“But she did. I told you, she hasn’t been sleeping; the pain’s been so bad. So last night, I called up her doctor and told him he needed to give her something stronger. Which he agreed was the thing to do. What I didn’t know was, somehow, Miss Josephine managed to get herself up out of bed and come looking for me in the kitchen. She heard me talking on the phone.”
“Uh-oh,” Brooke said.
“I’ve never seen her so mad. She said I had no cause to go messing in her private business and calling her doctor behind her back. She yelled at me and carried on so bad, she had me crying. Called me names nobody ever called me. Then, Shug came in, and he heard the ruckus, and when he tried to stand up for me, she took after him too!” Louette bit her lip and blinked back tears. “Finally, Shug told her if she felt that way about us, we would just quit, and she could get somebody else to work for her.”
“Oh no,” Brooke moaned.
“That’s when Josephine said we couldn’t quit, because we were fired. And then she said, ‘Oh yeah, I changed my mind too, and I’m not gonna give y’all back Oyster Bluff, after all.’” Louette burst into tears.
Brooke hesitated, then folded her arms around Louette’s bulky shoulders. The older woman heaved with every sob. After a moment or two, she pulled away, obviously embarrassed by her outburst.
“I’m sorry,” she said, taking a neatly pressed handkerchief from the pocket of her white uniform. “I didn’t mean to be such a crybaby. I know Josephine’s only acting this way ’cause she’s old and sick and hurtin’, but I just don’t understand how she could be so ugly to me.”
“I don’t understand it either,” Brooke said.
“I’m still sleeping in that room next to hers, and I hear her at night, she can’t hardly breathe right, and she’s not sleeping, and that’s why I called the doctor. He told me there’s no reason she needs to be in pain, so close to … you know. Her time.”
“You absolutely did the right thing,” Brooke said. “And I don’t care how sick Josephine is. There is no excuse for this kind of behavior. You and Shug would certainly be justified in quitting, if that’s what you want.”
“Shug wants us to go. We’ve got money saved. We could go someplace like Brunswick and buy us a little house for our own. He can work anywhere, and he wants me to retire. But I don’t know what I’d do if I wasn’t working.” Louette sniffed. “And then what happens to her?” She jerked her head in the direction of the house. “She can’t take care of herself. She don’t know how to cook, and she’s weak as a kitten. Who’ll stay here and look after her if we leave?”
“We caught her!” Lizzie emerged from a thicket of overgrown azaleas on the north side of the house, clutching the errant cat. “Jesus, I need a drink!”
Marie was close behind. She frowned when she saw Louette’s distress. “Everything okay here?”
Brooke took a deep breath and tried to swallow the anger bubbling up from her gut. “It will be,” she said. “Louette, I know Josephine thinks she fired you, but could you please take Lizzie and my mom to the kitchen and give them something cold to drink? It was pretty hot out there on the water today.”
“Of course. I should have offered that as soon as we got here,” Louette said. She opened the front door. “Y’all come in and get out of this heat.”
“And I’ll go speak to Josephine and get this firing thing straightened out,” Brooke said.
* * *
She found Josephine dozing in her recliner. Her face was paler than it had been, her lips cracked and bloodless. There were deep purplish circles under her eyes. Her mouth was ajar, and she snored softly, as did the two Chihuahuas who were cradled in her lap. As soon as Brooke approached, both dogs scrambled to their feet, instantly alert and on the defensive.
“Hi, girls,” Brooke whispered. She reached out and touched each dog’s head. Then she pulled a wooden chair closer to the recliner, sat down, and stared at her client.
Josephine’s red-rimmed eyes opened slowly. She coughed violently, and when she could finally catch her breath, she spoke with difficulty.
“Teeny and Tiny must be used to you now,” she said, wheezing. “They didn’t even whimper when you came into the room.”
Brooke was so angry she didn’t trust herself to speak at first. “Why are you so hateful?” she blurted.
“Me?”
“You. Hateful, cruel, spiteful, ungrateful. How could you treat Shug and Louette the way you did?”
Josephine coughed again. “She had no right—”
“She had every right,” Brooke interjected. “Unlike you, Louette is a good, kindhearted person. She has empathy for others, which is a quality you were seemingly born without. Louette saw that you were suffering, and she tried to do something about it. And for that you fired her and threatened to take away her home? I can’t even deal with you, Josephine.”
Josephine struggled to catch her breath between words. “Louette knows I didn’t mean it.”
“No, she doesn’t. And here’s the irony. It’s not herself she’s concerned about. She’s worried about who’ll take care of you when she and Shug are gone.”
“No … no,” Josephine protested. “I didn’t mean it. I was upset. The doctor wants me to take more pain pills. I don’t want them. They make everything fuzzy. Make me so groggy I can’t think straight. And I need to be able to think.”
She closed her eyes, and Brooke thought she’d drowsed off again.
But Josephine was only gathering strength. “Where is everybody? Did you bring them? I need to see them. Tell them to come here. Right now.”
“No.”
Josephine blinked. “What’s that?”
“I said no. Something you’re not used to hearing. I’m not going to enable your cruelty and bullying. Either you apologize to Louette and take back everything you said to her, including the part about you not giving back the land and homes at Oyster Bluff, or I quit.”
Josephine coughed so violently the dogs jumped from her lap and began barking at Brooke, their mistress’s tormentor.
“That’s blackmail,” she wheezed.
“Sue me,” Brooke said, folding her arms across her chest.
“Louette,” the old woman croaked. She raised her voice. “Louette, damn it! I need you.”
* * *
Gabe Wynant sat at the table in the kitchen, squeezing lemon into a tall glass of iced tea, surrounded by the women who’d been called to gather on the island. They were all drinking tea and laughing and munching on pale iced cookies from a platter in the center of the table.
Lizzie’s and Marie’s faces were pink with sunburn, and Brooke realized she too had gotten burned during their breakdown on the trip to the island.
“What’s so funny?” Brooke felt like a party crasher. “What’d I miss?”
“Varina was telling us about the first time she tried to bake these cookies,” Gabe said, biting into one, ignoring the crumbs scattering across his shirtfront.
“In a wood-burning stove in their family’s cabin—which didn’t even have electricity until after the war,” Lizzie added. “How is that even possible in the twentieth century?”
“Wouldn’t have made a difference,” Varina said with a chuckle. “This tea cake recipe—my mama had it written down on a piece of paper in her Bible, but I couldn’t read her handwriting too good. Where it said to put in a quarter teaspoon of salt, I did four teaspoons! My daddy said those tea cakes weren’t hardly fit to feed to the hogs.”
Marie broke off a portion of one of the cookies and nibbled at the edge. “These are delicious. I wouldn’t mind having this recipe myself.”
“Louette got all the cooking talent in this family,” Varina said. “I never did learn how.”
“But I thought all Southern women were great cooks,” Lizzie said.
“Not me,” Varina said. “I wanted to be a career girl. My daddy used to fuss that I’d never catch a husband if I couldn’t cook, but I didn’t care.”
“She’s doin
g good to open a can of soup,” Felicia said fondly.
Gabe cocked his head in the direction of the library. “Louette seems pretty upset. What’s going on?”
“Josephine threw a conniption fit last night because Louette called her doctor without her permission. She threatened to fire both Louette and Shug. From what Louette told me, I wouldn’t blame them if they both left her high and dry,” Brooke said.
“Oh no,” Varina said quickly. “Louette wouldn’t do that to Josephine. Her being so sick. She would never.”
“Oh noooo,” Felicia said, her tone mocking. “Couldn’t leave missy in the big house to take care of herself.”
“Hush now,” Varina said fiercely.
Lizzie looked around the homey kitchen with interest, taking in the outdated appliances, the worn linoleum, and the water-stained plaster ceiling. “As rich as Josephine is, I can’t believe how shabby this place is.” She pointed at the open kitchen window. “No air-conditioning? It’s barbaric. How do people stand it?”
“That air-conditioning isn’t healthy,” Varina said. “Poisons your lungs. Good fresh air is what people need.”
“Not me,” Lizzie declared. “The air here is as thick as a swamp. Give me air-conditioning any day. That and a shot of tequila. Which reminds me. Wonder where the old lady keeps her liquor?”
Louette bustled back into the kitchen with a wan smile, dabbing at her eyes. “What kind of liquor do you want?” She opened a pantry door and sorted through cans and bottles with faded labels that looked like something out of a museum. “We got gin and vodka.” She held up a bottle with a brown label. “Wild Turkey. Will this do?”
Lizzie took the bottle from her hand and studied the contents. “It’s not tequila, but it’ll do. You do have ice cubes, right?”
Brooke glanced at the kitchen clock. It was already after three. “As soon as everybody’s finished their ice tea, I think we need to meet with Josephine. It’s late, and I promised my babysitter I’d be back by six.”
Louette looked startled. “Josephine said y’all are spending the night. I got all the guest rooms cleaned and ready.”
“Can’t,” Brooke insisted. “I’ve got a three-year-old at home.”
“I haven’t heard from C. D. about the boat motor being fixed yet,” Louette said.
“Can you call him?”
Louette turned to a black rotary phone mounted on the wall beside the pantry and started to dial. “I’ll try calling him, but if I know C. D., it won’t do no good.”
“My God, it’s like being in medieval times around here,” Lizzie muttered.
“Right?” Felicia agreed. “Time-warp city.”
“Went right to voice mail,” Louette said, hanging up the receiver. She took a set of keys from a hook by the back door. “I’ll be right back.”
“What happens if the boat’s not fixed?” Marie asked. “Can somebody else on the island give us a ride back to the mainland?”
“There’s the ferry,” Louette said. “Last trip of the night is six thirty.”
29
Brooke felt odd being the one to usher the others through Shellhaven. Lizzie and Felicia gaped at the disused rooms as they made their way to the library.
“It’s like Miss Havisham’s dining room in Great Expectations,” Lizzie murmured.
“All it lacks is a moldy wedding cake,” Felicia agreed.
Marie cast an appraising eye at the furnishings, tsk-tsking at the state of decay. “What a shame.” She sighed, running a hand over the dining room table whose mahogany top was cloudy and freckled with grayish mildew. “This was once a gorgeous antique piece. It would probably sell for over ten thousand in an antique shop in Savannah. But the finish is ruined.”
Brooke looked up and saw that the plaster ceiling around the chandelier had sustained water damage, leaving crumbling plaster and exposed lathe.
“Mmm-hmm.” Varina clucked her tongue in agreement. “Louette does her best, but this house is too big for one woman. Time she gets one room cleaned, the next one is about to fall in.”
“Louette?” Josephine called from the library. “Where is everybody?”
* * *
The old woman’s dark eyes gleamed with barely suppressed excitement as Brooke ushered them into the library. In just the few minutes since she’d last seen Josephine, a transformation had taken place. She’d removed the knit cap and was wearing the bouffant wig again. Bright lipstick made a vivid slash across her pale face, and she’d changed into a rumpled periwinkle-blue dress that had probably last seen the light of day during the Johnson administration.
“Hello,” Josephine said as the women filed into the room with Gabe trailing behind. She pointed at the semicircle of straight-back chairs, which had been dragged in from the dining room. “Please, sit. Did Louette give you something to drink?”
“Sure did,” Varina said, taking the chair next to her oldest friend. “Fixed us cookies too.” She grasped Josephine’s hands in hers. “I been praying for you,” she said softly.
Josephine started to say something, but Brooke caught her eye and subtly shook her head. “Thank you,” she said simply.
Brooke made the introductions, and Josephine silently studied the newcomers’ faces.
“Thank you all for coming,” she rasped.
“What do you want?” Felicia asked abruptly.
Varina gave her great-niece a disapproving look.
“What’s that?” Josephine was clearly taken aback.
Felicia leaned in and raised her voice. “I said, what do you want from us?” She gestured at Varina, Lizzie, and Marie. “Why are we here?”
“Want? I don’t want anything. I want to give you all the most precious thing I own. This house. This island.”
“But why us?” Lizzie crossed and uncrossed her legs. “You never spoke to my grandmother again after the ’72 election. You don’t know anything about me or the rest of my family. Why give me anything?”
Josephine didn’t seem put off by the younger woman’s brashness. “You’re Ruth, made over. Aren’t you? Not in looks, of course. She was much prettier. All that glorious red hair. But personality-wise, you’ve definitely got her DNA. Her spunk. You’re a fighter. I like that.”
“And what about me?” Marie asked. “Brooke tells me you seem to think there’s something you need to make amends for with us.” She gestured at the women sitting in the semicircle, with Josephine at the center.
Josephine was studying Marie. “You’re very like her, you know. Your mother had a quiet beauty. She radiated sweetness. I don’t mean to say she was a pushover. But there was a gentleness that drew people to her. Ruth and I … I don’t know how she put up with the two of us. We were bossy, brassy. Opinionated.”
“Ha!” Varina chuckled. “Opinionated. You two sure were. But Millie? My goodness. She was an angel to me.” Varina glanced over at Felicia. “You know, Millie gave me my first pair of high-heel shoes. Pink satin with rhinestone buckles and ankle straps. I was only fourteen, but I thought I was real grown up. They were the prettiest pair of shoes I ever owned. And Millie gave them to me.” She tapped her chest with pride.
“High heels with rhinestone buckles? On this island?” Felicia looked dubious. “You, Auntie Vee?”
Her great-aunt looked down at her feet, shod today in sensible beige crepe-soled walking shoes. “I didn’t always wear ugly old-lady shoes, you know. I used to spend all my folding money on stylish shoes. Back when I was working for the railroad, if it was payday, I was going straight to the shoe store.”
“Whatever happened to those shoes, Auntie? Do you still have them?”
Varina’s face clouded. “No, child. I … lost ’em. Wore them that one time and never saw them again.”
While Varina spoke, Josephine struggled to pull herself to an upright position in the recliner, ignoring the dogs on her lap, her eyes riveted on Varina, her face tense. Her breathing was raspy and irregular, and Brooke panicked for a moment. Should she call the doctor?<
br />
Teeny, or was it Tiny? Whichever one it was whined softly and delicately licked Josephine’s chin, which seemed to relax her.
Brooke relaxed a little too, and sitting back, she spotted Gabe out of the corner of her eye. He’d seated himself in a distant corner of the room, and he was doing the same thing, his eyes darting back and forth between his client and Varina.
What did he know that she didn’t? Had he drawn up the new will Josephine requested? Surely, that’s why he was here. But she hadn’t had time since they’d arrived on the island to pull him aside and inquire.
“You still haven’t told us what you want from us,” Marie reminded her hostess.
Josephine was still staring at Varina. “Forgiveness.”
“What did you do that was so unforgiveable?” Lizzie asked.
Josephine folded her hands in her lap. “It was a long time ago. I’ve spent nearly seventy years trying to put it out of my mind. And now I’m dying, and it seems the chickens have come home to roost.”
“Does it have anything to do with that man? The one who disappeared at the party here on Talisa—back in 1941?” Lizzie asked.
What little blood remained in Josephine’s face seemed to drain away in the blink of an eye. “How do you know about that?”
She turned to Varina. “We all swore. We took an oath. Did Ruth say something?”
“Relax,” Lizzie said. “Granny never mentioned it. But she kept a scrapbook. She clipped all the newspaper articles about the disappearance of … what was his name again?”
“Russell Strickland.” As Josephine whispered the name, she reached over and briefly clutched Varina’s hand.
“Right.” Lizzie snapped her fingers. “Russell Strickland. Big mystery back in the day. There was even a story in The Saturday Evening Post. Granny pasted that in the scrapbook too. Along with some photos of three girls dressed up in fancy evening gowns. I’m guessing it was Granny, Millie, and you.”
Josephine pressed her lips together and said nothing.
“Was this man actually engaged to my mother?” Marie asked. “Is it really true?”
Josephine’s chest heaved and fell. She coughed, covered her mouth with her hand, and finally grabbed an inhaler from the table beside her chair and took two puffs.
The High Tide Club Page 19