“This here’s Sharon’s niece,” the first queen said, pointing at me.
“No kidding?” She smiled. “Well, I’ll be. Any family of Sharon’s is family to us.” She stuck her hand out. “I’m Dolly Doolittle. This is my sister, Daisy. I’m sure she didn’t introduce herself. She ain’t got a lick of manners.”
I shook her hand and noticed Daisy was giving her the evil eye. “Very nice to meet you,” I said. “I’m Rebecca Sharp.”
“Very nice to meet you too, dear. You certainly are pretty. You favor Sharon a lot.”
I chuckled. “That’s really a wonderful compliment. Thank you.” I could feel myself blushing. Not only because compliments make me feel uncomfortable, but because Daisy was still looking at Dolly like she could kill her. I cleared my throat and glanced at Daisy. Then Dolly realized she was getting the death stare.
“What are you looking at me like that for?” she asked.
Daisy poked Dolly in the ribs. “You’re the one who ain’t got manners!”
Dolly opened her mouth, then closed it and exhaled through her nose. It appeared she was frustrated with her sister. But Daisy wasn’t finished.
“You know what?” She poked her sister in the ribs again. “The older you get, the uglier you get.”
Dolly winced. “Well, the older you get, the meaner you get,” she said through her teeth. Then she smiled at me. “I’m sorry, dear. We may look alike, but there’s a big difference in our personalities.” Dolly flashed her eyes toward her sister. “She’s the sister with aggressive tendencies. Some folks call her Crazy Daisy.”
My eyes moved over to Daisy, all five-foot-two—give or take an inch—and maybe ninety pounds soaking wet. She stood with her hands on her hips, lip poked out, and eyebrows knitted together, tapping her foot, glaring at her sister. Yeah, I thought, I can see that. She’s definitely got some spunk.
“I’ll show you crazy and aggressive,” Daisy mumbled. “I’ll jerk you bald and slap the hell right outta ya.”
I laughed out loud. These two were hilarious.
“See what I mean.” Dolly rolled her eyes. “Come on, you old grouch. Let’s give Rebecca some time to get settled in before we show her our true colors.” She took Daisy by the elbow and motioned toward the counter. “Let us know if you need anything, dear.”
“Thank you.” I sat in awe as I watched the two sisters waddle back toward the counter. Shuffle, jingle. Shuffle, jingle. Dolly’s charm bracelet had to weigh at least five pounds with all the charms she had hanging from it. It was a wonder she could wear it on such a frail wrist. Never had I ever met two siblings quite like the Doolittle sisters. Their bond seemed stronger than steel, and their sarcasm was absolutely adorable. I smiled, thinking the Steaming Hotties had to be pushing seventy-five. When they passed the gray-haired man, Dolly mumbled something, and they smiled at each other. Then the sisters disappeared behind the pastry cooler. I exhaled slowly and reached for my book, struggling to figure out why they both looked so familiar.
My book was about a lady and her family who grew up in South Carolina on Sullivan’s Island. It was the author’s debut and had amazing reviews. Katie and I had recently spent two weeks in South Carolina, so I was anxious to read about the adventures of the Lowcountry island life. We had gone to Sullivan’s Island, Isle of Palms, and Charleston, and I was swept off my feet by the area’s history, culture, and Southern charm. I’d planned to read on my flight from New York, but Chatty-Cathy, who was sitting in the seat next to me, had made that plan fail miserably. And I do mean miserably. I finally had a few minutes of solitude, and I couldn’t wait to dive in. I loved beach reads. Although the Gulf Coast is in my blood and will always be my favorite, the beaches of South Carolina are a very close second. They say once you get sand in your shoes, you’ll always come back. Well, I was born with sand in my shoes, and my soul was salt-water cured, so I’ll always find my way back to the beach. Some beach, anyway.
I opened the book right down the middle, stuck my nose into it, and sniffed deeply. The scent of a book that’s opened for the first time is nothing less than magical. Old books, new books, doesn’t matter. And libraries. I love the smell of libraries. And I’m not ashamed to admit it, either. I closed the book and smiled as I admired its beautiful cover. Then I flipped it over and read the author’s biography, opened the front cover to read the blurb, and flipped through the first few pages to scan the contents and acknowledgments before beginning this new journey through Sullivan’s Island. I took a deep, refreshing breath. Page one. The Prologue.
“Well, hey there, cutie-patootie!” I jumped at the sound of my aunt’s squeal and looked up to find her standing right in front of me with her arms wide open.
“Aunt Sharon!” I closed my book––which, by the way, was physically painful at this point––and stood to give her a big hug. “Oh my gosh! I didn’t even see you come in!”
“I noticed that.” She chuckled and squeezed me so hard I coughed, then planted a big kiss on my cheek. “That book must be entrancing.”
I grinned, knowing good and well I had a red tattoo of her lips on my face. “I’m just starting it.”
“Oh, well, you’ll have to tell me if it’s worth my time when you’re done. I love a delicious novel.” She grinned big and cupped my face in her hands. “You look marvelous, my dear. Goodness gravy, I love you so, so much! Do you know that?” She grabbed me and hugged me again. “I’ve missed you terribly.” I managed to hold in the cough that time. “So, did you already order something?”
“No. I wasn’t sure what you’d like.”
“Honey, everything’s scrumptious here. Believe me. I’ve tried it all.” She grabbed my hand and escorted me to the counter. “Come on. I wanna introduce you to my friends.”
I let out a soft laugh. “You mean Dolly and Daisy?”
Aunt Sharon pressed her lips together. “Oh, boy. You’ve already met them.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You could say that.”
As usual, Aunt Sharon looked amazing, and not a day over thirty. No doubt, she took great care of herself. I made a mental note to ask her what brand of moisturizer she used. And what she did to stay in shape. She was remarkably toned. Her black trousers fit her ba-donk-a-donk like they were made for her, and her matching tapered jacket accentuated her tiny waist. She wore a red silk cami and a coral and red floral silk scarf tied very loosely around her neck. Dark Chanel sunglasses held her poufy, blond, never-out-of-place hair away from her face. Her black leather hypodermic-heel pumps matched her oversized handbag, and she wore large gold hoop earrings that coordinated with her enormous gold bangles. One hundred percent glamorous, I thought.
“Sharon! I didn’t see you come in!” Daisy yelled.
“I’ve got moves like a cat.” Aunt Sharon walked around the counter and gave Daisy a hug. Not as extreme as the one she’d given me. That would’ve clearly cracked some ribs.
“In those heels?” Daisy chuckled. “Don’t kid yourself.”
I was quickly learning Daisy was a fireball. She didn’t hold back. Not even with Aunt Sharon.
“Don’t listen to her, Sharon!” Dolly yelled from the back of the coffee shop. “She’s being her usual self this morning, a real pain in the A!”
“There you are!” Aunt Sharon leaned down to hug the other queen. “How’ve you two been?”
“You mean since you saw us Thursday?” Daisy grumbled.
Aunt Sharon laughed. “You know I have to keep tabs on you girls.”
“Why?” Daisy gave her sister the stink eye. “It ain’t like she’s anywhere close to dying.”
“Well, you’re too mean to even get sick,” Dolly replied.
“Girls!” Aunt Sharon held her hands in the air and brought them slowly down. “Let’s breathe, shall we?” Ah-ha! That’s it. She’s taking yoga. “Now, what specials y’all got for us this morning?”
“Hmmm. How about a chocolate croissant and a latte?” Dolly offered.
“Or a cinnamon roll an
d an iced coffee with vanilla sweet cream?” Daisy counter-offered.
Aunt Sharon looked at me and smiled. “There’s no such thing as a bad choice here.”
I looked through the glass at all the beautiful pastries. More desserts sat on the countertop in covered cake plates. There was also an assortment of cheesecakes and muffins the sisters had just brought out. Knowing it would be frowned upon to ask for a sample of everything, I settled on a cinnamon roll and a latte. Aunt Sharon ordered a blueberry muffin and a macchiato, paid our bill, gave them a generous tip, and told the sisters she’d get more neck hugs before she left. Then we took our goodies back to our table.
“So, tell me what’s new, Aunt Sharon,” I said, taking a bite out of my cinnamon roll, which, by the way, had to be the best in the entire country, if not the whole world.
“I’ll tell ya what’s new. Your Uncle Max thinks he’s a chef now.”
“What?” I laughed. “Do tell.”
“He bought one of those Green Egg grill thingies and suddenly he’s become the guru of marinade, baste, and dry rub. He watches the Food Network more than he watches sports now.”
“That’s pretty serious.” I chuckled.
“Honey, you don’t know the half of it. I swear, if I have to sit through one more dinner where he talks about Antonio Carluccio, or Gennaro Contaldo, or any other famous Italian chef, I might lose my mind. I am sick of hearing about Chef Boyardee.”
I about spit out my latte.
Aunt Sharon handed me a napkin. “I’m serious. Your uncle is driving me crazy. I love the man to death. And I appreciate the fact he’s taken an interest in cooking. But, goodness gravy! Read my lips! I. Do. Not. Care. About the importance of selecting the right fowl for Faraona alla Leccarda.”
I laughed and took another bite of my cinnamon roll. “I don’t know what Faraona alla Leccarda is, but it sounds delicious.”
“Honey! I’ve been doing an extra hour of cardio to keep it off my thighs!”
“Well, it’s working. You look great.”
“Thanks, sugar. I’ve been doing yoga too. Max thinks I do it to relieve the stress from my job. But that’s only partly true. I do it to cope with living with my new husband, the Italian Green Egg chef.”
I laughed out loud. Time spent with Aunt Sharon was always delightful.
She sighed. “He’s even been talking about opening a restaurant one day.”
“And the kitchen will be stocked with half a dozen Green Egg grills.” I giggled.
“You know it!” She chuckled.
“If the Egg thingies don’t work out, he can always serve his famous spaghetti.” We laughed at poor Uncle Max’s expense. “Speaking of spaghetti, where’s little Miss Cricket?”
“At Groomingdale’s. The owners expanded, so now it’s like a doggie daycare. Cricket gets to hang out and be pampered while I’m at work.”
“And watch soap operas and drink daiquiris all day?”
“Bite yo tongue, child! Cricket’s a Cosmo girl!”
We giggled some more. Aunt Sharon took a bite of her muffin and washed it down with her macchiato. “So, what’s new with you?” Before I could answer, she said, “You look fabulous too, by the way.” Then she waved her hands around in the air like Cinderella’s fairy godmother. “I’m loving this hairdo. And the dress. And your makeup! I mean, this whole thing ya got going on here. It just works!” She winked at me, threw up the “okay” hand signal, and sent me an air kiss.
There’s no way Aunt Sharon would ever know how much that compliment meant to me. Theatrical as it was, I knew every word came straight from the heart. Luckily, I think she missed that it made me a little emotional because she kept right on talking.
“You already told me you were in town for the reunion. That’s tonight, right?”
I nodded and took another bite of my cinnamon roll.
“And we talked about your work this morning on the phone. I’m so proud of you, baby. I really need to get my butt up to New York and visit you. We should all be ashamed for not making time to visit. I’m just gonna tell Max to put in for some time off because we are going. But it has to be before winter. You know I despise cold weather. Although I’m sure New York is beautiful at Christmas, with all the snow and lights. I bet it looks like a fairy tale.”
I nodded again and took a drink of my latte.
“And I bet New York has some real fun New Year’s Eve parties too. Oh! Speaking of parties, your momma told me the most amusing story about your night out with Katie. Honey…” Aunt Sharon reached across the table and grabbed my arm. “I need to teach you how to drink.”
That time I did spit. I coughed and laughed at the same time as my latte spewed out my nose and covered my cinnamon roll with a light mist.
“Good gracious!” Aunt Sharon jerked her hand back just in time. “Are you okay?” She handed me another napkin and started patting down the table to clean up my mess.
“I’m good.” I took the napkin and wiped my face before blotting the latte off my cinnamon roll. “I’m so sorry. How embarrassing.”
“It’s fine! Don’t you even worry about it. None of it got on either of us. That’s all that matters, right?” She chuckled and quickly changed the subject. “So, whatcha got planned for the day, all dressed up like this?”
“Not much,” I replied, thankful to bypass the conversation about the shit show. “I thought I’d do a little shopping in Destin Commons.”
“Gonna get yourself a cute outfit for tonight?”
“I dunno.” I sighed. “I’m not sure I even wanna go.”
“Are you kidding?” Aunt Sharon sat back in her chair and folded her arms in front of her chest.
I proceeded to tell her all about Katie’s secret plan to get me back in town for this reunion just to reconnect with Jackson. Then I told her Jackson and I had already reconnected, so there was really no use in me going to the reunion.
Aunt Sharon twisted her mouth and raised her eyebrows. “Well, you should still go. Let Jackson show you off.”
“I don’t think he’s interested in going, either.”
“Did ya ask him?”
“We really didn’t talk about the reunion.” The corners of my mouth curled, and I think I may have blushed a little.
“Uh-huh.” Aunt Sharon smiled and crammed the last bite of muffin in her mouth.
“He sure knows how to kiss,” I accidentally said through an exhale. Then I quickly looked at Aunt Sharon, who’d stopped chewing and had a surprised look on her face. I grinned with embarrassment. “Oops. I can’t believe I just blurted that out.”
Aunt Sharon lifted her eyebrows and smiled as she slowly started chewing again. As soon as she swallowed, she asked, “So what did ya talk about?”
“Everything.” I beamed.
She made a circular hand gesture for me to elaborate while she washed down her muffin.
I shrugged. “His life since the accident. His business. Savannah. My job. Everything that’s happened over the last decade. All the good…” I looked at my latte and felt my grin slowly fade. “And all the bad.”
I was quiet for a few seconds, trying to put my thoughts together. Aunt Sharon had always been so easy to talk to because she’s such a great listener. So considerate, so kind and caring. I chewed my lips and debated whether I should tell her my story. The whole story. About the rape. Part of me wanted to keep it a secret from the world, locked away in a safe place so no one else would ever find out. And the other part of me wanted to spill my guts because deep down I knew I needed the support, and probably even some professional advice. She had the experience and the resources to help me. But it was still so difficult to talk about. I was embarrassed and ashamed. Plus, I’d have to face the humiliation of having kept it a secret for so many years.
“Rebecca?” She reached over and gently rubbed my arm. “Are you all right?”
I could feel my heart beating faster as my eyes began to sting. When I looked up to meet her gaze, she pressed her lips and
raised one eyebrow. Dammit! Now I have to tell her. Okay, I thought, swallowing the lump in my throat. Here goes nothing. For the next half hour, I held myself together and exposed Aunt Sharon to the horrible skeleton in my closet.
“During my freshman year, my sorority had paired with a fraternity for a philanthropy event to raise money for a children’s charity. After the event, there was a big party at the frat house. I’d only had a few sips of beer, but a good friend of mine was plastered. He told me he felt sick and asked me to help him to his room, so I did. We sat on his bed and talked for a little while, and then he kissed me. At first, I kissed him back. But he started putting his hands all over me, so I pushed him away and got up to leave. He grabbed me by the arm, threw me on the bed, and told me I wasn’t going anywhere. Then he started pulling at my clothes, trying to lift my shirt. I yelled at him to stop and tried to fight him off, but he wouldn’t quit. He laid on top of me and held my wrists above my head and started kissing me all over my neck and chest. I screamed and struggled to buck him off, but he was too strong and heavy. He kept kissing and groping me and telling me to stop fighting him. I cried out for help, but the music downstairs was blaring. The next thing I knew, he yanked my shorts and panties down and unzipped his pants. I was terrified. I screamed and begged him to let me go, but he put his hand over my mouth and told me to shut up, or he’d hurt me. The more I struggled and fought, the more aggressive he was, smothering me, choking me, telling me I was going to like it. Then he wrestled my legs apart, grabbed me by the throat, and shoved himself inside of me. The pain was blinding. I could feel my skin ripping. I pleaded with him to stop, but he kept ramming me, tearing me open.”
I realized I was trembling, so I paused and took a deep breath. Aunt Sharon’s hand was still on my arm, but she was clenching it now, and glaring at me with tear-filled eyes.
Worth the Risk Page 21