The Widows of Sea Trail (The Widows of Sea Trail Trilogy)

by Jacqueline DeGroot

I tried to remember my neighbors, especially those who were hurting as I was. They had all been so supportive when Stephen had passed, unbelievably and wonderfully supportive. I hadn’t even had to do a thing for his memorial service at the Chapel on the Green that was held a year after he had died; they had thoughtfully organized everything and had even taken a collection for his memorial brick.

  Looking for things to do, I straightened the garage just so I could hear the rain pounding on the driveway. Then I agonized over what I was going to wear to dinner Saturday night.

  When Stephanie called from Italy I pumped her for fashion tips without telling her why. I was not keen on the idea of my daughter finding out I was dating yet. She had adored her father and I wasn’t sure how she’d take the news that I was putting myself on the market again.

  At Pilates that morning I had found out that a pair of earrings in a jewelry box had been taken from the Maples Activity Center during one of the Dominoes parties. One of the ladies had just bought them from Jane Cain who was selling them for a friend in Florida.

  I was finding it hard to believe that we had a common thief on the plantation. So I called Jane to get the low down. Seems she had sold a pair of beautiful dichromatic glass earrings to Leslie Ulrich. Leslie had left them on the bar with her wine when she had to run out and walk Sawyer, Diane Stander’s little pooch over in Ocean Ridge Plantation. When she came back, the box was gone. The wine was untouched, but the box with the earrings in it was nowhere to be found.

  Jane said she just couldn’t imagine who would do such a thing, and I had to agree. We had never had this kind of problem before and it didn’t sit well with either of us.

  I asked if the police had been notified and Jane said she thought Leslie had called them. This was strange. Who could be taking everyone’s things?

  The investigator in me was curious, I wanted to make lists, chart odds, and even grill a few people. But no suspects came to mind. I truly could think of no one who would stoop so low.

  It was only eleven and I didn’t see how I was ever going to get this day to move any faster. On Thursdays they had a wonderful buffet at Magnolia’s so I called and invited Janet and Arlene to lunch then afterward I drove into Shallotte for some printer ink. Knowing that my sidekicks, Viv, and Tessa, were on a day trip with the Sea Trail Woman’s Club to Hobcaw Barony just below Murrell’s Inlet, I decided to take in a movie.

  I don’t know what’s lonelier than seeing a movie alone. It’s okay once the show starts and you get drawn in, but until then it’s pretty miserable picking out a seat and watching the loop of local ads. Stephen and I had gone to the movies at least every other week. We alternated between the action flicks that he had liked and the chick flicks that I liked. If I wanted to see anything animated, I was on my own—it just wasn’t his thing. I was in the mood for a comedy so I chose the Robin Williams comedy, RV.

  Ben, the ticket taker and usher, and the son of my good friends Pat and Carl Wilson, smiled and told me which theater my movie was in. He has to be the steadiest worker in Brunswick County. I don’t think I’ve ever been to see a show when he wasn’t working; seeing his cheerful smile and being directed to the right theater was part of the theatergoing experience for me.

  In the late afternoon on a weekday, off-season, I had the run of the place. But would you believe it, twice I had to move when taller people sat in front of me. A hundred and fifty seats and we all want to sit in the center. I was trying to use my willpower to keep from eating any of the popcorn before the show started, a contest Stephanie and I used to have, when I saw an older man come in, scan the seats as if looking for someone, sigh agitatedly when he didn’t see them, and leave. He did this twice and I was a little unnerved by it. Who was he looking for? His wife, a grandchild he’d misplaced? I told myself that next time he came in I’d get up and help him.

  A few minutes later, the lights dimmed and the previews came on. Just before the movie flashed on the screen a couple I recognized from Sea Trail came in. I knew the wife, but had never met the husband. She waved to me as they sat right in front of me. I got up and moved again.

  Halfway through the movie, the old gentleman returned. When the screen was fully lit I could see him in the shadows scanning the seats. Suddenly his eyes steeled and he marched over to the Sea Trail couple that was now seated in front and to the right of me. He stood there and looked down at the man who was ignoring him, and he couldn’t have looked more disgusted.

  “If you think this the end of this matter, you’re dead wrong. Maybe you have the committee thinking your way now, but my attorney says you’re not going to get away with this!” With that he spun around and stomped out.

  Well what was that all about, I thought as my eyes were drawn back to the screen and to Robin Williams who was about to wear the contents of the RV’s septic system.

  Chapter Ten

  No Pain No Gain On Saturday I did as I usually did. I rolled out of bed, ran a brush through my hair before clipping it high on my head, brushed my teeth and grabbed a travel mug filled with hot coffee. I ran to my car, drove like a maniac to the other side of the plantation and arrived for my aerobics class just in time to see my favorite spot usurped.

  It’s the only spot that allows me to see Nicole, our instructor, and the clock simultaneously. Now I had to choose one or the other. I opted for a view of Nicole, not only for inspiration, as her bod is pristine, but also because I can’t follow her for step aerobics if I can’t see her. Although she calls out each move, it’s a little too late for my brain to register and convert it to the required step in time to keep from making a fool of myself. So I deemed it more important to have a clear, unobstructed view of her rather than the opportunity to watch the clock tick off each excruciating minute.

  I hate exercise, always have. I think it might have started with field hockey in seventh grade, but for as long as I can remember, running, jumping and calisthenics have been on my not-to-do list.

  I staked out a spot by putting my water bottle on the table adjacent to it and ran to the exercise room on the opposite side of the meeting room. The Pink Palace, so named because the stucco is painted pink, is one of the property owner’s clubhouses here on the plantation. For exercise classes we use the large party room. After moving the tables and chairs to the sides of the room it affords us enough room to move around. But we keep our risers, the plastic steps we use to make the work out harder, piled high in the closet in the tiny exercise room that has treadmills, elliptic trainers, the universal gym, and racks of weights, along with a continually blaring TV. This room has two scenarios, bustling and teaming with homeowners, or completely devoid of sweating bodies. I was not so fortunate this morning.

  As I opened the connecting door and made my way to the closet, I recognized Matt on the universal doing chest presses. He was wearing what is commonly called a wife beater t-shirt that only managed to cover the center of his magnificent chest. I stared with what I’m sure was an openmouthed gape. Sweaty as he was, I could have eaten him up right there on the spot.

  It actually took a few seconds for my mind to register that this was “my” Matt, a physical specimen that would turn any woman’s head. And that I was sans makeup, and in vulgar, mismatched work out clothes that had seen better days. I don’t even think my socks matched. But I did have clean, sparkling teeth. Our eyes met and he smiled. Oh my God. He’s going to cancel our date after seeing me like this for sure.

  Forcing myself to act nonchalant, I put one foot in front of the other and made my way to the closet. Drat, my step would have to be the one on the very top of the pile, a tad too high for me to reach. But it was my step and the only one I could use. The others slipped when I used them and caused me to misstep. I had bought this one for the way it’s edges dug into the carpet. As I reached for the one under to force mine to drop down, I became aware of a long arm reaching over me. I turned and saw Matt smiling down at me, “Is this the one you want?” he asked innocently while all I could do was inhale his
wonderful male scent. Something about that woodsy cologne mixed with pungent male sweat sent out pheromones I couldn’t ignore. It called to something elemental in me and made me want to lie down right there in front of him and offer my body as his prize for doing situps.

  He was so close that his breath fanned my cheek. “Uh, the blue one, that one’s mine.” It had my name emblazoned in permanent marker on the side facing us, so I really didn’t know what all the discussion was about.

  He grabbed it with one hand and brought it down and offered it to me. I would never have been able to grip it with one hand and here he was lifting it down and holding it as if it were a paperback book.

  “Uh, thanks.”

  “You’re welcome,” he whispered as his other hand skimmed my arm from shoulder to elbow, sending electric shocks all through my body.

  “Uh, I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow.”

  “I was anxious, so I cut my meetings short.”

  “Anxious?” I mumbled.

  “Yeah, anxious—restless, horney, they all feel kind of the same to me.”

  I forced myself to take a breath and then to release it.

  “Your music has started,” again his breath fanned my cheek, but this time, I knew it was intentional. “Don’t you think you should be getting in there?”

  I took the step from him with both hands and hugged it to my chest. “Uh, yeah.” I spun on my heel and ran through the connecting door. I could hear him chuckling as it closed behind me.

  Needless to say, it didn’t matter where I was in relation to Nicole. For that whole hour, there wasn’t a single time I was doing the same step that she was.

  All I could think was that for three of the four times that he’d seen me, I’d been at my absolute worst, except for maybe that one time in the hot tub—and that my mother was going to kill me! And then I kept wondering if he was still in the exercise room, working out that very impressive body, or if he had left. There was no way he could see me without me seeing him, so I knew he wasn’t watching me turn the wrong way, kick the step in an effort to straddle it, or mambo like a provocative spaz. I was stumbling and miscuing as if it was my first step class and I had two left feet. God, I wished I had taken a spot so I could see the clock. I really needed to know how many more minutes I had left of this grueling torture before I could slink home.

  I looked over at Nicole just as she gracefully executed a series of lunges then came off the bench to do the dreaded squats. Counting backward to her was as natural as counting forward was to us, and unless I had heard her wrong, she was counting down from twenty. Damn!

  Chapter Eleven

  Date Number Three—Halfway There

  I agonized. I mean I really agonized over what

  to wear for this dinner date. The last time I had been out to dinner with a man, it had been Stephen and if memory serves, I think we went to Hardee’s for Thickburgers.

  If I dressed up, it put pressure on; it made this a real date. If I dressed down, as I usually preferred to do, and wore beach clothes, it would signify that I thought this date was just two friends hooking up for a burger or such. As I paced back and forth in my walk-in closet I mumbled, So how much emphasis did I want to put on this date, exactly? Should I doll myself up and treat it like the once in a blue moon event that it was, or should I keep it friendly and unpretentious?

  I stroked the smooth brushed cotton of the dress Mom had sent. It was lovely, and no doubt it would do wonderful things to show off my curves. I huffed out my exasperation and turned to avoid looking at the light confection. I flipped through some capri sets on the lower clothes bar, trying not to be too judgmental of my aging wardrobe. A few spoke chic and fun loving, two were funky and whimsical. One pair still had the tags on it, but I was sure, despite all my exercising that they still wouldn’t fit. What in the world had possessed me to walk out of Steinmart with a size four? Not since high school had I been smaller than a six, and now, my best guess put me at a six and seven-eighths. I just would not accept the fact that I could be an eight. I made a face at myself in the mirror at the end of the closet.

  Then I quirked my brow, walked up to the full-length mirror and plopped down in front of it. It was time for a heart-to-heart. And this was usually the place I ended up when it was one of those times.

  “So, what do you see coming out of this date?” I queried myself.

  My shoulders shrugged, my palms lifted upward and I frowned at the image reflecting back at me.

  “C’mon, c’mon, you must know where this is going?”

  “Yeah, okay. I want this date to somehow evolve into a night of sweaty, slick sex.”

  “Really?” my alter ego replied, “I hadn’t guessed.”

  “Cute, real cute. You know damn well that’s what’s on my mind.” I pointed my finger accusingly at the mirror.

  “Then go with that aquamarine halter top with the black polka dots and those black capris that make your legs look so wrap-around-me long. But you’ll be sorry, if that’s what you advertise, that’s what he’ll buy.”

  “So, what are your expectations, Miss Good Jeans?” No answer.

  Hmm. Jeans, that was a thought. Jeans with a white dress shirt tucked into them, the collar stylishly propped, and loafers—the classic look.

  Just then the phone rang and I hurried into the bedroom to answer it. Maybe it was Matt canceling and I could stay in my jogging togs. But that thought really didn’t please me, despite haranguing myself about what to wear, I really did want to see him again.

  It was Viv and she was calling for a pre-date pep talk. “So what are you wearin’,” she asked in her sugary southern drawl.

  “I was just trying to figure that out. Slutty Cat wants a halter-top and capris. Traditional Cat’s thinking jeans, a tucked in dress shirt and slip-ons. Sensible Cat hasn’t weighed in with an opinion yet.

  “Oh, you definitely wanna dress sexy. But don’t go all out slut, this isn’t sex in the city down here. Maybe a halter top and capris is just the right touch.”

  “You forget, a halter top on me is . . . well, it’s pretty obvious.”

  “Yeah, good point. A dress could work, you got a nice slip of a dress?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do. My mother just sent me one. It’s got a fitted bodice with spaghetti straps and it comes to just a few inches above the knee.”

  “Perfect! You could wear your hair up and show off your tanned shoulders and your long, sleek neck. Give him something to think about over dinner. Entice him to nibble on you after his teeth have had a work out on Dave’s ribs. Lots of bared skin will give him something to think about over dinner.”

  “You do remember the purpose of all this, don’t you? I’m supposed to be working on establishing a relationship, not encouraging a man to ravish me and move on.”

  “It starts with the physical attraction, if you want to keep him, you gotta play the game from there.”

  “That’s the problem, I don’t remember exactly how this dating game is played.”

  “Just be yourself. And try to have a good time. Oh, yeah, and don’t forget to ask the questions.”

  “The questions?”

  “Yeah, the safe sex questions. And hey, you can’t still get pregnant can you?”

  I groaned out loud and was ready to hit the talk button to silence her when I heard her say, “Hey, did you hear that they found a man’s body in that dumpster over on Crooked Gulley?”

  “Where that house is being built with those awful, blue Plantation shutters?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one. They found him because of the smell and the flies. The neighbors were complaining so the police checked it out. Sure enough, someone had thrown a body in there.”

  “Wow, we’ve never had a murder on the plantation before, a few robberies, one or two assaults on the golf courses, but nothing like this! Do they know who he was?” “Some man from Virginia, no one around here knows him. They think he was vacationing or checking out houses under const
ruction, you know how some people just love to do that—it never occurs to them that they’re trespassing.” “And somebody just killed him?”

  “Looks like. Unless he crawled in there on his own and then couldn’t get out, which I wouldn’t think was likely.” “No, I don’t suppose it is,” my mind was already sidelining, I had to get dressed. “Hey, I gotta go or I’ll be meeting my date at the door in my skivvies.”

  “Most men wouldn’t object,” she said in that droll southern way she had, then reminded me one more time to get the safe sex questions out of the way early before clicking off.

  I turned back to my closet and wondered if I’d held onto the bib overalls that I had used to stain the deck. Those and a red plaid shirt should keep me plenty safe, I mused.

  I stroked the soft, light blue dress before removing it from the hanger. I held it up to my chest and watched it shimmer in the fluorescent light. It had little flowers all over it with the stems and centers outlined in sequins. It could go either way, casual or dressy depending on the shoes I chose to wear with it. I pulled down several shoeboxes and flipped off the lids. Inside were heels that hadn’t seen daylight in years. The classic pump never really went out of style so I had kept these despite the two-year rule. What the hell? I’d wear something enticing with something sanctioned by Mom, what could possibly be safer than that?

  I heard a car pull into the driveway just before seven. I looked out the kitchen window and cringed. He was driving a black Corvette. The same car he’d had when he’d come to the condo looking for Folsum’s monkey. How was I going to get into the passenger seat without, well, without . . .

  The doorbell rang and I rushed to answer it. The heels I wore with the dress looked stunning; they gave my calves amazing definition and made my legs look long and lean, however they were already cramping my toes and I was wondering how long I could keep up the pretense that I actually wore these things anymore.

  When I opened the door, I forgot all about my toes. Matt’s strong teutonic looks never ceased to stir my blood. Silver grey eyes shot through with centers of lapis searched out mine and then I watched as he smiled broadly.