Beach House Reunion

by Mary Alice Monroe

  “Of course.” Toy paused. “Cara, just for the record. You know I’m working full-time, and I’ll be having a new baby in the fall. You can make it work. Lots of us do.” She grinned. “Want to know the secret of being a happy mother?”

  Cara laughed. “Of course.”

  “If mama is happy, the family is happy. It’s that simple. And there’s no one way to make mama happy. Stay-at-home or working mother, there’s lots of struggling to be organized and moments of exasperation and exhaustion.” She rolled her eyes. “Lots of those. But there are so many more moments of joy and satisfaction. It’s all about quality time when you’re home. Turning off the TV and sharing. That’s one of the lessons that Big Girl taught me. You keep swimming forward, pushing hard, but at the same time, you appreciate each moment.”

  Cara said, “Is this a serious proposition, or are we just chewing the fat?”

  Toy smiled. “I’ve been authorized to talk to you and make the offer. Kevin is waiting for you in his office whenever you’re ready. But, Cara, don’t wait too long.”

  CARA CAME TO a stop before the imposing black wrought-iron gate that blocked the driveway to her old home on Tradd. Linnea had told her about the gate. It was handsome, true, but also a pain in the neck. She rolled down her window and punched the intercom button. Then she waited. It was hot outdoors, and she was losing air-conditioning.

  “Hello?”

  “Palmer, it’s me. Cara.”

  There was a pause; then she heard a click, and the big gates swung open. She parked and made her way along the familiar path through Julia’s gorgeous garden. She spotted Palmer waiting for her at the door, a grin on his face.

  “Alert the news! Cara Rutledge deigned to make an appearance at her brother’s house!”

  She gave her brother a kiss. “It’s so hot—why would I come to the city? You should hightail it to the beach. These are the days our forefathers built the summer homes for. To escape!”

  “I wish, sister. Some of us aren’t so lucky to live on an island.”

  “You could,” she shot back with a nudge. “You have a house on Sullivan’s.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he said, dismissing the discussion about the rental house they’d had so many times before. “I’m about to fix some lunch. You hungry?”

  She shook her head. “No, thanks. I’ll eat when I get home. I was in town at the aquarium and thought I’d stop by.”

  “Glad you did.” He looked at her with affection. “Real glad. I’ve missed you. Iced tea?”

  She smiled and felt her heart expand for him. “Love some.”

  “It’s not as good as yours, of course. Julia only makes the unsweetened tea.” He patted his belly. “She thinks it’s going to make a difference.” He laughed and shook his head. “I try to humor her where I can.”

  She girded her nerves for what she was about to say. She waited until the tea was poured and they sat together at the big scrubbed wood table in the kitchen like they did when they were children.

  Cara let her gaze sweep the kitchen of the great old house with its wooden beams, heart-pine floors, and brick fireplace. “I’m so glad that when Julia redecorated the house, she didn’t throw the baby out with the bathwater.”

  “Nah,” Palmer said, resting his elbows on the table and lacing his fingers. “She has more sense than that. Plus Mama would never have allowed it. She was still alive and kicking when most of the work was done.” He paused, squinting his eyes. “I still miss her.”

  “Me too.”

  “Do you still smell her perfume out there?”

  “I did when I first arrived. Quite strong,” she said, omitting the ghost story. The more time went by, the more she was beginning to doubt she’d really seen her mother. To wonder if she’d just been tired from the long drive and it had simply been her imagination. “Not lately, though. I’m disappointed, truth be known.”

  “I’d like to be there when it happens. Just to see what I felt, you know?” He paused and clasped his hands together tightly. “I never got to say good-bye to her. That thought still haunts me.”

  Cara’s heart ached for her brother. “Mama knew you loved her. You were a good son, Palmer. The best.”

  Palmer looked at that moment like the little boy she remembered. He’d adored Lovie, but even still, he had been as much an authoritarian with her as their father had been, controlling her finances with an iron hand. Cara suddenly recalled, with a stab of worry, that he had taken money from Lovie’s bank account to help support his business back then, too. That meant this wasn’t the first time the family export/import firm had had financial trouble.

  “Palmer . . .” Cara hesitated to break his reverie. “I want to talk to you about something.”

  His pensive gaze suddenly sharpened. “Oh?”

  “I understand that the Rutledge Export/Import is in trouble.”

  “Who told you that?” he asked, his voice sharp, tilting his head as though to better hear.

  “You told me that, you alluded to it the day at the bar.”

  “Oh, yeah . . .”

  “And from Linnea. She heard it from Julia. And from Cooper.”

  Palmer sat back in his chair and rubbed his jaw, clearly agitated.

  “We’re all family, Palmer. No one is talking out of turn.”

  “My business is no one’s business but my own,” he said. “And it’s doing fine. I told you that.”

  “You did. And I don’t believe you.”

  He glared back at her.

  “Palmer, I’ve known you all your life. You can’t fool me. You’re doing what you’ve always done, trying to cover up any unpleasantness and bear the trouble alone. Why? We’re family, Palmer. You shouldn’t feel a responsibility to bear this weight all on your own.”

  “You should’ve thought about that before you left thirty years ago. Left everything squarely in my hands.”

  “I deserve that. But since we’re being honest . . . we both know Daddy wasn’t going to leave the business to me even if I did stay. Even if I wanted it. I know you never wanted to take over the business. Daddy forced it on you. And you’ve taken care of it—and this house—ever since.”

  “He never asked me if I wanted it. Not once. I wish he had given it to you.”

  “As your sister who loves you very much, I’m telling you that it isn’t your responsibility to keep that firm afloat.”

  “That’s what men do,” he said with an air of bluster. “We keep the ship sailing.”

  “Spare me the platitudes. You’re not a captain. You don’t have to go down with the ship. And if you call me a little lady, I’ll kick you so hard you won’t be able to walk for a week.”

  Palmer guffawed and slapped the table. “There she is. There’s my sister.” He stood up and walked to the cabinet. “I could use a drink. Want a drink?”

  “It’s three in the afternoon.”

  He pulled out a glass and a bottle of bourbon. “I’m running late, then.” He chuckled as he poured himself a liberal amount. He looked up. “You sure you don’t want any?”

  Cara didn’t reply.

  Palmer came back to the table with his glass and sat with a heavy thump in the chair. “Oh, stop giving me the stink eye,” he said with a dismissive wave. “I’m too old to be lectured by my baby sister. Don’t worry. I’ve got everything under control.”

  “Really? Do you have your drinking under control?”

  Palmer’s face darkened. “Don’t meddle, Cara.”

  “ ‘Meddle’? That’s not the word I’d use. ‘Intervention’ is more like it.”

  “Shit,” he drawled, and slammed his palm down on the table. “That tears it. I’m sick to death of you women hounding me for having a few drinks.”

  “ ‘A few drinks’?” Cara said, her voice rising. “Is that what you call getting drunk on a nightly basis? Fights with your wife and son? Palmer, you need help. Let me help you, whatever you need me to do. It’s you and me, remember? We swore after Mama died we’d take care
of each other. You were there for me when I was falling apart after Brett died, and I’ll love you forever for that. And I’m prepared to go to hell and back to help you now. You can beat this curse, Palmer. You don’t have to end up like our father.”

  “I’m not like him,” Palmer roared. “I’m nothing like him!”

  “Are you so sure? Palmer, you’re becoming just like him.”

  His face went pale.

  Cara pressed on. “Don’t you remember what he was like? Yelling at Mama, browbeating her till she near broke. And me? He drove me away. I ran so hard and fast I couldn’t stop till I crossed the Mason-Dixon line. And you . . .” Cara’s face softened with love. “You got the worst of it. He came down on you so hard if ever you crossed him. He browbeat you too, but you stood and took it all. For me and for Mama.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she took a long, shuddering breath. She couldn’t allow herself to get emotional.

  Palmer softened. “I don’t want to be like him. But I just don’t know what to do about it. The business is a mess. I admit it. There doesn’t seem to be a way out for me.”

  She heard the desperation in his voice. “There is,” she said urgently. “Palmer, I’m not here for an intervention. Let’s just say I’m here for a conversation. The first of many, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  She took a breath. “You have to break this destructive pattern. Daddy started it with you, and now you’re continuing it with Cooper. If you don’t stop it, Cooper will continue with his son.”

  Palmer looked at her, stone-faced. “What pattern is that?”

  “First, you have to stop drinking. We’ll stand behind you. And second, take the burden of all this”—she gestured to the house—“off the shoulders of your son. Don’t do to him what Daddy did to you.”

  “What?” Palmer looked at her with confusion in his eyes.

  “The whole Rutledge male beating-of-the-chest thing. It’s positively tribal. Cooper doesn’t want to go to the Citadel,” Cara told him. “He doesn’t want to work in the family firm. Don’t force him to feel responsible for all this.”

  “I’m not forcing Cooper to do anything! As a matter of fact, he’s off picking up his uniform now. Tomorrow he enters the Citadel. Becomes a knob. He’s right excited about it too. His mother and I are taking him out to dinner. A kind of farewell celebration.”

  Her eyes captured his. “Are you so sure he’s excited? Or is it panic you see in his eyes?”

  Palmer frowned, and his eyes flashed with anger. “Don’t go too far, sister. He’s my son.”

  “That’s my point.” Cara rose and leaned forward on the table, closer to her brother. Her voice was low and firm. “You forget—I was there when you went off to the Citadel. You smiled for Daddy, put on the good show.” She tapped the table hard with each syllable. “But I know how you felt inside.”

  She straightened and took a breath, hoping she could convince her brother. “That’s how Cooper feels. He’s trying to do the right thing, Palmer. He’s trying to do what you want him to do. To make you proud. And it’s killing him.” She straightened, collecting her calm. “He’s drinking too much. We’re worried about drugs.” She saw with frustration that Palmer waved his hand in denial and leaned back in his chair. She pressed on. “And he’s going out to the hunting lodge on weekends. I know what happens out there all too well. As do you.”

  Palmer remained silent, but his gaze burned back into hers with fury.

  “I’m not here to badger you. I’m here to ask you, to beg you, to break the cycle. To stop drinking and consider what kind of an example you’re setting for your children.”

  Palmer rose slowly and leaned forward on the table. “What kind of an example did our father set for us?”

  Cara didn’t budge. “Exactly.”

  Palmer lifted his chin and crossed his arms tightly against his chest. When he spoke, his voice rumbled from his chest.

  “Go back to your beach house, baby sister,” he said with a tight smile. “Where you belong. We’re all just fine here.”

  Cara smiled back at him with genuine affection, but her voice rang with firmness. “You’re not getting rid of me so easily, brother mine. I’m on your side, whether you choose to believe me or not. I’ll go. But I’ll be back. Again and again. Because I love you.”

  DAVID CAME WHEN she called. Cara walked along the crooked walkways and cobblestone alleys of Charleston to burn off some of the excess frustration bubbling in her veins. August might not have been the hottest month, but it was the most humid. She was moist by the time she arrived at The Chophouse. Harold greeted her warmly and secured a table for her in the bar. The jazz piano player had just started playing.

  She just had time to sit and sip some water before she saw David enter. He was not an easy man to miss. She waved, and his face lit up at seeing her.

  When he came to the table, he bent to lightly kiss her cheek in welcome. The move surprised Cara, in a good way.

  “I’m so grateful you could meet me,” she said.

  “Of course. It was fortunate I was already in the city.”

  A waitress came quickly for their order.

  “A Campari and soda,” she said, looking forward to the bubbles on this hot day.

  “Bourbon. On the rocks. So,” David said as the waitress left, folding his hands on the table. “What’s up?”

  “More family drama, I’m afraid.” She filled him in on her discussion with Linnea, then followed up with her visit with Palmer.

  Their drinks came. They each tasted theirs and returned to the conversation.

  “Palmer’s put you in a tough spot,” David said. “You see what has to be done, you’ve offered to help him, pointed out the damage he’s inflicting on his son, and he refuses to listen. So what can you do? Is that right?”

  “In a nutshell, yes.”

  “The answer is—nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “You have to let him fail. To hit the proverbial rock bottom. It’s tough love, but remember, you are not being cruel by doing this. It’s a last resort. Ultimately you’re helping him to help himself.”

  “But what about Cooper?”

  “You said he was entering the Citadel?” When she nodded he said, “They do have a reputation for making a boy a man.”

  “But he doesn’t want to go.”

  “Then talk to him.”

  Cara closed her eyes, inexplicably weary. “What a tangled web we weave . . .”

  “When we practice to deceive,” he finished for her. “Who are we deceiving?”

  “Not us. Palmer,” she said. “If I could just get him to recognize what he’s doing. To himself. To his family.”

  “Who’s to say he doesn’t know? He might be so depressed he can’t change.”

  “There’s that web.”

  “Point well taken.”

  Cara sipped her drink, braced by the bitterness and the chill of it. “Speaking of change,” she said, switching subjects, “I had another meeting today.”

  “You’ve been a busy lady.”

  “I went to the aquarium to see Toy and Big Girl.”

  “How are they both doing? Fecundity reigns.”

  “Very well, thank you,” she said, amused. “Actually, Toy made an interesting proposal. She asked if I would be interested in the new position of director of conservation.”

  David put down his glass. “But isn’t that to be her new position?”

  “It was. But she’s decided she doesn’t want it.”

  “Really . . .” He considered this. “I thought she did. Is it because of the baby?”

  Cara shook her head. “That was my first thought. The baby plays into it, I’m sure, but she said she’s come to realize that she doesn’t want to leave her position with the turtle hospital. That’s what she loves doing. So she’s decided to stay on at the hospital and offered me the position.”

  “She offered it to you?”

  “Yes. She said she had the authority. Now I have to
decide if I want it.”

  “And do you? Do you want the job?”

  “I think I do. I could let my clients know in plenty of time for them to find a replacement. My ideas will be my farewell gift to them. My chief concern is Hope. Whether I should take a full-time job. I worry whether I’ll be able to handle working with a child at home. I’m new at it. And I did come here to be a stay-at-home mother. That was the plan.” She exhaled and looked into David’s eyes. He was listening, biding his time.

  “Can I tell you something, and you have to promise you won’t think I’m a terrible mother?”

  He laughed and said, “Sure.”

  “I like working. I love coming downtown to meet with a client. I feel so alive. My brain is firing on all synapses. And when I work on my ideas, I feel energized, bursting with creativity. David, I get bored playing with Hope all day. That’s the simple truth. I don’t think I was cut out for it.”

  “And you feel guilty.”

  Cara put her cheek in her palm. “Yes.”

  “Don’t.”

  She made a face.

  “Do you think you’re the first parent who feels guilty for going to work and leaving his or her child behind? Join the club. Don’t forget I was a single father after Heather’s mother died. She left me alone with a daughter who had anxiety problems. I didn’t have the luxury of deciding whether I would stay home with her or not. I had a career. A job to do to keep the family afloat. And so do you. Sometimes you just need to do what you have to do.” He raised his glass. “No guilt. No blame.” He took a sip of his drink, then put his glass back on the table.

  “I’m hungry,” he said, and signaled for the waitress.

  Cara sat quietly and considered what he’d said, as well as what Toy had said. If mama is happy, the family is happy. She didn’t need to belabor this decision. That wasn’t her style, anyway. Cara knew what she was going to do.

  “I’m going to take the job,” she said.