Return to Sullivans Island (20 page)

“Right. When hell freezes.”

“That’s my girl! I’ll see you later this afternoon. Gotta water my babies.”

Beth watched Cecily back out of the yard, and as quickly as she noted the time was well past eight, she dialed Max as fast as her fingers could press the numbers on her cell phone. He did not pick up, her call went to voice mail, and her spirits sank again. Maybe he’s in the shower, she thought, and left what she hoped was an easygoing voice mail.

“Hi, Max. It’s Beth Hayes and I was wondering if there was a good time today for me to swing by and take a few pictures of you and the site for the paper. Please call me back when you have a moment. Thanks! Have a great day!”

She closed her cell phone and decided to call her Aunt Sophie. She got her voice mail as well.

“Hey, Aunt Sophie! It’s your niece Beth calling from the center of the universe here on sunny Sullivans Island, missing you and wishing you were here. Everything’s fine but, uh, when you have a minute or two, I sure would like your advice on something. Everything’s okay with the house so don’t panic. Just gimme a call? Thanks! Love you!”

She was sure her aunt would return her call but what if Max didn’t? There was nothing left to do except wait. Meanwhile she would give her article another editorial swipe and wait for her cousin to arrive. So she edited and waited and waited. The phone did not ring at all and it was now almost noon. Max was ignoring her and she was becoming upset about it. After delivering an angry tirade to the empty house, one loud enough to rattle the walls and make her throat raw but hopefully not so loud to wake the dead, she calmed down and decided to go take the pictures anyway. Maybe he had left his cell in his car or maybe it fell in water and he had not replaced it yet. There could be any number of reasons why he had not called her that had nothing to do with him ignoring her.

She decided that just in case he was romantically involved with the old bag of bones she had seen with him, she would wear a tank top. A skimpy one. But under a shirt. A shirt that she would leave more than partially unbuttoned. That should get his attention. So feeling like something of a vixen, she dressed accordingly, drove down the island, parked her car, and reapplied her lip gloss. She did not know why but for some inexplicable reason men were fascinated by glossy lips. Beth giggled thinking that perhaps it was because they could see their own reflection like Narcissus. She got out and started shooting the scores of workmen with a long lens, and after ten or more shots, her focus landed on the profile of Max Mitchell about thirty feet away. His hand flew up over his face when he realized what was happening.

“Whoa! Beth! No pictures!”

Beth thought that he was kidding and began to laugh.

“No pictures? For real? Are you running from the IRS or something?”

He began walking toward her.

“Yeah, right. Gosh, it’s great to see you! Sorry I didn’t call you back yet. This place has been crazy all morning.”

His words relieved her. She had to agree that it was indeed chaotic with all the hammers and drills. Max hugged her so abruptly that it caused her to drop her camera.

“Oh no!” she wailed. The camera, which had been an expensive gift from her mother, now had a cracked lens. “Ah, gee whiz, Max.”

“Oh God, I’m sorry. Here, let me see it.”

Beth got a sudden rush of goose bumps. For some reason Beth could not define, she thought that perhaps Max might have deliberately caused her to drop the camera. She simply said, “Don’t worry about it. I have other lenses.”

“Oh, okay. Well, good. So, you’re back on the journalist beat today, I see?”

“Yeah, I gotta turn this in, so I’d better get going. Did you enjoy your dinner last night?” She couldn’t help it; the words just rolled off her tongue.

“What? Oh yeah, I did. It was really good. And thanks for getting us a table.”

“No problem. Your date said she was starving and it sure looked like she was.” What is the matter with me, she thought, what am I doing?

“Ooooh! Meow, Miss Hayes.”

“Meow yourself. Just how old was she anyway? Like fifty?”

Max chuckled at Beth’s jealousy. Things were working out exactly as he had hoped they would. “She happens to be an investor of mine. And she’s divorced and lonely so I try to bring a little joy into her life from time to time.”

Beth arched her eyebrow just as her mother did and said, “I’ll bet you do.”

“My my, Beth. I am sure you have the wrong idea. It was just a business dinner.”

But the way he smiled and by the way his eyes looked at her, she knew he was playing with her.

“Right. I saw the way she was fawning over you. Please.”

“Beth! You shock me! You must think I’m some sort of a cad. What can I do to change your low opinion of me?”

“I just know how men are, that’s all.” Beth realized that sounded juvenile and naïve but there was no taking back the words.

“Why don’t we have dinner tonight?”

“I can’t. I have to work. But thanks.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Gotta work.”

“Well, can I stop by this weekend?”

“I have a houseful of company.” Beth said this and realized she was enjoying telling him no.

“Wow, like when are you supposed to have any fun?”

“Sunday night through Thursday morning, I guess.”

“Then I want to take you out Sunday night through Thursday morning.”

What a rascal! “Why don’t we start with Sunday night? And then we’ll see.” Beth smiled and silently congratulated herself for handling him so well. “My company should be gone by then.”

“Sounds good. So who’s coming to town?”

“My cousin Mike, the investment banker from Atlanta, and his girlfriend and some guy they want me to meet.”

“Really? Maybe your cousin wants to invest in this project. There’s still room.”

Beth was a little surprised that he had not commented on the fact that a potential rival was staying under her roof, only that he was looking for money.

“I’ll tell him,” she said, and gathered her things preparing to walk away. “See ya!”

“Hey, Beth?”

Beth turned around to face him.

“You behave yourself, you hear me?”

Those words pleased her to no end. “Please. I’m practically a nun.”

She stopped by the offices of the
Island Eye News
and was greeted by Barbara Farlie herself.

“Well, look who’s here!” she said. “What’d you do? Cut your hair?”

“Yeah, I cut my hair and ditched my glasses.”

“Humph! Looks good. Got something for me?”

Beth fumbled around with her bag and camera and pulled the manila envelope from her bag. “Yes ma’am. I sure do! And I’ve got some pictures on the memory stick in this camera but I haven’t looked at them yet.”

“Well, why don’t you download them on Katie’s computer. She’s not here today. Gone off to God knows where. Kids today. Don’t want to work.”

“Speak for Katie but not for me. I happen to love work.”

Barbara looked up at her and said, “I knew I liked you for some reason and I guess that’s it. Now let’s see if you can write. Want some water?”

“Yeah, that would be great.”

“Well, help yourself. There’s the fridge.”

Barbara Farlie took Beth’s article, went into her own office, and closed the door. Thinking that it meant that she wanted to read Beth’s article in private made Beth nervous. She took a seat at Katie’s desk, booted up her computer, slipped the memory stick into the USB port, and began to go through the pictures. She had some nice ones of the people she spoke to in Litchfield, and the ones of the site formerly known as Bert’s were crisp and clear as well. And Max? In every single picture and from every single angle, he looked edible.

“Ah, the wonders of the digital world!”

Farlie’s door opened and Beth spun around in her chair to face her. Barbara Farlie had a grin on her face as wide as her facial muscles could stretch. It was clear from her watery eyes that she had been laughing.

“What’s funny?” Beth said.

“You are. My glory, I haven’t read something so impassioned since I was involved in an antiwar rally back in my college days! Whew! We’ll run it the next issue. What else have you got?”

“The pictures?”

“No, honey, I mean another article for me. What else do you want to write?”

“Gee, I hadn’t even thought about that.”

“Figures. Well, leave the pictures up. Identify the bodies for me and then you go on home and think about it. And leave me your receipts. Come by next Thursday and you can pick up your check.”

“So you liked it?”

Barbara shook her head and smiled with all the wisdom of her years.

“Yes. I liked it. Very much, in fact.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. And you know, you can email your work in too.”

“Geez, why didn’t I think of that? Thanks!”

“It’s okay. So, have a nice weekend.”

“You too! And, thanks again!”

Beth didn’t know which pictures the paper would use or if the article would be buried somewhere but she was feeling very good then. She had accomplished something of real worth. When the paper came out she would send her mother a copy, and her aunts. And perhaps her old professors too, she thought. It was sort of amazing to Beth that someone would pay her money to express her opinion or that they would trust her to gather facts.

She was feeling like a bona fide success story when she pulled into the yard at home and spotted the Georgia tags on her cousin’s SUV. She got out and bounded up the steps, two at a time.

“Mike? You here?”

Lola, incarcerated in her crate for a while, began yelping at the sound of Beth’s voice.

Mike, whose head was in the refrigerator, looked up to see her. “Hey, cuz! Whoa! What happened to you?”

“Well, you sweet thing! I’ll just take that as a compliment!”

She gave Mike a hug. Now Lola yelped and banged against the side of her crate so much so that it moved.

“For real! You look like a babe! Well, I mean—”

“Shut up, jerk. Momma’s coming, baby.” She released Lola and held her in her arms, attaching her leash. “So, where are your friends?”

“Phoebe! Woody! Come meet my cousin!” Mike yelled for them so loudly that Beth jumped, startled. “They’re on the porch taking in the view. That ocean’s making a lot of noise.”

“I know. It’s high tide.”

“Right. You live here. Where should we put our stuff?”

“Anywhere downstairs. I am assuming that Phoebe will be staying with you?”

“If it’s okay with you,” Mike said.

“Listen, Romeo, I’m not getting in the middle of this. I don’t care what you do in the dark.”

“It would be extremely odd if you did.”

Mike wiggled his eyebrows and Beth giggled.

“Perv! I’m gonna go walk my dog.”

Passing through the living room on the way to the porch, she could see Mike’s friends leaning against the rails. Woody looked benign enough, tall and lanky, knit shirt and khaki shorts. But even from a distance she knew that Phoebe was of the ilk with whom Beth would never have associated unless they were stranded on a desert island, and even that would have taken some time to get a conversation going. She was an overly cheery, petite blonde who probably traded on her looks to get through life.

“It’s gonna be a long weekend,” she whispered to Lola. “Let’s go be nice.” She walked out onto the porch and they turned to greet her with curious expressions. “Hey! I’m Beth! Welcome to Sullivans Island!”

“I thought Beth had really crazy red hair and glasses,” Phoebe said. “Doesn’t she?”

“I did.” Beth sighed. “I changed things.”

“Oh,” the little moron said.

“I’m Woody,” he said, extending his hand and smiling. “It’s really nice to meet you. Thanks for having us.”

“Glad to, but you know, this is Mike’s house too. I’m just going to take my dog out and I’ll be right back.”

“Oh! She’s so cuuuuute! Is she a girl? Come here, precious! What’s her name?”

Lola recoiled, burying herself in Beth’s neck. Lola was a dog of discriminating taste when it came to humans. Basically, she was a one-human dog. Phoebe probably had a big fat Persian cat named Marilyn who sat on a white satin cushion. With tassels. And a diamond collar.

“She’s got a pink leash, Phebes. Of course she’s a girl!” Woody said.

“Lola,” Beth said. “Lola and I will be back in two minutes.” Beth cut her eyes at Woody, who crossed his arms and shook his head as if to say that he agreed that Phebes was a little thick between the ears.

“Cute!” Phoebe said. “Y’all hurry back! Mike’s making margaritas!”

“Lola’s trying to quit,” Beth said over her shoulder, knowing she had probably left Phoebe in a state of confusion but that Woody got the joke.

Poor Mike, she thought as she walked Lola across the yard. It was hard to understand why he always went after that certain type. They were sweet and pretty but never very smart. What was he afraid of?

Beth was of the opinion that there was nothing on the earth sexier than a guy with great brains and a good sense of humor. Looks were a secondary consideration. But then that wasn’t exactly her current situation because Max was way off her normal list of choices. They were having dinner on Sunday! Just the thought of being across the table from him gave her a thrill.

Beth wondered if Woody thought she was his date for the weekend because he had looked at her in the way men do when they want to let you know that they’re available and that you appeal to them. What kind of expectations did he have? Maybe he was just friendly. She hoped that was it, because he surely wasn’t her type. Too skinny. Besides, she had Max. No, she didn’t have Max. She had her fixation on Max and her fantasies of Max but she did not have Max. Maybe Sunday would change that.

Back in the house, the blender was working overtime and Phoebe was cooking some kind of taco chip/canned chili/salsa combination in the microwave that smelled like burned dog food. Mike poured the first round of cocktails and offered one to Beth.

“Thanks, but I have to work tonight so it’s probably best if I hold back.”

Woody, who was seated at the table glued to his BlackBerry, checking email, looked up and stood when he heard Beth’s voice.