Pawleys Island Paradise boxset, Books 1 - 3

by Laurie Larsen

  Marianne frowned. “When was it, honey?”

  “Last summer. We all got on the big boat and the dolphins chased us!”

  Ahh, yes. A dolphin cruise. Playful dolphins jumping in and out of the wake created by a speedboat. “Great idea, honey. Let’s get our sweatshirts on. It might be a little chilly.”

  A half hour later, Marianne and Stella jumped in the car and headed to a nearby marina. Happily, Leslie was free and asked to bring a friend along with her. Marianne called for a reservation for four. They pulled into the marina and parked, trotting to the payment booth of a cruise company called Cold Mill.

  Leslie was already there, sitting at a picnic table with a woman Marianne didn’t know, a tall, slim brunette with curly hair. They approached and Marianne gave Leslie a hug, then Leslie kneeled and pulled Stella in for one, too. Leslie introduced, “Marianne, Stella, this is my good friend, Rita. She’s visiting Hank and I at the Old Gray Barn. She’s from West Virginia. Rita, this is Marianne, Hank’s daughter, and our granddaughter, Stella.”

  Happy conversation bubbled between the four females. Greetings made, they made their way to the booth to get their tickets. Marianne smiled at the woman working. “Three adults, one child.” Marianne handed over her credit card and studied the tickets when the woman handed them to her. “Cold Mill. Strange name for a company that relies on warm, sunny weather. Sounds more like something you’d find in Alaska.”

  The woman said, “My husband and I own the cruise company. We named it that because it cost us a cold mill — a million dollars — to be able to leave our jobs up north, buy our first boat and get this business going. Now, we’ve been here five years and have four boats. Life is good.”

  The ladies laughed and boarded the boat. They found four seats near the back, figuring the dolphins would be most viewable from there. The sun, hidden behind clouds the last few days, was making a glorious reappearance today. Marianne took off her sweatshirt, put her longish hair up in a rubber band and put on her sunglasses. The ladies chatted and got to know each other while Stella wandered the boat, looking for all the best dolphin-watching locations.

  The ship took off, accompanied by the microphoned chatter of the captain. As they motored through the water in search of the dolphins’ playgrounds, Leslie said quietly to Marianne, “How are things progressing between you and Tom?”

  Marianne shrugged. “No better, really. We’ve grown so distant from each other. I’ve never felt that way before in our marriage. We live in the same house, but we’re on opposites sides of this issue. As a result, we seem to avoid talking to each other. We could be living 1000 miles apart, for the amount of togetherness we have.”

  Leslie grabbed the hand of Rita who was sitting beside her. “Rita could tell you about distance in a marriage.”

  Rita shrugged and nodded. “It sucks.”

  Leslie chuckled. “Rita and her husband sometimes only get to see each other a few times a year.”

  Marianne gasped. “Why?”

  Rita leaned forward on her seat so she could get closer to the conversation. “My husband is in the Army Reserves. Sometimes he’ll be home for years at a time, serving his commitment only in the summers and an occasional weekend. But when the US went to war with Iraq and the troops were growing short, he was deployed overseas to fight. Over the last five years he’s been deployed three times. The first one was six months, but they got longer from there. Once he’d just gotten home, settled in, started back to his regular job, and got deployed again.”

  “How awful!” Marianne breathed.

  “It was insane. He’s home right now, has been for several months. There isn’t as much need now, so I’m hopeful his deployments might be done. But there are no guarantees, of course. And he loves it. I couldn’t take it away from him, although I want to. It means too much to him.”

  “But it sure makes it hard on you when he’s gone.”

  “Yes. We’ve gone through our fair share of problems with our son, Nathan. Much of it has been while his dad was overseas. The Army wives’ code is to try to handle all the problems at home on their own. Keep their soldier focused on the battlefield. Being distracted by a family problem could cost him his life.”

  Marianne blinked into Rita’s resolute face. “Oh, wow. You’re so strong, Rita.”

  “When I met your stepmom, I wasn’t dealing with it very well. In fact, I was about at the end of my rope. Leslie really helped me see that in my attempts to help my young adult son, I was actually making it worse. And by not confiding or sharing with my husband, it was driving this unintentional wedge between us. In addition to being a thousand miles away.”

  Leslie looked at Marianne and gave her a grim smile.

  “You and your husband are a team, no matter if you’re getting along right now or not,” Rita said. “You have a daughter to raise. That’s an important job.”

  “And a business to run,” Marianne added.

  “So, fight against the wedge. You’re feeling distance in your marriage, but just realize that other wives know what real distance is.” She reached over and patted Marianne’s hand. “I don’t know what your situation is, and please don’t think I’m trying to trivialize it or say that mine is worse because my husband’s a soldier. That’s not my intent. But what I am saying is, there are thousands, probably millions of women out there who would love to have their husbands home with them. Don’t overlook the joy and beauty of being together and doing your best to work through your problems.”

  Marianne studied Rita’s face. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”

  Stella ran over, pointing out the back of the boat. “There it is, Mommy! The first dolphin!” Sure enough, skimming the waves just under the water was the glistening, shiny gray back of a dolphin. They watched it a few seconds before it exploded out of the water, exposing its beautiful form to the boatload of excited tourists.

  Stella laughed. “It looks so happy, doesn’t it, Mommy?”

  Marianne gazed at the animal before it landed back into the water, preparing to jump again. “Yes, baby. It sure does.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Tom hung up the phone, jotted down a note on the pad behind the guest desk and looked up. His father-in-law was passing through the Inn’s great room, a pencil in one hand and a stack of blueprint pages in the other. “Hi, Hank.”

  Hank looked up. “Oh, hi Tom.”

  “Whatcha got there?”

  Hank took a detour and laid the stack of drawings on the guest desk. “Designs of the sets for River City. Marianne tell you I’m responsible for building the stage and sets?”

  Tom nodded and refrained from rolling his eyes. Marianne was dead set on moving forward with the dinner theater idea, regardless of his concerns about the endeavor. And now she’d made it a whole family affair. Her dad building the sets, her stepmom directing. If this plan failed, she’d be in good company. He just hoped it wouldn’t cost the Inn a lot of money. He realized his father-in-law was looking at him, awaiting his reaction to the drawings. He smiled. “Very nice.”

  Hank collected them again, rolled them up and shoved them under his arm. He faced the door, then turned and looked at Tom. “Hey, you busy?”

  Tom gazed around the desk and shrugged. “Not particularly.”

  “Want to do some crabbing with me?”

  Crabbing? In the middle of a work day? “Sure, why not?”

  He followed Hank out the door, down the wooden stairs of his Inn and into the sand parking lot. Hank opened up his truck and tossed the designs inside, then, slamming the door, he led Tom to the bed of the pickup. He pulled out the supplies he must’ve stuck in there earlier in the day: a cooler to store their live catches, a couple collapsible chairs, a Tupperware container of raw chicken for bait, two weighted drop lines and a net. They divvied up the supplies and carried them across the road. There, a saltwater marsh was the perfect home for the blue claw crab. A ten foot wooden pier, about two feet wide, belonged to the Inn and the men headed down it,
stopping almost at the end.

  Tom and Hank got to work securing pieces of chicken onto the hook, connecting to the rope line. A metal ball weight was tied to the end of the line, designed to pull the bait down and not let it float up to the top of the water. Soon, the lines were prepared, and they took a step and tossed the line about twelve feet in the water. They watched the rope dive deeper and deeper into the waves.

  They settled into their folding chairs, holding onto their lines. Hank removed his ball cap with one hand and wiped his brow with his forearm.

  “So, what do you think about this idea of Marianne’s,” Tom broached, “this dinner theater idea? Do you think Pawleys Island people will enjoy something like that?”

  Hank leaned his head on the back of the chair. “I think she’s done the research. If she’s convinced it’ll work, then so am I. She’s pretty smart, you know.”

  Tom nodded. “Yeah. She sure is.”

  After about ten minutes, they both stood and tugged on their lines, slowly, slowly. Once their bait was visible, and it was clear there were no crabs attached. They pulled the bait out, looking for chomp marks. Nothing yet. They each took a step in a different direction and tossed them in again, letting the blue waves swallow them up.

  They chatted about baseball and Hank’s work projects and the health of Tom’s parents. After a second check, Hank’s line had a crab going after the chicken. Leaving the crab a foot or so under the water, Hank grabbed the net and lowered it in behind the crab. In one swift motion, he whooshed the net towards the crab, captured it within, pulled it out of the water and into the cooler. Tom gave him a high five.

  Hank prepared new bait on his line and started over again. During the next wait period, he said, “You can tell me to mind my own business, but I hear you’re struggling some.”

  Tom blinked and waited.

  “With Jeremy? And his role in your family.”

  Tom let out a quick rush of air. “Hank, I’m not sure I want to …”

  Hank shook his head. “Okay, okay. I’m not goin’ to make you talk about it. I just thought I’d offer, if you need an ear to listen, I’d be willing to.”

  Tom took that opportunity to stand and pull his line out slowly. Another no-go, so he tossed it back in and settled into his chair. A few moments of quiet went by. He’d always enjoyed his father-in-law. He was a man of few words, but deep thoughts, and he tended to give good advice. So, he ventured out with, “Marianne tell you about our disagreement?”

  Hank moved his lips into a grimace. “Yeah, a little. If that’s what you want to call it.”

  Tom scoffed. “Yeah, it’s more than a disagreement. It’s a stalemate.”

  Hank nodded.

  Another minute or two went by. The sun beat down, and sweat dripped down Tom’s back but it didn’t bother him. Summer was coming and he was happy to see the sun. “I’d say this thing is throwing us for a loop, Hank. She and I have never been this far apart from each other. In, uh, our stance on an issue.” Or, for that matter, physically or emotionally. But that wasn’t something he wanted to go into with his wife’s father.

  “Allow a few words of advice from a man who’s been married way longer than he was single. It’s important to do what’s right. But it’s not important to always get your way. And sometimes what your wife thinks is right, is just gonna have to do. “

  “You’re saying, find a compromise.”

  “I believe you have two choices. You either find a way to get over this, or you’ll destroy your relationship. And I know neither of you want that.”

  Tom creased his forehead in frustration. “You really think it’s come to that? You think this silly problem has the power to destroy our marriage?”

  Hank looked at him. “It ain’t silly to her. Not by a long shot.”

  Tom drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I love her, as much if not more than I did on the day I married her. I refuse to let this put an end to us.”

  “Then I suggest you get your negotiation skills out, brush ’em off and put them to use. Neither of you is going to get your way entirely. You have to work together and get past this. Make it work. No use being right if you end up alone, now is there?”

  Tom lifted a hand and wiped the perspiration off his lip. He looked over at Hank, slouched in his bag chair. “I thought you were going to stick up for your son.”

  “No. This ain’t about Jeremy. Not really. It’s about you and Marianne. It makes no difference what another couple would do to resolve it. You’re facing a challenge in your marriage and you need to work it out in a way that you both can live with.”

  In his unassuming way, his father-in-law had given him something to think about. They crabbed for another two hours, and ultimately went home with a dozen crabs.

  * * *

  A few weeks later, the Seaside Inn was a bustle of creative endeavor. Emma sat on the back porch with her laptop, putting the finishing touches on her abridged version of The Music Man script.

  Hank was in the dining room, sawing and hammering, installing the stage. Marianne wanted the cast, once chosen, to rehearse there. The presence of the stage and sets would also draw interest from her guests and hopefully entice them to order tickets, once the website was available.

  Leslie was holding informal auditions in the great room. A teacher at the local grade school, Leslie had loads of useful contacts. Because the play’s cast featured a large number of school-age children, Leslie had distributed flyers to her teacher friends and encouraged them to talk it up big at school. As a result, she had a steady stream of kids interested in starring in the play. Because Leslie had made friends with teachers at the junior high and high school as well, she’d recruited a rehearsal pianist and a music teacher to direct the music, as well as the donation of a bunch of band instruments from the schools’ collections that were vital to the plotline.

  Things were progressing, they were coming along. When the last child had sung her little heart out, Marianne watched Leslie wrap up the audition, hand out contact sheets to all the parents and bid them all off. Then she came over to where Marianne sat on the couch and plopped herself down, exhaling.

  “We’ve got the entire cast filled except two.”

  “Wow! That’s great,” Marianne replied. “Which two?”

  Leslie laughed. “No. Let’s savor our successes for a moment. We’ve got the entire children’s cast selected. We’ve got all our townspeople, including our barbershop quartet. We’ve got Winthrop and most of the key roles.”

  Marianne smiled, reached over and pulled Leslie into a hug. “Great job, director.”

  “We could start rehearsals this week with the kids, start teaching dance moves and songs.”

  “Super.”

  “But,” Leslie said.

  “Here’s the but.”

  “We don’t have our leads. We need a Marian the Librarian and a Professor Harold Hill.”

  Marianne nodded, pondering. “Do you know anyone from school who does community theater and could pull it off?”

  Leslie sighed. “Not really. Everyone who has auditioned so far, I’ve slotted into smaller roles. We need a real standout for Marian, and an equally excellent Professor Hill. They carry so much of the show. It’s okay to use talented amateurs for the townspeople and kids. But we need professional-caliber talent for those two roles. Otherwise, the entire endeavor could be a flop.”

  “Okay.”

  “The other thing is, even though the community theater in Myrtle is helping sponsor us, we’re also competing with them. They’re doing their spring musical at the same time, so anyone in the surrounding area who can sing and dance and likes to perform, will be auditioning there.”

  Marianne waited for a feeling of stress to overcome her at this huge problem. Breathlessness, a racing pulse. She had a great deal at stake, and had invested a lot in this project. Tom was against it, and if she failed to deliver a high quality, not to mention profitable production, he would have every reason to say
, “I told you so.”

  But the only emotion she felt was excitement. This wasn’t a problem — it was an opportunity. A chance to not only make this show good, but to push it to great.

  “Don’t you worry about it, Leslie. I’m going to take care of this. Move forward with rehearsals. I’ll find our leads and make sure you approve. And they’re going to be great.”

  Marianne went to the kitchen and fetched two glasses of iced tea, then went through the Inn to the back porch. Emma sat on a rocking chair, her feet propped up on a table, her knees bent and her laptop in her lap. Her fingers danced over the keyboard and she didn’t notice Marianne until she sat down beside her.

  “Oh, hi.”

  “Hi. How’s it going? I thought you could use some refreshment.”

  “Thanks.” Emma accepted the glass and took a long sip. “It’s going well. I’ve ended up cutting almost an hour of material from the stage play version. Did you know there are fourteen musical numbers in Act 1 and another eleven in Act 2?” She smiled.

  “No, wow.”

  “So I’m cutting it by reducing the songs that we do keep to less verses, and then axing some of the songs that are incidental to the plot. If I do it right, the audience won’t even notice the changes. They’ll just enjoy a swift production of one of their favorite musicals without having to sit through over three hours of performance.”

  Marianne took a sip of her iced tea. “Well, I’m sure you’re doing it right.”

  “Dinner theaters are unique because the actors actually serve the meal, then perform onstage while the guests eat. At intermission, they run out and clear the dishes, and serve dessert. They really work hard. But I suppose the guests tip them extra well if they’re enjoying their performance.”

  Emma tapped on her keyboard a few more strokes, then closed her laptop lid. “I estimate I’ll be done in the next day or two, then I want to actually time it — read through the whole thing and sing the songs with the timer on. Then I’ll turn it over to you. Does that fit your time restraints?”