At her mother’s front door, Ella tried to take it all in. She remembered Hank mentioning he had family on the West Coast, including a cousin he adored but never saw. But that was ten years ago. She knew absolutely nothing about Pammy Lockhart.
“Hank said he was gonna contact you and let you know I was hoping to meet up.” Pammy scratched the side of her nose, sniffed, and crossed her arms over her voluptuous chest. Then she proceeded to look anywhere but at Ella. For some reason, she found the edge of the roof fascinating.
“Oh, okay,” Ella said, striving for cool. “He did get in touch last night. I-I just haven’t been able to call him yet. Thanks for coming by to meet me. Are you visiting for a few days?”
“I live here.”
“Oh!” Ella couldn’t help sounding surprised. Every part of her body went on high alert—not because of Pammy herself but because of her relationship to Hank. “Welcome to Charleston,” she tacked on, and tried to sound upbeat and warm, even as she wondered how Pammy had found her at her mother’s house.
Pammy looked down and scuffed a boot on Mama’s welcome mat. “Your roof’s wonky,” she said quietly, then looked up at Ella with those gorgeous eyes.
She looked lonely, which immediately touched Ella’s heart.
“The roof is wonky?” Ella eked out.
“Yep. It’s drooping on one side. When did you last have it inspected? The shingles look like sh—”
“Don’t say it.” Ella grinned and held her finger to her mouth. “My grandmothers can hear really well, although they pretend not to. And they get upset at bad language.”
Pammy started to say something beginning with an F, but caught herself just in time. She nodded. “What the hey. I can go with that.”
“Good,” said Ella. “I don’t know about the shingles. But would you—would you like to come in? I mean, please do come in. I’ll make you some tea. Or coffee.” She held the door wide.
“I could go for a beer,” Pammy said when she walked over the threshold in military-style boots.
Ella could use a beer too. “Sorry, Mama and the nonnas—my grandmothers—don’t drink beer. But if you’d like a good glass of wine—”
“Nah,” Pammy said. “I’ve never developed a taste for it.” She laughed.
Ella liked her for being honest.
By this time, they’d made it to the kitchen, Pammy stomping in her boots. She tilted her chin to the ceiling. “Interesting guy up there. He’s hot.”
Jupiter was pretty hot. “My sisters and I painted him,” Ella said. “We used a GQ model as inspiration.”
“Nice,” said Pammy. “Oh, and tap water’s good.”
Ella got her visitor some water and wondered how the nonnas were going to take her. Maybe she and Pammy had better hang out in the kitchen for a little while first.
“Ella! Who is it?” cried Nonna Sofia.
“Ellaaaaa!” yelled Nonna Boo. “I heard the doorbell. Who was it?”
“We’ll be right there!” Ella called to them, then said to Pammy, “We’ll go in and meet them in a minute. First, tell me, how’d you find me here at my mother’s house?”
“Easy,” said Pammy. “I stalked you online.”
“Okay, then.” Ella was going to go with the flow.
“Didn’t even have to pay. Found you right away. Lots of Mancinis in Charleston. And I think you’re all related.”
“We are.”
“I checked your apartment first, then came here next. Hank said you were close to your mother.”
“What else did he tell you?”
“Nothing. Except you used to date. I remember that from a long time ago. But just barely, as in ‘Cousin Hank is dating some chick who acts too.’ Sorry. I was West Coast. He was East. And ne’er the twain shall meet. Except through airplanes. And you know how that goes.”
Pammy was warming up to her, which was good.
“No worries,” Ella said. “So tell me more about stalking me then.” She was trying to be flattered that Pammy had sought her out. She wondered if Hank, as a Hollywood A-lister, had to live with being incessantly stalked.
Of course he did.
“You can learn so much through Google,” Pammy said. “Your mother is sixty. And you’re my age. There’s a picture of you lying on your side in a bikini with a big red balloon on your shoulder. How’d you do that?”
“Spring break, Tampa. Junior year in college. Duct tape.”
“Why?”
“It was spring break. Don’t you do that in Oregon?”
“Not me. I never went to college. I got straight into carpentry. While you were on spring break, I was probably building kitchen cabinets in Bend. I’m often surrounded by sweaty carpenter guys in tool belts, so that’s kind of like spring break, isn’t it?”
“I think so.”
“I didn’t check to see if you had any arrests—”
“That was kind of you.”
“Your Uncle Sal owns a pizza parlor on Wentworth Street,” Pammy said.
Which was one reason Ella had issues with her weight: Uncle Sal’s calzones. “He does,” she said, and wondered what else Pammy had found out about her family. “I’m glad you found me, but tell me more about what’s going on with you?”
“It’s a little embarrassing,” Pammy said, her tone uncertain. “Long story short, I’m not supposed to be homesick at my age. And I’ve been doing really well here. But now that I have a regular routine and can look up from all the chaos that comes from moving someplace new, I feel a bit lost. I was hoping to connect with someone in town who at least knows of me, however distant the connection. That would be you.”
Ella handed her the water and shot her a warm smile. “I’m glad you found me. I’m happy to help you settle in. Before you know it, Charleston will feel like home.”
Pammy took a huge gulp of water then decided to chug the whole thing. She gasped at the end and handed the glass back to Ella.
She put it in the dishwasher and hid a smile. Pammy wasn’t polished. But she was interesting. Over the years, Ella had come to find that Charlestonians loved truly interesting people. “Where are you living?”
“In a converted carriage house behind a big mansion facing the harbor.”
“Wow. That must be great.” Those little historic homes that used to house servants and horses were adorable.
“The mansion and the carriage house are owned by Beau Wilder, the movie star. Hotter than hell but married. Sadly.”
Ella grinned. “Yes, he is cute. And definitely off the market. His wife Lacey is awesome.”
“He and his whole family are in England at the moment,” Pammy said. “He’s filming.”
“I didn’t know that.” Ella wiped some droplets of olive oil off the counter.
“They won’t be back for a month, and, well, every night we ate dinner together, and I played with their kid. I felt kind of part of a family, even though they’re not as close to Hank as you used to be.”
Ella tried not to sound pained about the “used to be.” She’d focus instead on the fact that Pammy obviously needed some company. “Hey,” she said in an assuring tone, “especially while the Wilders are gone, I’ll be happy to try to fill in some missing social gaps for you.”
Pammy grinned. “Thanks.”
“Of course,” said Ella. “Do you have a job here?”
“Yes, at the Charleston School of the Building Arts. I’m a professor of architectural carpentry. I teach student-apprentices historic-home renovation. I’m working on Beau and Lacey’s house in my spare time.”
“Wow, you must be really talented.” The Charleston School of the Building Arts was the only place in the entire country someone could get a college degree and also become a master craftsman.
“Thanks. It’s so exciting to be a part of it. Which is why—” Pammy hesitated.
“Why what?” Ella coaxed her.
Pammy sighed. “Why I don’t like that I’m having trouble finding my groove. It’s so different from Bend. I’ve never lived anywhere else. Until now.” She hesitated. “I love the faculty at the building school, but they’re all married or paired off. And I can’t socialize with the students.”
Ella smiled. “Well, we can hang out, okay? And I’ll introduce you to a bunch of people.”
“That’ll be great. I think I’ve been relying on the Wilders too much, too.”
“I get that. When I moved to Charleston as an eighteen-year-old college freshman, I felt weird, too, coming from the Bronx down to the slower, more sedate South. My roommate Macy’s family took me in a lot. That helped a lot with the transition.”
Pammy nodded. “And this place is really Southern. They all drink tea with tons of sugar in it. All day.”
“Yes, they do.” Ella chuckled. “Did you do historic-home renovation in Bend?”
“Some,” Pammy said. “We have some nice Craftsman-era houses out there, but most of the stuff I worked on was in San Francisco. But only a month at a time. I plan to live in Charleston for years, not skedaddle home whenever the mood hits me.”
Ella was nervous for Pammy. Excited for her too. And worried. Very worried. She didn’t need to have her own equilibrium disturbed—her happy Lowcountry life—by Hank. But now her former lover had a vested interest in Charleston, in her city.
There was room for Pammy in Ella’s life. But not for him.