Isle of Palms

by Dorothea Benton Frank

  The ceiling of the shampoo area had posters of tropical destinations, affixed by decoupage. I guess he thought people should have something to look at while they had their hair washed. Why not? At the back, where I had the small washer and dryer, Jim had put up overhead racking, which now sported at least sixty inexpensive wineglasses and a small refrigerator in the closet. We opened the cheese on the washer and put it together on a cutting board Jim had obviously bought, along with cocktail napkins. Arthur handed me the box of water crackers, which I opened.

  “Amazing!” I said. “You’re too marvelous for words, Jim!”

  Jim popped the cork, singing the old Cole Porter tune, throwing in an occasional It’s so true!

  “My God! Emily! I forgot to buy a stereo!”

  We cracked up again. He filled glasses while Arthur offered everyone crackers with two different and delicious cheeses. We sipped before toasting; we toasted a thousand times and sipped some more, refilling glasses all around. It was a very exciting moment, and another sign of Jim’s generosity and affection for us.

  “Congratulations, Anna!” Jim said.

  “Thanks! But, please! It wouldn’t be this without you, you know. I guess I’ll have to be an organ donor for you, huh? Thanks to you this place looks as exciting as I feel! And thanks to you too, Emily! I’m sure Daddy worked your butt off!”

  “You wouldn’t believe!” she said and rolled her eyes for David’s benefit. “He had me running and making a thousand phone calls! I called towel people . . .”

  “I ordered two hundred black terry cloth turbans with embroidered gold metallic palm trees,” Jim said, “my treat! They’ll be dee-vine!”

  “Good Lord!” I said. “Thanks! You’re too much!”

  “And the smocks!” Jim said. “Emily, tell her about the smocks!”

  “Oh, Momma! They’re so outrageous! They have pockets! Leopard print, with the new logo up here, and the best is—”

  “New logo?”

  I looked at Jim, who quickly uncrossed his arms, covered his face, and peeked through his fingers.

  “Well, this was Emily’s idea, Anna. It seemed to us that with all this glorious new theater here that you needed a more exciting name for your business, you know?”

  “Such as . . . ?” I said.

  “Anna’s Cabana? The sign’s coming tomorrow—fuchsia neon! Big rush job! My treat too! I know, I know, that means you have to change your business cards.”

  “Already done,” Emily said, “be here Wednesday. And your invoices and letterhead. I’ll order checks tomorrow. Bank’s closed. Sunday and all, right?”

  “My treat too!” Jim said.

  “Great God Almighty!” I started giggling and couldn’t stop.

  Arthur gave Jim a playful punch on his arm.

  “You are something else! I gotta hand it to you!”

  “This is a helluva lot cheaper than alimony, believe me!”

  Arthur silently mouthed his surprise to me. No alimony?

  I shook my head and shrugged my shoulders, indicating that it was fine with me.

  There was a commotion at the front and a man’s voice called out for attention. He had a huge box on a hand truck and he looked harried.

  “Where do you want the smoothie machine?”

  Smoothie machine? “Hang it from the ceiling! Jim? Have you gone insane?”

  “It only does one flavor and it’s supposed to fit right next to the cappuccino machine. I measured twice! So now you can offer a daily smoothie for your clients in the morning and vino in the afternoon! N’est-ce pas?”

  “I love smoothies!” Lucy said. “They’re so good for you too!”

  Jim and Emily went to help the delivery man with Lucy and David on their heels. I looked at Arthur and he looked at me.

  “N’est-ce pas,” I said, “ever since he started going to France years ago he’s been n’est-ce pas-ing the world ever since. Is he wild or what?”

  “I got some n’est-ce pas for you, little girl.”

  Arthur’s eyes were dancing, his dimples were showing again, and I thought he was the most adorable man in the world.

  “Oooh! Am I supposed to be afraid?”

  It was easy to be a big old flirt with people all around. Five minutes later I would wish I had said something slightly more conservative. But, hell no. Not with Arthur. Couldn’t say something coy like, Oh, hush, you bad boy! Then, I wondered how in the world we would find five minutes to be alone anyway when it seemed the evening had enough people in it to cast The Ten Commandments. And, naturally, Daddy would be there, adding one more pair of eyes. Safe. I was safe. And, it crossed my mind that I had better keep an eye on Emily and the young Mr. Hot Lips.

  We soon peeled ourselves from the salon and within the hour actually moved dinner from the grill to the table. There was so much going on, not only in my head but with all you have to do to feed seven people. How had Jim done it? Did I remember to buy half-and-half? I couldn’t recall anyone who had ever thrilled any person I had ever known the way Jim had just knocked me off my feet. I never could have imagined what he had done and maybe that was one reason why we had always been so close. He was a daredevil with vision.

  When Daddy arrived, Lucy drove him back to the salon to see it. He came back home whistling through his teeth. He sat down in my living room and Lucy sat on the arm of his chair, handing him a Beck’s. Just so you know, she had wrapped the bottle in a paper napkin. Her second career seemed to be Spoiling Daddy.

  “So? What do you think?” I said, standing there with a platter of grilled meat.

  “‘Anna’s Cabana’? That’s one helluva sideshow you got there, honey. You won’t get many men in there, though. Too weird.”

  “Glad you like it, Daddy. Let the men keep going to Causey’s! They’re too cheap to pay for our talent anyway! We’re gonna eat in about two minutes, okay?”

  Causey’s Barber Shop was one of the great institutions of Mount Pleasant and had been around since the Flood. No straight man I knew would spend forty dollars for me to cut their hair if they could get it done for twelve dollars at Causey’s. It made perfect economic sense. But that was how Daddy was. Slightly negative, too critical, and always looking for the holes in your plan. He couldn’t help it. To be honest, if my salon wasn’t for clients like Daddy that was probably, no, definitely a good thing.

  I put the platter of meat on the table next to the salad bowl and the bread basket. I just had to evacuate the potatoes from the oven and my first official dinner party would be in progress.

  Emily was in the kitchen with David. My good child was putting sour cream in a bowl for the table. I had to put out butter, salt and pepper, and chives and remember to eavesdrop.

  “So, how’s Carolina?” she said to him.

  “It’s all right, I guess. How’s Georgetown?”

  “Hard as hell but completely excellent,” she said, slightly smug that admission to her school was more difficult to gain. “I thought summer would never get here.”

  “Yeah, me too. What are you gonna major in?”

  “Dunno,” she said. “Mom? You want me to mince the chives?”

  “That would be great, honey,” I said.

  Safe. Benign. So far. I took the potatoes to the table thinking that Emily, who never lifted a finger unless I threatened to cut one off, was mincing chives. Man, I thought, are pheromones powerful or what? Giving the table a last check, I decided that everything looked fine.

  “Okay, y’all! Let’s have dinner.”

  Jim was the first to step up and fix himself a plate. I leaned over to whisper in his ear.

  “I really love you, you know,” I said.

  “As well you should!” he said and kissed my cheek. “This looks delicious and I deserve to be fed!”

  “Anytime, old boy, the door’s always open. Just sit anywhere.”

  Lucy was right behind him. “Can I sit in your daddy’s lap?” She giggled and batted her eyelashes.

  Old Lucy had been spending
secret time with Mr. M, as in Martini.

  “If you want, be my guest!”

  Jim shuddered and walked away.

  “I was thinking I might wear a coconut bra and a print sarong to work. What do you think, Anna?”

  “I think NO!” I said, without a second thought.

  Arthur appeared with two opened bottles of red wine and said, “I think YES!”

  “Gee whiz, Anna, it was just a joke,” Lucy said with a pout.

  I gave her a little knock in the arm. “I knew that.”

  Emily put the sour cream and chives on the table and David, a dead ringer for a vulture surveying his next roadside picnic, loomed over the sausages and chops. Sniffing. Sniffing and rubbing his washboard stomach in small circular movements.

  “Man! I’m starving,” he said. “This looks really, really excellent!”

  “Dig in!” I said, when what I should have said was Hang on, cup-cake, let the old people live. Your Aunt Lucy warned me about you.

  Somebody must’ve taught the boy some manners because he said, “Nah. Y’all serve everybody else first.”

  I must’ve looked askance because he added, “Seriously!”

  Well! What a nice kid!

  A short while later, I looked around my living room to check the temperature. Arthur was talking to Emily and David. Lucy was entertaining Daddy and Jim. I took the last lone lamb chop, half a potato, and a spoon of salad and sat on the floor next to my coffee table, passing the bread basket around.

  “A toast!” I said. “Not to get too mushy or anything . . .”

  “Ah, come on, Mom! Spare us!”

  “Emily? Darlin’?” Lucy said. “Let your momma say wha’ever she wants! Okay?”

  I reminded myself to make coffee. Regular. Negotiating the yard could be dangerous.

  “Um, I just want to say thanks!” I looked from face to face. “I mean it! I love y’all and thanks!”

  “Here, here!” Emily said and raised her Diet Coke.

  “You’re welcome.” Jim said and blew me an air kiss.

  “We love you too!” Daddy said.

  “Gee! Do you love me too?” Arthur said.

  Everyone stopped and looked at me.

  “Jerk. Just eat, okay?” I said.

  “Ah, God! Now I’m gonna cry,” he said.

  The women snickered and the men shook their heads. Arthur, despite his dopey sense of humor, was trying to be a part of things. And I, who had been without a man since before Lucy’s last (or maybe first) surgical procedure, loved it.

  Dinner was, thank the Lord, delicious. You know how baked potatoes can be crispy-skinned and all but collapsed inside? That’s how they were. Personally, I think it depends on the potato and the humidity or something like that. And the meat was a perfect medium rare and juicy. The salad was crispy—it’s critical to pick the correct bag—and the bread was fresh and tasty. A good first dinner. The wine had made us all comfortable enough with each other for stories to flow. I had heard it said many times that a great party is dependent on the guests and I could see then that it was true. My small gang ran the gamut. The mix was perfect.

  Lucy and Daddy left first. Lucy made some statement about having to change the website right away but we all knew better. David and Emily went off to Wal-Mart to buy a mini stereo for the salon, saying they’d be back in an hour. Jim insisted on doing the dishes and told Arthur and me to go for a walk on the beach. As much as I wanted to do just that, I knew Jim was exhausted and we wound up cleaning the kitchen together. Once the dishwasher was humming, Jim excused himself, leaving Arthur and me alone in the kitchen.

  “So? Wanna go for a walk?”

  “The beach is where I saw you for the first time,” I said. “But, do you think we should wait for Emily and David to get back?”

  “Nah, screw ’em. They’re fine.”

  “Right. To hell with ’em. I’ll get my cardigan.”

  Arthur improved my mood. Where I worried about everything, he seemed not to worry about anything.

  We walked across the dunes and were struck by the enormity of the night, the dazzling dark sky, and the song of the ocean. The moon was full and prominent, throwing a faint light all over the beach, the kind of light I saw in my dreams—not day but not night either. We walked near the edge of the water, our shoes left behind at the path. Our hair was blowing like crazy, our faces were damp with spray, and I thought this must have been the most romantic moment I had experienced in my entire life. It wasn’t long until he stopped and pulled me toward him by my waist. His pant legs were almost in the surf and the tide was coming in.

  “Okay, Anna Lutz Abbot, I’m going to kiss you now.”

  “Fair warning,” I said, for no reason at all, sounding like a celibate nerd at an auction house.

  When his lips touched mine I thought, Okay, just throw me down right here. I don’t care. I might never get tired of Arthur’s lips, I said to myself. He smelled right, he tasted right and he felt right. God in heaven, I thought as my heartbeat increased, I’m in trouble now.

  We stood in the water’s edge, kissing, stopping to look at each other now and then and then kissing some more. We moved away from the water so we wouldn’t get soaked and continued kissing like teenagers.

  “Arthur?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “I haven’t felt like this in forever,” I said, letting my feelings hang out there to be abused.

  “I want to make love to you, Anna.”

  Oh, God! Now what, big shot? Now what are you gonna tell him?

  My voice squeaked. “I can’t,” I said.

  “Why not,” he said, “you got a headache?”

  “Worse,” I said, “I got a teenager.”

  “Right, we had better get back? You want to go?”

  “Not yet,” I said.

  Neither one of us moved. I put my hands on his face and traced his jawline with my fingers. I swore to myself that he had the ideal jaw and the perfect chin. He grabbed my wrist and kissed every fingertip and then the center of my palm. The tide washed over our feet and we stepped away again. This time I leaned into his chest with my arms around his waist and he held me close. I could have stood there for a very long time, maybe until sunrise. I felt like I was falling over the edge of the world.

  Later, as I tossed myself around the bed, trying not to rouse Emily from her sleep, I told myself the feelings I had for Arthur were just physical. On the other hand, I really liked him. He was adorable, attentive, smart, solvent, had a dumb but lively sense of humor . . . I had a whole list going in my head when suddenly another country was heard from.

  “Did you kiss him?”

  “Yeah,” I said, “big time.”

  “That’s good, Mom. Now, let’s get some sleep, okay?”

  Twenty-two

  Show Time!

  DO I need to tell anyone here that I was in the salon at seven-thirty, dressed to kill—okay, maybe to maim—makeup on, drinking my third cup of coffee, and I had already read my horoscope and Liz Smith? Bettina and Brigitte were coming in at eight-thirty, followed by Lucy, Jim, and Emily at nine. I checked the book. Brigitte had appointments all morning, Bettina had appointments all day, and I had a few, scattered over the morning and the afternoon. Anna’s Cabana (heaven help me with that idiotic name) was almost open for business.

  I looked up when I heard Bettina’s ancient Chevrolet come moaning and chugging into the parking lot, looking for a place to die. It lurched forward, and with each lurch a considerable amount of dark fumes billowed from underneath it. When she threw it into park, it appeared to give out its last gasp. Fanning away the clouds of stench, Bettina was dwarfed by the sheer size of her car. She opened the enormous trunk and pulled out a heavy box. I called out to her as she crossed the empty parking spaces, her back arched from the weight, taking quick steps on her platform sandals.

  “Hey! That’s some vee-hickle you got there, sugar! You want me to call Father Michaels to give it the Last Rites?”

  “Yea
h, right? I told Tony, I said, ‘Look, if I get a ticket for causing a health hazard from The Yacht, you can pay it! Not me!’ ” Then she saw the salon entrance. “Holy whopping shit! What the hell happened?”

  “My ex-husband got in a mood. Come on in and see. Here, let me help you with that.” The Yacht, indeed. More like the Kon-Tiki.

  She went back to get another box. Bettina from Brooklyn had arrived and she was moving in. The one I carried must’ve had a thousand bottles of nail polish in it. I dropped it on the bench by the door. She was right behind me with another box.

  “I ordered polish. I guess I forgot to tell you.”

  “I owned it so I brought it. What the hell . . . ? This place looks like something outta Vegas!”

  This made me nervous, to say the least. I was insecure enough as it was. “Do you think it’s too much?”

  “Whaddya nuts? It totally rocks! I love it!” She stood there, little skinny chicken that she was, in her black stretch capri pants and black halter, clacking away on her gum. She looked all around and was grinning from ear to ear, commenting on everything. “Would you look at this coffeemaker? All we had at my last salon was a Bunn machine! And this bamboo? Jeez! I’m in the rain forest here! All these ferns? Gorgeous! It’s the hills of Costa Rica!”

  “Really?”

  “I swear to God, Anna. This is gonna be all over town by tonight! We might make CNN with this joint! People magazine! Who knows?” She stood with her hands on her hips, shaking her head. “So. Where do I put my table? I gotta do tips on Mrs. Milligan at nine-thirty. Wait till everyone sees this! Hot shit.”

  “Put it in between the chairs on the left, I think.” Her small manicuring table could roll anywhere. “Actually, put it wherever you like the light.”

  “There ain’t much light in the rain forest, right? Well, I’ll pull a couple of those bottom hoses around to light my table. The good thing about this table is that I can bring it to the client, you know? You don’t have to tell me why your ex-husband did this. I mean, it’s none of my business. I always mind my own business. Learned that lesson in New York, if you know what I mean.”