By Invitation Only

by Dorothea Benton Frank

  “Yes, please. Maybe you could see if he needs a new diaper?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Come to Mimi.”

  “Mimi!” Shelby said. “I love it!”

  “Anything but Granny, okay?”

  I took the baby from her and held him close. I could feel his little heart beating. I took him into the bedroom and laid him down on his changing table to have a good look at him. He opened his eyes and looked at me. And I looked deeply into his. I knew him. Don’t ask me how, but I knew this baby and he knew me. In that moment, we connected, and I knew nothing would ever make me change the overwhelming love I felt for him. This was real love, deep and sacred. I looked up to see Shelby at the door, taking a picture of us with her phone.

  “He’s so wonderful, isn’t he?”

  “He sure is,” I said.

  I never mentioned the fact that her father would never know little Floyd. There was no reason to let his horrible sins dilute this moment or any moment thereafter.

  Later that night, I decided I would sell my engagement ring to further sever any ties with Alejandro. The pink diamond center stone was six carats, with half-moons on either side, each of those weighing two carats. Alejandro always said the stones were flawless, just like me. Now I’d know for sure. I wondered if Nadia had one. Flawless or not, ten carats might bring enough money to keep me afloat for a long time. I wanted to go to New York to do it. I’d known a jeweler on Forty-seventh Street years ago, a diamond specialist. I had his number somewhere. I’d find it and call him in the morning. Shelby decided to sell the Renoir, probably for the same reasons.

  “I don’t need a Renoir,” she said.

  “That’s entirely up to you,” Frederick said. “That’s your painting.”

  “Let’s take it to Christie’s,” I said. “Years ago, I knew someone there in the Impressionist department.”

  “Let’s do it. Should we call for an appointment?” Shelby said.

  “I’ll be happy to do that,” I said, taking the reins.

  Since our worlds had blown up, I had become closer to Shelby and Frederick. Whatever tension there had been between us before the wedding seemed to have disappeared. Or maybe, and this was just a maybe, I wasn’t as manic. (I still thought the butterflies would have been a good idea.) I didn’t know why and never would, but I felt completely welcome when I went through their door, just as they were when they came through mine. Somehow all this turmoil had an end result that took us to a saner and happier place. No doubt little Floyd was a large driving factor too.

  Since our apartments were on a month-to-month lease, it was easy to leave. There wasn’t a single reason we could think of to stay in Chicago, and there was every reason to go to South Carolina. I sold my Jaguar and Frederick rented a Ryder truck. I would ride with Shelby in their SUV and I’d buy some other kind of vehicle when we got there.

  I called Floyd.

  “Hey, it’s me. Susan. How are you? I heard all about the storm.”

  “Yeah, it was terrible. We’ve got a mess.”

  “Y’all got power?”

  “Not yet. All of Charleston’s in the dark. The National Guard’s everywhere. It’s a good thing I stockpiled all the provisions I did because I’ve been selling all kinds of things – eggs, paper towels, Band-Aids and water to neighbors through the farm stand. Flashlight batteries are on special.”

  I laughed at that. “Really? Wow. That’s wonderful.”

  “Grocery stores are closed. No lights. No refrigeration. We’re selling everything we’ve got. I’ve got our refrigerators running on a generator with fuel I keep for the tractor.”

  “This is serious,” I said.

  “Sure is. The word is we’re supposed to get power back soon. Even Lowe’s is closed.”

  No doubt an occasion for him to wear black, I thought.

  “Well, don’t pay July’s rent,” I said.

  “Why not?” he said.

  “Because I just got an engraved invitation on a silver platter to come help you clean it up.”

  “Shelby, Fred, and little Floyd coming too?”

  “Yep. The judge cut me off, Frederick got fired, and Shelby quit. They think I should come with them. What do you think?”

  “That’s sort of like the hand of God, that’s what I think.”

  “Come on, gorgeous, don’t torture me. Do you think I can stay somewhere on the farm?”

  “What color trailer do you want me to rent?” he said. “When the lights come on, I’ll get you one.”

  “Something with a little charm, if you can manage it,” I said. “But it’s only temporary.”

  “Has to be rented, because I’m fixin’ to get plans together for that house on Shem Creek I’ve been talking about building since forever. Maybe you’d like to help me design it? I’m gonna have to start building soon.”

  “I’d like nothing better,” I said. “Are you thinking about gardens too?”

  “You mean flower gardens? Why not?”

  “I’ve always wanted to grow flowers,” I said.

  “Is that a fact? Is your divorce from that sumbitch final?”

  “It sure is.”

  “Good. Be sure to get gas in Columbia. Nobody’s pumping here.”

  “Okay.”

  It was hard to hide my excitement from Shelby and Frederick, but I think they all knew how Floyd and I felt about each other. Neither one of us could help it. We knew in the moment we met that somehow we would wind up together. Maybe there was hope for my heart yet.

  We arrived in New Jersey and checked into a Courtyard Marriott right outside of New York City. Shelby would stay at the hotel with little Floyd, who behaved like an angel the whole trip, sleeping and eating, sleeping and eating. Frederick and I would Uber into the city with the painting and my diamond.

  “Good luck!” she said when we left her.

  “I’ll call you when we’re done,” I said.

  “Call me if you need anything,” Frederick said.

  The painting was wrapped in bubble wrap and covered with brown paper. It was small, so it was easy to carry.

  Our Uber driver got us through the tunnel and into the city in less than forty minutes and dropped us off at Christie’s right on time.

  “Uber is genius,” Frederick said. “I wish I’d thought of it.”

  “We all wish we’d thought of it,” I said.

  If we had, I wouldn’t be selling my diamond, I thought, and you wouldn’t be selling your Renoir.

  We went right to the information desk and asked them to call Claude Paquin to let him know we had arrived.

  “Claude is an old friend. I’m surprised he’s still here, but I’m glad he is.”

  A few minutes later, Claude appeared. “Susan! How wonderful to see you! You haven’t changed a bit! Still as beautiful as ever!”

  Air kiss to the right. Air kiss to the left.

  “Claude! Darling! Say hello to my son-in-law, Frederick.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, sir,” Frederick said.

  “Well, well. It’s nice to meet you too,” Claude said. “A son-in-law! Shelby grew up and got married. Where does the time go?”

  “And I recently became a grandmother to a darling little boy,” I said.

  “My goodness. Let’s get you into my office where we can have a bit of privacy,” he said.

  We followed him to the elevators that took us to the higher floors, where the executive offices were located. We followed him down the hall until we reached a door that said nineteenth-century european paintings, claude paquin, head of department.

  Once inside, we passed his secretary and went into his inner office, where he closed the door.

  “Do you care for coffee?” he said.

  “No, thank you,” I said.

  “I’m fine, thanks,” Frederick said.

  “Well then, shall we see what you’ve brought us?”

  I said, “Yes. Frederick, let’s unwrap the painting.”

  Frederick unwrapped the small pain
ting of a little girl and placed it on the easel. She was indoors, in perhaps a living room, dressed in a pretty dress with a large square white collar. Her long red hair cascaded down her back in ringlets, and her little dog, some kind of terrier, I’d always thought, sat at her feet. It was very charming and innocent.

  “Oh, this is a honey!” Claude said.

  “We’ve always loved it,” I said. “I imagine you know about—”

  “Yes, I was so sorry to hear it. How stressful this must have been for you.”

  “A nightmare. But it’s in the past. We are divorced and I’m moving ahead with my life.”

  “Good,” said Claude. “That’s the only thing there is to do.”

  “Mr. Paquin?” Frederick said. “May I ask you for an approximate range?”

  “Of course! Just recently a woman in West Virginia accidently bought a Renoir at a garage sale for seven dollars. She sold it at auction for a hundred thousand dollars. But his masterpiece Bal du Moulin de la Galette sold for seventy-eight million. So the range is a broad one.” Claude turned a black light on the painting and took out his loupe, peering at the canvas from top to bottom. “This canvas is larger than the West Virginia discovery, it’s in excellent condition, and the frame is in perfect shape—I’d venture a guess of one hundred fifty thousand to two. Maybe slightly more.”

  “I think we paid fifty for it,” I said. “Should’ve bought more.”

  “Everyone says that,” Claude said.

  “Holy smoke,” Frederick said.

  “We have an auction in September of French Impressionism and Dutch Masters. This will fit very nicely in the sale. Do you want to leave it with me?”

  “I think so. Frederick, what do you think?”

  “I think definitely, as long as it’s covered by—”

  “Insurance?” Claude said. “Of course! Let’s begin the arduous process of filling out a mountain of thoroughly detestable paperwork.”

  An hour later we were outside in Rockefeller Center.

  “Let’s stroll around a bit,” I said, “we have time and it’s just a few blocks to Corey’s. It’s such a nice day.”

  We passed one of my old haunts after another. Funny, I thought Cartier would pull at my heartstrings, but suddenly it felt like quicksand. The desire to constantly acquire beautiful things and the temptation to possess them at any cost, like the gorgeous jewelry Alejandro bought me, led him to a life of crime and unthinkable disgrace for the rest of us. No, I wanted to get as far away from that life as I could.

  Before I knew it, we were in the lobby of 50 West Forty-Seventh Street, having our pictures taken, my handbag sent through a detector, and sent up to where to the offices of Corey Friedman Fine Jewels are.

  “There are no buttons to press in this elevator,” Frederick said.

  “It’s preprogrammed so we don’t get lost. This isn’t the kind of building that wants you to just wander around.”

  “Talk about security. Wow.”

  “Wow is right,” I said. “This way.”

  We were buzzed in and Corey greeted me with open arms.

  “Come in. Oh, you poor girl! What you must’ve been through. I’m so sorry.”

  “Thanks, Corey. Say hello to my son-in-law, Frederick.”

  They shook hands.

  “Can I get you some coffee? Pellegrino? A sandwich? Did you eat?”

  We walked into his office, which had a view of midtown Manhattan that was heart-stopping. We sat in the two beautiful white leather chairs facing his desk.

  “Wow,” Frederick said, looking out over the city.

  “Yeah, it’s something, isn’t it?” Corey said. “I pinch myself every day.”

  “Corey? Actually, I’d love a pastrami on rye if someone will share it with me. Where I’m headed, they’ve never heard of real New York deli food.”

  “Elyse? Sweetheart?” he called out to his beautiful daughter. “Order us a hot pastrami on rye and a hot corned beef on rye too. And extra pickles.”

  “Now I’m starving,” Frederick said.

  Corey said, “Don’t worry. Two sandwiches will feed six people.”

  “Well, let’s show you my ring,” I said. I reached into my bag for the little satin sack that held my diamond and brought it out. I opened it and put it on the black suede presentation board in front of us.

  He picked it up.

  “This is a very special stone, you know,” he said. “I’m just going to steam it so I can get a better look.”

  “Sure,” I said.

  Corey stepped out of the office. Frederick was doing his e-mails or texting or something.

  “Guess what?” he said.

  “What? Is Shelby okay?”

  “Oh, this is from Stephanie. Granola Girl and her boyfriend, Sam the shepherd . . .”

  “As in Sam Shepard? The playwright?”

  “Oh! I never thought about that! Funny! Well, they quit their jobs and they’re coming home. They want to keep sheep, spin yarn, and make sheep’s milk cheese.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “Not a bit. Here you can read this for yourself.”

  The text message read, Why should I do what I’m doing to make somebody else rich when my own family needs me more?

  “I told her that Shelby and I reached the same conclusion.”

  “Frederick! This is wonderful news!”

  “It sure is! You know, I’d been wondering how Uncle Floyd and Mom were going to continue. They’re not exactly young, you know?”

  “True,” I said.

  “Not long ago, I couldn’t see myself living anyplace except Chicago. And now I can’t see us anywhere else except home in the Lowcountry working together to restore what we had. This is much more important than working for some accounting firm that doesn’t give a damn about you.”

  “It sure is, Frederick. You’re a good man. I’m so proud of you.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “Do you think you could call me Fred?”

  “Never,” I said.

  Corey returned and sat behind his desk.

  “I can’t believe I’m going to do this, but I’m going to offer you four hundred and eighty thousand dollars for your ring.”

  “Make it five fifty on the nose and you’ve got a deal,” I said.

  “You’re killing me,” he said.

  “Corey, look up Sotheby’s London. They just sold one not as nice as mine for six.”

  “Your mother-in-law is unbelievable,” he said, and we shook hands. “Elyse! Where’s that lunch? Spending money gives me such an appetite.” He reached into a drawer and pulled out his checkbook. “I’d send you the check, but then I’m taking a chance you’ll walk. Best to close the deal.”

  I winked at Frederick and he laughed. I took Corey’s check and put it in my wallet.

  I didn’t know it then, but by the time we crossed the South Carolina state line, Floyd’s daughter Ann, his older daughter Sophie, and her partner had pulled up stakes and were headed to the Lowcountry too. We were rolling down I-95 South. I was in the backseat, cooing with little Floyd, falling more in love with him every minute. Every time he opened his eyes and looked at me, I nearly swooned.

  We stopped every two hours for Shelby to nurse her beautiful infant son and give him a change. We’d pull into a parking lot, Frederick would get gas and snacks, we’d chat a bit, and then we’d be off again.

  “Mom?” I looked up to see Shelby looking at me in her rearview mirror.

  “You want me to drive now?” I said.

  “No, no. I’m fine. I was just thinking you look so happy.”

  “Because I am! Tell me how life gets any better than this? There is a house filled with people who can’t wait to see us.” Floyd. “Those people love us in spite of everything.” Floyd. “They want to help us. We want to help them. And best of all, we have little Floyd.” And big Floyd. “I love this little boy so much, sometimes I feel like my heart will explode. I can see the future and I like it.” I hoped Floyd was getting som
e rest.

  “Me too, Mom. Me too.”

  At one point we left I-95 and got on Highway 17. As we passed through a place called Jacksonboro, we began to cross short bridges. These bridges took us over the curves of a river with water so blue it almost hurt my eyes to look at it. There were little docks with boats tied to the moorings and enormous white birds I would learn were ibises and egrets. I would never tire of this place. I wanted to be a part of it because life here was good and it had purpose. Poor Alejandro. He was so clever until his reach exceeded his grasp. I wonder whether if I’d known what he was doing, I could’ve stopped him. So many lives were in ruins. In this strange but wonderful turn of events, mine was not. I was being given a second chance. I knew that. I was going to prove myself worthy.

  Epilogue

  The lights went back on and power was completely restored as soon as they arrived and Shelby lifted baby Floyd into our arms. Really. They literally did.

  It was the spring of 2018. To our astonishment and absolute delight, the Renoir sold last fall for $240,000. Shelby and Fred used part of the money to buy computers for everyone and build a Web site, and then Sophie put our whole business online, including a page that offered pies, muffins, and jelly to ship.

  www.MissVirnellsFarmStand.com

  She also set up an 800 number, and we proudly accepted Visa and Mastercard. The younger generation had taken over, or so we let them think. At first we had a bit of a chaotic situation. Everybody was trying to do everybody else’s job, no one seemingly taking responsibility for the quality of their performance. Floyd and I had a sidebar chat.

  “We need an organizational chart,” he said.

  “Agreed. If they want to help one another, that’s fine. But we don’t need three people to keep the Web site going or all of them in the kitchen at once.”

  That’s how my mother, Miss Virnell, came to be named the chairwoman emerita. Floyd and I became co-presidents. Sophie and Ann were the co-vice presidents overseeing marketing and sales, Stephanie was the vice president of development, setting up artisanal cheese production and asking for goats. Shelby and Fred were the co-treasurers, although Mom still signed the checks and would until she decided she didn’t feel like doing it anymore. Susan was in charge of all flowers and herbs, from planting to design and decor, which she financed herself. Sophie’s partner, Karen, didn’t care about a title. She just wanted to work in the store. In fact, none of them seemed to care about titles, but at least they had accepted our division of labor. Mom and I were thrilled to have the help. Sam was tending his growing flock of sheep. And Alden asked Floyd if it was okay with him if he asked me to marry him! He sure did. But you know Floyd.