timeaftertime

by Cynthia Luhrs

  Here in Holden Beach, it was a warm fall. The weatherman looked sad at the prospect of not a single snowflake for the coming winter. As the sun warmed her bare arms, Mildred looked down and swore. How had she forgotten the vase of flowers she’d won at bridge today? Ever since Pittypat passed, and then the girls vanished without a trace, Mildred had found it harder and harder to stay rooted in the here and now.

  With a shake of her head, she turned around and pulled the door open, the hinges corroded from the salt air, the paint peeling as she made a mental note to have the building repainted. She’d suggest it at the next club meeting. Their group was a powerhouse, getting things done, ensuring there were flowers planted in front of the local businesses and that the whole beach stayed clean and family-friendly.

  The door clicked shut behind her as she made her way back to the table. As she came around the corner into the game room, as they called it, cackling laughter stopped her dead.

  “Can you believe her? Still coming to the club every week? Why isn’t she at home mourning the loss of her family?” Sally Ann huffed. “In my day, you waited a year before you resumed social activities, and after losing Penelope and her three nieces at once, you’d think she’d be gone for ages.”

  Connie chimed in, “If Miss Prim and Proper didn’t donate so much, we could kick her out. She’s mean to everyone. I heard she tossed a rake at poor Mr. Evans last week for walking over her family graves. The poor man was simply cleaning up the fallen leaves.”

  “And how does she look so young?” Pearl said. “We’re the same age and she looks twenty years younger. I bet she’s been getting a bit of work done.”

  Another spat out, “Have you seen her driving Penelope’s convertible? Acting like a teenager. Maybe she’s having a breakdown.”

  As her bridge partners stood around gossiping about the Merriweather family, Mildred stood frozen in place, torn between anger and hurt. She knew she was standoffish, hard to get to know. All her life, she’d been the odd child, content to stay inside and read or go off and play by herself. Never feeling the need for friendships, though she liked having friends. It just never occurred to her to go out and make friends. She had Pittypat and Alice, and they were enough. Growing older, she’d loved to go off camping and traveling by herself. They were the only activities that quieted the endless restlessness within. Until him. He’d been her world that summer. She would have been content to spend the rest of her life with him, but he didn’t want her.

  A chair scraped across the floor and she jumped, knuckles white around the handle of her purse. Stand and face them or…

  Mildred wasn’t proud of herself, but, speeding away in Pittypat’s red convertible, she smiled. Sometimes running away was better than staying for a confrontation. No, she’d deal with them in her own way, in her own time.

  A quick stop at the Dollar Store and then she’d finish packing up her home to move a few streets over to Pittypat’s house. Mildred was surprised she’d left the place to her and not to Melinda or Charlotte. Then they’d both disappeared as well. Might she have been wrong all these years?

  Refusing to follow those thoughts down dark pathways, she pulled into the parking spot, careful not to pull up too close and scratch the underside of the car on the concrete. The little car wasn’t her big, comfy Caddy, but driving the convertible made her feel close to her sister, and if she talked to Pittypat on those drives, well, that was between her and the wind.

  It was a clear day, the sun shining, so she left the top down on the car and made her way into the store. A girl sitting on a bench in the grassy area between the Dollar Store and the gas station had Mildred frowning, certain it was the same girl she’d seen last week, when she stopped for cheap wrapping paper for the white elephant gift for the Women’s Club fall party.

  Really. She’d been up and down the same aisle at least three times and had forgotten to pick up the twine she liked to use in the kitchen. Her thoughts kept going to the girl who’d met Mildred’s gaze then quickly put her head down, staring at her purple flip-flops.

  Those damn sparkly flip-flops. Just like the ones her sister favored. Mildred pressed her lips together as she crossed the parking lot, coming to a stop in front of the girl.

  “Are you—” She cleared her throat, gentling her voice. “I saw you here last week. Are you okay?”

  The girl wore jeans with holes in the knees and a t-shirt that looked like it’d been worn through. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, making her brown eyes look big as molasses cookies.

  “I’m…fine.” The words came out choked.

  Later, Mildred wasn’t sure if it was the jeweled flip-flops or the anguish leaking out from those two words that put the first crack in the wall she’d so carefully erected all those years ago. Maybe she was getting old, soft after losing her sisters and nieces, but whatever it was, she uttered the words that would alter her world.

  “Come on, then. You look like you haven’t eaten in a while, and forgive me, but you need a shower, my dear.”

  The girl opened her mouth to protest, and Mildred shut her up with a pointed look.

  “Get in the car. I’m Mildred Merriweather. Everyone in town knows me. Holden Beach is a safe place, but like everywhere nowadays, things do happen, and you, I hate to say it, have the look of a wounded animal. Predators are attracted to women like you.”

  This time the girl kept her mouth shut, blinking furiously. She picked up a trash bag from under the bench and followed Mildred to the car.

  “I saw you last week. The car stands out,” she whispered as she carefully shut the car door and buckled her seatbelt. “I am hungry.” The girl stared out at the passing scenery, her ponytail blowing in the wind, and Mildred caught a hint of apple under the smell of unwashed girl.

  “Ma’am, thank you for the ride, but I don’t want charity. I can work in exchange for a meal.”

  When Mildred risked a glance at the girl, she saw her wringing her hands and the drop of liquid land on her wrist.

  There’d be time to hear what Mildred was sure was a sad story later. In the meantime, she’d take care of the immediate concerns. Something in the way the girl held herself reminded Mildred of herself when she came home from Vegas that summer before college. Broken and desperately trying to hold the pieces together. Afraid if she moved too quickly, she’d fall apart, never to be back together again.

  “Well then. You’ll stay with me for a bit. I’m in need of someone to help me pack up my house. In exchange for packing boxes and unpacking at the new house, you’ll have a room and three meals a day.”

  The girl looked up, her cheeks wet and eyes brimming with tears.

  “I’ll earn my keep. Thank you,” she said quietly. “I’m Karen. Are you moving very far? I don’t want to leave the area…not yet.”

  “No, just moving a few rows over.” Mildred hesitated, her need for privacy warring with the urge to help this lost girl. In the end, not wanting to repeat the mistakes of her past won out. “My sister and three nieces died a while back. She left me her house. I’ve put off moving too long.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  They rode the rest of the way in silence, the smell of the ocean growing stronger as they crossed the bridge into Holden Beach. This time of year, it was practically deserted, the tourists gone since Labor Day. The off-season was her favorite time of year. Mildred glanced over at Karen again. Bringing this stranger home was the rashest thing she’d done in at least twenty years. Maybe she’d regret it, but the tiny bit of sunshine that filtered into her heart told her just maybe it might be the best thing she’d done in a very long time. Pittypat would have brought the girl home too. She was always picking up strays.

  Physical labor was good not only for a shattered heart but for a broken soul as well. In time, the girl would lose the haunted look. Mildred only hoped she wouldn’t be permanently damaged by whatever was causing her so much pain. She sent up a prayer. Please heal her. Don’t let her end up like me.


  THREE

  “Thank you for planning dinner. It was delicious.” As Drake poured them both another glass of wine, Caroline signaled to the wait staff to remove the dishes. Dinner was excellent, the wine crisp, the conversation interesting, and yet he was unable to relax. She was up to something. By now, he knew her moods and strategies. She was a shark like her father, and Drake scented his own blood in the water. At the same time, he admired her tenacity and drive.

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it. You’ve been working too much lately.” Caroline put her elbows on the table and leaned forward, the diamonds in her ears catching the light from the candles scattered across the terrace. She’d gone to a lot of effort tonight.

  “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

  “I’m listening.” Drake wanted to stop her. The knowledge his life was about to change was written across her face, and he heard it in her tone, but unable to divert her when she’d set her mind to something, he leaned back in the chair and waited.

  A folder appeared on the table. It must have been on one of the empty chairs during dinner and he’d missed it. He really had been distracted lately.

  “We’re a good team. We work well together and my dad thinks we’ll do great things with the casino. Not to mention the plans for the new hotel and casino. You and I know he’s getting older, ready for us to take over his interests.”

  This was it, what he’d wanted as he worked his way up through the ranks: to run the casino. “Has he set a date for his retirement? Your sire will work until he can’t.” The man had taken him in, yet Drake was expected to start at the bottom, learn every aspect of the business, no special treatment. And that was fine by him; he was a quick study, eager to learn to repay the man for all he had done.

  In her early forties, Caroline was a beautiful woman, one who took a great deal of care in her appearance. She’d been married once, to a guy who turned out to be a crook. DiSilvio told Drake the man died in an accident, but he knew his employer, and he’d bet his fortune the man was currently resting under a stretch of highway somewhere in the desert.

  His employer’s daughter was still talking, laying out why they were such a compatible couple, the same way she made presentations to businesses to get what she wanted. A growing sense of unease crept up his spine.

  When she reached into her bag and placed a small velvet box on the table, Drake wanted to bolt.

  “Since I’m going to be wearing it forever, I wanted to make sure I got what I wanted.” She opened the ring box and pushed it across the glass.

  “Um…”

  “Don’t worry, darling. You’ll pay for it. It’s from the jeweler downstairs, so I had them put it on your account.”

  Oh, he knew the jeweler well. The man’s shop in the complex was legendary. The square diamond was huge, surrounded by smaller stones, the gold band set with stones too. He’d bet this ring was a few hundred grand, easy.

  Before Drake could tell her no, one of her father’s men came to the table.

  “Sorry to interrupt, sir. But there’s a problem on the floor and we need you.”

  “Of course.” He snapped the ring box shut and handed it to Caroline. “When I get back, we need to discuss—”

  She waved a perfectly manicured hand in the air. “Go. I’ll take care of everything. We’ll be married at Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday.”

  He blinked at her. “That’s barely a month away.” To have everything already planned… If he knew her as well as he thought, she’d already figured out every minute detail. Obviously he’d missed a great deal not to have known she was plotting his wedding.

  Brooding over Caroline’s doings would have to wait. There was a fire in the kitchen and two men had been caught in the lower levels, trying to open the vault.

  “Jefferson, take four men and block the exits.”

  The head of security nodded and left at a run. By the time Drake cleared the tunnel, he could see sparks coming from a torch as one of the men tried to cut through the gate to get at the vault. A visiting prince from the Middle East had placed ten million and jewels worth another ten million in that very vault. The scene from dinner kept playing through his mind, and he puzzled why he was so adamant not to marry her. They were a good match, so what was holding him back?

  The pain sliced through his bicep and then there was wetness, the tang of copper in the air. The man had dropped the torch and bloody shot him. And he’d been such a dolt he hadn’t taken the time to put his vest on. Drake would have been dead if the man’s aim had been better.

  Sounds muffled, the scene shifted to black and white as Drake picked up a narrow length of metal from the floor and ran the man through before he knew what he had done. The deafening sounds came back, color filled his vision, the scent of shite clogged his throat, and at that moment, he realized his mistake—there weren’t four men, there were six. Shouts came from the corridor, the emergency lights blinking, his security team trapped behind the barred gate the men had triggered. The blow came from behind, darkness taking him as the cold marble floor met his face.

  FOUR

  “You sold the whole house furnished?” The girl pulled her hair back into a messy bun and looked around, hands on her hips. “Won’t you miss your stuff?”

  For a moment, Karen reminded Mildred so much of herself that she had to take a couple of deep breaths.

  “The pieces that are sentimental, I’m keeping. It’s expected when someone buys a place at the beach where there are a lot of vacation rentals. Now help me take the plastic off.”

  The sound of zippers filled the living room as they removed plastic from the sofa and chairs. No longer clear, the plastic was stiff and yellowed with age.

  “Wow. It looks new.” Karen ran a hand down one of the arms. “I love the whole vintage vibe.”

  “So now I’m hip after all these years.” Mildred snorted. “It looks new thanks to the protective plastic. No sense in throwing money away and buying a new sofa just because the cushions are a bit worn. Sit down and I’ll fix us iced tea with mint.”

  Karen looked so young as she brushed off her jeans. Before she sat down, she frowned at the dirty denim, picked up a piece of discarded plastic, and sat on it as Mildred beamed her approval. “You don’t sound like you’re from the South. Would you prefer sweet or unsweet tea?”

  “I’m not, I’m from Kansas, but I love sweet tea. Please.” Karen ran her hand over the gold- and rust-colored floral fabric. “It makes a lot of sense to cover the cushions, and with clear plastic you can still see the pattern. Is it hot to sit on in the summer?” Then she nodded to herself, answering her own question. “Never mind. I bet you put a towel down.”

  “Exactly. Otherwise your legs sometimes stick to the cushions,” Mildred said, handing her guest the glass, the cubes tinkling together.

  They sat in companionable silence sipping the tea, enjoying the progress they’d made. In the past few days, they’d packed up the personal belongings Mildred was taking with her and made sure the house was clean. She’d sent her housekeeper over to Pittypat’s to do a deep cleaning on the house before she moved in. It had been a while, and she couldn’t bear to do it herself.

  Karen refilled the glasses, and when she came back into the living room, she stood in front of the huge window, looking at the intracoastal waterway.

  “The view is spectacular. I’d have a hard time choosing between this and the ocean. You said the house belonged to your sister? Did she move away?”

  Mildred coughed, the tea going down the wrong way. Wiping her eyes gave her time to compose her thoughts before answering.

  “You okay?”

  “I am now.” Mildred wiped her palms on the navy t-shirt.

  “I hate it when I swallow and it goes down the wrong pipe.” The girl almost smiled. It was a start.

  “Pittypat…her name was Penelope, but I always called her Pittypat. She passed away and left me the house. I’ve already had the furniture and things I didn’t want donated, and Shelly
is cleaning today, so we can move tomorrow. The new things will be delivered in the morning.”

  “Is it close?” Karen ran a finger down the condensation on the side of the glass.

  “A few rows over.”

  The girl turned away from the view. “I like the ocean. Hard to imagine it’s only a few streets over as quiet as it is here. It’s going to be louder, with lots more people around, being right on the ocean.”

  Her face was pale, and she wouldn’t meet Mildred’s eyes, suddenly finding the pattern on the sofa fascinating.

  “Once you get used to it, the sound of the waves will help you sleep. As for the people…this time of year, you won’t see but a handful. Even in high season, you won’t see as many as further down the beach, just the folks renting the houses. The house next to…mine, they’re rarely there.”

  Mildred didn’t ask what was wrong. In time, Karen would open up and tell her story. For now, it was nice to have someone to help. Mildred thought the young lady had come a long way over the past few days. At first, she hardly said a few words, and now she initiated conversation. But right now? She looked worried, holding herself rigid, chewing on her lip. Mildred hoped it wasn’t about a boy, but somehow knew whatever had happened, there was most likely a rotten man at the center of the trouble.

  “My sister loved the cottage. We’d planned for it to go to one of our nieces, but there was no one left, so it’s mine. I certainly didn’t need two houses.”

  She took the empty glasses, washed and dried them, and put them away for the new owners.

  “I think that’s everything.” She surveyed the room, hands on the hips of her khaki capris. “One final walk-through and then we’ll load boxes. Mr. Jones and his son—he’s my handyman—they’re coming to help.”

  The girl froze for a moment. “Okay.”

  “He has one of those big pickup trucks, so we’ll only need one trip between the three vehicles.”

  Karen blinked. “I get to drive?”