Chance on Lovin' You

by Eboni Snoe

  “What’s there to think about? You just said it’s an awful lot of money. It is,” Cay pushed.

  “It may be.” Sasha managed not to sniff into the phone. “But if you’re willing to offer that much, being the businessman that you are, there’s no telling how much you think this place is really worth.” She turned the receiver up and wiped her face on her dress. “I’ll just wait for your official offer. You can make that through my attorney, Jason Williams.”

  The silence sizzled.

  “So that’s the way it is?” Cay’s voice could have frozen her.

  “That’s right.” Sasha’s lips trembled.

  “We’ll play it your way.”

  The line went dead.

  Still holding the receiver in her hand, Sasha walked over to the refrigerator, where Jason Williams’s number was visible on a Post-it. Her hand trembled as she dialed the number. “May I speak to Attorney Williams, please. This is Sasha Townsend calling.”

  “I’m sorry Attorney Williams isn’t in,” the secretary said with a practiced voice. “May I take a message?”

  “Oh.” It had never crossed Sasha’s mind that he wouldn’t be available. “I guess not. No, maybe I will. Just tell him Cay Ellis made me a substantial offer on the Bethel House.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Is that all?”

  “Yes. Will Attorney Williams be back in his office today?” Sasha found herself fighting back the tears.

  “No, ma’am, he won’t. But I’ll be sure to get this message to him as soon as I can.”

  “Thank you,” Sasha said before she pressed the button and cut off the professional voice.

  In a daze, she walked over and placed the phone on the charger. Stunned, she sat on the couch. Moments later Sasha crumpled into a heap, her chest heaving. She was crying more tears than she thought she had within her.

  Chapter 33

  “Hey! So you decided to come out and join us.” Mr. Smith said as he continued to pump syrup.

  “I didn’t have any better offers,” Sasha replied, “so I decided eating piping-hot oysters cooked by somebody else was better than sitting at home alone.”

  “That’s for certain.” Mr. Smith passed the yellow Sno-Kone over the counter to an impatient boy. “Here you are, little man.” He smiled at Sasha.

  “This is a pretty big to-do, isn’t it?” Sasha looked around at the large crowd.

  “We think so, and it gets bigger and bigger every year. Thank you, ma’am,” he said to a woman in a thong bikini. He leaned toward Sasha and whispered, “That’s one of the fringe benefits of the Sno-Kone business.”

  “Do men ever change?” Sasha had to laugh.

  “No. Never,” he replied.

  “God help us.”

  “Hey, there’s no need to bring God into this. Can’t a guy have a little fun without feeling guilty?” He smiled an infectious smile. “Have you tried the oysters?”

  “No, not yet. I just got here.”

  “Well, I suggest you get started, because with a crowd this size they can go pretty fast.”

  “I don’t have to be told twice.” Sasha waved as she followed his advice, although her appetite had really not returned.

  After standing in line for ten minutes, Sasha took her food to the edge of a concrete platform and a stair. Carefully, she settled down on the empty stair with her tiny bucket of roasted oysters, fries, hot sauce, and ketchup. Time passed fast enough as a local band played and the people around her amused themselves with the food and music. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough to keep her from thinking too much.

  “What are you doing sitting over here all alone?” Mr. Smith was balancing a container of steaming oysters. “Mind if I join you?”

  “Absolutely not.” Sasha wiped her fingers on a paper napkin. “I could use the company.” She began to scoot to the edge of the stair.

  “No, that’s okay,” Mr. Smith protested. “I’ll put my plate right here” —he placed it on the platform— “and sit down right beside it.” He pulled himself up onto the platform. “Boy, it’s been a long day.”

  “I bet it has. Are you done for the night?” Sasha munched a fry.

  “Yes, I’m done. I’m sure I could make some more money” —he looked around at the crowd— “but my body tells me it’s not willing to help me.” He popped open one of the oysters to let it cool. “Do you live around here? Or are you visiting?”

  “I live here.” Sasha looked down at her plate. “I have a place on Magic Key.”

  “You do?” Mr. Smith looked surprised. “I consider myself a self-made historian for this area, and the Ellises are the only people I know that live on Magic Key. Hazel Bethel used to live in the little house in the middle of Guana Manor, but she died a few months back.”

  “Yes, I know. She was my aunt.”

  “Is that right? I knew her and her brother, Amos. She was some special lady.”

  “So I’ve heard, but I never met any of them. It was just recently that I found out I had an Aunt Hazel.”

  “Never?” Mr. Smith’s brows furrowed even farther. “That would mean you don’t know that Amos…”

  “It’s a rather complicated story.” Sasha inhaled. “I—”

  “Life can get congested as the years go by. If it’s that complicated, we don’t need to go into all the details.”

  Sasha felt relieved. It was her turn to ask questions. “Do you live near here?”

  “I live on Big Pine Key. Been living in this area all my life. But I consider this beach as mine. I patrol it, make sure the debris is picked up. That sort of thing. I even venture down onto the Ellises’ private property. They’ve never complained.”

  “So you know the Ellises pretty well?”

  “Not really. Mr. Ellis is the kind of man that doesn’t allow people to get to know him. Of course, I’ve seen him around many times. From some of the things I’ve heard about him, I think I’m better off the way I am.”

  Sasha watched Mr. Smith sprinkle a heavy dose of hot sauce on a large oyster. “I’ve heard he’s lived quite a life, and his sons have as well.” Olive’s claims that the Ellises had always been troubled nagged at her.

  “Yes, that’s about what I know to be true. I believe someone could make a movie about that family.” He rubbed his hands together. “You see, my people were born here in the States, and we don’t have a history that’s connected with the obeah. But the Ellises have roots in the Bahamas—and, from what I heard, the obeah, too,” he rushed on. “Now, I’m not saying that’s why things have gone they way they have, but I’ve heard, from reliable sources, that when old Mr. Ellis’s mother was alive she ruled Guana Manor with an iron fist. And that she was a really strange woman. One that I wouldn’t want for a wife or a mother,” he said bluntly. “Somebody told me it had to do with the obeah. That she let it run their lives, just about ruined them.” Mr. Smith shook his head. “They’ve had enough tragedy in that family for me to believe something isn’t right. But money hasn’t been a problem. Still, they have been a troubled family.” He stopped and looked rather embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I’m going on about the Ellises and you might believe in that sort of thing as well.”

  “I don’t believe anything that preaches doom and gloom,” Sasha replied, but she couldn’t help but think of Cay. Could Cay have been telling the truth? Did he really believe his family was cursed? “I do think, if a person believes in something,” she started off slowly, “her thoughts or her will can help bring it about.”

  “I think there’s some truth in that,” Mr. Smith replied. “But I know I don’t believe somebody can just put a curse on me and boom” —he threw up his hands— “all of a sudden my life is altered for the worst.”

  “Yes.” Sasha was in deep thought. “If that were true that would mean they fixed the future. Permanently changed it,” Sasha said, seriously considering it for the first time. “And I don’t believe any human being on earth can do that.”

  “I refuse to believe it,” Mr. Smith announced. “I
wake up every morning and look’ forward to a beautiful day, and that’s what I’m determined to have. And believe me, every year that passes reminds me of just how wonderful each day really is.” He began to wave and smile as he looked off into the crowd.

  Sasha turned to see an attractive older woman in a red skirt and white blouse wave back. “Is that a friend of yours?”

  “Mm-hmm. Someone I hope will become a good friend,” Mr. Smith replied. “I think I’ll mosey on over there and say hello.” He lowered himself off the platform. “Take care of yourself. Hope to see you again, real soon.”

  “You do the same, Mr. Smith.” Sasha watched as he weaved his way into the crowd.

  Minutes later Sasha finished her food and headed home. In light of what Olive and Mr. Smith had told her, she thought about giving Cay a call. Once again she unlocked the door to the sound of the telephone ringing. Hoping it was Cay calling her back. She hurried and answered it. “Hello.” The sound of someone breathing was the only response she heard. “Hello-o. Hello.” Sasha hung up. “I am not in the mood for anybody playing on the phone.”

  She started the shower and the phone rang again. “Hello.” No answer. “Look, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t call back.” She hung up and went into the bathroom. Sasha could hear the phone ringing as she showered, and it did not stop until she answered it. Still, the person on the end of the line refused to speak. This is beginning to be a problem, she thought as she put on her nightclothes. Sasha knew it was a problem when the phone rang again.

  The telephone continued to ring. She tried unplugging it, but soon feared that was what the caller wanted her to do. If she unplugged the telephone she would be unable to call for help if someone decided to do more than call.

  Coming up on midnight, Sasha was nearly exhausted. She thought of calling the police, but wondered what the police could do about harassing phone calls. That’s when the telephone rang again, and Sasha’s anger rang with it. “I am sick and tired of this,” she yelled into the receiver. “I’m going to have the police tap my line and you’re going to be arrested for harassment,” she threatened.

  “The wisest thing for you to do is to move. Don’t expect any money or anything else if you value your life,” a deep male voice said with deadly calm before the line went dead.

  The shock of hearing someone speak for the first time was numbing. But what he said chilled Sasha to the bone. He had told her if she valued her life she would move! Sasha’s knees went weak, and she slumped into the chair. Someone had just threatened her over the Bethel property.

  “That wasn’t Cay’s voice.” Sasha trembled as she spoke.

  The phone rang again, but this time Sasha did not answer it. In a panic, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt over her nightclothes and headed for the door. Her hands trembled as she attempted to lock up, and the keys tumbled to the ground. When Sasha stooped to retrieve them a silver object caught her eye. It was an advertising magnet: “Rental Sloops Are Our Business. HAPPY TOURISTS Are Our Goal. (800) 238-7735.” It was the same magnet she had seen in Cay’s SUV and in the seaplane.

  Frightened and with tears stinging her eyes, she drove down the dimly lit road toward Big Pine Key. It was hard for her to accept what the occurrences within the last few hours meant, but there was no way to deny them. The man on the telephone had not been Cay, but there was a high possibility he was someone Cay had hired. Perhaps he was the same person who had poured bleach throughout her home nearly two months before. In truth, it did not matter. What did matter was, it was clear to Sasha she was not wanted in the Bethel House or on Magic Key.

  Sasha pressed down on the gas as her mind raced. She rounded the bend to cross the small bridge and nearly collided with a car that was driving on the wrong side of the road. Quick reflexes were the only thing that saved her. Moments later she came to a screeching halt. “Oh, my God.” Her head yanked forward. Breathing heavily, Sasha turned to see if the oncoming car had stopped. To her surprise, the driver had continued on his way. “Who in the world was that?” She watched the red taillights grow smaller as they headed farther into the interior of the Key.

  It took a few minutes for Sasha to collect herself before she went on. About fifteen minutes later she pulled up in front of a motel.

  “I’d like a room,” she told the man standing behind the counter.

  He looked down at Sasha’s waist, where part of her nightgown hung out of her jeans. She stuffed the material back inside her pants. “That will be ninety-five dollars. Cash,” he stressed.

  “Cash!”

  He slid a sign between them: NO CREDIT CARDS. NO CHECKS.

  “I don’t know if I have cash.” Sasha rummaged inside her bag.

  “Can’t give you a room if you don’t, ma’am.” The man crossed his arms.

  Sasha could feel panic rising. What if she didn’t have any cash and all the motels adhered to the cash-only policy? Suddenly, she remembered her emergency hundred-dollar bill. It had permanent creases when she handed it across the counter. Minutes later Sasha was opening her motel room door.

  She looked at the phone and considered calling Jason Williams, but it was a quarter to one in the morning. She had never used his home number before, and she didn’t think calling him in the middle of the night would be a good time to start. Sasha sat back on the bed and looked around the impersonal room. She believed she would be safe until daylight.

  Drained, Sasha peeled down to her nightgown and looked at the sign on the night-stand: CASCADE MOTEL, ALMOST LIKE HOME. She thought of the man who wasn’t going to give her a room if she didn’t have cash. She thought of the last thing Cay had said to her on the plane. She thought of what had happened at the Bethel House. Sasha turned the sign facedown. “No way is this place like home. No way at all.”

  Chapter 34

  Cay stood in the attic and saw Sasha’s car lights flash on. She drove off the property so fast the Mazda nearly went into a tail-spin. He looked at his watch. It was almost twelve-thirty in the morning. There weren’t that many places for a woman to go on Big Pine Key at that time of night, and Sasha was in a big hurry. Cay could come up with only one solution: She was going to see Jason Williams.

  Despite all the influence the Ellis fortune had, and the power behind it, Cay felt powerless. It was like one grand show on the outside, but inside he was a prisoner of the past. He didn’t want to believe the things that had been intricately woven into his life, his psyche, since he was a little boy, but the truth was, when he looked at his life, at the Ellis family’s history, reality proved those beliefs to be true.

  Feeling heavy, he sat down on the torn upholstered seat. His hands rubbed the familiar carvings etched into the arms of the chair. He recalled a time when his hands could not span the round lion faces. Then the chair had been a throne, a boy’s throne.

  Cay smiled wistfully. He had granted many favors to loved ones seated here, and righted the wrongs he and Wally endured inside Guana Manor. As an adult he wished the magic worked as well.

  Cay looked around the attic. He was no longer a frightened boy seeking refuge, but perhaps as a grown man he was even more afraid, because he knew how fleeting happiness could be and how much damage an unkind word could yield.

  Again, Cay looked out the window, but now there was nothing but darkness. It illustrated how his life had been for a long time. Maybe it was the same for his father, who had tried to disguise the bleakness with liquor and women through the years. Cay realized that his father had managed to bury himself beneath a facade of anger and a mean spirit. Buried himself because he was afraid to claim sovereignty over his own life. He tried to remember a time when he’d believed his father was happy. It was very difficult to do.

  He took his foot and nudged a pile of curtains mixed with boxes. One of the box lids tumbled aside, and several articles spilled out. Cay’s eyes examined them, but his thoughts churned, looking for a way out.

  There was costume jewelry, long black gloves, a music box, and a cl
oth-covered scrapbook. It was on the music box that Cay’s attention focused. It had belonged to his grandmother, and although it had sat on her dresser for years, he had never heard her play it. Cay wound the ballerina-topped box, and a stilted version of music from Swan Lake began to play. He placed the scrapbook in his lap and closed his eyes.

  It was hard to imagine his grandmother listening to and loving such a beautiful tune. Yet it was easy to visualize Sasha embracing it. Precious would have allowed it to carry her away, never to return.

  Cay opened the scrapbook, and the faded image of a beautiful woman looked back at him. At first he did not recognize her, but written underneath the photograph, in a steady hand, was his grandmother’s maiden name, Cecilia Rose Marsh. As Cay turned the pages, he realized that the contents of the scrapbook were from his grandmother’s life prior to his father’s being born. There were remnants of an elementary school play, a blue ribbon from a foot race, and a glee club name tag. At the back of the book, tucked behind a Valentine’s heart made from construction paper, was a picture of a man. The name Louis J. Bethel was printed at the bottom. “Love, L.J.” was written on the back.

  An erratic glow of weaving headlights beamed up the road toward the house. Cay looked out the window when the car was in floodlight range. He recognized his father’s black Cadillac. He guessed his father had drunk too much when he saw him park the car in the middle of Sherry’s favorite flower garden.

  Chapter 35

  “Mr. Ellis must have tied one on last night.” Olive looked out the window at the Cadillac, then let go of the curtain. “Ms. Sherry’s going to have a fit about her flowers.” She looked at Cay and crossed her arms. “You sure are up early for a Saturday morning.”

  “I had trouble sleeping last night.” Cay sat down at the kitchen table.

  “I haven’t had time to fix breakfast. Do you want some coffee?”

  “Yes, I could use some.” He rubbed the stubble on his face.