“Mother bought a flag, hung it beside the door, and piped ‘The Star Spangled Banner’ through our outdoor stereo system for the rest of the day. Until Dad came home.” I gave him a wink.
“The neighbors didn’t care for the entertainment,” Dad offered.
Dennis smiled knowingly.
“Well, Savannah and Thomas both went with us. Savannah would have dressed more appropriately had she worn the first dress I bought for her.”
I couldn’t believe her.“That dress had more crinoline than a tulle factory.”
“I saw that dress, Savannah,” Amber said, raising her glass of lemon water. “I thought it was lovely.”
“I don’t think Dennis cares about all of this, ladies,” Dad interjected.
Paige reached across the table and patted his hand.
“You’re such a wise man, Mr. Phillips. So very wise.”
“I wore a Carolina Herrera.” Mother eyed me again.“What? You were in a buying mood. I’ve always wanted one of her dresses.”
“The first lady looked beautiful too, I must say,” Mother stated begrudgingly. “But that Bushie—Mr. President. He was simply dashing. He looked at us and said, ‘Mrs. Phillips, what a pleasure to have you here at the White House this evening.’”
I could see Dad holding his breath. About the same way he did that night.
She tilted her head as if a spirit of meekness came over her in waves. “I told him. ‘Oh, Bu—I mean, Mr. President. it is my pleasure to share this evening with you as well.’”
“Then he said”—she covered her mouth to stifle a giggle— “‘Hope you haven’t found yourself under any concrete lately.’ And then he gave that chuckle. I said,‘No, not lately.’” That was when Dad pulled her onward down the line.
I tried to help the story go a little faster.“They made us sit at separate tables. That was the biggest mistake the White House staff made during this event. Had they known Mother often needs restraining, they would have sat a personal agent at her right hand. But no.They sat us at different tables. So all we could do was watch.”
“This must have been how you met George?” Dennis inquired.
“Oh, no. She met George about the time she said good-bye to her table companion—”
“Sean Connery!” Mother said.
“—and made her way to the podium.”
My butt vibrated again. I about tipped my chair over. When Dad quit staring at me, I looked down. It was a text message. “Shut up,” it read. Paige. I didn’t even look at her.
“You did not!” Dennis laughed in disbelief.
Mother looked at him as if it was strange he would find this hard to believe.“Well, I had something to say.”And say it she did. Every eye in the White House dining room stared at her as the beauty bedazzled in her diamond-and-sapphire necklace and matching sapphire-blue peau de soie silk evening gown made her way to the podium.
Fortunately for me, I had never pointed out to my table guests, Senator Bill Frist and Senator Kay Bailey Hutchison, that my mother and father were just across the way.
“Actually, President Bush had just risen to say good night to the guests and invite us to the ballroom for an hour of dancing. And as he was thanking the people for coming, Mother got up and raised her hand slightly and made her way to the head table,” I said.
“He nodded at me,” she insisted.“He wanted me to come up there and address the people.”
“Oh, so that’s why the Secret Service came from all directions to pounce on you, along with Dad, I might add.” Then I turned back to Dennis. “The president stayed them, but Mother kept striding right up to the microphone. Talking all the way.”
Dennis was trying to stifle his mere pleasure at the story. Paige had taken to pounding her fist against her forehead. And Amber was delightfully quiet for a few moments. She had teared up at the talk of ball gowns but quickly regained her composure. “So what did you say when you got to the microphone?”
“I just said, ‘Uh, Mr. President, there’s just one little thing I need to say before we leave this evening.’”
“So you were standing right there by the side of the commander in chief of the free world?”
“Fortunately for her, she was still free herself,” I commented. “Because, by the looks of the Secret Service, they’d have her chained up before the last dance.” Dad gave me a look followed by a smile that he covered with his hand.
“I said”—Mother acted as if she was ignoring me—“‘Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen.’”
She tapped the microphone at that point. As luck would have it, it worked.
“That was when Bush—I mean, Mr. President leaned over me and said, ‘This is Victoria Phillips from Savannah, Georgia. I invited her here along with her husband, Jake, and their two children.’” At that time I hid behind my napkin. Thomas was so excited to be sitting by Dennis Hastert that he hadn’t even noticed Penelope Cruz sitting across the table. So, trust me, Mother’s actions were totally lost on him.“Then he turned back to me and said,‘Mrs. Phillips, did you have something to say?’”
“I said,‘Uh, yes, Mr. President . . . I just wanted to thank you for having us, and thank your beautiful wife.’ And, oh my goodness, about that time I noticed the vice president and said,‘Hello, Mr. Vice President. You look sparkling in a tux.’”
Nothing else on him was sparkling at that moment, I assure you.
“Then I said,‘I just need to tell these people here tonight that while we’re here celebrating the Saudi Prime Minister’—and I gave him a nod—“‘you need to get a grip on those gas prices.’ I said, ‘I mean, my stars, sir, you’ve got enough oil to saturate an ocean, and I’ve got people in my city who can’t hardly afford a tank of gas.’”
Well, poor Dennis laughed out loud.
“‘But this isn’t about you right now,’ I said.” I could tell he was grateful. Increasingly irate, but grateful.‘But I just need all of you fine Washington people to know that this man is one of America’s finest.’ And I just rested my hand on the president’s shoulder. And then I told them that when his motorcade ran over me, he sat with me and talked with me and made sure I was okay. And he even made sure it wasn’t a left-wing conspiracy . . . which I’m still not totally convinced of.”
“You did not say that!” Dennis said.
I responded,“You bet your sweet bottom she did!”
“Wait, I’m not finished. Then I told them how he took the time to care about me, though I’m not a corporation. Not an organized group. Just me. A woman fighting for justice in an increasingly unjust world.” She pounded her fist on the table.“‘So, in case you’ve forgotten because of the state of politics in Washington,’ I said to them, ‘I just wanted you to know that my family and I are here tonight, not because we bought our way here or schmoozed our way here, or even because we deserve to be here at all.’”
When she said that in the White House, I did believe my mother had crossed into the land of humility. I actually peered over my napkin just to check.
“I told them, ‘In a world where leaders focus on polls, he focused on me. Granted, I wasn’t easy to miss, encased in rubble, but we’ve got a leader who cares about us as individuals. And I just needed the room to know that tonight, Mr. President, before I went home. Thank you for this wonderful evening. A superb meal. And exquisite company. And even though Sean Connery is a handsome man’—then I nodded to my table companion and he nodded back—‘you are the reason why all of us are here.’
“That’s when I saw Helen Thomas sitting in the back, and I let her know that if she got snippy again, I was going to ask that our president here move her to the back of the press briefing room.” Mother had found great satisfaction in that moment. I, however, had lowered myself even farther under the fine damask tablecloth.
“Then I just gave him back his microphone, and that was when George came and accompanied me for the rest of the evening. The president thought it would be nice if I had a personal escort.”
He and the rest of the room.
“Oh, and did I mention the president and I shared a dance, and Jake here got to cut a rug with Laura?”
“My word,Victoria Phillips, you never cease to amaze me,” Dennis said, wiping his eyes.
“Want to check on that dessert?” Paige finally voiced after enduring all she could.
“I think you deserve it,” he said with a wink.
Amber eyed Mother from across the table.“That was a lovely story, Miss Victoria. You left out the part though about—”
Paige raised her knife.“I think we’ve heard enough stories for one evening.” Dad took the knife from her hands and laid it by his own plate.
But we still let her be served first when dessert arrived. And Amber didn’t waste time scarfing down hers either.
“What about Dennis?” Mother looked at me, eyebrows raised.
“Mother, seriously. My love life is not so deficient that it needs you to increase its activity.”
Paige mumbled through her chocolate torte.“No, your love life is so deficient you need to borrow your dad’s defibrillator.”
On the way home, the conversation turned toward the two who had remained at home. Maggy had been left in her kennel. Mother felt that would keep Duke happy and Maggy safe. Not that he would eat her.No, he’d just terrorize her. Come to think of it, he was probably sitting at the door of her kennel right now, terrorizing the tar out of that little thing just by licking his lips.
When we got home, we discovered he hadn’t terrorized her at all. Why should he? He had found a large bag of peanut M&Ms in Paige’s room and dined like a king. The chocolate hadn’t killed him. But the poor thing was going to have a rough night of it, if the moans that he was offering up were any indication. Maggy was sleeping as pretty as a picture. Morning could possibly reveal the little “princess” had fed them to him herself. That dog could be wooed with anything edible. If she was smart, she might have just gained the upper hand.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Some things don’t vacation. For me, tilling time is one of them. Tilling time is my everyday-for-ten-years habit. It is my time. My time to reflect, request, and listen. I’ve never been much good at the listening part. But with the changes in the course of my life over the last year, in which I’ve had to face the inevitability of actually growing up, listening has become a new priority. I had brought a special CD for the week, one I had been saving for a while. No words, just music. With the continual influx of words in my environment every day, I wanted tilling to be a time where none were needed. So me and the instrumental sounds of Jim Brickman headed out to till.
“Up already?” I asked Mother and Dad as they sat on the front porch, drinking coffee and reading the paper Dad had already fetched.
“It’s eight, Savannah.”A declaration in and of itself. Of course, this was coming from a mother who didn’t know what a day without makeup was.
“Obviously Duke needs a little more exercise,” I said, noticing the frighteningly human animal sitting at the top of the stairs with his leash at his feet. I spoke to him.“Obviously the rumbling and tumbling of last night haven’t done you completely in.” I attached his leash.“We’ll see you two later.”
And with that we entered the world of our familiar routine, because even now, since my move, Duke often spends the night so we can till together. I think Dad lets him stay because it makes him think I’m safer.
Plenty of other morning joggers were partaking of the same. They came in every shape, size, color, and age. The morning sunshine was no respecter of persons. Nor, unfortunately, was it a respecter of attire. Because some people were prime candidates for the “don’t” section in the back of any fashion magazine.
“I spy with my little eye something coming up the street jiggly and encased in Lycra. That could be Exhibit Number One.”
Duke agreed and gave them a bark as they passed.
Fortunately, the sun had the ability to spotlight those in black pretty favorably regardless of fashion deficits. You just had to hope that you could reach the end of the workout before the perils of the heat reached you first. Because when heat hit black Lycra, it didn’t matter what the sun made you look like, you just were what you were. And more of it. Unfortunately, I hadn’t gotten up early enough for that. So I donned cotton. And only moments after the sun settled against my face, the April humidity slapped me upside the head.
Few things in life are as majestic as the ocean. The mere sight of it reveals to me something greater than myself. It has the same effect on me as the live oaks draped in moss that consume Forsythe Park. They let me know that only something superior could create such stately offerings. It was the perfect environment in which to communicate with greatness. So I did. Duke and I ran along the quiet sands, the music played in my ears, and the familiar majesty of my Creator whispered to my soul. It truly was a perfect morning.
I jogged closer to the water, because the compact sand made the running easier. Duke kept in perfect stride, and thirty minutes passed before either of us realized it. We both finally collapsed in the sand near a staircase leading up to one of the pavilions. I do believe we both were wearing smiles. I looked out into the vastness of the water and was overcome by the way the sun reflected off of its surface. The glare refused your gaze for any length of time.
“Ready to head back, boy?” I rubbed the top of his head. “I’ve got to get to work on my research.” He knew exactly what I meant, and he made it clear what he really wanted to do. “I can’t, boy. Dad will make me bathe you, and I don’t feel like that this morning.”
He pleaded anyway.
“Okay.Why ruin a perfectly good morning?”
With that, I released the dog from his prison and finally let him enjoy his vacation. Within seconds he was running rapidly through the waves. I pulled out from my pocket the new ball Dad had bought for him before we came. It floats. A new one is required for each vacation, because the previous one inevitably ends up on the ocean floor. For the next thirty minutes, I wore us both out. We were headed back toward the stairs when I heard that familiar name.
“Joshua, hey, wait a minute.”
I turned to see who shared the name of my newspaper coworker. And all I saw were some dark curls on a perfectly fit, sculpted body wearing swimming trunks and walking away from me.
“There’s no way,” I said to Duke, who had turned to look himself. A bouncy blonde was skipping her way toward him and grabbed him in a bear hug. When they turned to the side, I could tell perfectly it was Joshua. My Joshua. I mean, my working colleague right here, standing on my beach, with his arms encased in some rather sassy little blonde number.“Oh my stars! It is him. What in the world is Joshua North doing in Seaside?” Duke let out a dog moan.
“Wonder who she is?” He cocked his head in his own wonder.“ Maybe it’s his sister.” I assured Duke and myself.“Of course, I don’t even know if he has a sister.” Then she reached up and touched the side of his face in an intimate sort of way and kissed him. Duke looked up at me, making it clear that was in no way, shape, or form the kiss of a sister. “I agree. That ain’t his sister.” I pulled Duke behind the stairs, where we could peer through the slats and somewhat conceal ourselves.
“You think this is spying?” I asked. Duke didn’t care; he watched them through one of the slats below mine. If he didn’t think so, why should I? “It can’t be spying.They’re in the middle of the beach. A public beach.” So we continued watching.
Joshua wrapped his arm around her waist, and she wrapped hers around his. As they continued to walk up the beach in the opposite direction, she laid her head on his strong, beautifully defined arm, and he kissed the top of her head. Neither of us took our eyes off them until we couldn’t see them anymore. As I led Duke up the stairs, he let out another soft moan. I tried to conceal my own. After what felt like an eternity I pulled myself together and yanked Duke’s leash. “You’re right, my friend, Amber will never be able to handle this one on top of everythi
ng else she’s been through. So we’ll keep it our little secret.”And we walked back in the direction of the house. We walked like ninety-year-olds with osteoporosis. But we walked all the same.
“Here, let me help you with that.” I offered to the black-haired gentleman who was in a battle with his three bags of groceries and the white picket gate that led to his cottage. The gate was winning.
“Thank you. I appreciate it,” he responded with a nod of the head and a soft Spanish accent.
“Have anymore you need me to grab?”
“No, this is it.”
“Thank you for helping him.” The voice came from the far side of the porch. I looked over to see a stunning woman sitting back down in a rocker on the porch. Her exotic features and beautiful accent matched that of her husband. She laid the latest novel in the Sue Grafton series on her lap.“What’s your friend’s name?” she asked through her warm pink lips.
“This here is Duke,” I said, walking up the steps. “Duke, can you say hello?” He walked over to the lady and placed his paw on the top of her book.
It startled her at first but caused her to laugh.“Well, aren’t you a charming gentleman, Sir Duke.”
“Don’t let him fool you. He’s not all high society. He’s been known to crash many a party in his time.”
She rubbed the top of his head.“Everybody deserves to crash a good party or two. I’m Lucy.” She extended her hand.
I reached mine out to take her own.“Nice to meet you, I’m Savannah, Savannah Phillips. Lucy, is that a family name?”
She laughed.“Actually it’s Lucia.The closest my mother could get to Lucy, a character from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, one of her favorite books. Lucy was the youngest of four, and so was I. Eventually everyone called me Lucy.”
“Lucia was my name in Spanish class. There wasn’t any way to translate Savannah,” I said, explaining before she asked. “I had requested Savananiña, but that didn’t fly.”
“I can see why not.”
“Your mother must have introduced you to her love for books, huh?” I pointed to the one lying across her lap.
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