Saturdays at Sweeney's

by Farley, Ashley

  “That seems logical, doesn’t it?” Heidi said. “Unfortunately, partygoers view a storm as an opportunity to eat more, drink more, and stay later. We’ll push the furniture out of the way, crank down the air conditioner, and serve them clear beverages.”

  Jamie saluted her. “Aye aye, Captain.”

  She clapped her hands again. “Okay, then. Let’s get to work!”

  Jamie took Sean to the laundry room adjacent to the kitchen, where he stashed his clothes in a cabinet out of the way. Annie and Lizbet were busy preparing food trays. Neither of them had seen Sean since Memorial Day. They both stopped what they were doing long enough to give him a hug, which visibly set his cousin at ease.

  For the next hour, Jamie and Sean rearranged furniture and set up tables at various points around the house. The sky finally broke as the first guests began to arrive. Sean and Monte greeted them with trays of prosecco. The guests drained their flutes and reached for more, seemingly oblivious to their drenched clothing and dripping hair. Heidi was right. These hard-core partygoers were determined to have a good time, thunderstorms and tornados be damned. Jamie inhaled a deep breath. It was going to be a long night for the servers.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Jackie

  Jackie reached for her bag on the passenger seat beside her. She removed a bottle of Tums, popped open the lid, and shook three directly into her mouth. Her nerves were frayed. She would have an ulcer before it was all over. A bleeding ulcer. She was exhausted from worrying about her loved ones. Her mother. Sean. And now Cooper, who was driving through a line of severe thunderstorms on Interstate 95, his mind preoccupied by thoughts of his dying grandmother. She envisioned him speeding over the limit, racing to get home in time, and crashing head-on into a tractor trailer. She shook the image from her mind. Cooper was a safer driver than his twin. He was the good son. The one who’d never caused her any trouble. Except, she reminded herself, that time eighteen months ago when he’d gotten Annie pregnant.

  Why was life so complicated? Why did loved ones die and children get themselves into trouble? She and Bill would be ninety years old before they became free of worry. Too old to enjoy life. Too old to do anything except drool in a paper cup.

  She’d spent the afternoon with Hugh, going over her renovation plans for the new house on Church Street. The meeting had taken much longer than she’d anticipated because she wanted to get it right. This was no show house. This one was hers to keep. She fantasized about the future as she drove the rest of the way home. Bill would cut back on his hours and spend more time with her in Charleston. They would make new friends, dine in all the top restaurants, attend cultural events, and have passionate sex on their living room floor. Her daydream came to a screeching halt. There would be no sex on the living room floor with Sean living with them.

  She drove into her driveway and slammed the SUV into park. She pulled down her visor and flipped open the mirror. She’d aged ten years in the past month. Gray hairs lined her part and wrinkles were etched deep around her eyes. Wrinkles that had appeared on her face since yesterday. She snapped the mirror shut and cast her eyes to the dark sky. “Why can’t I have one carefree day? Just one day—that’s all I’m asking for.” Her words were meant for the powers that be in heaven, but they sounded hollow in the empty car and made her feel selfish and ungrateful.

  She’d been wavering all afternoon between going home to Prospect that evening and spending the night in Charleston so Sean could attend his classes in the morning. Cooper would not arrive until late, and Bill was planning to meet him at the hospital. She wanted Sean to succeed in summer school. The syllabus covered a lot of material, and he would fall behind if he missed class. She felt certain his professor would understand. His grandmother was dying. But what if she didn’t die tonight? What if she hung around another week and he missed more classes and more classes and then he failed? “Ugh!” She pounded the steering wheel. “This is what I’m talking about. How can I win for losing?” The reserve light on her gas gauge flashed on. “If that’s supposed to be some kind of answer, I don’t appreciate your sense of humor,” she said as she looked skyward.

  Just in case the inevitable happened, she’d said her goodbyes to her mother when she left Prospect on Sunday night. But the sudden urge to see Lovie one more time took her breath away.

  The first raindrops pelted her windshield, and she turned off the ignition. They would need to hurry. They would pack up, lock up, and gas up at the BP station on Rutledge on their way out of Charleston.

  She made a dash to the piazza and entered the house through the kitchen door. She went to the bottom of the stairs and called up to Sean. “Grab your things, son. We’re going home.”

  Silence echoed throughout the cavernous entry hall.

  “Sean, are you up there?” She slipped off her high heels and padded up the carpeted steps in bare feet. She searched the entire second floor, but the only sign she found of Sean was his backpack, lying on the floor at the foot of his bed.

  She’d spoken to him after his class at noon. He had been on his way to grab a bite to eat for lunch and planned to spend the afternoon in the library. She’d given him explicit instructions to come straight home after that. She sank down on the bed. More trouble from Sean was the last thing she needed right now. She reached for his backpack. She’d grown accustomed to searching his room and the pockets of his clothes and the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. She unzipped the front pocket, stuck her hand inside, and removed a plastic ziplock bag. There was a lone white rectangular pill inside, which she now recognized as a bar of Xanax. Where there was one pill, there were more pills. She placed the bag on the bed beside her and buried her face in her hands.

  Why, Sean? You were doing so well.

  Her bare feet hit the floor and, pocketing the bag, she bolted out of the room and down the hall to the stairs. She found her phone on the kitchen table beside her bag, where she’d left it. She tapped Sean’s number. When the call went to voice mail, she left an urgent message for him to call her back. She followed up with several texts; all of them went unanswered. She called everyone she could think of who might know of his whereabouts. Bill hadn’t heard from him, and Jamie’s phone rang and rang before going to voice mail.

  “I talked to Jamie around three this afternoon,” Sam said. “I told him what the hospice nurse told me, the same thing I told you. He’s working an event for Heidi this evening, and driving straight to the hospital afterward.”

  Jackie felt a glimmer of hope. “Do you think Sean might be working the event with him?”

  Sam paused. “If so, he didn’t mention it.”

  “Do you know where the party is?”

  “At one of the big homes downtown. That’s all I know.”

  Jackie hung up with her sister and went to the corkboard above her desk where she pinned her important correspondence. She received countless invitations, not only to informal gatherings of friends but to galas and benefits and gallery openings. Networking at these events was vital to the success of her company, but there was nothing on the board for tonight. She paced in small circles as she racked her brain. She didn’t recall any of her friends’ mentioning a party, and she couldn’t remember the name of Sean’s friend from Georgia whom she’d met in the bookstore. Jed, she thought, although she couldn’t be sure. The last name escaped her completely.

  It was conceivable that Heidi had called Sean at the last minute to fill in at the party. She grabbed her phone and her keys. It was a long shot. But the only shot she had. The first wave of showers had passed, and it was only drizzling as she hurried out to her car, but it began to pour as she drove down the block toward Meeting Street—a torrential, driving rain that made it impossible for her to see through her windshield. She could make out the stop sign and cars parked on the side of the road but not much else. Using her GPS for guidance, she crept along the streets of the Battery. Eventually she got disoriented, and when her engine spit and spurted, she pulled over to the curb. “T
his can’t be happening to me right now,” she said as her engine burned the remaining gas fumes in her tank.

  Don’t panic, Jack. This is why you have Triple A.

  Only she’d left her bag at home along with her wallet and Triple A identification number. She Googled the number for AAA using her cell phone. They could access her account by address and phone number. She waited thirteen minutes for someone to answer and was told it would be at least another forty-five minutes before a roadside technician could come to her aid.

  “Never mind!” she yelled at the operator and then hung up.

  It had gotten hot in the car, and the windows had steamed up. She couldn’t turn on the air conditioner without running down her battery. She stuffed her phone into her pocket, retrieved her umbrella from the floorboard of the back seat, and slid out of the car into ankle-deep water. Bracing herself against the hood, she made her way around the front of the SUV to the sidewalk and headed in the direction she prayed was toward home. She made it a hundred yards before the heel of her shoe broke off and the wind inverted her umbrella. She took off her other shoe and abandoned the pair, along with the umbrella, on the sidewalk. Her head tucked against the wind and rain, she ventured another block before she stepped on something sharp.

  “Ouch! Damn that hurts!” She hobbled over to a nearby building where a dome-shaped awning offered protection from the rain. The bakery had been closed for hours, according to the sign in the window. Jackie collapsed against the glass door and slid to the ground. Blood seeped from a gash in her foot, but she couldn’t bring herself to inspect it. She fainted at the sight of blood. She’d never been good at providing first aid to her sons’ wounds, not when they got fishing hooks stuck in their fingers as boys or when they became addicted to drugs as young adults.

  Her clothes were soaked through, and her hair was dripping wet. Chill bumps covered her body despite the humid air. If only she’d taken the time to put on her raincoat.

  She dug her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans, hoping for word from Sean, but it too was waterlogged. She hurled the damaged phone into the street. “Could this day get any worse?”

  Panic gripped her chest at the thought of Cooper and Sean weathering the storm alone. She could count on Cooper to make safe decisions. He would pull off the highway and wait for it to pass if the weather got too bad. Sean was another story. She imagined him slumped over, doped up on Xanax, in the corner of an alcove in an alleyway in a rough part of town.

  Jackie could use that bar of Xanax in her pocket right about now, but using her son’s drugs was stooping to a level she wasn’t willing to go to. Her own prescription had run out. She would call her doctor’s office for a refill in the morning. She would need it to get through the days ahead. To get through her mother’s funeral. She’d been borderline abusing the medication of late, but that would all stop when . . .

  When what, Jack? When your mother dies? When Sean goes to rehab?

  Her children’s lives were far more complex than hers had ever been. The peer pressure, complicated exponentially by social media. The competition to get into college and then to get a good job. It made sense they would suffer from anxiety, only they were too naive to the ways of life to understand what they were experiencing.

  It had been only a couple of hours ago, though it seemed like a year, that she had been whining about her own level of stress. She’d wished for one carefree day. If something happened to Sean and Cooper, her future would be filled with carefree days. She would have no one to care for. No daughters-in-law or grandchildren. No loved ones for her to worry about. But life was nothing without family. And with family came worry. Bring on the worry!

  THIRTY-TWO

  Jamie

  Hours passed before Jamie stopped pouring drinks long enough to check his phone again. He had multiple missed calls and texts from his mom and Aunt Jackie. Why the urgency? Had Gran died? He scrolled through the texts. Jackie was looking for her son. He remembered then that Sean’s phone battery had died. Had his cousin forgotten to tell his mother where he was? They’d been in such a hurry to get back to the party . . .

  He turned his back on the guests waiting impatiently for a refill. Hadn’t this crowd already had enough to drink?

  His call to Aunt Jackie went to voice mail, but his mother answered right away. “I’ve been trying to reach you, son. Jackie is worried sick about Sean. You haven’t by chance seen him?”

  Jamie stuck his finger in his ear so he could hear her better. “He’s with me, Mom. Two of our servers got food poisoning, so Sean filled in for them at the last minute. We set the party up outside, then had to move everything inside because of the storm. Sean’s phone is dead. We both forgot to call Jackie in all the chaos over the weather. I feel bad for making her worry.”

  “It’s Sean’s responsibility to communicate with his mother. Not yours. I’m worried about Jackie, though. She went out in this horrible storm looking for Sean, and now she’s not answering her phone.”

  Jamie turned back around, searching the room for his cousin. He spotted Sean next to a chest by the front door in the foyer, loading up a tray with dirty glasses and plates that guests had deposited on the way out. He’d been keeping an eye on Sean all night. As far as he could tell, he’d done a good job—and without anyone’s having to instruct him. In addition to passing trays of hors d’oeuvres, he’d kept the buffet on the dining room table replenished and tidy.

  “I’m sure she’s at home,” he said. “She probably fell asleep or something. We should be able to leave here soon. We’ll go to the house and check on her. How’s Gran, by the way?”

  “Hard to say. Faith and I keep encouraging her to hang on by telling her that y’all are on the way and to wait for you.”

  “I hope we make it in time. Especially Cooper since he hasn’t seen her.” He caught sight of Heidi heading toward him. “Listen, Mom. Let me talk to Heidi. I’ll call you back when I know something about Aunt Jackie.”

  Heidi asked Jamie to pour her a glass of Chardonnay. “I need something to take the edge off. That man has nearly driven me insane tonight.” Her gaze shifted to the front door, where Rupert Maki was saying goodbye to the last of his guests, who were making an exodus to a hot spot on Upper King.

  “Come with us, Rupie,” cooed one particularly drunk woman as she ran her hand across his chest.

  “Sure! Why not?” Rupert said and left without so much as a backward glance at the catering staff.

  Heidi lifted her glass to the door. “Good riddance.”

  “Say, Heidi,” Jamie said, busying himself with loading unused glasses in a plastic crate for transport. “I was wondering if Sean and I could maybe take off a few minutes early tonight. We need to get home to Prospect. My gran . . .” His voice trailed off.

  “Of course, honey, you go on. I’ll finish up here.” She set down her wineglass and elbowed him out of the way. “I’m so sorry about your troubles. Your grandma is such a dear. You send her my love.”

  “Thank you. That means a lot.” Jamie locked eyes with his cousin across the room and motioned him over. “We’re finished here for tonight. The crew is going to cover for us, so we can leave. Gran isn’t doing so well.”

  Heidi finished loading the glasses in the crate and turned to Sean. “You did a stellar job tonight, young man. I like a guy who can jump right in without me having to hold his hand. Jamie has my cell number. Text me your schedule and I’ll see what I can do about getting you more hours.”

  Sean beamed. “That’d be great. Thanks, Heidi!”

  They started toward the back of the house, and Heidi called after them. “Stay in touch, Jamie. About your grandmother, I mean.”

  He responded with a thumbs-up.

  Lizbet and Annie were transferring food from the platters to plastic containers when they entered the kitchen. “I’m sorry for cutting out on you,” Jamie said. “But Sean and I really need to get home.”

  Annie’s head shot up. “How is she?”


  “Not good, honestly. Cooper’s on his way home from Virginia, if that tells you anything.” Jamie questioned whether it was appropriate for her to come with them to Prospect. But what the hell? Lovie was the closest thing to a grandmother she’d ever known. “Do you want to come with us?”

  Tears glistened in her eyes. “It means a lot that you asked. But I can’t leave Heidi with all this to clean up.” She spread her arms wide at the mess in the kitchen. “Will you squeeze her hand for me and tell her I love her?”

  He drew Annie in for a hug. “You know I will.” He held her for a minute before turning to Lizbet. He kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear. “I’m going to miss you tonight.”

  “Me too, you.” She ran her finger down his cheek. “I’ll be thinking about you and your family.”

  Sean and Jamie gathered the clothes they’d been wearing earlier and left via the kitchen door. It had stopped raining, but the streets were still flooded, and a mist had settled over the area.

  As they started down the street on the sidewalk, Jamie said, “Dude, you forgot to call your mom. It’s my fault for not reminding you. She freaked out when she couldn’t find you. She went out looking for you, and now she’s not answering her phone.”

  “Shit! She’s gonna kill me,” Sean said, increasing his pace.

  They walked half a block in silence. “Are all the parties like that?” Sean asked as they turned the corner onto Meeting Street.

  “Are all the parties like what?”

  “I’ve been to plenty of parties where heavy drinking was involved. Obviously. I was in a fraternity. But I’ve never seen grown-ups act that way. Sloppy drunk women. Men hitting on other men’s wives. I even saw one dude offer a woman a key bump right there in the middle of the dining room. It was gross. I don’t want to be like that when I grow up.”

  “Then don’t! You have control over your future.” Jamie glanced over at Sean. His cousin’s face was tight, as though he was deep in thought. “I know what you mean, though. The crowd tonight was out of control. Most events we cater are for people like our parents, people who drink a couple of glasses of wine and go home before nine o’clock.”