Lowcountry Summer eBoxed Set

by Mary Alice Monroe

  She took a seat at the table beside Carson, who was reading the Island Eye.

  “Good morning,” she called out as she approached. “Storm’s coming.”

  The women looked up and greeted her warmly.

  “You were up and out early,” Mamaw said.

  “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  “Lord, no,” Mamaw said. “At my age one never sleeps well. Harper woke up just minutes after you left.” Mamaw looked out to the garden. “Dear girl made coffee, fueled up, and went straight to work on planting those flower beds.” She sipped her tea, watching, then as she lowered her cup said, “I swanny, look at that girl lift those bags of soil. They must weigh as much as she does.”

  Looking out to the backyard, Dora saw Harper lifting enormous bags of compost and dumping the contents into two new raised garden beds.

  Lucille chuckled. “She’s little but she’s feisty.”

  “Dora, why aren’t you out in the garden with her?” Mamaw asked. “Isn’t it your project, too?”

  “Hell, no,” Dora said, chewing her cereal. “Harper took over that garden. I just get in her way.”

  Carson lowered her newspaper and laughed. “That’s a switch.”

  “Not really,” Dora said with a bemused expression. “She’s not the meek little mouse I used to think she was. I’m kind of afraid of her.”

  Mamaw laughed as she picked up a playing card and held it in the air, deciding whether to keep or discard it. “She must’ve ordered every garden book ever written. Her room is littered with them. I’ll wager she’ll read each one, too.”

  “What are all of those?” Carson asked, pointing to the flats.

  “Vegetable starter plants,” Dora replied.

  “Just what we need,” Lucille muttered, picking up a card. “More vegetables. Wish she took a hankering to raising me a nice pig. Or a couple of chickens.”

  “Don’t mention it to her!” Mamaw exclaimed. “Or we’ll have chickens arriving tomorrow.” She threw down a card.

  “Don’t worry. Sullivan’s isn’t zoned for livestock,” Dora said.

  “That won’t stop Miss Harper if she puts her mind to it,” Lucille said, picking up Mamaw’s card.

  “Bless her heart,” Mamaw muttered. “Hush now, here she comes.”

  The women stopped talking as they watched Harper walking across the yard, slapping dirt from her clothes. It was a futile gesture. She was streaked from head to toe with soil that was fast becoming mud in her sweat.

  “She doesn’t even look winded,” Dora said with awe.

  “Hi, y’all,” Harper said as she approached.

  The three women stared at her wide-eyed with shock that their New Yorker greeted them in the Southern style.

  “If that don’t beat all,” Lucille said under her breath.

  “I’m just playing with you,” Harper said with a light laugh. “Though I must say that expression is catchy.” She turned to Dora as she poured herself a glass of water from a thermos. “Dora, glad you’re back. I could use your help. I’ve got to get all these plants in before the rain comes.”

  “Sorry, Mrs. Green Jeans,” Dora said, but she didn’t look the least bit sorry.

  Harper harrumphed and turned an imploring gaze on Carson.

  “Carson . . .”

  “Don’t look at me,” Carson said. “I hate gardening.”

  “Aw, come on,” Harper moaned. “I need to get all those plants in before the rain.” Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as she launched into a monologue of her progress. “I’ve come too far to mess it all up now. There’s three different kinds of lettuce, patio tomatoes, and oh, the herbs! They smell heavenly. Parsley, thyme, rosemary, sage, oregano, dill, and lots of basil. Aren’t they sweet? So tiny and all. I call them my babies.” She turned to Lucille. “Lucille, this will be your very own kitchen garden,” she said proudly. “In a few weeks, you can just saunter out and pick whatever you like.”

  Lucille smiled sweetly. “That’s nice. Thank you, baby.” She glanced at Mamaw.

  “I really would help you, Harper,” Dora said. “But I’m going out to play with Nate. We have a kayaking lesson this morning. Although . . .” She looked up at the gathering clouds. “I hope it isn’t canceled because of this storm.”

  They all looked up at the clouds heralding the tropical storm that was barreling in from the south.

  “It’s really moving in,” Mamaw said. “You shouldn’t go out on the water today no matter what.”

  “Those clouds now have an official name,” Carson informed them. She looked to Lucille. “Guess what it is.” When Lucille shrugged, Carson said, “They named it Tropical Storm Lucy! Isn’t that a hoot? I think it’s only fitting they named a storm after you, you ol’ windbag.”

  The girls laughed at the joke as Carson moved to kiss Lucille’s cheek.

  Lucille grunted. “I ain’t never been called Lucy in my life and never will. I’ve always been Lucille.”

  Mamaw didn’t laugh. “These midsummer storms can be surprisingly strong. They can pack a punch. I’ve lived through too many of them not to take each one seriously. Last summer Tropical Storm Debby wiped out our dunes. Cut them clean away.” She clapped her hands together, rousing the group to action. “Girls, plans or no plans, today we have to prepare for this storm. We must take all the cushions inside, put anything light or loose that can be picked up by the wind into the garage. Harper, all your garden tools have to be put away. We don’t want anything to become a missile in the wind and break a window. We can’t be too careful.”

  “Mamaw, you always panic with every storm,” Dora said. “This house has weathered storms for over a century.”

  “That’s because I prepare! And I’ll have you know, young lady, that this house might still be standing, but I’ve done many repairs over those years. Hugo almost took the whole house away. Once you live through that, you never turn your back on the ocean.”

  “Amen,” Lucille muttered.

  “Lucy’s gonna be a real storm,” Carson said, looking up at the sky. “I can always feel it in my bones. It’s the shift in the barometric pressure.”

  Dora looked at the sky again, feeling the foreboding every person in the lowcountry experiences at the approach of a named summer storm. “At least it’s not a hurricane.”

  “But the forecast calls for high winds,” Harper said, looking warily at the sky. “I’m worried about my plants.” She took a deep breath. “I’m off. Got to get them in before the storm hits.” Harper marched off to retrieve a flat of herbs and hoisted them in her thin arms with the ease of a common laborer.

  “Who is that girl?” Carson asked, resting her chin in her palm. “And where does she get all that energy?”

  “It’s the enthusiasm of a convert, my dear,” Mamaw replied. “It’s irrepressible.”

  “Speaking of energy,” Dora said to Carson, “I noticed you slept in again this morning. You haven’t been out surfing or kiting since you got back. With those waves building in the storm, I thought for sure you’d be with those other crazy risk takers out there.”

  “I’m still just tired from the trip. Not feeling that good, that’s all.” She looked to Lucille. “I think I’ve got what you’ve got.”

  Lucille snorted. “Honey, you ain’t got what I got.”

  Carson leaned against Lucille’s shoulder and declared with humor, “Well, you sure ain’t got what I got.”

  The way Carson said it had Mamaw looking up quickly to catch Dora’s eye, then Lucille’s. In that moment the three women shared a knowing look. In a synchronized movement, all heads turned toward Carson with narrowed eyes.

  Dora bent closer to her sister. “Carson, are you pregnant?”

  “The air’s so wet I could drink it,” Mamaw said. Pearls of sweat formed on her brow, and her hair was frizzing.

  Tropical Storm Lucy was gathering strength as it moved north along the coast. The sea was roaring in anticipation, echoing throughout the island. A heavy humidity hovere
d over the lowcountry like a pall. They’d all pitched in to prepare for the storm’s predicted arrival that evening.

  Mamaw took a final look-see around the property to make certain all the flowerpots, garden supplies, cushions, and knickknacks were safely stored indoors.

  “We’re done here. And we’re hot and sweaty,” Carson said, her arms above her head to redo her ponytail. “We’re going to the beach.”

  Mamaw was glad to see a little more color in her face this morning. She was wearing a bikini top and yoga pants that hung low off her hips. Looking at her flat belly, Mamaw found it hard to believe a new life was growing in there. Carson refused to discuss her pregnancy, not even with her. After she’d admitted to the truth, she’d stormed off to her room and shut the door. Mamaw had thought she might hear a rap on her bedroom door and that Carson would slip in, like she usually did for a chat. Carson was resolutely silent.

  Harper approached in a black Speedo suit and sarong, and on her head she wore a large floppy hat. She carried beach towels under her arm.

  “Want to come?” she asked Mamaw.

  “Oh, I don’t think so, dear. Not today.”

  Behind her, Dora carried a large canvas bag. Nate’s face bore streaks of white suntan lotion.

  “Why don’t you come, Mamaw?” Dora asked. “You haven’t been to the beach much this summer. It’ll be like old times.”

  “I don’t want to leave Lucille alone,” Mamaw replied. “Besides, I have a few things I want to get done before the storm. You children go on and have a good time. But Carson”—she pinned her granddaughter with a no-nonsense look—“no going in that ocean, hear? Listen to it roar. That undercurrent is deadly.”

  Carson only smirked and did not reply. Mamaw knew that good waves in Charleston waters were powerful bait for local surfers. She also knew that as with everything else, Carson would do what Carson wanted to do.

  “You, too, Nate,” she said, turning to Dora. “Don’t you let him in the water.”

  “Don’t worry, Mamaw. We won’t.”

  Mamaw watched the group saunter off, her fingers tapping her thigh. As soon as they disappeared around the hedge, Mamaw checked her watch and hurried back up the stairs into the house. She went directly to the kitchen phone and dialed a number she’d written on a Post-it note. After two rings, a man answered the phone.

  “Devlin Cassell.”

  “Devlin, it’s Marietta Muir.”

  “Mamaw!” The reply rang with warmth.

  Mamaw couldn’t respond for a moment, taken aback at the shock of Devlin calling her Mamaw.

  “Forgive me for being so familiar, Mrs. Muir. Old habits die hard.”

  “That’s quite all right. But perhaps Mrs. Muir is better, given the nature of our business.”

  “Yes, ma’am, Mrs. Muir.”

  “The girls have gone to the beach. Do you have time now?”

  “For you? Of course I do. I’ll be right over.” He chuckled low in that easy manner she remembered from long ago. “I know the way.”

  Mamaw opened the door to a broad-shouldered, well-dressed man wearing dark sunglasses. He removed the sunglasses and smiled, and she recognized the astonishing blue eyes.

  “Devlin Cassell. I hardly recognized you!”

  He was taller and broader than she remembered. His blond hair was trimmed neatly around his head, but still uncontrolled. It gave him a youthful look, even in his sophisticated creased khaki pants and bright blue, expensive polo shirt.

  “Mrs. Muir, you haven’t changed a bit,” he said with a wide grin.

  “Please come in.” She ushered him inside. “You’ll have to excuse the look of the place at the moment. The girls and I have spent the day turning the house upside down, readying it for the storm!”

  Devlin’s head moved from left to right as he entered, allowing his gaze to sweep the rooms. She wished the sun were shining. Sea Breeze showed so well with sunlight pouring in through the windows, but with the storm coming, the rooms appeared gloomy. Mamaw had turned the lights on in each room. As they walked through the house, the golden light gave the pine floors an added luster. Devlin paid close attention to the historic details they both knew added value to the house. From time to time he’d stop to jot something in his notebook or make a comment. You don’t see moldings like that every day. When they stepped out onto the back porch, Devlin paused, put his hands on his hips, and stared out at the vast expanse of the Cove. It was high tide and a silvery mist from the incoming storm hung low over the wetlands, making the scene appear otherworldly.

  “This is what they’ll come for. The million-dollar view,” he said after a while. “Or in this case, multimillion.” He released a soft whistle. “I’d forgotten how well situated the house is.”

  “Yes, well, I believe you had your eyes on Dora at the time.”

  He caught her eye and chuckled. “I surely did. Still do.” He paused, then asked, “Do you mind?”

  She was touched that he cared enough about her opinion to ask. “It depends on your sincerity.” She tilted her head and clasped her hands, choosing her words carefully. “She’s a traditional woman with traditional values. This divorce is hard on her.”

  “I know that.”

  Mamaw wrapped her arms around herself, surprised by the drop in temperature.

  “I’ve always found that if a person truly wants to be a part of your life, he will make an effort to do so.” She turned toward Devlin, her gaze direct. “We haven’t seen hide nor hair of Calhoun Tupper since Dora returned from the hospital. But I believe she’s seen quite a bit of you in the past few weeks.”

  He nodded.

  “Have you met Nate?”

  “Not yet. I’d like to. But Dora wants to wait.”

  “She’s very protective of that boy. Too protective, perhaps, but she has good reason.”

  Devlin turned back to face her, his gaze sincere. “I’m trying not to rush her. She told me not to. But,” he said in earnest, “I want you to know that my feelings for Dora are true. And they run deep. I won’t hurt her. Or Nate. In fact, the one who’s likely to get hurt in this deal is me.”

  Mamaw’s smile lit up her face. What a nice, genuine man Devlin had grown up to be.

  “Then I think neither of us has anything to be worried about. Let’s go inside, shall we? It must’ve dropped ten degrees just since you arrived and the rain can’t be far behind.”

  They returned to the front of the house. Devlin’s gaze fell on the cottage and he stopped in front of it, studying the quaint house. “May we go in and take a look?”

  “Not today. Lucille isn’t well and she’s resting. I don’t want to disturb her. And with the change in the weather, I fear the girls will return momentarily. It’s as tidy and tight as a ship.”

  “And the garage?”

  “Dusty and filled with cobwebs and junk, but solid.”

  “Good. Well, then. I’ll go to the office and work up some comps so we can begin talking about the price.” His eyes gleamed. “But I can tell you right now, there’s nothing else like it on the market right now. With both the historic factor and the killer views . . .”

  “So you think it might sell quickly?”

  He smiled. “I’ve got folks on my Rolodex I can call right now who are just waiting for a house like yours to come on the market. Yes, Mrs. Muir. I think it could sell very quickly.”

  Mamaw was filled with relief and sudden gratitude toward him. She looked over to the cottage, imagined Lucille lying in there. Mamaw planned to call a few doctors and see whether there were some procedures that could be done. With money in hand, she could fight the cancer.

  “I’m so pleased.”

  “When would you like to put it on the market?”

  “As soon as possible.”

  Devlin’s brows shot up. “Really? I thought Dora said you were going to wait until the fall.”

  “That was my original thinking. But some recent developments have changed my mind. Though I do not want to leave Sea
Breeze until the summer’s end.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I reckon I have my marching orders. I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.” He turned and walked to his car. It was a large German automobile, black, polished, and expensive-looking. He bent to open his car door, then stopped and looked toward the street.

  Mamaw heard the voices as well and felt her stomach drop. She’d hoped they’d finish their business before the girls returned home. Thunder rumbled and a gust of wind sent dry sand swirling in the air. Dora and Nate appeared, walking between the tall hedges that bordered the property. Dora was talking to Nate but stopped short when she saw Devlin. Harper soon followed, then Carson, who smiled and waved when she saw Devlin.

  “Well, hey, Dev!” Carson called out, coming to Devlin’s side. “I was wondering when you’d show up. How are you?”

  “Good. Real good,” he replied genially, and glanced worriedly at Dora.

  Dora said nothing. She stood silently beside Nate.

  “My, don’t you look handsome, all dressed up,” Carson teased. “Are you here to whisk our girl out to dinner?” She looked over her shoulder at Dora and gave her a questioning look.

  “I, uh . . .” Devlin hesitated and glanced at Mamaw for guidance.

  Mamaw stepped forward. “I asked Devlin to come. He’s here to give me an estimate on the house’s value.”

  Carson looked stricken. “You’re putting the house on the market now?”

  “I’m just getting some information, so let’s not fuss. Let the poor man get home before the storm hits.”

  “Devlin, wait,” Dora said, coming closer to him. “Since you’re here, I’d like you to meet my son.” She waved Nate closer. “Nate, come meet my good friend Mr. Cassell.”

  Devlin’s eyes widened along with his smile. “Hey there, Nate. I’m glad to meet you at last. Your mama told me all about you. In fact, she can’t stop talking about you.” He held out his hand.

  Dora cringed inwardly, knowing Nate would not shake it.

  “Hi,” said Nate, looking away at the house.

  To Devlin’s credit, he let his hand move to his hips without offense. “I hope you’ll come out on my boat sometime. I know spots where there are lots of dolphins and where they do that strand feeding. Do you know what that is?”