaped ash tray in front of them. She’d pulled it from the little cabinet above the refrigerator. Meg had to wipe away a layer of dust before they used it.
“You’re smoking!”
Jessa. She’d creeped out of her room before either of them had noticed.
“Trust me, I deserve a smoke,” Meg said, but her hands were up in the air. “Sorry. It’s the last.”
Dee took in the sight of her niece. Jessa was tall like her aunt with miles of legs and sass for days. She stood in front of them, her hands on her narrow hips.
Her scowl was a copy of her mother’s though.
“It better be,” Jessa said, her eyes darting in the direction of Dee. “What’s Aunt Dee doing here?”
The sisters glanced at each other, both waiting for Meg to say something.
“She’s visiting for a bit,�
� Meg finally said.
“Oh, Bonnie finally got her?” Jessa concluded. “So, she’s actually going to stay?”
“If that’s okay,” Dee chimed in and Meg’s exasperated sigh filled the room.
“She’s staying with us briefly,” Meg said, standing up. “But she’s getting her own place. We’ve got a lot to figure out.”
Dee closed her eyes, relieved.
Grateful.
Meg must have read her mind.
“It doesn’t change anything,” she continued. “We’re not okay and I still want to see you as little as possible. I’m giving you a week to figure your crap out, Dee.”
“Of course,” Dee nodded. “I get it, Meg.”
“I doubt that,” Meg mumbled. “We’ll talk about it later. Alone.”
Jessa was grinning, and she let down her guard and flew across the room to embrace her long-lost aunt. It surprised all of them, but Dee couldn’t help but be thankful for the affection.
It had been a long time since she’d felt genuinely welcomed anywhere.
“I have you on Google alerts,” Jessa admitted, and Meg glared at her sister to let her know Jessa’s acceptance did not equal hers.
And it never would.
“Your timing isn’t terrible,” Meg said over dinner that night. They’d ordered subs from Hungry Howie’s and Dee practically inhaled hers as Jessa and Meg watched in bewildered amusement. “We need someone to work tomorrow night, actually. My night auditor quit.”
“Graveyard?” Dee asked between bites. “I’d prefer not to see people.”
“How do you stay so skinny?” Jessa interrupted as she nibbled on the end of her own sandwich.
Dee laughed. “I’ve been on a diet since I was twenty-five. This is not my normal. Stress makes me do alarming things like eat, sleep, and lament.”
Jessa smiled. “I know what lament means.”
“Yeah?” Dee took a huge bite of her meatball sub. She chewed a bit before speaking. “And they say public education is in the toilet.”
“It means you’re regretting. Or mourning. I guess both?” Jessa replied. “What do you regret, Aunt Dee?”
Suddenly no one was eating anymore.
“Everything,” Dee answered as she looked at Meg.
But Meg wasn’t looking back. Her eyes were on her food.
Dee knew it wouldn’t be easy, that words weren’t going to cut it.
Not with a Beckett girl.
Six
Dee Beckett hadn’t worked a typical 9-5 job other than the motel since she was nineteen years old, and that one had only lasted two weeks. She’d been the receptionist at a car dealership in Lynn Haven where she’d started an affair with the owner’s son, who was engaged to the reigning Miss Panama City— who just so happened to be the mayor’s daughter.
It had been the town scandal at the time, but Dee always wondered why she paid the social price for it when she hadn’t been the one committed to anyone?
She’d learned a lot since then. Stealing someone’s man was certainly low on the list of terrible things she’d found herself capable of.
Dee had agreed to work the night shift at The Siesta on the condition that it was graveyard. The less people she had to see, the better.
She came in that night at eleven to replace Teresa, the mid-day front desk person. Teresa was in her mid-50s and loved to talk. Even having never met Dee before, as soon as Dee showed up, Teresa was all over her.
“It’s so nice to meet you!” Teresa’s lower Alabama accent rolled off her tongue in thick waves. “You know; I didn’t even realize Meg had a sister until yesterday when she mentioned you’d be coming in!”
Dee had no idea how to reply to that.
“She said you lived in California!” Teresa continued. “Why on earth would you come back here?”
Dee sighed. Good God, this woman.
“Just missed my family,” Dee replied. “Do I need to tally the drawer?”
“Sure, you can, should be $200 in there. I’ll watch you count.”
Dee couldn’t help but hear the mistrust in Teresa’s tone. Dee couldn’t blame her. A secret sister showing up out of nowhere from California?
If only Teresa knew how right she was to be skeptical about Dee Beckett.
Dee hadn’t worked behind the front desk of The Siesta in well over fifteen years, yet the check-in and reservation system remained remarkably unchanged for the most part. The place even still had actual keys for the rooms, which blew her mind. They’d since purchased a key machine so when the keys were inevitably lost, they could make replacements right on-site. Dee remembered the days when they’d have to run to the rickety hardware store on Middle Beach Road to make replacement keys.
It seemed like twelve lifetimes ago.
Another change that Dee was grateful for was the fast Internet connection. Her plan was to stay in the back office all night, and now she had something to occupy her time. She needed a mental break from everything that was still on her plate.
She also needed to find a place to live. Which wouldn’t be easy, being that she was flat-ass broke and terrified to ask her sister for anything.
Dee couldn’t help but be relieved for her father’s stipulations. It was the only thing protecting her at the moment from Meg kicking her ass out of her life. That, and Jessa’s unpredicted excitement at Dee being back in Florida.
The back office was covered in framed photos of their family through the years. Dee felt like she was surrounded by reminders of her absence since none of the pictures featured her, at least not anything recent.
Meg had certainly done her best to erase proof of Dee’s existence, and she couldn’t blame her.
Dee knew Meg would never believe her, but she really was profoundly sorry for what had happened and even more sorry for every year since. There had been a time where they might have mended things, especially while Dad was alive.
But with him gone, now it seemed almost impossible.
Too much time had flown by.
Un-said things had a limited shelf life. And Dee had long since passed the expiration date.
“Holy hell, I shouldn’t have come here,” she said to herself. “What was I thinking?”
Dee stood up and walked out to the front reception area. Teresa had left after giving Dee a crash course on what she might have to do tonight. There would be one late check-in, some snowbirds from Canada, but otherwise all Dee would have to do is run reports around five am and hand over the drawer to the morning staff once seven am rolled around.
Dee glanced at the clock in the lobby. It was barely midnight.
Good Lord. It was going to be a very long night.
Seven
Meg couldn’t sleep.
Dee was back in her life, something Meg had truly given up on ever happening. Long ago.
She’d made peace with it, even sometimes forgetting she had a sister, as absurd as that sounded. It just seemed easier to pretend Dee didn’t exist than to think about her or the past.
Avoidance was a sort of therapy, wasn’t it?
Not that their father made it easy. It was as if he sensed Meg was forgetting Dee, and as a parent Meg understood the desire he had to make peace between his girls.
Especially since he’d always loved Dee the most.
Not that he’d ever admitted it.
But some things don’t have to be said to be understood.
Around 2 am Meg had finally given up and padded into the living room, the tiles under her bare feet cooler than she’d expected, making her wish she’d put socks on.
Jessa’s bedroom door was partially opened and Meg peeked in. Her daughter was splayed out over the covers in just an oversized t-shirt. Meg couldn’t help but smile at the sound of Jessa’s soft snores. There was nothing as comforting as a deeply sleeping child, even when that child was thirteen now and on the clear cusp between girlhood and womanhood.
Meg would always think of Jessa as her baby though. No matter what.
; She quietly shut the door behind her and placed her palm on it for a moment, her grateful notion to an unseen God, a way of saying thanks.
Meg walked into the middle of the living room, not sure what she wanted to do. She was wide awake and alert.
Dee being around again meant she had to be on guard. Where Dee was, trouble followed.
Seeing Jessa quickly accepting Dee had, admittedly, sparked a bit of resentment in Meg. How easily Dee was granted reception and love from Jessa didn’t seem fair or just.
Meg wanted Jessa to be as angry as Meg still was.
But that would mean Jessa having to know what Meg knew.
And that was something Meg had to make sure never happened.
Eight
Dee had always been partial to the snowbirds.
They were usually from Canada, but sometimes Michigan or one of the other bordering states, the ones where it snowed for 7 months out of the year. Either way, the snowbirds were weather escapees, traveling down to the panhandle to avoid the tundra for a few months, usually from October through February, before the Spring Breakers descended and the prices on rooms went up.
They paid the monthly rate, which Dee’s father tried to never change, despite it being a steal to allow people to stay in a beachfront motel room for $500 a month. But he enjoyed having the same people visit every year and thought of the snowbirds as friends more than guests. One year he’d raised the monthly price to $600 and because one person complained, he’d immediately changed it back to the original price, even when the girls tried to convince him he’d done nothing wrong.
“It’s business!” Meg chided. “They’re taking advantage of you!”
“Some things are bigger than business,” Dad would say. “It’s not a big deal, we’ll make it up during the high season.”
Which they never did.
Still, Dee kind of understood. The snowbirds were a welcome change of pace and those winter months were always a fun and relaxed time.
Yacht Girl Page 3