Lowcountry Summer eBoxed Set

by Mary Alice Monroe

  7. In addition to their individual conflicts with each other, Harper, Carson, and Dora each have a complicated relationship with their grandmother. While they love her, they each feel guilty about being gone from Sea Breeze for most of their adult lives and, at times, resent Mamaw for her meddling. What are Mamaw’s biggest faults in this novel? Why do you think Mamaw has decided to try “tough love” with her granddaughters?

  8. Blake has to explain to Carson why befriending wild dolphins is dangerous not only to the dolphins themselves, but also to humans. Do you agree that Blake’s anger with Carson over Delphine’s life-threatening injuries is justified? Who do you think is most to blame?

  9. Forgiveness is a major theme in this novel. Consider Carson’s history with her father and her mother and all the years of secrets, silence, and enabling. Carson has confrontations with Blake (over Delphine), Brian (over her theft), and Dora (over what Dora reveals about her mother’s death). How do all of these scenes lead to her growth as a character?

  10. Carson and her grandmother are the two characters who were closest to Parker. How did Parker’s actions impact Mamaw and Carson’s relationship with each other, even after his death?

  11. Throughout the novel, Carson is fearful of attachments—to a place, to a job, and especially to a man. Why do you think she suffers from an inability to commit? What role does Delphine play in helping her to connect again with her sisters? To Blake? To herself? What is Carson’s challenge at the end of the book?

  12. The Summer Girls is the first book in Mary Alice Monroe’s trilogy about Sullivan’s Island. Predict what the next two books will have in store for Dora and Harper, Carson, Blake, and Delphine?

  ENHANCE YOUR BOOK CLUB

  1. In The Summer Girls, Carson befriends Blake, a scientist with the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Association, which has ocean, weather, and fishery branches in every state. Research the NOAA, and explore their Volunteer website, http://www.volunteer.noaa.gov/, and also see Mary Alice Monroe’s Conservation page, http://www.maryalicemonroe.com/site/epage/116387_67.htm. With your book club, plan a group outing or fund-raiser to support the NOAA or another local wildlife preservation organization.

  2. “I would like each of you to list the item that you most want to have. The one item you are desperate for, more than any of the others. I want to be sure you each take something from the house that you love”. Mamaw lures her girls to stay for the summer with keepsakes from her home. Monroe reveals through flashbacks why Carson selected her treasure—the portrait—and how monetary value played no part in her decision. Every family has their unique “treasures.” Discuss with your book club the family heirloom that means the most to you. Suggest that each member bring in a picture of her “treasure” to share and tell why that item has value. What would you like to leave to future generations, and what treasured mementos are most precious to you?

  3. Evoke the book’s setting by channeling Lucille’s home-style Southern cooking. Plan to host your book club as a potluck, with each member cooking one of Lucille’s signature dishes, like mashed potatoes, lemon bars, hush puppies, gumbo, and sweet tea. Make copies of each recipe for all of your book club members to take home. You could even bind them together to create your own The Summer Girls cookbook!

  Praise for the first novel in the Lowcountry Summer Trilogy

  The Summer Girls

  “Monroe knows her characters like no one else could, and her portrayals of the summer girls are subtle, realistic, carefully crafted, and pitch-perfect.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “More than just a beautifully written, moving portrayal of three sisters finding themselves and each other after years of separation . . . [The Summer Girls ] deals head-on with significant issues so skillfully woven into the narrative that I often stopped to consider the import of what I’d just read. If you’re a dedicated environmentalist, this book is a must-read. If you’re just someone who enjoys a good story, you’ll get that, too, and much more.”

  —New York Times bestselling author Cassandra King

  “This book contains drama, humor, and romance which any good summer read does. Plus it has the message about the care and treatment of dolphins. Monroe is an expert at making this blend, and The Summer Girls is one of her most successful efforts.”

  —The Huffington Post

  “A song of praise to the bottle-nosed dolphins that bring so much joy to the men and women who gaze at the creeks and rivers of the lowcountry each evening.”

  —New York Times bestselling author Pat Conroy

  “Mary Alice Monroe at her best. . . . The Summer Girls reminded me of what I love about Southern fiction.”

  —Heroes and Heartbreakers

  “A captivating story of how the ocean and a charismatic dolphin reunite sisters in the alluring ecological setting of the lowcountry of South Carolina. The story resonates on a personal level and, moreover, delivers a powerful reminder of the importance of protecting dolphins and the environment in which they live.”

  —Patricia Fair, director, Marine Mammal Program, NOAA

  For Kimberly Whalen and Robert Gottlieb

  Chapter One

  Sea Breeze, Sullivan’s Island, South Carolina

  July was said to be the hottest month of the year in Charleston, and after enduring eighty Southern summers, Marietta Muir, or Mamaw, as her family affectionately called her, readily agreed. She delicately dabbed at her upper lip and forehead with her handkerchief, then waved to shoo off a pesky mosquito. Southern summers meant heat, humidity, and bugs. But being out on Sullivan’s Island, sitting in the shade of a live oak tree, sipping iced tea, and waiting for the occasional offshore breeze was, for her, the very definition of summer. She sighed heavily. The ancient oak spread its mighty limbs so far and wide, Marietta felt cradled in its protective embrace. Still, the air was especially languid this morning, so thick and cloyingly scented with jasmine that it was a battle to keep her eyelids from drooping. A gust of wind from the ocean carried the sweet scent of the grass and cooled the moist hairs along her neck.

  She set the needlepoint pattern on her lap to remove her glasses and rub her eyes. Cursed old age. It was getting harder and harder to see her stitches, she thought with a sigh. Glancing at Lucille beside her on the screened porch of the guesthouse that Lucille called home, she saw her friend bent over the base of a sweetgrass basket, her strong hands weaving the fragile strands into the pattern, sewing each row tight with palmetto fronds. A small pile of the grass lay in her lap, while a generous heap sat at her feet in a plastic bag, along with another bag of long-leaf pine needles.

  Seeing her longtime companion’s hands lovingly weaving together the disparate grasses into an object of beauty made Marietta think again how imperative her challenge was this summer: to entwine her three very different granddaughters with Sea Breeze once again. Her summer girls.

  Mamaw sighed softly to herself. They were hardly girls any longer. Dora was thirty-six, Carson thirty-three, and Harper twenty-eight—women now. Back when they were young girls and spent summers together they had been close, as sisters should be. Over the years, however, they’d become more strangers than sisters. Half-sisters, Marietta corrected herself, shuddering at the nuance of the term. As if by only sharing a father, the women’s bond was somehow less. Sisters were sisters and blood was blood, after all. She had succeeded in corralling all three women to Sea Breeze in June for the summer, but here it was, only early July, and Carson was already off to Florida while Dora was fixing on returning to Summerville. And Harper . . . that New Yorker had her sights set north.

  “I wonder if Carson made it to Florida yet,” Lucille said without looking up. Her fingers moved steadily, weaving row after row.

  Mamaw half smiled, thinking how Lucille’s mind and her own were in sync . . . again. Lucille had been hired as her housekeeper some fifty years back, when Marietta was a young bride in Charleston. They’d shared a lifetime of ups and downs, births, deaths, scandals, and joys.
Now that they were old women, Lucille had become more a confidante than an employee. Truth was, Lucille was her closest friend.

  “I was just wondering the same thing,” Mamaw replied. “I expect she has by now and is just settling in to her hotel. I hope she won’t be away long.”

  “She won’t be. Carson knows how important this summer is to you, and she’ll be back just as soon as she finds out what’s done happened to that dolphin,” Lucille said. She lowered her basket to her lap and looked Mamaw straight in the eyes. “Carson won’t disappoint you. You have to have faith.”

  “I do,” Mamaw exclaimed defensively. “But I’m old enough to know how life likes to throw a wrench into even the most well thought out plans. I mean, really,” Mamaw said, lifting her hands in frustration. “Who could have foreseen a dolphin tossing all my summer plans applecart-upset?”

  Lucille chuckled, a deep and throaty sound. “Yes, she surely did. That Delphine . . .” Lucille’s smile slipped at the sound of the dolphin’s name. “But it weren’t her fault, now was it? I do hope that place in Florida can help the poor thing.”

  “I do, too. For Delphine’s sake, and for Carson’s.” She paused. “And Nate’s.” She was worried about how hard Dora’s son had taken the dolphin’s accident. Only a young boy, he had put the blame on himself for luring the dolphin to their dock and getting it entangled in all that fishing line. In truth, they were all to blame. No one more than herself.

  “For all our sakes,” she amended.

  “Amen,” Lucille agreed soberly. She paused to sweep bits of scattered grass to the wind. “Don’t you fret none, Miz Marietta. All will be well. I feel it in my bones. And in no time you’ll have all your summer girls here at Sea Breeze again.”

  “Hi, Mamaw! Lucille!” A voice called out from the driveway, cutting through the two women’s conversation.

  “Here comes one now,” Lucille murmured, returning to her basket.

  Marietta turned her head and smiled to see her youngest granddaughter, Harper, jogging toward them in one of those skimpy, skintight running outfits that looked to Marietta like a second skin. Her red hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and sweat poured down her pink face.

  “Harper!” Marietta called out with a quick wave. “My goodness, child, you’re running at this time of the day? Only tourists are fool enough to run here under a midsummer sun. You’ll have a heat stroke! Why, your face is as red as a beet!”

  Harper stopped at the bottom of the porch steps and bent over, hands on her hips, to catch her breath. “Oh, Mamaw, I’m fine,” she said breathily, wiping the sweat from her brow with her forearm. “I do this every day.”

  “Well, you look about ready to keel over.”

  “It is hot out there today,” Harper conceded with half a smile. “But my face always turns red. It’s my fair skin. I’ve got a ton of sunscreen on.”

  Lucille clucked her tongue. “Mind you drink some water, hear?”

  “Why don’t you jump in the pool and cool yourself down some? You look to be wearing a swimming suit . . .” Mamaw trailed off, fanning her face as she spoke. It made her hot just to see Harper’s pink face and the sweat drenching her clothing.

  “Good idea,” Harper replied, and with a quick wave took off toward the front door. She turned her head and shouted, “Nice basket, Lucille!” before disappearing into the house.

  Lucille chuckled and returned to her weaving. “Only the young can run like that.”

  “I never ran like that when I was young!” Mamaw said.

  “Me, neither. Who had the time?”

  “No time, and certainly not dressed like that. What these girls parade around in today. That outfit left little to the imagination.”

  “Oh, I bet the young men can imagine plenty,” Lucille said, chuckling again.

  Mamaw huffed. “What young men? I simply cannot understand why she’s not getting any calls. I’ve seen to it that she was invited to a few parties in town where other young people would be present. There was that nice boating party at Sissy’s yacht club . . . Several eligible young men were invited.” Mamaw shook her head. “Harper is such a pretty girl, with good breeding.” She paused. “Even if her mother is English.” Mamaw picked up her needlepoint and added archly, “Her father is from Charleston, after all.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say she hasn’t been asked out . . .” Lucille said, feeding more grass into the basket.

  Mamaw narrowed her eyes with suspicion. “You wouldn’t?”

  Lucille’s eyes sparkled with knowledge. “I happen to know that since she’s been here, several young men have called our Miss Harper.”

  “Really?” Mamaw fumed silently, wondering why she hadn’t been made aware of this. She didn’t like being the last to know things, certainly not about her own granddaughters. She reached for the Island Eye newspaper and used it to fan the air. “You’d think someone might’ve told me.”

  Lucille shrugged.

  Mamaw lowered the paper. “Well . . . why hasn’t she had any dates? Is she being shy?”

  “Our Harper might be a quiet little thing, but she ain’t shy. That girl’s got a spine of steel. Just look at the way she won’t touch meat, or white bread, or anything I cook with bacon grease.”

  Mamaw’s lips curved, recalling the row at the dinner table Harper’s first night at Sea Breeze. Dora was nearly driven to distraction by Harper’s strict diet.

  “She’s only just been here a month,” Lucille continued. “And she’s only staying another two. She don’t have her light on, is all. And who can wonder? With all she got on her mind, I reckon dating a young man is low on her list.”

  Mamaw rocked in silence. All Lucille had said was true enough. It seemed everyone had a lot on their minds this summer at Sea Breeze—she certainly did. The summer was flying by, and if she couldn’t find a way to forge bonds between her granddaughters, Mamaw knew that come September, Sea Breeze would be sold, the girls would scatter again, and she’d be sitting on the dock howling at the harvest moon.

  The previous May, Mamaw had invited her three granddaughters—Dora, Carson, and Harper—to celebrate her eightieth birthday at Sea Breeze. She’d had, however, an ulterior motive. In the fall, Marietta was putting Sea Breeze on the market and moving into an assisted living facility. With the demands of an island house, she simply couldn’t keep up living alone any longer, not even with Lucille’s help. Her hope was that, once here, all three women would agree to stay for the entire summer. She wanted them to be her summer girls again—as they had been as children—for this final summer before Sea Breeze was sold.

  Countless previous invitations of hers had been rebuffed by all the girls over the years, with just as many excuses— I’d love to but I’m so busy, I have work, I’ll be out of town —each sent with gushes of regret and replete with exclamation marks.

  So this time, Mamaw had trusted that her granddaughters had inherited some of her ancestral pirate blood, and she’d lured the girls south with promises of loot from the house. And the little darlings had come, if only for the weekend party. Desperate to keep them on the island, Mamaw had resorted to a bit of manipulation when she’d threatened to cut them out of the will if they did not stay for the entire summer. She chortled out a laugh just remembering their shocked faces.

  Carson had just lost her job and was pleased as punch to spend the summer rent-free on the island. Dora, in the midst of a divorce, was easily persuaded to stay at Sea Breeze with Nate while repairs were done on her house in Summerville. Harper, however, had thrown a hissy fit. She’d called it blackmail.

  Mamaw shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Blackmail, really. Harper could be so dramatic, she thought as she rolled her eyes. Surely there was a more refined, gentler term for the actions of a concerned and loving grandmother set on bringing her granddaughters together? A smile of satisfaction played at her lips. And they’d all agreed to stay the summer, hadn’t they?

  But now, only midsummer, and Carson had already left—though she promise
d to swiftly return—while Dora had one foot out the door.

  Mamaw closed her eyes, welcoming another soothing ocean breeze. She couldn’t fail in her mission. Eighty years was a long time of living. She’d survived the loss of a husband and her only child. All she had left that mattered were these three precious jewels, her granddaughters. Mamaw’s hands tightened to fists. And come hell or high water—or hissy fits—she was going to give them this one perfect summer. Her most private fear was that when Sea Breeze was sold and she’d moved on to a retirement home, the fragile bond between the sisters would break and they’d scatter to the four winds like these bits of sweetgrass that fell loose from Lucille’s basket.

  “Here comes another one,” Lucille said in a low voice, indicating with her chin the sight of Dora rounding the corner of the house.

  Mamaw’s gaze swept over her eldest granddaughter with a critical eye. Dora was dressed in a khaki suit and a blouse the same pale yellow color as her hair. As Dora drew closer, Mamaw noted that she was wearing nylon stockings and pumps. In this heat! She could see pearls of perspiration already dripping down Dora’s face as she dragged a suitcase behind her through the gravel toward the silver Lexus parked in the driveway.

  “Dora! Are you off?” Mamaw called out.

  Dora stopped abruptly at hearing her name and turned her head toward the guesthouse.

  “Hey, ladies,” she called out with a wave, upon seeing the two women sitting side by side on the front porch. “Yes,” she replied, pasting on a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. “I’ve got to dash if I’m going to get to my lawyer’s appointment on time. It’s going to be a long morning.”

  Dora left her suitcase and came over to join them. “Look at you two, sitting there like two birds on a wire, chirping away the morning.” Dora stepped up onto the porch and into the shade.