Isle of Palms
Page 43
The day had just broken, light slipping through my windows in angular shapes, soft at first, becoming stronger and brighter with each passing minute. I decided to get the paper and take it down to the beach with a container of coffee. I tiptoed around the mess, got the coffee going, dressed, poured myself a mug, and sneaked out my back door, so that I wouldn’t wake Jim. He looked more haggard than I’d ever seen him and I wanted him to rest. I picked up the Post & Courier from my front yard, and then decided to leave it by the door.
I looked at my flowers and shrubs. Jim had called it Turbo Eden. It was true. I now had bougainvillea and jasmine growing up the sides of the house with so many deep pink blooms, it was almost like they had something to prove. I thought about Miss August, the lady who owned the carriage house Jim and I had rented when Emily was born. She had been dead for years and I thought it was probably her hand from heaven that was the cosmic cause of the insane growth of my entire yard. I could almost hear the lilt of her laugh and it seemed as though she was there, right beside me.
This Lowcountry connection with the other side was thriving, healthy, and not really a topic for deep discussion with tourists. Tourists may have thought we were a little crazy to begin with but let me tell you something, they bought those volumes of Lowcountry ghost stories like they were contraband from some secret society of Saint Germain! When clients from Indiana or some such place would ask me about the Gray Man at Pawley’s Island, or the Summerville lights, my matter-of-fact response made them think I was holding back Lowcountry secrets. When you lived here you just took these things for granted.
In the early hours of morning, I thought about all kinds of things. First and always, there was the splendor of the empty beach. It didn’t matter how often I went over the dunes, it had never been the same twice. I thought about Miss August again and wondered if she could see me. Remembering her was so pleasant, I made a note to do it every day. What a happy woman she had been. Then, I thought of my mother and the dream I’d had. I missed her and I wasn’t even sure why. Maybe it was because she’d left me with so little of her, except for the way I looked. But maybe that wasn’t true at all. Was I like my father or my grandmother? No, I wasn’t. Didn’t she love to garden? And hadn’t my mother been ambitious? I mean, even though she rode a tiara out of her hometown to marry Daddy, what life would she have had otherwise?
Marrying my daddy was a rather brave thing to do when I looked at it that way. She was only a kid, really, a kid Emily’s age, who considered her options and took a chance. And I had done the exact same thing.
I stood there sipping my hot coffee with the ocean flooding my feet and decided, okay, Momma had made a mistake. She was full of life and, as Miss Mavis had said, when she found herself stuck on this end of the island and pregnant, it probably all but blew her mind. If a game of bingo and winning a cooler had brought her a big thrill, how dull was her life? Pretty dull.
I looked down toward Sullivan’s Island and there wasn’t another living soul to be seen. I remembered seeing Arthur that first morning and told myself to get over him for once and for all. If he really fit the profile Jim described, he’d never come back to me. Speaking of men, Lucy had really invited Jack Taylor and Caroline Levine to our barbecue. They had said they’d be there, but I doubted it. Surely, with their money, they had better things to do than hang around with a bunch of hairdressers and their families. I wondered, though, if Susan Hayes would bring Simon—I’d never met him but, boy, did I know a lot about him! The things she had told me in the chair! Amazing.
I walked along the shore, the beach to myself, and thought myself to be a very fortunate woman. I had a terrific daughter who delighted me at every turn, wonderful friends who sustained me, great neighbors who welcomed my company, a loving father who had finally come around, and I had the Isle of Palms. What else could a woman need?
Thirty-four
Chicken Dance
AS it turned out, there was something else this woman needed. A caterer. When I went over the guest list with Lucy Sunday afternoon, it seemed we had seventy-five people coming. How was I supposed to take care of a crowd like that? I had planned on cooking but forget it! Seventy-five people? Had she gone crazy? Jim and Frannie stood with me in the living room, listening to Lucy explain.
“Well, you know how it is, don’t you? You invite somebody and they say, Oh, but my brother is visiting with his wife and kids and you say, Oh, what the heck! Bring them too! Right?”
“Seventy-five people?” Frannie said, “Are you sure that’s it?”
Lucy clenched her teeth and squinted her eyes. “Better make it eighty, just to be sure,” Lucy said.
“I’m going to Lowe’s,” Jim said. “Frannie? Come with?”
“Sure. I’ll get my bag.”
“Good Lord!” I said, “What are we gonna do?”
“You and Lucy go get the food, paper products, and the drinks and Frannie and I will handle the rest. Let old Jim worry about this.”
“I adore you,” I said and blew them a kiss.
I called Brigitte immediately. “Kill three watermelons,” I said, “we got a cast of thousands coming tomorrow.”
“Glad to have something to chop,” she said, “cures anxiety. Hey! Do you need a folding table? I have one.”
“Yes, yes, yes. Do you have any folding chairs?”
“No, but I can borrow a dozen from the library. Want me to call Bettina?”
“God, yes! Can you ask her to get a sheet cake from Sam’s?”
“Consider it done. In fact, I’ll tell her to get brownies and a slug of chicken wings for an hors d’oeuvre. And a ton of chips and salsa.”
“Just get me the receipts.”
“Okay.”
“Brigitte? Thanks. I mean it.”
“Hey, you give my life purpose. I was gonna spend the evening sorting through old National Geographics, looking for pictures of nude male tribal dancers.”
“Wow. That’s seriously pathetic.”
“Yes, it is. Especially considering that I just went through a catalog gawking at all the male models in their tight underwear. I’ll call you later.”
“You need a man, honey.”
“Gee. Think so? Ever since I told Evan to hit the road, there’s been a drought.”
Brigitte had revealed herself to be the undisputed wit of our gang. I hung up the phone and turned to Lucy. She was biting her lip from nerves.
“Lucy? Don’t worry about the party. We’ll be fine. Get out your little black book. If we don’t find Brigitte a willing victim by tomorrow night, her panties might have a self-combustion issue.”
“What does that mean?”
“A man, Lucy. Find Brigitte a man.”
“Oh! Sure! Okay. I have some guys I can call, but shouldn’t we go to the grocery store first? The Pig has a sale on soft drinks but Harris Teeter has a special on paper products.”
“Right! Fine. Get in the car! Where’s Emily?”
“Next door, watching a DVD with David. They’re sitting there like zombies, staring at the tube.”
“Do me a favor. Tell them to start cleaning up the yard. It needs to get raked and the table and chairs need a good cleaning.”
“Okay—I’ll be right back. If you have a second, can you take this over to Miss Angel?”
“Sure. What is it?”
“Twelve hundred dollars from basket sales. I figured she might like to get paid.”
“Wow! I thought they were selling, but twelve hundred dollars?”
“They ain’t cheap and, honey?—we ain’t got a blade of sweetgrass left in that shop.”
“Wow,” I said again.
Lucy trotted off to her house and I made a list of what we would need. We needed a lot. I stuck the list in my purse and hurried over next door. I tried Miss Angel’s door downstairs first. After a few minutes, she opened it.
“You ain’t one of them Jehovah’s Witnesses, are you?”
“No, I’m the bearer of good news,” I said,
handing her the envelope. “Guess we need some more baskets.”
She lifted her reading glasses up to her nose and opened it to count it. “Come on in,” she said, “my pit bull’s at the groomer.”
“You don’t have a pit bull,” I said.
“And you ain’t got no sense of humor, ’eah?” she said. “You want a glass of tea?”
“No, thanks, I gotta hustle my buns to Mount Pleasant to grocery shop. We have about seventy-five people coming tomorrow.”
“You want me to keep Mavis at home?”
“Heavens! No!”
“All right then. I’ll bring two pound cakes. I had a dream you were going to a funeral.”
“No!”
“What’s the matter with you? Girl? Don’t you know that means out with the old and in with the new? Shuh! How long you been living ’round ’eah?”
“All my life!” I threw my arms around her and hugged her tight. “You’re wonderful! Thanks, Miss Angel! Everybody will faint when they taste your cake!”
“You’re right,” she said, “I expect they will do that. Better invite a doctor, ’eah?”
“We did. Three in fact. That I know of anyway. I’ll see you later.”
Two hours later Lucy and I had barbecue, baked beans, coleslaw, and biscuits ordered to be delivered in serving containers with warming candles from Mr. B’s, the best barbecue place on this earth. Our trunk was filled with paper plates and napkins, plastic cups and flatware, cases of soda, beer, and wine, and enough bug spray to wipe out every bug in the Amazon. I was getting excited. It dawned on me that besides Jim’s, I hadn’t been to or given a full-scale party in years. I couldn’t wait.
By one the next afternoon, my backyard was in celebration mode. Daddy was outside hanging the twenty-five strings of lights Jim had bought at Pottery Barn. There were ten lights to a string and each one was covered in a miniature Japanese paper lantern.
“You need a deck,” Daddy said. “A deck would be perfect out here because the ground is so uneven. If you’re gonna have these cookouts all the time, you need a deck. We could build in the grill with a little refrigerator and sink. You could have nice counters and outdoor storage. Then you could put benches and planters along the other sides and people would have a place to sit.”
“You’re right,” I said and gave him a kiss on the cheek, thinking there was a deck in my future. “If you want to build me a deck for my thirtieth birthday, I wouldn’t object.”
“You were thirty a long time ago.”
“And, what did you give me?”
“I don’t remember.”
“That’s the point.” I giggled and he laughed with me.
“You’ve got the devil in you, Anna. Maybe we’ll go to Home Depot or Lowe’s next week and have a look around.”
“I’d love that, Daddy, I really would.”
“You could have a hot tub too, you know.”
“Get Lucy a hot tub. What would I do with it? Sit in there by myself and read Salon magazine?”
“Lucy? Actually, that’s not a bad idea!”
I groaned at the thought of Daddy and Lucy in a hot tub together and then thought, well, why the heck shouldn’t they do whatever they want?
But at that moment, there was no hot tub and no deck. Jim and Frannie were arranging the tables. David was bringing heavy clay pots of flowers from all around our house and Lucy’s to help decorate the back stoop and the tables. That kid was a doll, always pitching in. Emily was spraying the bushes with bug killer to hold the mosquitoes and no-see-ums at bay.
“I’m getting eaten alive!” she complained.
“Keep spraying!” I said.
I heard a truck out front and went to see who it was.
It wasn’t the delivery van from Mister B’s Barbecue. It was another van. On the side it read TAYLOR SLACK’S BEACH MUSIC UNLIMITED. A good-looking young man got out to greet me.
“Are you Mrs. Abbot?”
“Is my husband responsible for this?” I couldn’t stop shaking my head.
“I believe so, ma’am. Is he here?”
“Come on around to the backyard, Taylor,” Jim said and looked at me with his best bad-boy face. “Well? Are we having a party or aren’t we?”
“You’re incredible,” I said.
“I came early to put down the dance floor, sir. Is there someone who could give me a hand with the risers?”
“No problem, son, just come with me.”
Dance floor?
The next truck to arrive was from Margaret Egan’s Nursery. I went outside with Jim on my heels.
“I’ve got forty red and yellow hibiscus bushes and twenty palms. Where do you want them?”
“What?” I was shocked.
“Don’t worry,” Jim said, “they’re rented. Where are your Christmas lights?”
“I don’t have any,” I said. “But Lucy might.”
By five o’clock, I had showered and changed into the lethal dress I wore the night Arthur and I sailed the River of Sin.
“Damn, sister, you look fierce!” Jim said.
“Thank you!” I said and did a little spin. “Don’t you want to feel the goods, big boy?”
“At moments like this? Yeah.”
“Come on!”
“Ahem!” Jim said, clearing his throat, “but rather than mangle a perfectly good platonic relationship, whadaya say we check out the party scene?”
“Right!” I said and gave him a Charlie’s Angels handgun shot, blowing off the tip of my smoking finger. “Let’s go!”
As always, Jim had worked his magic. My yard looked so amazing with all the twinkling hibiscus bushes and palms I thought we were ready for a wedding. The dance floor was only twelve inches off the ground, but the risers were adjustable, so even though my yard was uneven, the dance floor was level. And, it had steps to get to it so people didn’t kill themselves getting on it. Young precious Taylor, who Emily had half an eye on, put skirting around the sides with a staple gun and Jim placed the lit plants along the sides, creating walls. Citronella tiki torches were everywhere, lit and doing their job.
“Doesn’t it look incredible?” Lucy said. “I gotta go change in a minute, but what do you think?”
“Jaysus! She’s been bossing me around like Sister Torture teaching me times tables!” Frannie said, on her way to the house. “I’m needing a shower!”
“I thought she was Greek,” Lucy said.
“Her mother was Irish,” Jim said.
“Ah,” Lucy said. “Come on and let’s check this all out, then I gotta go do my face and all.”
The deejay had his own generator, which was a good thing. I had visions of losing power and all these people bumping into each other in the dark, getting black eyes and going to the emergency room. But this guy was prepared for everything. He had boxes of maracas, leis, straw hats, crazy sunglasses, and glow-in-the-dark necklaces. Jim was so crazy and fun—he’d probably start a limbo contest. I would not encourage them.
Mr. B’s had delivered and the food was all in place. The beer was iced down in a giant garbage can and the soft drinks were in another. Everything was ready.
Just then, Brigitte appeared with a carved watermelon basket in her arms.
“It’s déjà vu all over again,” she said to Lucy and me.
“I’ve got six men coming to meet you,” Lucy said.
“Well, that’s a start,” Brigitte said, completely deadpan. “Here, take this. I’ve got two more of these babies in the car.”
Bettina was pulling up with Bobby when we got back to Brigitte’s car.
“I’m so excited!” Bettina said, slamming the door of the Yacht as Bobby winced. She had on white capris with a pale blue chambray shirt over a white halter and she looked radiant. That girl was as cute as a bug. “I got a bucket of salsa! Only five ninety-nine! Such a deal! And I got six bags of Doritos, ten dozen brownies, and a sheet cake with an American flag on it—think that’s enough? Wait till you see the cake! It’s gorgeous!”
“Yeah,” I said, “thanks.”
People arrived, the music started, and our guests wandered back and forth from Lucy’s widow’s walk as the sun went down. Our party took on a life of its own. Lucy’s blenders whirred while she stood back and shimmied. Yes, Lucy was wearing one of her fringed “outfits.” Daddy watched her in fixated fascination.
Miss Angel and Miss Mavis slipped through the oleanders with platters of sliced pound cake. I went to greet them.
“Oh! Miss Angel! This looks so delicious! Thank you so much! And Miss Mavis! You look so pretty!”
“Hush, girl, take this platter and find me a place to sit. At my age I could drop dead any minute.”
“She hasn’t been to a party in years,” Miss Angel said.
“What did she say?” Miss Mavis said.
“I said that the dress you’re wearing is my favorite too!” Miss Angel said.
“Oh! Well, thank you, Angel.”
I took the platters from them, Emily took them from me, and I sat the two women at the table with the umbrella.
“Can I get y’all something to eat or drink?”
“Don’t fuss over us, Anna, go be with your young friends. We’ll be fine and I’ll take care of Mavis,” Miss Angel said. “Hey! I like this music!”
“Under the Boardwalk” was playing.
“What’s that?” Miss Mavis screamed.
Miss Angel shot me a look of loving exasperation and turned back to Miss Mavis. “I said, This music makes me feel like dancing!”
“Well, you go on and dance then. I can’t! Can’t afford to break a hip, you know.”
I left them to their squabbling and looked around. The yard was filling with people I hadn’t seen in ages and people I hadn’t ever seen. Probably Lucy’s friends, I thought. Everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time and I was thrilled.
I spotted Carla Egbert, the receptionist from Harriet’s House of Horrors, and worked my way over to talk to her.
“Carla!”