She took the microphone from him, spoke with force. “Yes. Although it appears to only be about adventure and mystery, it’s really about searching for something that can’t be found in life, only in death.”
Nick nodded at her. “Very astute.”
Adalee reached their side before Riley and Maisy could get there. “Mrs. Lithgow, your signing table is ready. Why don’t we get set up while everyone is still seated?” The microphone squealed as the woman handed it to Adalee.
“Well, that’s just fine, young lady. You know I can only sign for an hour. That is my limit—my agent should have told you that.”
“Oh, she did. Why don’t we get going so you can finish in time?”
“Thank you, but will you please tell this gentleman to stop talking about my book like he wrote it? He’s very good-looking, you know. But he really has no idea what he is talking about.”
“Oh, I agree,” Adalee said.
Riley and Maisy joined them. Maisy took Mrs. Lithgow’s arm and led her to the back of the room. Maisy grimaced at Nick. I’m sorry, she mouthed.
He covered the microphone. “No worries. That’s more fun than I’ve had in a while.” He approached the podium. “Well, I really want to thank all of you for coming. You’ve been an indulgent and wonderful audience. Nothing more I can say unless you have some questions.”
Hands shot up. Nick laughed, pointed at Lucy Morgan. “Yes?” Lucy stood; Maisy turned away, walked toward the rear of the room, where Riley was seating Mrs. Lithgow at a signing table. Nick’s voice echoed through the room during a Q&A session. Maisy leaned down to Riley. “Okay, how cute and sweet can one man be all at the same time?”
Riley held her hand up to Maisy in a phoning gesture. “Please call Verandah House while I set this table up for Mrs. Lithgow and let them know that she will need a ride home.” Riley’s eyes rolled toward the phone. “Now.”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” Maisy said. Adalee kept Mrs. Lithgow preoccupied with aimless chatter about the weather, fishing and summer people while Maisy grabbed the phone.
All at once, Mrs. Lithgow stood up and glanced around the room, her opaque blue eyes filled with tears. “What has happened to my house?”
Adalee looked over at Maisy, who shrugged and mouthed, I have no idea.
Adalee took the older woman’s hand. “What do you mean, Mrs. Lithgow?”
“This is where the couch usually is. Why are there so many books, and why are the floors ruined, when Mama just had them done?” Mrs. Lithgow’s voice grew louder.
Adalee led her across the foyer and into the café, where the music drowned out their words.
Maisy entered the front room, where Nick’s session was just ending, to much applause, and all the patrons lined up according to the numbers they’d received earlier. She stood at Nick’s side, and opened the books to the title page as Riley had told her to do. He was kind to every person in line, signed every book they handed him—old or new release.
When the crowd was gone, the doors were locked and Riley had gone up to check on Brayden, Nick smiled at Maisy. “I’m assuming you know this town a bit better than I do,” he said. “Any chance I can talk you into going out for a quick drink?”
“I know the perfect place.” She led him out the back door, locking it behind her. “It’s only five blocks down. You up for a walk?”
“Absolutely. You know, you have a wonderful family, and the store is amazing. I wish all my events went as well as this one.”
“I bet you say that to all the store owners.”
He returned her laugh and Maisy’s spirit lifted like a helium-filled balloon.
TWELVE
RILEY
Riley stood over the coffeepot, waited for it to fill, focused only on the dripping liquid. It was the Saturday morning after Nick Martin’s book signing and she refused to think about what had haunted her all night—the arrival of Sheldon’s parents; Maisy leaving with Nick; Mama’s cancer, which might be spreading; the six thousand things to be done during this week. And then there was Mack. Mack and his ill father. Mack possibly starting up with Maisy again.
Her thoughts turned to more practical matters; what would she do if she had to close down the bookstore? She pulled out a pad of paper and made a list while the coffee machine did its job. She and Brayden could move back in with Mama until Riley saved enough money to get an apartment. She could go back to school and get her degree in English lit and then teach, or work at the library. Water running through the pipes in the back of the house distracted her. Brayden entered the kitchen, rubbing his face, his curls tangled.
“Morning, Mom.” He opened a cabinet, pulled out the Pop-Tarts.
“Morning, baby. Pop-Tarts aren’t breakfast.”
“They are in the summer.” He smiled, and his beauty overwhelmed Riley.
“Why are you up so early? You can sleep in today.”
He ripped open the wrapper, took a bite of pastry. “Going fishing with the Logans. Pearson’s Pier. Mr. Logan wanted to know if the jetty’s still the best place to catch redfish, and I told him it isn’t, that Pearson’s Pier is the best place, so now we have a bet.”
Riley’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t invite yourself, did you?”
“Please, Mom, chill-lax.”
“Okay . . . but only go to the pier. I’ll stop by after my morning powwow with Gamma.”
He shrugged. “Please don’t embarrass me.”
“That’s my job,” she said, and kissed his forehead.
Someone banged on the kitchen door; Riley opened it to Adalee, sweaty and disheveled. “How’d you get here?”
“I jogged.” Adalee held out her hands as if to say, Isn’t it self-evident? She wore a pair of pink nylon shorts, a faded gray T-shirt and running sneakers. “I needed to get out of the house, and I really wanted to talk to you before our morning torture with Mama.”
Riley laughed. “Torture?”
“Yes,” Adalee said, opened the refrigerator and pulled out the milk. “I can’t believe she doesn’t make you as crazy as she makes me. You got any cereal?”
Riley wanted to explain to her sister how the knowledge of one thing can change everything. Maybe if Adalee knew Mama was sick, or realized how she’d saved Riley and Brayden with the bookstore . . .
Brayden pulled down a box of Raisin Bran. “Hey, Aunt Adalee. How’s this?”
“Morning, good-looking.” She poured a bowl full, sat down at the kitchen table. “Listen, Riley, what do you know about that crazy old lady who always comes in here thinking she’s the author?”
Riley joined them at the table, took a long swig of coffee. “She lives at Verandah House—she’s in her nineties, part of a group of women called the nifty nineties.”
“Well, how does she keep getting here if she lives in a nursing home?”
“It’s not a nursing home. It’s a community for the elderly. She actually lives alone, and has private nurses and aides who check in on her, but if she wants to walk, she is only two blocks away. We’ve asked Verandah House to help us with the problem, but they say it’s not their job. I think she’s always lived in Palmetto Beach, but I didn’t meet her until recently.”
Adalee took a bite of Raisin Bran, wiped her mouth. “I think she used to live in this cottage, in its old location, maybe eighty years ago. Isn’t that crazy?”
“Really?”
Brayden laughed. “No one lived here eighty years ago. That’s like the age of . . . dinosaurs.”
“Yeah, pretty much.” Adalee poked at her nephew. “Anyway, that’s why she comes here all the time and why she gets confused about the bookshelves and furniture, you know? I talked to her for a long time last night while I waited for someone to come get her. I guess it was her nurse.”
“Probably. They usually call her private nurse to come get her.
The nurse doesn’t live there full-time, but do you know for sure that she used to live here?”
“No, I was hoping you could help me. Would M
ama know? I’m almost done working on the history boards and I’d like to include Mrs. Lithgow. Then I’m working on the decor of this place.”
“You sound like Maisy. And what about Chad?”
Adalee’s face filled with a smile. “I met him at the Beach Club after the signing last night. He’s great.”
Brayden looked up at the clock. “Hey, I gotta go. Yes, Mom, I’ll take my cell phone.” He ran back to his room to change into his bathing suit.
“Okay,” Riley said, and then turned her attention to Adalee. “Let’s check out the display before we go see Mama.”
Together they entered the back storage room, where Adalee had cleared a work space for her project. She had lined the boards up side by side to create a timeline. More work had been done on them since Riley had looked yesterday, and photos were now surrounded by fabric or with frames made of driftwood sticks. Adalee smiled, bowed. “You like?”
“Adalee, this is amazing. How did you know how to do this?”
“Well, for one, I am studying interior design—the only class I’m passing—and I have to do board projects all the time.”
“Did you use all that research I gave you?”
“Yep. I can’t figure out who lived there in eighteen ninety-two, when the house was still on the plantation. . . . Maybe it sat empty.”
“When do you think Mrs. Lithgow lived here?”
Adalee pointed to a black-and-white picture of the cottage with an ancient black car parked in front, headlights glaring at the camera. “That is a nineteen twenty-six Plymouth sedan. I looked it up on the Internet. I think she was part of the Wentworth family. I can’t figure out if she was a cousin or child. . . . I thought maybe we could ask the people at Verandah House if they know her maiden name.”
“Good work.” Riley studied each picture, each family name. “You’ve completely surprised me. You’ve done an incredible job.”
“Thanks. I stopped at the Logan family. I called and left a message for Mrs. Logan and she faxed me one picture.” She pointed to an empty square surrounded by bright green fabric. “I haven’t put it up yet.”
“Yeah. And what about us? Aren’t you going to include the bookstore?”
“I’m thinking . . . well, just thinking here. It might be fun to make a board about just our family.”
“Brilliant. Well, let’s go so we don’t keep Mama waiting. Have you seen Maisy?”
“No, but her bedroom door was closed, so I know she came home last night.”
“Well, that’s something, right?” Riley placed her hand on Adalee’s arm. “Thank you for your help. I know this has been a hectic time and I’ve been a little uptight, but I can’t tell you how much I appreciate what you’ve done here.”
“You know, it really was a lot more fun than I thought it would be.”
“Things don’t always have to be fun, you know.”
Adalee shook her head. “Maybe not for you. Really, Riley, everything doesn’t have to be a total bore and chore either.”
“No, but some things just are. You want a ride back home, or are you gonna jog?”
“Not if I can help it. A ride would be great.”
Riley checked on the store, told Ethel that she’d be back in an hour and that Maisy would be there to entertain the book clubs by ten a.m.
“I think she’s good at entertaining our visitors.” Ethel laughed at her own innuendo.
Riley sighed. “What am I supposed to do with Maisy?” “Can’t fire her now, can you?” Ethel stuck a key in the cash register, began to count the money.
“Very funny, Ethel. See you in a bit; let me know the totals for last night.”
Together Riley and Adalee walked out the back door and got in the car. Riley forced herself to think about the upcoming meeting with Mama, who was bound to be in a foul mood over missing Nick Martin last night.
Riley looked over at her sister. “Let the fun begin,” she said.
Adalee leaned her head back on the car seat. “Your definition of fun is skewed.”
Riley laughed. “Yeah, maybe.”
“But seriously, when did you get so worried about upsetting Mama? Seems to me that for most of your life, your goal has been the opposite—to cause ‘affliction and agony.’ ” Adalee repeated their mama’s words said once at a dinner table when Riley had refused to eat the liver and onions being served. For years afterward the sisters had walked around the house bemoaning the “affliction and agony” of life.
Riley felt defensive, explanatory words rise from her gut. “I don’t know what to say, Adalee. Life changes. Knowing and living through certain things changed me. Fighting with Mama, or trying to outwit her, doesn’t seem . . . worth it. Maybe you could try a little tenderness.”
“Me? Are you lecturing me?”
Riley was silent until they pulled into the driveway. “No, I am absolutely not lecturing you, Adalee. You asked why I was so worried about not upsetting Mama. The best answer I can come up with is that life changes.”
Adalee stared out the front window. “Sometimes I want life to stay exactly the way it is; and other times I just can’t wait to get onto the next thing.”
“I know,” Riley said. “Like a novel where sometimes you’re dying to know what happens next, but other times you just don’t want the book to end.”
Adalee shook her head. “You and your books.” She opened the passenger-side door, hesitated. “I am glad I’m here even when I don’t seem like it.”
Riley smiled at her little sister. “I’m glad you’re here, too.”
Adalee jumped out of the car, hollered over her shoulder, “But I hate these meetings. Hate with a capital H.”
Riley laughed and followed her into their childhood home.
THIRTEEN
MAISY
Maisy stood on the screened-in porch and stared out over the backyard. Her sisters were five minutes late, and she listened for the car. She anticipated every word and gesture Riley would make. She wouldn’t mention Maisy’s leaving with Nick Martin, but she would send a clear message of distaste without speaking a word. It hadn’t always been this way—once, Riley had been her best friend. Mama had been the one who conveyed her disapproval with one look, one comment. Maisy had decided long ago that even if Mama could make her feel bad about herself, she couldn’t control her behavior. She had chosen in her early years to do whatever she wanted. Mama couldn’t make her stay home at night, or not kiss that boy, or not drink that beer at seventeen.
Only her father had been able to stop her. One word from him and she halted whatever she was doing. She never understood why she needed his love and approval more than she needed her mama’s, but it was true. To lose his admiration would have been worse than being grounded for a thousand weekends. The last time she’d defied him had been the night with Mack at the bonfire.
Mack.
Since the moment she’d seen Mack across the bookstore, her thoughts about Peter had receded like a fever that had run its course. She hadn’t even tried to call him again.
The crunch of gravel against tires drew Maisy out the screen door and onto the lawn. Adalee and Riley climbed out of the car, laughing.
“What’s so damn funny?” Maisy asked.
They both stared at her. Adalee spoke first. “Why are you in a foul mood? You’re the one who had the hookup last night.”
“Now why would you say that, Adalee? That’s ridiculous.”
“That’s enough.” Riley spoke in a soft voice. “Let’s go talk to Mama. We’re seven minutes late.”
Together the three sisters entered the drawing room turned hospital room, where a physical therapist was assisting Kitsy’s morning stretches. Each sister kissed their mama and then sat in what had become their designated chairs. Riley cleared the bedside table, leaned closer to Kitsy. “Did you finish your breakfast?”
“Yes,” Kitsy said. “Stop fussing over me.”
“You need the protein to heal. I’m not fussing.” Riley helped Kitsy scoot up in th
e bed.
Kitsy settled back on her pillow. “Okay, I want to start by getting something out of the way.”
The sisters looked at one another.
“Adalee Louise Sheffield. I want you to know that you can’t hide anything from me. I have told you this since you were a little girl and I found that broken china cup in your underwear drawer. I know about your DUI. I have arranged for legal counsel. You will pay me back, and we will deal with the other repercussions after the party is over.”
Adalee stared at the floor. “Yes, ma’am. And I’m sorry. It wasn’t . . . I need you to know it was not entirely my fault.”
Mama interrupted. “Don’t even begin to try to excuse your behavior. I absolutely don’t want to hear it. You do not choose to drink and then drive. Do you understand me? And you’re forbidden from going anywhere but the bookstore and the house.”
Adalee looked up, tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m terribly sorry, but you have to let me see Chad. I was driving his car. . . . Please, Mama. He only got a job here so he could be with me.”
“Maybe you should have thought about that when you got behind the wheel of the car after drinking.”
“I didn’t think I was . . .” Adalee dropped her head into her hands. “Don’t stop me from seeing Chad.”
“Mama, please don’t be so hard on her,” Maisy said, uncomfortable seeing Adalee take the brunt of her mama’s anger.
“You do not choose to drink and drive without consequences.”
Maisy’s sleepless night made the next words come out. “Yeah, you just choose to drink and try to walk down the staircase.”
Kitsy’s lips drew inward until only a thin, bloodless line was set where her mouth had been. “You may leave now, Maisy. You may go back to California and get on with your life. If that is what you are so angry about, that we took you from your fabulous life, go back to it now.”
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