The Beach House (33 page)

“I can and I have. Cara can help me. She has quite a good head for figures.” She paused to choose her words. “I don’t mean to contradict your own figures, Palmer, but Bobby Lee assured me that I do not have to move out of my beach house. I have more than enough money to stay here for as long as I need to.” Her lips moved into a forced cheery smile. “Isn’t that good news?”

Palmer’s face mottled. “You’re saying you don’t trust me?”

Lovie sighed. That was the truth of it, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. It would hurt him too deeply and she loved him too much. “Let’s just say I’d rather trust myself.”

“That sounds like Cara’s doing. It is, isn’t it?” he said with a scowl. “She found out how much this place is worth and wormed her way in at the eleventh hour. I’ll just bet she talked you into all this sprucing up, too. On your dime. All this time I worried it was that Toy Sooner we had to watch out for, but it was Cara setting you up against me.”

“She was doing no such thing,” Lovie said with a scold in her tone. “No one is against anyone. You’re the only one making accusations.”

“So you’re saying she isn’t behind you taking over your own finances?”

“She recommended it,” Lovie replied honestly, then, seeing the spark of indignation in his eye, she sprang to Cara’s defense. “That kind of independence comes naturally to her. You fail to recognize that she has been successful in a man’s world. I don’t know why you find that so threatening. But to be honest, she didn’t pursue that suggestion. She didn’t have to. Over the past few weeks she’s shown me the courage to confront my fears. I’ve always found confrontations difficult, as you well know. I’ve been so willing to be taken care of by the men in my life. It was just the way things were done in my generation, I suppose. So don’t go casting blame. If anything, you brought this on yourself.”

“How did I do that? By advising you to sell? By asking you to move back in with me so I could take care of you? Was that so horrible?”

“Yes. Frankly, it was. I’ve told you again and again that I don’t want to live in town any longer. I’m happy here in my little beach house. I need peace and solitude now and it suits me. But you only want me to do what
you
think I should do, what’s easiest for you, without a thought to what I might need. Or want. Cara did all this—” she waved her hand to indicate the porch and grounds “—with her own dime, as you put it, and without a single thought for herself. She did it simply to make me happy.”

“I’m just sure she didn’t have any ulterior motives,” he said sarcastically.

Lovie drew herself up. “That’s enough, Palmer. Primrose Cottage is
mine.
I’ve given up everything else that’s ever mattered to me. More than I can ever tell you. This little cottage is all I have left of the only time in my life I knew true happiness. I clung to it when your father tried to wrest it away from me. He knew I loved it—and why. And it made him quite cruel. But that only made me all the more determined that he should never succeed. I gave him my house, my money, and I see now, my self-respect. But I never gave him my heart or my memories—or this beach house. And now you want me to simply give this place up to you? Now, at the end of such a long struggle? Palmer, do you think I would sit back and let you do this? Child, you forget, I’ve wrestled with a much bigger fish.”

Palmer appeared dumbfounded. When he spoke, his eyes were wild and searching. “I don’t know what’s going on here. I’ve never heard you talk like this before! You’ve never spoken a word against Daddy. Why did he want to take everything away from you? You were his wife, for pity’s sake. You were married for forty years.”

“I counted every one of them.”

“Then tell me why?”

“It’s not for you to know, Palmer.”

He looked hurt, then his gaze cooled. “So, there it is. I’m not to know anything. But I’ll wager Cara does. I don’t know what’s going on, but ever since Cara came home, things have been different.”

She thought to herself how true that was but for reasons entirely different than he was envisioning. “Palmer, you must stop all dreams of developing this property. I also saw Ashton Etheridge. I had him draw up the legal papers. It’s all done. Primrose Cottage will go to Cara when I die. Regardless of our problematic history, she is my daughter and it is only fair and right that I leave this place to her.”

A strange light came into Palmer’s eyes.

“I know you think I don’t appreciate all you’ve done for me over the years,” Lovie said. “I do. I recognize that you work hard and are a good provider for your family. But, Palmer, there is more to life than material possessions. These meaningless things cannot bring you happiness. My darling, think of what your father left you when he passed on. How meaningful was it? Is that the same legacy you want to leave your children?”

She began to cough, long and hard, unable to calm the spasm. Palmer gripped the sides of his rocker, his eyes betraying terror at seeing his mother ill. When the coughing finally subsided, she wiped her mouth with the tissues she kept near and straightened in her chair, catching her breath.

“Mama, I—”

“Shhh…it’s all right,” she hushed as her heart gradually came back to a normal pace. She took a last, long shuddering breath. “Don’t waste your time worrying about an old woman. Your children are out there, at the beach. Go on out and play with them. They need you, Palmer.
They
are your real treasures. And you need them.”

“What I need is a drink.”

He got up from the rocker to go fix one but turned on his heel and paced the floor instead. He seemed so distraught that Lovie wanted to rise and get the drink for him, to somehow soothe his ruffled feathers. But she could see a barrage coming and steeled herself.

“Well, I’ve got to hand it to you, Mama. This is one whoppin’ Fourth of July party you’re having. You sure know how to bring on the fireworks.” He whistled sharply, bringing her back up.

“What’s next on the agenda? Are we all gonna sit down at the table like some great, big happy family?”

She opened her mouth to answer but was interrupted by the sound of a man’s throaty baritone at the front door. She recognized it as Brett’s.

“Coming!” she called out in a cheery voice. She gave Palmer a silencing look that closed his mouth, then slowly rose and hurried out to answer the door.

“Happy Fourth of July, Miss Lovie,” Brett exclaimed. His arms strained to carry a large pot of steamed crabs.

“More food? My goodness, Brett, but we’ve already got more than those tables can hold. The legs are going to give out. I hope you’re hungry!”

“Don’t you worry. I’ve been out on the boat all morning talking till I’m blue in the face. All I intend to use my mouth for tonight is eating.” He set the crabs down on the kitchen counter and, looking up, caught sight of Palmer. His ruddy, tanned face broke into a wider grin of genuine pleasure. “Hey there, Palmer!” he said, sticking out his hand.

To her relief, Palmer brought an amiable smile to his face and shook the hand offered. He was very good at turning on the charm when called for. Lovie stepped back, enjoying the sight of two handsome men catching up. Brett was taller, his auburn hair windblown. He’d cleaned up for the party but was still in an island attire of khaki shorts and a short-sleeved shirt worn open over a T-shirt. In contrast, Palmer’s blond hair was neatly trimmed and he was conservatively dressed in an expensive polo shirt and pressed trousers. She saw the way Palmer’s sharp eyes studied Brett, too, now knowing how things were between Brett and Cara. They chatted for a few minutes before Brett looked her way.

“It’s awfully quiet around here. Where is everyone?”

“They’re all down at the beach. I was just telling Palmer that he should go on down and join them. The children are having such a good time. Why don’t you two go on?”

“I’m sorry but I can’t,” Palmer replied in a formal tone. “I’ve got to make a few more rounds before the night is over. You go on down, Brett. Maybe I’ll catch you a little later.” He turned to place a perfunctory kiss on his mother’s cheek.

Lovie closed her eyes tight against the bitter disappointment she felt in her heart. When she opened them again Palmer was already leaving the house. She quickly followed him out to the porch. “Dinner will be at six,” she called to his back.

“Don’t wait on me. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“Palmer!”

He turned at the stairs to face her again, all traces of his joviality gone.

Her heart strained against her chest. “You mustn’t miss dinner. The children will be so disappointed.”

“They might as well get used to it. I had to.”

She reached out to him but he turned his back for the last time. Lovie stood on the front porch and watched her son walk away, the sound of each footfall causing her to wince.

The hatchlings remain quiet during the heat of the day, but at night, they scrape with their flippers, plowing through broken shells and compact sand, working as a team. This causes the floor of the nest to slowly rise to the surface.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I
t had been one of those dazzling, perfect summer days that Cara knew she would keep tucked away in her memories forever. The sun shone high in a cloudless sky, the ocean was refreshingly cool and the onshore breezes kept the bugs at bay. They stayed out for the whole glorious day, catching their second wind when Brett showed up with a long-tailed kite that looped joyously overhead. The tide was high and, holding hands, Cara, Brett, Linnea and Cooper ran into the surf, squealing. They had great piggyback wars, she with Linnea on her shoulders and Brett with Cooper perched high and crowing on his. When the children grew sleepy, they joined Toy and Julia under the umbrellas to stretch out on towels. The warm air breezes gently dried them while the murmurings of the surf lulled the children to nap.

As the sun began its downward descent, it seemed as though all the people on the beach decided in unison that they were hungry and eager for the holiday feasts and fireworks to come. Folks stood and began folding up their beach chairs and shaking out their towels, calling children in from the water. Toy and Julia scuttled away early to help get the food laid out for dinner. Brett and Cara stayed behind with the children to gather the beach paraphernalia. Cooper ran back to the surf to rinse off his feet only to find them just as sandy by the time he returned to the group. When he made too much of a fuss and kicked the sand in frustration, Cara worried that she’d kept the children out too long and that they would fade out before the fireworks. She looked up to catch Brett’s eye. They exchanged a long look, smiled, then, by unspoken signal, agreed to ignore the child’s outburst.

Linnea stood alone a few feet off, patiently waiting to go home. Her towel was wrapped around her slender shoulders and her teeth were chattering. Cara’s heart lurched at the sight of her. She was in that tender age before hormones kicked in where girls floated somewhere between child and teen. Her white-blond hair was a sharp contrast to her pinkened skin. Cara had discovered today that Linnea was keen to see the baby turtles and she’d extracted a promise from her aunt that she could come out to Primrose Cottage for an extended visit to help baby-sit the nests. Cara looked forward to spending the time together and discovering more about her niece.

“I’m starving,” Cooper said with a pout, leaning against Cara’s leg. She looked down at the scowling tanned face.

“Are you?” she asked with a pouting expression of her own. He nodded seriously and she could feel the scrape of sand against her thigh. The poor little fellow was coated from neck to toe with salt and sand. Her heart pumped with affection. With their dark, wet hair sleeked back, their deeply tanned skin and their brown eyes fixed on one another, Cara thought someone might pass and think they were mother and son, the resemblance was so strong.

“I’m starving, too,” Brett said to the boy, coming up to rub the top of Cooper’s head with his hand. He rested it atop Cara’s shoulder. Cooper turned his head to squint up at the tall man as though trying to figure things out.

Cara felt part of a strange tableau, one that depicted a typical American family celebrating an American holiday. She hadn’t believed in such visions, or the feelings of sweetness and contentment that were running through her at the moment.

“Okeydokey,” Cara replied to both her guys. “We have a mountain of food waiting for you up at the house. If everyone will just grab something to carry, we’ll head up for hot showers, clean clothes and a feast. Linnea, are you ready, honey? Cooper, you can take the lead.”

By the time they’d showered and changed into clean clothes, the tables were overflowing with fried chicken, steamed crabs and shrimp, corn on the cob, pickles, all kinds of greens and salads, biscuits, four pies and two cakes. Lovie lorded over the feast attending to every detail and decoration. Her wispy hair was pinned back from her face and she’d carefully applied her favorite red lipstick, which perfectly complemented her red dress.

In the twinkling fairy lights she appeared to Cara as the charming, vibrant hostess she once was. Cara thought back on all the times she’d watched her mother at the many parties her parents had given at the Charleston house. Caterers in black carried trays of delicious-smelling appetizers and champagne while her mother glided through the rooms chatting with her guests, making introductions, then whirling back into the kitchen to supervise the staff. The huge parties had been an enormous amount of work. But even though she knew her mother was exhausted, Lovie had made it appear effortless.