by Julie Allan
“Hi, I’m Lizzie Long. I am getting ready to open shop in August where the old Mexican restaurant used to be.”
“Nice to meet you Lizzie, I’m Jason Mills, welcome.”
They chatted a bit about running a small business and he encouraged her to join the merchant’s association and the Chamber of Commerce. Then he left her alone so she could eat her sub in peace.
On the way back she passed a fabric shop and decided she would stop in to see if she could find fabric for chair cushions and maybe some outdoor fabric to hang curtains on the screened porch. Which got her thinking she needed chairs to have seat cushions on. She needed to find out if Page’s Thieves Market could hook her up with chairs and tables. She envisioned chairs that did not match and she wanted an assortment of wooden tables she could paint in the chalk paint that was all the rage on Pinterest.
Her list of what to do was getting longer and longer but she didn’t feel overwhelmed, she felt exhilarated. She spent some time introducing herself to the staff at the fabric store, and they promised to stop in once she was open. With the expert help of a delightful sales associate who reminded her a little of Bennett’s mom, she narrowed it down to some ocean-inspired fabric with whimsical star- fish and other sea creatures and a coordinating stripe that would go with the coastal cottage vibe she wanted in the space. There were so many beautiful fabrics it was hard to stay focused. I wonder if Aunt Dorothy would do the sewing for me, Lizzie thought.
She may have gained her cooking prowess from Aunt Dorothy, but she had not had the patience to learn the sewing, smocking and fine needlework Aunt Dorothy had tried to teach her. Now she regretted it a bit, but luckily there were still many around who excelled and enjoyed the sewing and the smocking. It was a little sad to think so many young southern women were like Lizzie, and were not appreciating the gift of instruction in the sewing arts from the older women in their families.
She headed back to The Biscuit Box and found the men painting but no Bennett in sight.
“That looks great guys!” Lizzie said as she entered, thinking to herself the blue color the paint company had named Beach House was the perfect choice for the main walls. “I see your esteemed foreman Mr. Wilson has ducked out on the work.”
The men chuckled and then one of them said, “Mr. Wilson, he isn’t the foreman, he is the CEO of B.E.W. Enterprises. He’s our boss and your landlord. He’s off at one of his other companies, the offshore fishing charter. He likes to personally take out a couple of the charters each week.”
Lizzie was too stunned to reply but felt her face grow hotter and hotter. Bennett was her landlord! He owned multiple businesses? Then her brain settled on the fact that she was legally bound to Bennett by the lease for the next two years. You can bet I’m going to exercise that option to buy when the terms are up, she thought. She should have known!
B.E.W. Enterprises, B. E.W. stood for Bennett Edward Wilson. Why did it seem that the universe was conspiring to throw him in her face? She fumed and stewed. She called M.A. and ranted about her perceived predicament, but M.A. only pointed out that at least she had a hands-on landlord, and hadn’t he given her a deal on the lease and gone along with all her requests for the remodel? M.A., the voice of reason, helped her calm down and realize this revelation was not the end of the world.
She hung up and although she was suspicious Aunt Dorothy and Mr. Lee had been well aware who owned the building she was leasing, she knew it really was an ideal set up and had she known who owned it beforehand she would not have even considered it. It also dawned on her Amy had known she was leasing from her brother, but she must have thought Lizzie knew who owned B.E.W. Enterprises.
The rest of the afternoon she was too busy to give it more thought as she made list after list of all the things she needed to accomplish and things she needed to purchase and track down. As the late afternoon sun became early evening she barely noticed and was startled when she heard Aunt Dorothy’s voice saying, “Child, it’s almost seven and you have been here since seven this morning. You don’t have to do it all today.”
Lizzie suddenly became aware of how tired her brain was and how much her stomach was growling. Aunt Dorothy looked around. “This color is you Lizzie. It’s coastal but with an edge of sophistication, cool but warm if that makes sense,” she said.
“I love it,” Lizzie replied, pleased that her Aunt saw her in the space already.
“So, The Biscuit Box is off to a good start! Now let’s go get you some dinner, child and then we can take Lucky and Ella for a nice walk down to Alhambra Hall.” Aunt Dorothy directed Lizzie and she obediently gathered up her lap top, note pad and purse. She locked the door behind them and they headed back to the house.
Over a delicious dinner of seared scallops over a spinach and bacon salad along with some French rolls and creamy butter, Lizzie told Aunt Dorothy all about the revelation that Bennett was her landlord. Aunt Dorothy took a long sip of her iced tea before she offered Lizzie her thoughts on the situation.
“Well, that makes me feel good about the situation. We know his people. He sits in the same church we do and banks at the same bank, and I believe we go to the same dentist and doctor. The way I see it, he wouldn’t be anything but fair and honorable in his dealings with you. Besides, it’s not like he is your business partner, although being a successful small business owner, I am sure he could offer you all kinds of guidance as things come up.” She smiled at Lizzie, a little too much like the Cheshire cat, but Lizzie didn’t dare to call her out on it.
Lizzie then told her all about the progress made today and finding the fabric for the store.
“I would be happy to make the curtains for you child,” Aunt Dorothy offered. “I think you might want to see if the seat fabric can be laminated to make it easy to wipe off.”
“I hadn’t thought of that, good idea,” Lizzie replied and wrote that down in her notebook that now seemed attached to her like an extra appendage.
After they cleaned up the dishes, they took Lucky and Ella for a walk down to Alhambra Hall. It was now used for parties and receptions and was very popular as it looked out over the water into Charleston Harbor. The sea breeze had indeed made the air more bearable and the sun was finally slipping away.
Aunt Dorothy sighed, “I miss taking walks after dinner with your Uncle George.”
“I can’t imagine the depth of your loss. I was looking at the calendar and I realized in September it would have been your fifty-sixth anniversary,” Lizzie responded.
“Yes, we had been together really fifty-nine years. My parents made us wait a while to get married. They wanted to be sure that I finished college. We met at the end of my freshman year and his junior year. Uncle George was two years ahead of me and after he graduated he also did a tour of duty in Vietnam, and once that was completed and he was released, we set the date,” Aunt Dorothy explained.
“How did you know he was the one?” Lizzie asked. “That’s easy; he made me laugh, he was honest and I could look in his eyes and see love looking right back at me,” Aunt Dorothy answered.
“I think the mistake I made with Mark was that I didn’t really think on that level. I mean ... he met the criteria I had set. The expression that comes to mind is ... and he looked good on paper,” Lizzie admitted.
“Well child, I think you have learned a valuable lesson. I don’t think you will make that mistake again. Love does not meet a set of criteria, it doesn’t follow a rational path, and it just is, when it’s the right person. You will know it when you find it. You won’t need to change who you are fundamentally. Although for marriage you will have to compromise, it is no longer you but us,” Aunt Dorothy elaborated.
“That is another thing that was wrong with my marriage to Mark. There was no us, just a him,” Lizzie said. “I’m sorry, we started out talking about you and Uncle George and I turned it back to me and my problems,” she added.
“No need to apologize, child. I am glad you are feeling more comfortable talking about what is going on with you. Your Uncle George would be some pleased that you have taken steps to turn your life around and he would be tickled pink about The Biscuit Box. I would not be surprised if he is the guardian angel making things happen for you,” said Aunt Dorothy.
“I have no doubt about that!” Lizzie exclaimed. Both women were comforted at the thought as they turned around to stroll back to the house.
The next couple of days were a whirlwind as Lizzie tried to knock things off her to do list before the summer lull around the Fourth of July kicked in. When she woke up on the morning of the Fourth and took stock of where she stood, she was pleased to see her plan to open by late August was still realistic.
Lizzie came down stairs in white shorts and a red tank top already in the holiday spirit. The Fourth of July was one of her favorite holidays. She loved the food, especially the hot dogs. She loved the music, parades, the beach and the boats but most of all she loved the fireworks. This year she was looking forward to an afternoon on the water with a picnic dinner and anchoring near Morris Island to take in the magnificent fireworks display that was launched each year from a barge near the Yorktown at Patriot’s Point.
She and Aunt Dorothy worked together to make a butter bean salad, a shrimp salad and mini-corn muffins. Lizzie also created individual red white and blue trifles in clear plastic cups with white cake, strawberries, blueberries and a luscious white chocolate cream. While they worked they tuned into their favorite musical “1776”. They grilled hot dogs for lunch and spent the early afternoon talking about Aunt Dorothy’s upcoming trip. Around three they packed up the coolers and the boat bags with their creations, drinks, and towels, and perhaps way more things than they actually needed and waited for Mr. Lee to collect them. It seemed strange Uncle George was not with them and they both missed him acutely.
Mr. Lee drove them to the marina where his boat “Lady Justice” was waiting and ready. Mr. Lee was fortunate enough to belong to a Marina where a staff got your boat ready when you wanted to take it out and cleaned it up for you when you came back to the dock.
“The captain grants all permission to come aboard,” Mr. Lee said helping Aunt Dorothy on to the deck.
Lizzie turned to see Mrs. McGantry coming down the gangplank with a wide brimmed hat and a blue sundress covered in white stars. “I see I’m just in time,” she said as Mr. Lee offered her his hand. “Tommy, I am so pleased you asked me to join you. The fireworks are my favorite part of this holiday. I can’t wait to see them from the water!” she said.
Lizzie had never seen Mrs. McGantry quite so girl-like. She was friendly, and seemed flirtatious with Mr. Lee. Interesting. “Dorothy I brought the book I was telling you about. You may want to read it on the plane.”
“Why thank you, Marie, that was very kind of you,” Aunt Dorothy replied.
Mr. Lee took the boat out into the Cooper River and headed out towards Morris Island. The waterways were quite congested but everyone was in good spirits and it did not take long for them to find a spot to set anchor and await the show.
They dined on the feast Aunt Dorothy and Lizzie had prepared and chatted about everything and anything as they waited for the summer sun to sink down in the west so the fireworks could begin. As the darkness began to envelope the crowd, Mr. Lee tuned into a local radio station that was playing uninterrupted patriotic music to coincide with the fireworks. Collective oohs and aahs traveled on the breeze as their eyes gazed heavenward and the sky lit up with the magic that stirred the souls of almost every American from the smallest child to the senior citizen.
Later that night as Lizzie climbed into bed she reflected on how the holiday was almost perfect. Almost since Uncle George was missing and since she had spent it without a significant other. Next year she vowed, one of those things could be rectified. It was time to move on from Mark, but how? She would need to put herself back out there. Just the thought made her stomach do flip flops and her palms began to sweat.
M.A. might have some ideas. How can I even consider adding romance to the mix? She did not trust herself to recognize the good guys from the not so good guys. Maybe she should concentrate on one big change at a time. The Biscuit Box was enough for now. As she drifted off to sleep, images of food, Bennett, and strange men paraded through her mind in a discombobulated and surreal tableau. Thankfully, she would not remember it in the morning.
Chapter Nine
It was already mid-July and The Biscuit box was beginning to take shape. Shelving for products and refrigerated cases had been installed and Lizzie had painted black chalkboard squares on several of the walls. She planned to use them to post specials. She had drafted some menus and order forms. She marveled at how much she had accomplished in such a short time and also at how enjoyable it was to work, when that work fed your soul. She was currently awaiting the sales rep for a coffee and tea supplier and was working through painting tables for the porch and some for inside.
Tom Lester walked in just as she was washing up her brushes. “Perfect timing,” Lizzie said, as she dried her hands off and turned to meet her coffee and tea salesperson. She felt herself blush as she took in his blonde surfer hair and large, liquid-brown eyes that brought to mind melting chocolate. It had been so long since a man had stirred butterflies in Lizzie’s stomach. At first she mistakenly thought she was coming down with something.
Tom was equally taken in by Lizzie’s girl next door charm and her natural beauty. The spark between them was immediate and obvious to them both. The meeting took twice as long as a typical meeting with a supplier as neither one of them wanted to see it end. So after they hammered out the items and quantity his company would supply The Biscuit Box, he took a chance and asked Lizzie out for dinner and she quickly said yes. They set a date for Friday night and after he left, a bit of panic began to set in.
Lizzie quickly got out her phone and called M.A. “Help! I accepted an invitation for a date and I have no idea what I’m doing!” Lizzie exclaimed without even bothering to say hi.
“Whoa, there, a date huh and not with Bennett? I didn’t see that one coming,” M.A. replied. “So tell me about this fella, who is he? What does he look like? Do we know his people?” M.A. pressed and for Lizzie the panic began to reach epic proportions.
“Well, his name is Tom Lester. He has surfer dude blonde hair and luscious chocolate eyes, and he sold me a bunch of coffee and tea for The Biscuit Box. Oh, and he is the first man in I don’t know how long that made me feel like I had butterflies invading my internal organs. He seemed very energetic, but other than that I know absolutely nothing about him,” Lizzie told her.
“Hmmm ... perhaps you should call him and tell him you’ll meet him at the restaurant. That way you will have your own car and means of escape, plus the new rules of dating also say meet someone you don’t know in a public place so they won’t know where you live. You know in case they’re an axe murderer or something,” M.A. replied.
“Good thinking,” Lizzie smiled to herself as M.A.’s instincts always had her thinking of the worst scenarios.
“By the way, we put the house on the market yesterday and we already have a showing scheduled for later this afternoon. I am coming down next week to begin the house hunt. Jim and I have narrowed it down to that area north of town where Highway 41 is. That way we can be between my parents in Snee Farm and his parents out in Awendaw and both sets of grandparents can be happy,” M.A. informed her.
“Great, let me cook dinner for you one night and we can hang out on the swing bed like we used to,” Lizzie said. “That is a plan, now you better call me first thing Saturday with details of this date,” replied M.A.
The two hung up, both feeling a warm glow in their heart as they were now fully ensconced into each other’s lives. It seems no matter what detours one takes, life has a funny way of putting you back on the path
you were meant to be on all along. Or did life give us detours in order to learn lessons and fully appreciate and recognize the right path when we find it again? Either way, we end up where we belong, Lizzie mused as she worked her way through painting numerous chairs—well, at least the first coat. She would get the second coat on tomorrow. Sometimes, she thought, I over think things! I am not going to do that with Tom, or at least I'll try not to.
Taking M.A.’s advice she found Tom’s card and let him know it would be more convenient if she could meet him at the restaurant, and would he be willing to try the new wine bar and tapas place in downtown Charleston that had opened up on Upper King Street? Tom was fine with them meeting at the restaurant, but asked several times if she was sure she wanted to try the wine bar, before saying, if that’s where she wanted to go it was fine with him.
The rest of the week flew by with more painting, meeting more suppliers and with Mr. Smith to make sure all the required permits were in order. She tried to stay confident about the impending date with Tom and placed quite a few phone calls to M.A. seeking reassurance and advice. Lizzie fretted over everything from what to wear, to what topics of conversation to cultivate. M.A. patiently listened and gave common sense advice, like dress comfortable but pretty and stick to interests and family, but avoid politics and religion, at least until they had a few dates under their belts.