Return to Sullivan's Island

by Dorothea Benton Frank

  Cecily was the answer, not her mother. If she had learned only one single thing from Livvie Singleton’s granddaughter, she was certain that Cecily would have an idea on how to make Max Mitchell squirm. Lucky in love or not, Cecily was more experienced.

  She decided to walk Lola and transform her own frustrations into a plan, and most important, she needed to shake off her funk. By the time the rest of the world began their day, Beth would be one step ahead. Hopefully.

  She pulled on a pair of shorts, an old T-shirt from an Alison Krauss concert, her flip-flops, and crossed the dunes, stopping halfway down the sandy steps. The sun’s ascent was unfolding slightly east of Breach Inlet and its slow rise was so dramatic that Beth caught her breath and jerked Lola’s leash. She would have sworn on a Bible that that side of the world looked as if it might actually burst into flames.

  Despite the promise of another sizzling day, at that hour the fine white sand was soothing and cool as it passed through her flip-flops. By noon, that very same sand would gather enough heat to scorch the calluses of the carelessly unshod, who would race and holler bloody murder across the many island paths that led to the shore. That thought brought the curl of a smile.

  The incoming tide was laced with ripples so quiet you could have said that it was sneaking its way ashore. Scores of miniature birds dug in earnest for their breakfast around the water’s edges, scampering away as the next wave threatened to wash away their tiny world. Beth marveled at the predictability of it all, that the tide would change every six hours and that the sun would rise again each morning. It gave her courage or fortitude or some measure of peace. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt reassured knowing life went on and, like the old people always said, things always seemed better in the morning. And they did.

  The beach was empty except for a few people and their dogs in the distance near Station 22. On another day she might have jogged down the beach to join them. But that Friday morning she was just ambling along, thinking about her lot and taking in her little dog’s fascination with her new surroundings. She unhooked her leash and Lola took off running. Lola sniffed every lump of seaweed at the high-water mark and chased the fat seagulls who watched Lola with keen-eyed suspicion. As one or another moved toward Lola, she barked energetically and they would waddle away. This made Beth smile too.

  As soon as she felt it was a decent hour, she could call Cecily. If nothing else, Cecily would make her laugh and it would feel good to unburden her heart.

  What would Cecily advise her to do? She would probably begin by telling Beth that she had no business chasing after a man of Max’s age, that the older woman she saw him with could have been there for another reason in spite of her clothing or lack thereof. But once she realized that Beth was really and truly dead serious about gaining Max’s affection, how to make it happen would take center stage. Cecily loved a challenge. Beth hoped Cecily had some secrets to share with her—a Gullah perfume or a root tea that would bring him around. No matter how loudly Cecily denied her success with men, Cecily surely had something that worked because her dance card always had a waiting list. Wherever she went, men seemed to fall all over themselves to get her attention.

  Perhaps she should call her Aunt Sophie too, just for a second opinion, she thought. Sophie was cool and even more experienced and she might be able to enlighten her in the ways of older men. The excuse for a chat with her Aunt Sophie sounded like a great idea.

  What would Sophie do if she fell in love with an older man like Max, say some old coot around fifty? Or, heaven forbid, sixty? She thought about it for a few moments and decided that first Sophie would manage to show up where said old coot was going to be—perched on a barstool or dining alone in a restaurant. Sophie would look totally gorgeous, which was easy enough for her, and second, she would completely ignore him, pretending the old fart was merely a gaseous fume. Her eyes would pass over his once or twice without recognition. Genius! With an ego the size of Max’s? Being ignored would drive him right out of his skull. And before the waiter could deliver the champagne he would surely send over to her, Sophie would turn slowly but deliberately on her kitten heels and depart without a wink or a nod. Sophie’s version of Max would be left stranded, choking on his newly found massive infatuation with her. Maybe something like that would work for her too. She was a little insecure about her ability to pull off that scenario, but surely there was a ploy that would be worth a try.

  “Ooooh! This is all so stupid!” Beth cried aloud to the salty muses in the morning air, half expecting a reply. “What am I doing wasting all this energy? Ridiculous!”

  She clapped her hands and called out to Lola, who ran back to her, sticky and sandy.

  “Look at you! We need to shampoo your hair, miss! Turning into an island girl, are we? Chasing seagulls and rolling around on smelly things! Come on! That’s no way for a lady to behave.”

  Beth showered herself and Lola and was towel-drying her little dog, who hated being groomed. Lola was a dog after all. She heard someone downstairs, opening and closing cabinets in the kitchen.

  “Who’s there?” she called out.

  “Just your caterer, ma’am!” It was the chipper voice of Cecily. “I figured that between running the road up to Pawleys yesterday and then your first day at Atlanticville, you probably didn’t have time to pick up groceries.”

  Beth hurried down the stairs to greet her.

  “You’re right! You are too sweet! Thanks!”

  “Well, I was going for myself anyway so it’s no big deal…”

  “Still! Thanks! You want some coffee?”

  “Why not?”

  Beth pressed the start button on the coffeemaker and the water began to drip, sending the rich smells of ground beans from Colombia swirling into the air.

  “Too bad coffee never tastes as good as it smells,” Beth said, peering into the refrigerator. “Holy crap! What did you do? Rob the freaking Pig?”

  Piggly Wiggly was the name of the family’s favorite grocery store chain and one was conveniently located in Mount Pleasant in a small shopping center.

  “Nah, I just got a few things.”

  “Yeah, like two of each for the Ark?”

  “Yeah, I’m stocking the Ark. So what’s going on with you?”

  “Well, I got up early. Couldn’t sleep. Took Lola to the beach and she got so sandy I had to give her a bath, which she hates. Whined the whole time, which I ignored. Anyway, my legs are killing me, my brain’s about to pop, my cousin’s coming—”

  “You gonna waste the whole morning telling me nothing or are you gonna tell me what got you up so early in the first place?”

  There was a pregnant pause and in the next moment Beth blurted out the truth.

  “It’s Max. Who else? He came into the restaurant last night with this woman, who was older than him, and I mean by a lot. He acted so stupid when he saw me that I wanted to die. I mean, I kept my cool but it was clear he thought there was absolutely no reason for me to think anything was strange about seeing him with someone else.”

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing. I mean, I had to bring some wine to his table and when he realized who I was—the haircut and contacts, I guess—he didn’t stand up or introduce me to his date and I just felt awkward and stupid standing there. It doesn’t sound like much, I know. I mean, if you’d been there you’d know what I mean.”

  The coffeemaker’s alarm pinged, the signal that the coffee was ready to pour.

  “Sit down,” Cecily said, pointing to a chair at the kitchen table. “You take sugar in your coffee? Milk?”

  “Just sugar. I’ll fix it. Thanks.”

  Cecily placed a steaming mug before Beth and pushed the sugar bowl toward her. She watched as Beth added three teaspoons to her coffee and slowly stirred it. As she sat opposite her, she noted that Beth’s complexion was growing ruddier by the moment and that her sighs were deep and prolonged.

  “Oh Lord. You got it bad. That’s a lot of sugar ’eah?”
/>
  “Yep. I guess.”

  “Well, you want my opinion, right?”

  Beth nodded her head.

  “He’s oblivious, honey. First, he has no clue that he upset you last night. It’s the Max Mitchell Show. He’s not worried about how you’re feeling. His only concern is how you make him feel. And I don’t mean you in particular. I mean for him—and I might be wrong about this but probably not—women are interchangeable. I suspect there is a long line of bodies behind him and in front of him. I don’t want to see you in that pileup. You know what I mean?”

  “You’re probably right but I can’t get him out of my mind. I mean—”

  “How good-looking is this guy?”

  “Movie star.”

  “And how old is he again?”

  “Like thirty-seven or something.”

  “What’s a thirty-seven-year-old movie star man want with a young thing like you? Sex, that’s what.”

  “Well, I do have a life, you know.”

  “Right. Worse than that, what does a young thing like you want with an old guy like him?”

  Beth tried to change the subject. “I have to finish my piece for the Island Eye News and I’m thinking I need to call him and go take his picture to run it with the article.”

  “Humph.”

  “What do you mean humph?”

  “I mean, I’d see hell freeze first. But that’s me.”

  “Well, it’s a legitimate excuse and it’s just business anyway.”

  “I’d take a picture of a baboon in a red dress and use it before I’d go running to him.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes ma’am! Really.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Look, I gotta get moving before this whole day gets away from me. You got any mail for me?”

  “Yeah, I threw out all the catalogs and junk mail and piled everything else in the basket on the counter over there.”

  Cecily got up, poured the rest of her coffee down the drain, and put her mug in the dishwasher. She picked up the mail from the basket and thumbed through it.

  “Well, praise the Lord! I was waiting for this bill!” She stuffed the mail in her bag and went to the door. “Listen to me, shugah-plum, whatever you have to do to forget this guy, do it. He just smells like trouble to me. Too much work.”

  “Right. When hell freezes.”

  “That’s my girl! I’ll see you later this afternoon. Gotta water my babies.”

  Beth watched Cecily back out of the yard, and as quickly as she noted the time was well past eight, she dialed Max as fast as her fingers could press the numbers on her cell phone. He did not pick up, her call went to voice mail, and her spirits sank again. Maybe he’s in the shower, she thought, and left what she hoped was an easygoing voice mail.

  “Hi, Max. It’s Beth Hayes and I was wondering if there was a good time today for me to swing by and take a few pictures of you and the site for the paper. Please call me back when you have a moment. Thanks! Have a great day!”

  She closed her cell phone and decided to call her Aunt Sophie. She got her voice mail as well.

  “Hey, Aunt Sophie! It’s your niece Beth calling from the center of the universe here on sunny Sullivans Island, missing you and wishing you were here. Everything’s fine but, uh, when you have a minute or two, I sure would like your advice on something. Everything’s okay with the house so don’t panic. Just gimme a call? Thanks! Love you!”

  She was sure her aunt would return her call but what if Max didn’t? There was nothing left to do except wait. Meanwhile she would give her article another editorial swipe and wait for her cousin to arrive. So she edited and waited and waited. The phone did not ring at all and it was now almost noon. Max was ignoring her and she was becoming upset about it. After delivering an angry tirade to the empty house, one loud enough to rattle the walls and make her throat raw but hopefully not so loud to wake the dead, she calmed down and decided to go take the pictures anyway. Maybe he had left his cell in his car or maybe it fell in water and he had not replaced it yet. There could be any number of reasons why he had not called her that had nothing to do with him ignoring her.

  She decided that just in case he was romantically involved with the old bag of bones she had seen with him, she would wear a tank top. A skimpy one. But under a shirt. A shirt that she would leave more than partially unbuttoned. That should get his attention. So feeling like something of a vixen, she dressed accordingly, drove down the island, parked her car, and reapplied her lip gloss. She did not know why but for some inexplicable reason men were fascinated by glossy lips. Beth giggled thinking that perhaps it was because they could see their own reflection like Narcissus. She got out and started shooting the scores of workmen with a long lens, and after ten or more shots, her focus landed on the profile of Max Mitchell about thirty feet away. His hand flew up over his face when he realized what was happening.

  “Whoa! Beth! No pictures!”

  Beth thought that he was kidding and began to laugh.

  “No pictures? For real? Are you running from the IRS or something?”

  He began walking toward her.

  “Yeah, right. Gosh, it’s great to see you! Sorry I didn’t call you back yet. This place has been crazy all morning.”

  His words relieved her. She had to agree that it was indeed chaotic with all the hammers and drills. Max hugged her so abruptly that it caused her to drop her camera.

  “Oh no!” she wailed. The camera, which had been an expensive gift from her mother, now had a cracked lens. “Ah, gee whiz, Max.”

  “Oh God, I’m sorry. Here, let me see it.”

  Beth got a sudden rush of goose bumps. For some reason Beth could not define, she thought that perhaps Max might have deliberately caused her to drop the camera. She simply said, “Don’t worry about it. I have other lenses.”

  “Oh, okay. Well, good. So, you’re back on the journalist beat today, I see?”

  “Yeah, I gotta turn this in, so I’d better get going. Did you enjoy your dinner last night?” She couldn’t help it; the words just rolled off her tongue.

  “What? Oh yeah, I did. It was really good. And thanks for getting us a table.”

  “No problem. Your date said she was starving and it sure looked like she was.” What is the matter with me, she thought, what am I doing?

  “Ooooh! Meow, Miss Hayes.”

  “Meow yourself. Just how old was she anyway? Like fifty?”

  Max chuckled at Beth’s jealousy. Things were working out exactly as he had hoped they would. “She happens to be an investor of mine. And she’s divorced and lonely so I try to bring a little joy into her life from time to time.”

  Beth arched her eyebrow just as her mother did and said, “I’ll bet you do.”

  “My my, Beth. I am sure you have the wrong idea. It was just a business dinner.”

  But the way he smiled and by the way his eyes looked at her, she knew he was playing with her.

  “Right. I saw the way she was fawning over you. Please.”

  “Beth! You shock me! You must think I’m some sort of a cad. What can I do to change your low opinion of me?”

  “I just know how men are, that’s all.” Beth realized that sounded juvenile and naïve but there was no taking back the words.

  “Why don’t we have dinner tonight?”

  “I can’t. I have to work. But thanks.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Gotta work.”

  “Well, can I stop by this weekend?”

  “I have a houseful of company.” Beth said this and realized she was enjoying telling him no.

  “Wow, like when are you supposed to have any fun?”

  “Sunday night through Thursday morning, I guess.”

  “Then I want to take you out Sunday night through Thursday morning.”

  What a rascal! “Why don’t we start with Sunday night? And then we’ll see.” Beth smiled and silently congratulated herself for handling him so well. “My company should be gone by
then.”

  “Sounds good. So who’s coming to town?”

  “My cousin Mike, the investment banker from Atlanta, and his girlfriend and some guy they want me to meet.”

  “Really? Maybe your cousin wants to invest in this project. There’s still room.”

  Beth was a little surprised that he had not commented on the fact that a potential rival was staying under her roof, only that he was looking for money.

  “I’ll tell him,” she said, and gathered her things preparing to walk away. “See ya!”

  “Hey, Beth?”

  Beth turned around to face him.

  “You behave yourself, you hear me?”

  Those words pleased her to no end. “Please. I’m practically a nun.”

  She stopped by the offices of the Island Eye News and was greeted by Barbara Farlie herself.

  “Well, look who’s here!” she said. “What’d you do? Cut your hair?”

  “Yeah, I cut my hair and ditched my glasses.”

  “Humph! Looks good. Got something for me?”

  Beth fumbled around with her bag and camera and pulled the manila envelope from her bag. “Yes ma’am. I sure do! And I’ve got some pictures on the memory stick in this camera but I haven’t looked at them yet.”

  “Well, why don’t you download them on Katie’s computer. She’s not here today. Gone off to God knows where. Kids today. Don’t want to work.”

  “Speak for Katie but not for me. I happen to love work.”

  Barbara looked up at her and said, “I knew I liked you for some reason and I guess that’s it. Now let’s see if you can write. Want some water?”

  “Yeah, that would be great.”

  “Well, help yourself. There’s the fridge.”

  Barbara Farlie took Beth’s article, went into her own office, and closed the door. Thinking that it meant that she wanted to read Beth’s article in private made Beth nervous. She took a seat at Katie’s desk, booted up her computer, slipped the memory stick into the USB port, and began to go through the pictures. She had some nice ones of the people she spoke to in Litchfield, and the ones of the site formerly known as Bert’s were crisp and clear as well. And Max? In every single picture and from every single angle, he looked edible.