Thank God he had done that because when Grandma Yun fell and broke her hip, they would never have been able to afford her surgery, recovery, and rehabilitation without Ivan’s SISO health insurance. After that, Ivan stayed on, becoming Grandma Yun’s primary caregiver and taking over the management of the family finances. And debts.
Six years.
Six long years.
Gustav Holst’s Jupiter theme soon filled the entire ballroom. When SISO was done, Ivan watched as his brother Quincy walked up onto the platform, hand in hand with Zoe. The other hand held a microphone.
“That was my brother, Ivan, and SISO giving Holst a run for his notes, y’all,” Quincy said. “Was that amazing or what?”
Ivan cringed as Quincy yelled into the microphone, his voice echoing off the plaster walls. Everyone clapped and cheered.
Ivan spotted his friend from the Seaside Chapel Men’s Bible Study Group, Chef Sebastian Langston, restaurateur and caterer, roll a giant purple-and-black cake toward the platform. Ivan wondered if the cake was even edible. He thought that the small little cake he’d bought for Grandma Yun from Publix looked more delectable than that ghastly creation. Sebastian lit the candles, all twenty-five of them.
Quincy beamed. “We’re going to sing happy birthday to my sweetie pie, Zoe!”
The orchestra began to play a boisterous jazz accompaniment to the singing of a wild and off-key “Happy Birthday” to Zoe who was beaming with delight.
After the crowd calmed down, Zoe took the microphone, Quincy’s gangly arms hanging over her petite shoulders.
“Before we have our cake and eat it too, I want you to be the first to know…”
Uh-oh. Ivan braced himself.
“Mom, Dad, everyone.” Zoe drew a deep breath. “Quincy and I are married, we’re having a baby, and we’re moving to Paris!”
A hush swept through the ballroom.
Ivan’s eyes immediately shot to where Grandma Yun was sitting. She had spilled her water on the table. Around the table, Aunt Ella, Ned, and Rose looked stunned.
And Brinley. She was reaching toward the floor to pick up her iPhone. Then she stared at her sister and her now husband.
As for Ivan, he didn’t know what to think.
Moments later, the entire room erupted in a cacophony of confused applause.
Chapter Six
The birthday cake was more fluorescent purple than black, and Brinley would have none of it. She watched Yun McMillan inch toward it with a tremulous fork gripped in her right hand. The fork never made it to the rectangular piece of cake on the gold-trimmed dessert plate. It clattered to the table. She pushed away what turned out to be cheesecake.
Behind Yun, SISO continued playing an eclectic mix of selections that Brinley was sure wasn’t her sister Zoe’s doing. Might be Quincy’s musical taste.
“I wonder which came first.” Yun shook her head.
“Excuse me?” Brinley sat back a little as a server came by to fill her water goblet. When she left, Brinley had a clear view of Yun, who seemed to have aged in minutes.
Yun pointed to Quincy and Zoe making the rounds through other tables, where they were continuously congratulated.
For the first time in her life, Brinley realized she didn’t know her sister all that well. Whatever happened to childhood innocence and carefree days on the sand and surf? All that insulation was gone. Here was the harshness of time.
“I was hoping for a church wedding.” Yun dabbed her eyes. “I can’t keep up with him.”
“Quincy is not a little boy anymore. He and Zoe are consenting adults.”
“I guess I just have to trust God for my grandchildren.”
Trust God.
Yun placed a hand on Brinley’s wrist. Her fingers were cold. Very cold. “What time is it, please?”
“Eight thirty.”
“Only eight thirty?” Her shoulders sagged. “It’s nearly my bedtime.”
“Who did you come here with?”
“Ivan. Zoe was supposed to take me home.”
Well, Ivan was busy with SISO and Modest Petrovich Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition. Brinley noticed that his demeanor had remarkably changed. The glint in his eyes was gone. He looked spent sitting there at the edge of the orchestra.
Brinley heard crackles of laughter and followed the sound to Zoe sprouting from Quincy’s lap at another table, a sloshing Bordeaux glass in her hand as she drank from his. It was the wrong time for Brinley to talk to Zoe about fetal alcohol syndrome. And the wrong time to give either of them the car keys.
Back at their table, Aunt Ella was missing. Brinley didn’t remember seeing her leave the table. The rest of the table was empty. Mom and Dad had left minutes after Zoe had dropped the baby bomb on them.
“What time did Ivan say SISO would be done tonight?” Brinley asked.
“Not sure exactly. When the party’s over, I guess.” Yun had weary eyes. Red eyes. Sad eyes. “Zoe, or maybe Quincy, is taking me home.”
No way was Brinley going to let either one of them drive. And she couldn’t sit there looking at the little lady like that either. “You know what? I’ll take you home.”
“Oh no, please don’t bother. I can wait.”
“It’s no trouble at all. Where do you live?” Brinley dug into her purse for the spare key to Dad’s Bugatti Veyron. Every time she was in town, Dad let her drive his Bugatti. Dillon didn’t get the same privilege because he’d wrecked his Ferrari two years before and Dad was leery of his touching his BV.
“Off Old Demere and the marshes.”
“We’ve worked on some houses on Old Demere. We’ll plug your address into the GPS and get you home.” Whenever Brinley was in town, she’d follow Dad around on his pet project renovating old houses and buildings to keep the history of coastal Georgia alive from Savannah to Cumberland Island and beyond.
In fact, that was one of the things she had wanted to talk with Dad about during this vacation.
Yun told her the street address. Brinley knew exactly where that was. Her house was one street over from the block that Dad had been bidding for. He had been trying to prevent overzealous developers from turning the entire oceanfront north of the lighthouse into a series of pastel clustered villas devoid of native trees. Two blocks from the beach, Yun’s neighborhood was next in the developers’ tear-down list. Dad and Brinley were determined to preserve old houses and the green spaces around them the way they’d been the past century.
“Fifteen minutes tops.” She pushed back her chair.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, Yun. I’m sure. I need some fresh air myself.”
“We have to tell Ivan.”
“Text him.”
Yun dug around her old beaded purse. “Oh, I left my cell phone at home. Could you?”
“Sure. What’s the number?” Brinley tapped it in and sent Ivan a text message. “This is Brinley. Your grandma is tired. I’m driving her home.”
Brinley was on her feet, ready to get out of there. “Yun, I’m going to get our coats and the car. I’ll drive it out to the front door over there, and then come back in here to get you. Okay?”
“Yes.” Yun seemed to like knowing what was happening.
There was an elevator to the basement near the butler’s pantry. The coatroom was nearby. Brinley was putting on her fur coat when a server passed by. It was the same server whom Aunt Ella had bashed. He was walking with one shoulder up and the other down.
Brinley felt sorry for him. She pressed a twenty into his palm. He was very surprised. Brinley didn’t explain.
She entered the elevator as SISO began a Schumann sonata. She looked that way but only saw Ivan’s side as the elevator door closed.
In the basement, Brinley found Dad’s Bugatti in the private garage not open to guests. Since Dad hadn’t driven it in a year since his stroke, the mechanic had taken it for a few spins to keep the engine going.
She drove it up the ramp, went around the building, and parked it at the
porte cochère where the valet eyed the car, all two-point-something million of it.
This Bugatti was one of the main reasons Dad had agreed with Mom to purchase this guest cottage a few years ago to complement the Brooks’s winter home next door, another original Addison Mizner design from the twenties. Word was Mizner himself had seen the finished cottages before he passed away. Brinley wondered if he ever thought of the misnomer.
While the main house had eleven thousand square feet, this guest cottage only had nine. It boasted an imposing twenty-car underground garage that sold the house, setting Brinley’s parents back thirty-two million dollars.
Dad only laughed, saying that Mom’s true economic purpose in life was to leave nothing for posterity, though no matter how many houses she bought here and abroad, no matter how much she spent, Dad’s accountants almost always managed to level off the Brooks family fortune at twenty-seven billion dollars, give or take a few billions due to stock market fluctuations, the income stream coming from the international Brooks Investments as well as the smaller, more regional Brooks Renovations.
When Brinley got out of the car, she could see Yun through the glass doors, walking toward her, holding on to Ivan’s arm. SISO must be taking a short break.
The valet opened the door for Brinley. Brinley entered the foyer and walked toward Yun. Between her and Ivan they managed to get Yun’s old coat on her. Then they continued the walk of ages toward the great cold outdoors. Brinley wondered if Yun had a walker she wasn’t using.
“I’m ninety-seven,” Yun declared. “I can take my sweet old time.”
“Yes,” Brinley said. “You’ve earned it.”
Ivan smiled an affable smile. “Thanks for taking Grandma home.”
“No problem at all. After that announcement I needed to get out of here myself.”
Silence. Then: “My brother is full of surprises.”
“My sister too.”
Ivan seemed to cheer up that it wasn’t all his family’s fault. “Are you coming back? SISO will be done shortly, and then Quincy’s jazz band is playing.”
“You’re in it?”
“Just for tonight. Subbing for their pianist sick with stomach flu.”
“Looks like they’re working you hard.” Brinley laughed.
“Getting paid helps.”
“That does, doesn’t it?” Air was on Brinley’s mind. That alone was worth the price of admission.
The front door opened into the cold night.
“Wow. What car is this?” Ivan asked.
“Dad’s car.” Brinley realized something bad. The Bugatti only had two doors. Oops. The passenger side was on the other side, so they had to go around the bumpers. It took a while but Yun was determined to make it on her own two feet.
With Yun safely seated and belted, Brinley found herself escorted by Ivan to the driver’s side.
“Please drive slowly,” Ivan whispered into her ear. “Grandma doesn’t need more excitement tonight.”
Brinley nodded.
He opened the car door for her. “Will you come back to the after-party?”
“That’s the second time you asked the question.”
“And the second time you didn’t answer.”
“I’m not all that into parties, Ivan.” Ivan. She liked saying his name.
“Neither am I.”
“But you have to be here. I don’t.” Brinley got into the car.
“Ah, I’m sorry I asked.”
“Don’t be. We’re family now, aren’t we?”
“Scary thought, isn’t it?” Ivan chuckled. “So will you come back?”
“Okay.” But she wasn’t sure why she wanted to.
Chapter Seven
Brinley drove Dad’s Bugatti onto Tenth Street and made the turns she knew well in the area. It was dark and there were no streetlights. She didn’t like that but here they were now. She wondered whether she could reach into her purse fast enough for her pepper spray.
Then again, there was nothing to worry about. St. Simon’s Island had always been laid-back and safe. Hardly any crimes ever happened around here. But with the mass presence of the newly rich buying up cottages on Sea Island and spending their time on St. Simon’s and Jekyll, crime was bound to rise. Dad had told them that the islands wanted to raise property taxes so they could expand the police force and fire department. Nothing new, really. They had expanded once in 2004 when the thirtieth G8 Summit was held on Sea Island with fortress-like security.
Brinley hit the gas pedal.
“Oooh, please slow down.” Yun’s hand was on her forehead.
The speedometer said Brinley was going thirty-five miles per hour, well within the speed limit of forty this side of town. She wondered how she could petition for streetlights to be built in the area.
As she was thinking, the GPS said, “Your destination is on the right.”
Yun McMillan lived one block from the beach and three doors down from the house that Dad and Brinley had salvaged from foreclosure two years before. They’d renovated it and rented it out. It was a lovely cottage from the thirties, but they’d opened up the inside space and added a spectacular deck to bring in the outdoors. Dad was into outdoor fireplaces and kitchens. Each house that he and Brinley had bought and redone under Brooks Renovations had reflected Dad’s mood at that point in life.
With his stroke, Dad would be hard-pressed to continue the pet project. Brinley’s remaining brother, Dillon, ran the worldwide headquarters of Brooks Investments, and truly, he didn’t need Brinley anymore to bring in sales or to run the marketing department. Dillon could handle it, even without Dad. So maybe Brinley could take over this renovation business after all.
“Here we are.” Yun McMillan’s voice was fatigued.
Brinley coasted on the driveway and cut off the engine in front of the porch. When she turned off the headlights, they were sitting in darkness. She flicked on the headlights again.
“That’s kind of you, Brinley. Our porch lights are broken.” Yun struggled to get out of the car.
“Hold on.” Brinley went to her, helped her out of the car and up the rickety steps onto the porch. The floorboards rattled and creaked, and Brinley thought she was going to fall through.
How could anyone live here?
Yun’s keys jingled from her hand. Brinley glanced all around for shadows as Yun patiently reached for the keyhole. The headlights were bright, but when Yun stood in front of the door, she blocked most of it from the keyhole. Brinley turned on the flashlight app on her iPhone to help Yun see enough to get the key into the front door.
Yun flicked on the living room lights.
Brinley surveyed the room. It was all fifties furniture. Maybe even forties. Sparse, dusty, vintage. Old things were everywhere. Brinley spotted an old upright piano. Her eyes lit up. The wood was dark honey. She was sure it was Brazilian rosewood with its rich burls and rings. The piano legs were ornately carved. There was a pair of fretwork on the top above the keyboard.
The fallboard was down, covering what should be keys underneath, but if this piano was what Brinley suspected, there should be a decal on the fallboard.
“Go on.” Yun seemed to know what Brinley wanted to do.
Brinley lifted the fallboard. There they were. Old words she was pleased to see.
Steinway & Sons.
Brinley knelt down on the old oak floor and peered under the keyboard to confirm. Sure enough. Inscribed on the fretwork above the pedals were the initials “S&S.”
“I haven’t seen a prettier Victorian upright,” she said.
“Why, yes.” Yun took off her coat and hung it on the coat rack in the coast closet. Then she reached for her walker. “I like old things.”
“I do too.” Brinley was all over the piano. “What year was this made?”
“Take a guess.”
“Late 1800s?”
“Very good. You do know your pianos. It was built in 1877.”
Brinley sat down on the piano stool. It felt or
iginal. “Fully restored?”
“Yes. That’s what the second mortgage—oh dear. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. My Otto said not to.”
“I won’t say anything. May I?” She reached for the keys.
“Of course. It would be nice for someone else other than Ivan and me to play it sometime.”
And inevitably, Brinley played a minuet until she stopped abruptly. “I can’t remember the rest of the notes.”
Yun clapped when Brinley was done. “You’re pretty good.”
“All the piano lessons paid off.” Brinley laughed. “Well, I must go.”
“You’re welcome to come here anytime to play my Steinway.” Yun handed Brinley a business card. “Ivan had these made for me.”
Brinley read the card. “Tea for Two at Two.”
“Every weekday afternoon at two I would be available for tea here. Would you come this week?”
At first Brinley wanted to say no. But then she thought of the piano. “I’m not sure how often I could come. I’m going back to Atlanta the first week of January.”
“We don’t have much time then. How about tomorrow at two, if you like.”
“Tomorrow?” Without further thought, Brinley checked her iPhone. Lunch with her sister-in-law was at noon, but they would be done before two o’clock because Riley had to go pick up her son from school. And she didn’t have other plans. “What can I bring?”
“Yourself. And whatever you want to play on the piano.”
Brinley had plenty of music sheets on her iPad currently in her suitcase at the big house. “Well, I guess I’ll see you at two tomorrow.”
“Sounds good. I’ll have tea ready. Do you like chai?”
“Love chai tea.”
“Organic.”
“Even better.” Brinley walked toward the front door. “Now be sure to lock up when I leave.”
“I will.”
“Don’t forget to text your grandson to tell him you’re home safely. He was a bit concerned with the car.”
Yun laughed. “He worries about me all the time.”
They passed the coat closet again. Brinley remembered Yun’s coat. She wanted to take her synthetic fur coat off and give it to Yun, but the lady probably wouldn’t take it, and it would look like charity. Besides, the coat would be too long for Yun. Perhaps Brinley could give her a brand new coat for Christmas instead of the coat off her own back. Christmas was in fifteen days. Plenty of time for her to find a nice coat.
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