I packed my pretty little car (which left them all slack jawed) with some more clothes and small household items that meant nothing to anyone but me, said good-bye to my children and Holly once more, and began the long drive back to Charleston. Now that I had a car that could sync to a phone I could talk while driving, but for most of the trip there were no cell-phone towers nearby so it didn’t really matter because I couldn’t get a signal. When I reached the Columbia area, I had service galore, so I called Jonathan, and to my disappointment, my call went to voice mail. He was probably with a patient, so I left a message that I’d be in around four. “Let’s have dinner!” I said and hoped he was free.
When I got back to Harlan’s, he wasn’t at home but, always considerate, he’d left a note to say he was out running errands and he’d meet up with me after five. Miss Jo or Miss JP, the dog with two names, met me with a wagging tail and lots of kisses. She was wearing a new monogrammed blue oxford cloth shirt. I’d bet anything that Harlan was too. It was so nice to have a happy dog to come home to, some ten pounds or so of happiness, eager to see you.
“Come on, sweetheart,” I said. “I bet you’d like a breath of fresh air.”
I let Miss Jo out through the French doors in the den to visit the garden and poured myself a glass of iced water. It was a hot and very humid day. I watched her prance around, sniffing every blade of grass. Even in deep summer Harlan’s garden was still fragrant and beautiful. She scampered back inside and I closed the doors to keep the heat and bugs at bay.
The next project to tackle was to relocate my roll-on bag from the foyer up to my room to unpack. I began lugging it up the steps, wondering why I took so many heavy shoes from Atlanta when I knew the dastardly stairs were waiting for me at the end of my trip. Those priceless stairs I once adored were now mocking me with their steep pitch. Harlan seriously needed an elevator. We weren’t getting any younger, and I decided right then and there that any house I bought in Charleston would have one or else the house would have to be all on one level. There was no sense in dropping dead from steps. I wasn’t Rocky Balboa, for heaven’s sake.
I couldn’t help thinking over and over how terribly sad it was that my marriage was coming to an end. But it was. Everything on this earth had a life span. Wes and I had simply outlived the life span of our marriage. In fact, the time for it to groan to a close was long gone. It was so hard to walk away, especially because my future was so uncertain and I wasn’t so young. The reality that I was actually planning my final act hit me again. I wasn’t leaving Wes to run to Jonathan like Harold had flown to Cornelia. I was leaving Wes because I just couldn’t live in that dead horse life for one more day. Worse than everything, I had a nagging going on in the back of my brain that I needed something larger than a dead horse to justify leaving. My personal unhappiness and deep feelings of unfulfillment didn’t seem important enough. But wasn’t that how women of my generation had been programmed? The good woman, the exemplary mother and wife put the needs, happiness, and dreams of everyone else before her own. We were at the disposal of our family around the clock throughout the year until we drew our last breath. Therein lay my guilt. I reminded myself to love myself more, especially now.
It was probable that for a long while or maybe for the rest of my life I would mourn the surrender of my house, and I knew it. In every corner there was a memory of something—the children, Christmas trees and turkeys, and all the birthday and cocktail parties we used to give. Dinners around our table, all the nights I snuggled up on the sofa with my children watching movies, sleepovers and Halloweens and Easter egg hunts. I was so proud of that old house that had sheltered us through everything life threw our way. It certainly wasn’t the grandest home in Atlanta, but our fingerprints were on its every square inch. Maybe Wes would give it to Charlotte. If he did, maybe I’d will my yet-to-be-found house to Bertie. What I’d miss the most was seeing Charlotte and Holly practically every day. But as I’ve said before, the only chance Charlotte had of becoming a devoted mother would be if I wasn’t so available to her. I really believed that with all my heart. It was too easy to put Holly in my care, and I had such a terrible time saying no.
And maybe I was feeling melancholy at the moment, but, weirdly, I felt like I’d even miss Wes. Not in the sense of how I’d miss a red-hot lover, someone who’d broken my heart, leaving me for a prettier girl. But Wes and I were friends in an odd way. At least I liked to think we were. And there had been some good years. I had already decided that if Wes got sick again, I’d go back to Atlanta and help him if he wanted me to. And I was going to walk into Molly’s wedding by his side, sit with him, and be polite to him. There was no reason to steal one bit of thunder from Molly’s special day. But the miser owed me a phone call to give me his decision on my offer. He had six days left, and I wasn’t playing around on this. I couldn’t or else things between us would revert back to how they had always been with Wes calling all the shots. That would force me to file for divorce.
I opened my suitcase to unpack but then decided to call Danette to catch up. I’d been so busy in Atlanta with the therapy marathon that I’d not had the time to touch base. I went to the kitchen for another cold drink and dialed her number.
“So what’s new?” I asked.
“Do you have a seat belt on and an oxygen tank nearby?”
“No, why?”
“Well, girl? Set yerself down and get comfy cozy. You ain’t gone beeee—lieve . . .”
When Danette used her supercharged teeny-tiny Southern town twang, I knew I was in for some juicy headlines.
She rolled out the story of Cornelia and Shawn. I was absolutely aghast. Then, after a minute or two of being properly horrified and blustering with indignation, we nearly died laughing.
“Holy hell! What did Harold do?” I said. “I can just see his face!”
“Molly said he threw a conniption fit with Cornelia the likes of which could light Atlanta in a blackout. I’ve never heard him go crazy like that, not in all our years. I didn’t even know he had all that fury in him! Anyway, Molly was out of her mind with anger. It was awful for her, the poor thing.”
“Do you blame her?”
“Of course not! But listen, here’s what really frightened me. She was about an inch away from calling off the whole wedding. I sat her down and said, ‘You listen to your mother. You and Shawn are perfect together. Don’t let your daddy’s whore ruin your life. Besides, this whole nasty business happened a long time ago, so get over it!’ ”
“Excellent advice. Tell her that her auntie Les said to take this story, put it in a box in her mental attic, and never open it again.”
“You’re right. Women have to forget a whole lot of things if they want to stay married, and not just from husbands. There are about a thousand boxes in my attic. Anyway, the latest poop is that Cornelia has moved out.”
“Well, that’s probably the first noble thing she’s ever done in her worthless life, bless her heart.”
“Amen. I mean, we’re as modern a family as there ever was . . .”
“Come on. Really?”
“Okay, we’re not so modern. Truth? Once that dreadful cat was out of the bag, it was just way too awkward for my blood.”
“I completely agree. And the good news is that you don’t have to look at her at Molly’s wedding.”
“Thank heavens! In her miserable size two dress.”
“Girl? Speaking of? You haven’t even told me what you’re wearing!”
“Oh, please. I’ve got about ten different dresses laid out in the guest room and every day I change my mind!”
“I’ll bet! Well, I’m wearing a little navy blue dress if that’s okay. The MOG isn’t wearing navy, I hope.”
“No, she’s wearing burgundy. So, I told Harold, I said, ‘Honey? If you lay down with dogs, you get up with fleas.’ He didn’t want to hear it.”
“No, I imagine he didn’t. I love that saying.”
I could hardly take a breath without laughing again.
“And the other fast-breaking news is Lisette packed up her little red wagon and . . .”
When Danette was finished with that story, I could hardly take it all in.
“Danette? Stop! This is like winning the lottery of all gossip! I need to catch my breath! My Lord, Paolo’s girls are something else. I live vicariously through them for Tessa’s sake.”
“Me too. And of course, Suzanne and Alicia are both in the wedding. Gotta love those two.”
“I do! Well, listen, more to come on them all, I’m sure, but in the meanwhile I have a few things to tell you.”
I told Danette about finding the money and the therapy and that for the foreseeable future, I’d be living in Charleston, riding around in my new Benz. Wearing diamond earrings. I thought she would die laughing all over again and that I would too. However, I didn’t tell her the details of the offer I’d made Wes. It didn’t seem like the right time. When Wes and I had everything worked out, then I’d tell her. Besides, Danette, as anyone would expect, was in wedding overdrive.
“So I don’t want you to worry about the bridal brunch,” I said. “I’ve booked it at Loews in midtown. The New Wes is happy to pay the bill.”
“You must have scared the absolute devil out of him.”
“I did. Therapy was pretty much an exorcism. But believe it or not, he’s still half clueless. Anyway, Loews has a great-looking restaurant called eleven. Check it out on the web. Does eleven to two sound good for a time?”
“Perfect! All the out-of-town guests are staying there because it’s so close to the club. I’m putting together hospitality baskets for all the rooms with all the information they need for the weekend and of course some treats and a bottle of wine. And the hotel is giving us a hospitality suite where people can meet and talk.”
“Great. Don’t forget to give them corkscrews! And I’d throw in a peach, a Vidalia onion, and a Coke!”
“An onion?”
“Yeah, with a recipe on how to fry onion rings! Give them a packet of the White Lily mix?”
“Oh, gosh, I miss you, Les. You’re so funny.”
“And I miss you. But I’m going to see you soon, and your beautiful daughter is going to be queen for a day! I can’t wait. Now, how are those tango lessons going?”
“Fab. I’ll tell you. Les, a younger man? Oooh-weee, baby. He’s something else. And wait until you see my yard! It’s beyond anything I could’ve imagined. We’re having the rehearsal party here. I found beautiful red and yellow paper lanterns to hang everywhere all above us in the trees. It’s going to be a gorgeous party, if the weather holds, that is.”
“Sounds amazing. And how are the groom’s folks?”
“Shawn’s mother is a living doll and his father too. They’re so relieved they don’t have to do a thing except pay the caterer, the florist, and smile.”
“Well, didn’t we say months ago that a big party is too hard to manage from a distance, especially if you don’t know the town? Wait! They don’t know about this business with Cornelia, do they?”
“I see no reason to tell them anything, do you? If Shawn didn’t tell them, why would I?”
“Heavens, no! I wouldn’t tell them either. When you get a head count for the brunch, let me know, okay? I’ll get the invitations in the mail as soon as you send me a mailing list. If you have e-mails, I can do evites too. Maybe we should just add the brunch to the itinerary for out-of-towners? We don’t want the Yankees wandering around eating out of vending machines when they could be eating eggs Benedict with us.”
“Excellent idea. I’ll e-mail you the list this afternoon. I think we’re about fifty.”
“Great!”
Wes was going to choke.
We talked for a few more minutes, and then we hung up, promising to speak in the next few days.
So Cornelia and Lisette were back on the streets and had to stake out new victims, did they? I’d bet they were already waxing their southern climes and making cupcakes for some poor women’s unsuspecting husbands. Wow, I thought again, Cornelia had an affair with her almost stepson-in-law? That wasn’t even redneck—it was downright nasty! Did Wes know this? Of course, he must! Why hadn’t he told me? I could just see him at the club with Harold and Paolo, all of them consoling themselves with big steaks and lobsters and martinis. Laughing. I’d bet they were laughing and having a good time. Oh, so what if they were? I needed to make sure I didn’t fall into that trap of thinking they all had a better deal than I did. And there wasn’t a single thing I missed about any of them beyond some nostalgic twinges of our shared past in better days. I went back upstairs to unpack. My clothes were all put away.
“Thank you!” I called out.
Later on, downstairs, I checked the refrigerator to see what there was that I might rustle up for dinner and there wasn’t more than some cheese, olives, and pickles. I could pull together some finger food for cocktails, but other than that, we were going to have to go out.
My cell phone rang and I answered it without checking the caller ID. It was Jonathan.
“I knew you were back!” he said. “Suddenly the sun’s brighter and I’m in a better mood for no good reason at all.”
“Thanks! Boy, it’s good to hear your voice! Can we have dinner?”
“I can come by late, after dinner. We’ve got a department meeting tonight. Usually they cater in something like bologna sandwiches, which are darned hard to resist. All that yellow mustard and mushy lettuce.”
“Sounds delish. Sure, just call me first, okay? I’m a little tired from the drive and all.”
“Yeah, you must be. So how did it go?”
“How did it go? The therapy? You know, I think it went well, given all the issues. Wes is probably of another opinion. But anyway, at least we know where we stand with each other and coming to an understanding is very important.”
“So what’s the understanding?”
“I may not know where or exactly how I’m going to live out my days, but I’m certain it won’t be with him. It’s very sad. Anyway, want to go house shopping with me?”
“You bet! I love snooping around other people’s houses and seeing how they live. You know, check out their medicine cabinets for what they take and bedside table drawers for who knows what? To see how they get crazy in the middle of the night!”
“Jonathan! Naughty boy! I never knew that about you!” The devil!
“Ah, madam, I have many surprises in store for you. Stick around!”
“I will! So call me later?”
“Yep. Count on it.”
I had a few stories to tell him too.
As predicted, at five o’clock Miss JP barked, the front door opened, and Harlan was home. I was in the den reading Splendid in Ashes by Josephine Pinckney. It was terrific.
“I’m back!” he called out.
“In here!” I called back.
I got up and met him in the kitchen. He gave me a hug and scooped up Miss Jo, who washed his face with kisses. And, yes, they both wore monogrammed blue shirts, but Miss Jo’s had short puffed sleeves.
“All right now! That’s enough!” he said. “So how was your trip?”
“There’s a lot to tell. Want to go to Magnolias? There’s not diddly squat in the refrigerator.”
“I know. I’m on a diet. I gained eight pounds in Italy. Can you believe? But sure, let’s go have supper. Where’s Jonathan?”
“Department meeting. He might stop by later.”
“Great. Let me just put away my dry cleaning and all this stuff and we can get out of here. Want to walk?”
“Definitely. Just leave it by the stairs. Victoria Rutledge is in an unpacking mood!”
Minutes later we were walking up East Bay Street until we reached the ancient building that housed Magnolias, one of our favorite restaurants in the city. It was early, so they were able to take us right away and we were seated at a small table in the front room. There was a fever of pouring water, bringing menus and bread, did we want a cocktail and wasn’t it hot today? Vodka and tonics with extra limes would be great, and before you could say Robert E. Lee, we were sipping away. This was why we loved Magnolias. Great service, friendly, beautiful, and casual, all at the same time. Not to mention delicious.
“I’m possessed. All I can think about is shrimp and grits with bits of chorizo and tasso gravy,” Harlan said, reading the menu. “I should be eating broiled fish with lemon juice. If I had any discipline.”
“And you could get hit by a truck tomorrow,” I said.
The server approached the table.
“Y’all ready to order?” she said.
“I’ll have the shrimp and grits,” Harlan said, adding with a straight face, “because I could get hit by a truck.”
I giggled, and Harlan looked sheepish.
“Yes, sir,” the server said. “And for you, ma’am?”
“Oh!” Harlan said. “How rude of me! I should’ve asked you to order first, Les, but I knew if I didn’t just go for it, I’d change my mind.”
“I’ll have the same thing,” I said. “Don’t worry, Harlan. I’ll always be your partner in crime.”
“Our poor cholesterol,” he said. “Now tell me about your trip.”
“Wes is such a knucklehead it’s unbelievable.”
“This is not news, little sister. Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Okay.”
For the next thirty minutes, I told him about what I had offered Wes as a deal and he said he thought it was very smart.
“If you’re not ready to file for divorce and go through the whole discovery process, this is a brilliant deal and more than fair.”
“Well, he’s got a week to agree, and if he doesn’t, I guess I’ll have to retain a lawyer. And then there’s wedding news.”
For another thirty minutes, I told him about Molly, Shawn, Cornelia and Harold, and Paolo and Lisette. I threw in an update on Danette, Nader, and their tango lessons.
“I hate weddings. Truly I do,” he said. “But I’d pay money to go to this one.”
“You don’t have to. All you have to do is get in the car.”
“And have Wes go crazy?”
“Screw Wes. It’s not his party. Listen, you haven’t seen my children in years. And you’ve never met Holly. Don’t you think it’s time? I’ll call Danette. She’ll be thrilled! You can stay with me in the hotel. I’ve got a junior suite with two queen-size beds at the new Loews. And I’m hosting the bridal brunch. You can help me.”
“I’ve heard it’s gorgeous, and I did just pick up my tuxedo from the cleaners . . . are you sure?”
“Positive. We’ll have a wonderful time!”
We scraped up our remaining spoons of grits with the last biscuits and smiled over how bold we were.
“Do you want dessert?” I said.
“Absolutely. Let’s split the strawberry shortcake . . . as long as we’re going to hell, we may as well make it worth it.”
“I agree. Then they can roll us home.”
Harlan’s laundry was still in the foyer when we got back to the house.
“She didn’t put your stuff away,” I said, stating the obvious.
“One should never assume when dealing with the dead.”
It was around nine when the house phone rang. We were watching a PBS special about the Metropolitan Opera. I thought it might be Jonathan. Harlan picked it up.
“Hello?” he said. “Who? Oh, Wes!” Pause. “Fine, thank you. And you?” I muted the television, and Harlan made the crazy symbol on the side of his head with his free hand. “Of course. She’s right here.” Pause. “You too, Wes.”
As he handed me the phone he mouthed, What’s wrong with him?
“So much,” I whispered and took the receiver. “Hello, Wes? Is everything all right?”
“Oh, yeah. So you got back okay?” he said.
“Yes. Thanks. I texted Charlotte. She didn’t tell you?”
“No, but that’s okay. So I have news. My doctor called. I’m fine.”
“Oh, Wes! That’s wonderful. You must be so relieved.”
“Yeah, it was on the voice mail when I got home. And guess what else?”
“I couldn’t begin to guess.”
“Your daughter has a date. With that Oriental guy? Dr. Chen, my surgeon?”
“You must be kidding.”
“Nope. Bertie offered to babysit. And are you sitting down?”
“No, but I will.” I sank into the armchair where Harlan had been. “Okay, I’m sitting.”
“Bertie has a job interview with CNN next week.”
“With CNN?”
“Yep. They’re looking to fill some kind of a job called deputy photo editor, whatever that is. But you have to be a photography expert and he is that. He sent in his résumé and they called him back right away. They want to see his portfolio.”
Charlotte had a date with a surgeon, and Bertie had a job interview.
“Wes? Did you slip something in their food?”
“Les, if there was a drug that could make this happen, we would’ve given it to them a long time ago.”
“Well, Wes, we finally agree on something.”
“Yeah. Maybe things are going to turn around with those two. And if it does, all the credit goes to you. I see now what hell you’ve been through with them.”
“Thanks. I guess it’s a wait-and-see game now, right?” My cell phone was ringing in my purse. “Okay, Wes, I’ll talk to you later.”
“Is that another phone ringing I hear? Isn’t that your cell?”
“It’s Harlan’s cell,” I lied. Whoever was calling me was none of Wes’s business. “Well, I’m really glad to hear about your results, Wes. That’s the most important thing.”
I motioned to Harlan to answer my phone, which he did. He mouthed Jonathan to me. I motioned to him to talk to him for a few minutes. He nodded and took the phone out to the dining room.
“If you don’t have health,” he said.
“You don’t have anything,” I said, finishing the old but true saying.
Then I simply got quiet to indicate I’d said all I wanted to say.
“Okay then,” he said. “We’ll talk later.”
Sensing that I was frantic to get off the phone with him, he let me go.
“Okay, then. Bye.”
Harlan came back and handed me my cell phone.
“Jonathan?”
“Hi! Is it too late for a nightcap? Or I could just whisk you out to the beach with me and we could have a glass of something under the stars.”
“I’m pretty tired, babe. Why don’t you just stop over for a short one. I want to see your face.”
“I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”
“Great,” I said and clicked the end button.
“It’s raining men, hallelujah!” Harlan sang and danced a little spastic disco.
“Stop!” I said, laughing.
“I’ve got to practice up for the wedding. Honey, if anybody else signs on the Leslie bandwagon, we’re gonna have to put a switchboard in the house!”
“Hush! Is there a cold bottle of white wine in the fridge? I have to pour something.”
“Make vodka tonics in insulated traveler cups and take him for a walk on the Battery wall. It’s almost a full moon tonight.”
“That’s a great idea!”
“Leonard and I used to do that all the time. The cups are in the pantry closet. There’s a lonely lime in the hydrator.”
“Thanks!” I wondered if Harlan would ever find another partner. He rarely spoke a word about his personal life. Everything was all about work.
A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. I went to answer it, and there was Jonathan in patch madras trousers and a navy blazer. He pulled me to him and hugged me something fierce.
“You are too adorable,” I said.
“And you are more beautiful every time I see you.”
How could I not love this man? He came in to say hello to Harlan.
“Hey!” Jonathan said, and Harlan stood and shook hands with him. “I haven’t seen you since Italy! How was it?”
Miss Jo jumped from her bed and then danced and yipped all around Jonathan’s feet, trying to get his attention. Jonathan picked her up, and she licked him all over his chin.
“She’s been cheating on me all over town,” Harlan said. “Italy is the most glorious place in the world. I had a truly wonderful trip.”
“That’s great! Okay, you little minx, I’m putting you down now!” Jonathan put Miss Jo on the floor, where she promptly stood on her hind legs, begging to be picked up again. “I keep telling your sister that I’m going to take her to Italy whenever she wants to go.”
Miss Jo was relentless in her dancing.
“Miss Josephine Pinckney!” Harlan said, and the lights flickered all over the house. “Where are your manners?” The lights flickered again and Harlan added, talking to the thin air, “I mean my dog, not you!”
“What am I missing? Do you need an electrician?” Jonathan said.
“Maybe,” I said and winked at Harlan. “Come on, I’ve got a treat for us. And I need to walk off some butter.”
I screwed the tops on the cups, handed Jonathan one, and put the house key in my pocket. Jonathan followed me up Chalmers Street until I looped my arm through his and touched his cup with mine.
“Cheers!” I said. “It’s a light vodka and tonic.”
“Cheers! Great!” he said. “So talk to me.”
“Oh, Jonathan, it’s been quite the soap opera this week.”
We walked until we reached the Battery, and then we strolled along the elevated wall. I told him about the therapy sessions.
“You were right,” I said. “Wes never heard almost anything I said.”
Then I gave him the lowdown on Cornelia and Shawn.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said. “Run that one by me again, please?”
“Yeah, is that the most hideous coincidence ever?”
“You know, Atlanta is the fast lane of the South, well, next to the Big Easy, but here in Charleston? We’re like the Chinese, eating rice and worshipping our ancestors. Very conservative. Although I’m certain a fair amount of illicit screwing around goes on, I’m usually not privy to the details. All that being said, that is some story, all right. Wow. Don’t you need your personal physician to be your escort?”
“Oh, Jonathan, I already invited Harlan. I’m sorry.”
“And no doubt Wes will be there, right?”
“Yes, this is his best friend’s daughter who’s the bride. We’ve known them since they were born.”
“Then you don’t need any more excitement than you’ve already got. You’d better make sure you video it. I can only imagine. Wow.”
“Yeah, the word ‘wow’ was invented for a situation like this. That’s for sure.”
“My God. When’s this wedding?”
“Weekend after next.”
“I can’t wait to hear every detail. By the way, next Wednesday? Don’t make any plans, okay?”
“Oh, Jonathan, that’s my . . .”
“Birthday. I know. You think I’d forget my first true love’s birthday? I’ve thought about you on that day for the last forty years. When’s mine?”
“January twenty-fifth,” I said and smiled. “And I have too. Thought about you, that is.”
“You don’t have plans, do you?”
“Actually, no. I don’t.”
Some public display of affection ensued, right there on the Battery for everyone to see.
“Good. I’ve got something special planned.”
And Wes wasn’t even sure when my birthday was or how old I’d be.
“We need your daddy’s car,” I said. “That Chevy.”
“It was a Pontiac. Come on, let’s get you home. I have to do rounds at seven.”
“Appalling hours,” I said. “Appalling.”
“True. You look sleepy too, sweetheart,” he said.
We began walking back to Harlan’s.
“What did you just call me?”
“Sweetheart.”
“That sounds so good coming from you.”
“I’ve called you that before,” he said and squeezed my shoulder.
“Yes, but it never sounded so good.”
On the morning of my birthday, I smelled bacon cooking. I went downstairs and there was Harlan, frying bacon and making waffles. He handed me a cappuccino.
“Hey, birthday girl! How do you feel? Old and decrepit like me?”
“Thanks! Right. You’re like a thousand years older than me! Ha! Ha! Gosh, I love cappuccino.”
“Leonard used to draw things in the foam, like smiley faces or Christmas trees.”
“You must miss him, Harlan.” I stirred the foam a little and scooped it up on my spoon. “This is like a really airy coffee meringue!”
“I miss him every minute of every day.”
“And you don’t see yourself with anyone else?”
“Honey, anyone else would be such a step down that I couldn’t deal with it. And I sort of like being unencumbered by all the complicated rules of a relationship. You know?”
“I like it too. I don’t miss Wes’s endless demands one little bit.”
“I’m sure. But you don’t think Jonathan thinks that he’s in a relationship with you?” He opened the waffle iron and pulled off two perfectly toasted waffles. “Come, let’s sit.”
“Oh, we are, but it’s not encumbering, at least not yet.” I sat at the kitchen table with him. “Mostly we’re just great friends.”
“Hmmm. Really? Well, here’s to you, little sister. Happy birthday to my favorite girl!”
He held up his juice glass and touched the edge of mine. “Cheers!”
“Thanks, Harlan. This is a beautiful way to start my sixties.”
“You’re welcome. But I have to tell you, I think Jonathan thinks y’all are more than just great friends.”
The doorbell rang and Harlan got up to answer it. He came back a few minutes later carrying a vase of red roses.
“Here we have one whole dozen half-dead roses jammed in a cheap vase filled with Styrofoam being strangled by, God save us all, baby’s breath and sword fern all tied up in the cheapest ribbon money can buy. Who do we think this vile thing is from? Two guesses.”
“Is there a card?”
“Here it is.” He pulled it off the clear plastic stick and gave it to me.
It read, See? I didn’t forget! Happy Birthday! Love, Wes.
“What can I say? It’s classic Wesley Carter.”
“Dr. FTD strikes again,” Harlan said. “He really shouldn’t have.”
“Where should we put them?” I said. I started pulling out the baby’s breath, and I untied the ribbon. They looked better right away, but honestly, I didn’t think they looked that bad.
“I don’t know. Somewhere where they won’t disturb us? These flowers are giving me anxiety.”
“Harlan? You are so bad!”
“It’s a simple matter of taste, Leslie. And Wes has so little.”
It was true, unless you were talking golf, martinis, or steaks. I couldn’t begin to count the cheap leather purses I abandoned in Atlanta.
It was seven o’clock that night when Jonathan picked me up. I could just as easily have driven myself out to the beach, but he said no, this was a special occasion and he wanted to be every inch the gentleman.
“So how was your birthday so far?”
“It was great! The kids called, Holly sang to me, and then they all sang to me again in a video Bertie e-mailed to me. And Danette called and we talked for an hour. She’s excited to see Harlan at the wedding.”
“You didn’t hear from Wes?”
“He sent some flowers.”
“Aren’t you surprised he sent anything at all? Maybe there’s a last-ditch effort in store for you when you go to Atlanta.”
“Last-ditch effort for what?”
“To regain your affection?”
“It’s not possible, but even if it was, it would take a lot more than a bunch of roses packed in Styrofoam in a vase. With baby’s breath. Which I now don’t like because Harlan said it’s gross.”
“I’m making a mental note—no baby’s breath. Ever!”
“And no Styrofoam,” I said and giggled.
As we crossed the Ravenel Bridge that spanned the Cooper River, I looked down at a cruise ship that was in port, docked there among all the container ships. It looked so pretty with all its white lights that stretched from its bow to its stern.
“Now, tell me why the cruise ships are such a problem, Jonathan. Apparently if I’m going to resume living in Charleston, I’m going to have to form an educated opinion.”
“Let’s see. Well, they dump their sewage too close to shore. Nasty. The smokestacks blow sticky black ash all over the historic district, which makes them unpopular with the South of Broad set. In addition, the passengers seem to wander around South of Broad, peering into the windows of our citizens like a tribe of Peeping Toms. And worst of all, their passengers don’t really seem to boost Charleston’s economy because they eat their meals on the boat. Maybe they buy some trinkets in the market, but that’s about it.”
“And I should like them because?”
“Well, Charleston’s entire history is all tied into being a port. And because we are reputedly the most desirable tourist destination in America, that should include those who travel by water. We have to hope that the cruise ship owners will work out their problems with the town fathers. Theoretically, they should be good for our local economy and behave as guests should.”
“Can’t they make them follow some environmental regulations? You know like, if they blow ash or drop sewage, they have to pay a fine?”
“You would think you didn’t have to legislate common decency, but since these ships are usually registered in some foreign country, they are far out of the jurisdiction of Charleston and are not bound by law to comply. Or something like that.”
“Well, that stinks.”
“Yeah, it really does.”
“You know, I look at those cruise ships and even the container ships and I wonder where they’re going and where they came from. They’re so dramatic.”
“Yes, they are. See the Yorktown down there?”
We were just passing over Patriots Point, where the decommissioned battleship the USS Yorktown was permanently docked and open as a museum to the public.
“Speaking of drama,” I said, “can you imagine leaving here to go into combat on one of those? Holy cow. Those poor boys must have been terrified.”
“No, I can’t imagine it. Have you ever been on a cruise?”
“Jonathan, I am the most undertraveled woman you know. I don’t even know if I would get seasick, but I think I might like to go on a cruise if it was a smaller boat that didn’t roll.”
“We should look into it. In fact, I’ll do that. I’d like to see Croatia and the Dalmatian Coast. It’s very popular.”
I didn’t tell him, but I wasn’t even sure where Croatia was, and the Dalmatian Coast? Was it populated with dogs?