Choosing Charleston

by T. Lynn Ocean

“So you’re cooking supper, Granny and Taffy are stoned, and everyone is calmed by the wonders of the Aroma-magic machine.”

  Mamma laughed. “Welcome home.”

  “How’s Daddy? Where is Daddy?”

  “At the store, stubborn fool. We got home from the hospital a couple hours ago and he went straight to work.”

  Granny’s teeth finished eating their invisible hotdog and began munching their way around the perimeter of a rectangular placemat.

  “Should he be driving on this medication?”

  “He hasn’t taken pill one out of that bottle.”

  “Oh, right,” I remembered. “Granny and Taffy are the only ones into the ‘vitamins’ so far!”

  Mamma laughed again and I was pleased to note that her usual good cheer was present like always. “He says he doesn’t need any drugs for anxiety, that he’s not stressed out. You know how he is with pills. I had to force him to take the other prescription – the one to regulate his heartbeat.”

  Daddy had issues with the pharmaceutical industry and thought that America was an over-medicated nation.

  “I think I need another vithamin,” Granny said through bare gums. “They’re prethy good thuff.” Her teeth were now sitting in Mamma’s vase of white daffodils, smiling at me.

  “The vitamins are all gone,” Mamma told her.

  “Damn.”

  “But if you put your teeth back in your mouth, you can have some supper soon.”

  I watched with amazement as Granny’s teeth munched their way up an invisible pole and levitated in front of her mouth for a moment before she slid them back in place and smiled brightly at us.

  “You’re supposed to take a vitamin every day,” she said matter-of-factly.

  Mamma and I were still laughing at granny when Daddy walked in.

  “Little Girl! I saw your car in the driveway and wondered what you’re doing here. Is Robert with you?”

  I shook my head as we hugged. “No, he’s in New York.”

  Daddy was carrying a briefcase full of paperwork and, despite a smile of surprise at seeing me, he looked haggard. His chin held three or four days’ worth of growth and he’d aged ten years in the seven days since I’d last seen him. Although he’d worn a mustache forever, I couldn’t recall the last time I’d seen him go more than a day without shaving.

  “Your mamma told you I was in the hospital, didn’t she?” Daddy said, setting his briefcase on the table to give me a hug. “And I’ll bet that she exaggerated and you jumped in your car and drove straight here with visions of the preacher saying a prayer over my deathbed. I’m not believing this! Don’t get me wrong – it’s great to have you at home, but you shouldn’t have come on my account. Other than this little glitch with my pulse, I’m perfectly healthy.”

  He dropped into a kitchen chair.

  Daddy wasn’t accustomed to dealing with medical issues and having been admitted to the hospital twice in one week had unnerved him. He hated being the center of attention. And he was the last person to ever want sympathy, especially from one of his daughters.

  “That’s not why I’m here, really.”

  “Your mamma didn’t call you?”

  “Of course I called the girls,” she told him. “But I also told them you were fine and that it was just an overnight stay in the hospital, like before.”

  Mamma waited for me to tell Daddy why I was home. The explanation was made more difficult by the fact that he had always been so proud of me. Impressed by my level-headedness and thrilled at the ease with which I’d earned my law degree and passed the bar.

  Like Sherry, who was straightforward and turning out to be the logical half of Jenny’s twin girls, I had always been expected to make the right decisions and do the smart thing.

  Daddy wouldn’t blink twice if Jenny abruptly declared that she had quit a high-paying job, was divorcing her husband, selling her house and moving back to Charleston. He would know it was just melodramatic exaggeration, and that she’d change her mind soon.

  But such a declaration from me would be totally out of character. I’d always been the methodical one. The twin who carefully thought things through. The good judge of character.

  Daddy fixed me with a look that demanded explanation. It was a skill he must’ve acquired by watching Mamma do it over the years.

  “Robert’s in New York with his mistress,” I said, then repeated everything I’d told Mamma earlier.

  “Well, like I said before, it’s best to just do it and get the split over with – especially now that you’re one-hundred percent positive,” he said, and gave me another comforting bear hug. “And I’m really proud of you for being strong and standing up to him.”

  Mamma nodded her agreement.

  “Let’s just make sure the son of a bitch doesn’t get anything in the settlement,” Daddy continued. “Not a dime. Not even a dish.”

  I told them about giving Robert’s stuff away to the church for their rummage sale. Daddy let out a belly laugh. “That’s my girl!”

  “I think I will take a whirl!” Granny said. She stood, pirouetted to the antique butcher’s block that stood against the wall, retrieved a banana from a fruit bowl and returned to the table.

  “What’s wrong with my mother?”

  “She got into your prescription bottle, thinking they were vitamins. I called the doctor and he said she’ll be fine. It’ll wear off in a few more hours. She should sleep very well tonight.”

  Taffy yawned loudly, ambled over to Daddy, rolled over on her back and stayed that way. Spread eagle, with all four limbs sticking out, and the flap of her snout hanging away from her teeth – she resembled fresh road kill. Although it didn’t look very comfortable, it must have worked for her because she immediately started snoring.

  “The dog, too?” Daddy asked, leaning over to get a better look.

  “Yes,” Mamma said. “But Taffy only got one pill. I think your mother took two.”

  “For crying out loud.”

  “You’re sthuppose tho thake vithamins every day,” Granny told Daddy through sunken-in lips. Her teeth were back in the daffodils, giving the tabletop centerpiece an amused appearance, as though it were laughing at the Stone family.

  Daddy just shook his head and rubbed his eyes as though washing away a long day. Mamma rolled the thick collard leaves, expertly sliced them into strips and dropped them into a large pot. She added water, two strips of bacon, ground pepper and a splash of apple cider vinegar before turning on the burner.

  Granny plucked a flower from the vase and stuck it behind her ear.

  “Are you sure she just took two pills?” Daddy asked.

  “Pretty sure.”

  “Are your dentures bothering you?” Daddy asked Granny, trying to understand her logic. “Is that why you keep taking them out?”

  “Nope. I love my theeth. They’re weally gweat theeth.”

  She popped them back inside her mouth and ran her tongue over their surface.

  “It’s good to have teeth,” she said. “Life would be hard without teeth.”

  “Maybe I should try one of those pills after all,” Daddy mumbled, heading for the small refrigerator on the back porch that held a supply of Palmetto Pale Ale, his favorite local microbrew from the Palmetto Brewing Company.

  When he returned, we toasted to me being back in Charleston and starting a new life. Once again, it was good to be home. The feeling was made sweeter by the fact that I was staying this time.

  * * *

  The effects of the pills on Granny and Taffy had mostly worn off by suppertime. Granny’s dentures chewed actual food inside her mouth instead of imaginary food on the tabletop and Taffy had resumed her customary position at the base of the table, poised to receive any offerings that came her way.

  We got to talking about the job market in Charleston and Daddy wanted to know if my firm would give me a good recommendation, even though I’d quit after such a short time period.

  “I seriously doubt it. But I’ll
worry about that when I start looking for a job. I’m not even sure that I want to keep doing mediation.”

  Mamma reached across the table and patted my hand. “Whatever you decide to do, I’m sure you’ll be wonderful at it. And it’s great to have you back home.”

  “Speaking of home,” I said, “there’s something else. I want to know if I can live here until the house in Pawling sells and I can buy a place in Charleston.”

  I knew I could have moved back home after I finished school and it wouldn’t have been a big deal. But that was a lot of years ago and things were different now. I was in my thirties, for Pete’s sake. I was supposed to be a self-sufficient adult. They’d paid for my schooling to ensure that.

  “You don’t ever need to ask if you can stay here,” Daddy said.

  “Of course you’ll stay here,” Mamma said.

  Feeling silly for thinking they might be disappointed in me, I was reminded once again that the Stone blood bond was unconditional.

  “Hot water runs out right quick,” Granny said as though critiquing one of the area’s bed and breakfasts. “But the food’s mighty good.”

  She snatched another daffodil from the centerpiece and stuck it behind her other ear.

  “Besides,” Daddy said. “It’ll be good to have you around. You can help to keep your grandmother out of the damn vitamins, for crying out loud.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “That stupid humidifier has got to go,” Mamma said. “It’s giving me a headache.”

  We had washed all the dirty clothes I’d haphazardly packed in Pawling and were folding them in the living room.

  “I thought you said it is an Aroma-magic Ionizer and Environment Enhancer,” I teased her.

  “Well, that was before it gave me a headache. Now, it’s a stupid humidifier. And besides, it’s starting to smell funny. Fishy or something.”

  “The air-maker gizmo oughtta be fine,” Granny said. “I just fed it some more oil.”

  Mamma and I stopped folding and looked at each other with apprehension, wondering aloud what she put in the machine.

  “Taffy sure likes it,” Granny continued. “I figured it’d be good for the air-maker, too.”

  “What does Taffy like?”

  “South Carolina has a turnpike?”

  Unlike most people with a hearing loss, Granny wouldn’t ask for something to be repeated if it didn’t come through clearly. She just made do with whatever she got.

  “Show me what you put in the machine, Granny,” I said loudly.

  “What’s all the fuss about? It’s over yonder, right next to Taffy’s food.”

  We followed her into the kitchen. With a flourish, she produced a bottle of cod liver oil.

  “Oh, good grief,” Mamma said.

  Every few days, she’d put a spoonful of fish oil on Taffy’s food to keep her fur coat healthy. “No wonder I was smelling something stinky. Let’s get that thing out of here!”

  “What did it do wrong?” Granny asked, as though it were a family pet that had gotten in trouble.

  “Nothing,” Mamma told her. “We’re just going to let it enhance the environment somewhere else for now.”

  Granny shrugged her shoulders and harrumphed, either accepting Mamma’s explanation or forgetting what she’d asked.

  Careful to keep it level, Mamma and I unplugged the Aroma-magic and carried it out of the kitchen. We stuck it on the piazza until someone could come up with a better idea of what to do with it.

  When we returned to the living room, Granny had arranged her tiny frame inside a big chair and was watching the cooking channel. Taffy was stretched lazily across her feet.

  My mind wandered to the future and I felt a sense of excitement. The type of rush that a boxer might feel before a fight. For the first time in my life, I was going to instigate something that would create conflict.

  Yesterday, I’d walked the land across from Daddy’s store, assisted by Lori Anne and three individuals who were experts in their respective fields. During the short trek, I’d gained some empowering knowledge. Even without all the spurring on from Lori Anne, I was ready to annoy the hell out of someone. I was ready to get some attention.

  In the three days I’d been back, I’d also learned quite a bit about Protter Construction and Development and Handyman’s Depot.

  Protter was a family-owned real estate development company that had been in business for more than forty years. They had their own crew of supervisors and owned a small fleet of heavy equipment, but contracted out most of the labor.

  They had done a few residential subdivisions, but preferred commercial projects. In some instances they bought the land, erected an office building or strip mall, and then turned the property for a profit. In other cases, like the development across from Mamma and Daddy’s store, they retained ownership, hired a management company and leased the space to retail tenants.

  Handyman’s Depot was slated to be one of three anchor stores and had signed a twelve year lease with an extension option. The organization has more than a hundred and ten stores, all company-owned. A well-run, well-managed organization with steady growth, their claim to fame was innovative tools and home improvement products sold exclusively at Handyman’s. Some stock market analysts were watching the company, as they anticipated it may go public in the near future.

  The bottom line was that anything I could do to slow or stop the construction progress would cost the both the Protter family and Handyman’s Depot money. In real estate development, time was money. Having crews and heavy equipment on standby, unable to proceed with their jobs, cost money. Not finishing the strip mall on time cost money. Not being able to occupy your building and open as scheduled cost money.

  It was time to have a talk with Daddy and get his feedback.

  Although he put up a jovial front around Mamma and me, he couldn’t hide that he looked tired. The laugh lines surrounding his bright eyes had become taut and revealed more worry than character. Planning to shut down the business was wearing him out.

  Mamma had told me Daddy was definitely closing Stone Hardware and Home Supply before the grand opening of the Handyman’s Depot. The two of them had discussed opening another business in the same building, one that wouldn’t face direct competition across the street, but quickly decided against that option. Their hearts just weren’t in anything else.

  Yes, it was definitely time to talk to Daddy and convince him not to close the store. At least not yet.

  “A penny for your thoughts,” Mamma said, stacking my neatly folded clothes in piles to carry upstairs.

  “I was just thinking about… the future.”

  I was saved from having to elaborate further because Daddy walked in.

  “What’s Jenny’s machine doing on the porch?”

  “Your mother put cod liver oil in the reservoir and it started stinking up the house,” Mamma answered.

  Daddy, accustomed to strange happenings around the house since his mother’s arrival, simply shook his head.

  “Well, I wasn’t kidding about trying it on the raccoons. They got into the trash again last night, for crying out loud. Garbage was all over the place.”

  Mamma shrugged. “Why not? It won’t bother me if you try some aromatherapy on them.”

  “But wouldn’t cod liver oil attract them?” I asked. “You know, make them hungry? Then they’d be more aggressive about getting into the garbage.”

  “What if he dumps out the fish oil,” Mamma asked, “and then puts in something that would keep them away? Something they wouldn’t like… but what doesn’t a raccoon like?”

  “I know,” I said. “Let’s pour in a few bottles of ‘calm’ to relax them. Then they’ll be too lazy to break through all your garbage can barriers.”

  “What if it rains?” Mamma asked Daddy. “Is the machine waterproof?”

  “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

  A man on a mission, he retrieved the Aroma-magic and headed outside with Taffy on his h
eels. He reappeared moments later to retrieve a case of ‘calm’ and disappeared again.

  Twenty minutes later he happily reported that he’d put a recipe of ‘calm’, citronella oil and moth balls in the machine. Strategically placed between the two handle-locked, bungee-corded, brick-topped industrial strength garbage cans, the electrical cord was just long enough to reach the outlet on the outside wall of his workshop. It was meant to be. Daddy felt good about his latest strategy in the battle with the raccoons.

  “You put moth balls in there? I hope the fumes won’t be dangerous,” Mamma said. “I’d hate for something to happen to them.”

  Daddy shot her an are-you-crazy look, one eyebrow raised.

  “Just saying,” Mamma told him. “I want to keep them out of the trash, too. But I don’t want to hurt them.” She’d begun making a banana rum cake but realized she was out of spiced rum, so Daddy and I offered to take a drive to the package store. Other people called them liquor stores, but South Carolinians had nice names for things. Fat people were ‘big-boned’, bless their hearts, hurricanes were ‘wind storms’ and roaches were ‘palmetto bugs’.

  We hopped into his company truck and I used the drive as an opportunity to talk to him about the store.

  “Hypothetically,” I began, “if there were a way that you and Mamma could keep the store and operate at the same or higher volume than you do now, would you want to?”

  He didn’t even have to think about it.

  “Of course. If I was ready to retire, maybe it would be different. But I’m not ready to quit working. Not even close. And the store… well, you know what it means to me. What it means to your mamma. What it means to all the people who work for us.”

  He paused to change lanes and formulate his thoughts into words.

  “I love everything about the store, from the smell of sawdust in the lumberyard to teaching the home improvement seminars to hearing a customer thank one of the staff for their help. Running the store isn’t work. It’s pure pleasure.”

  “I thought so.”

  Daddy let out a sigh that was heavy with resignation. “But I’m also a realist, Carly. I’ve explored all the options, and the only choice I have is to shut it down. All the fulltime employees will get a severance package, and I’m going to talk to the personnel manager for Handyman’s in case anyone wants to go work for them.”