Sea Glass Summer (34 page)

After a day's gardening Gwen had gone upstairs to shower and change into a narrow blue and white striped shirtwaist. Innumerable washings had vanquished the material's original stiffness, making for a cottony softness, light as air. Welcome on a hot evening. Libby had told her on calling with the invitation that the dress code was casual. In some places that could have meant coming in shorts or merely downplaying the diamonds, but not so here in Sea Glass, where overdone at such an event would be a man buttoning his sports shirt to the neck or a woman wearing perfume.

The music had ceased, but Sonny was still seated, head bent at the piano. Jumbo had followed her into the room. He did not retreat from Sonny, who no longer displayed hostility toward him, but indifference. The result, she was sure, of Jumbo being gone for part of each day with Sarah. She went in and bent to kiss her son's cheek. Her heart brimmed with love for who he was now and the boy and man he had been. So many moments still to be gathered for holding later in her hand like pieces of sea glass. Birthdays, Christmases, and other celebratory occasions had a way of fading one into the other, while the trove of tiny treasures remained to be recalled with thankfulness, even if sometimes viewed through tears. Thank God for those whose lives had been interwoven with theirs – Sonny's and hers – this summer. Her gratitude for this blessing had occasionally brought in its wake the thought that it might be a final benediction, but not this time.

‘I love you, Sonny.'

‘Love you, Mom.' He turned his head before resuming what appeared to be a blank stare, but might mean he was peering into his own shifting memories, one overlapping the other at random, perhaps making it impossible to hold onto any treasured ones – even his wife Beatrice's face – for more than a few seconds without some reinforcement.

‘I'm going out shortly, but only for a few hours. Twyla has set aside enough shrimp Creole for the two of you. But she'll make you anything you like. Pancakes, if that's what you want.'

‘Do they have meat in them?'

‘They can, if that's your wish.'

‘How does Mrs Broom make them?'

‘To your special instructions.' She again kissed his cheek.

‘I don't know.' He stirred restlessly. ‘Did you say you're going out?'

‘Yes, dear.'

‘Is he going with you?'

‘Who, dear? Jumbo?'

‘Father.'

She stroked his hair, her sadness for Charles surfacing. He and Sonny could have had a close relationship with each other after the divorce if he'd put in the time and love earlier. Or perhaps made an attempt to mend fences later. Sonny had not been one otherwise to bear grudges. ‘He won't be here, dear.'

‘Then that's all right. She'll read me a story. Twyla. I didn't know that was her name.' He got up and sat in one of the armchairs, closing his eyes, one hand moving up and down in response to the music he was hearing.

Gwen went into the kitchen to see Twyla stowing the containers of shrimp Creole in a large wicker basket. She was never one to rush at the last minute. ‘Is he OK about you going?' The warm brown eyes met hers.

‘I think so, but remember – don't hesitate to call if you feel I'm needed back here.'

‘You breathe easy and enjoy your outing – you surely don't treat yourself often enough to going off and playing on your own some.'

‘I could if I wanted to,' Gwen smiled at her, ‘but being able to continue with the garden club and return to playing for the choral group is all the community activity I need. As for the personal stuff – being able to take walks again alone with Jumbo and go down to see Sarah, either with him or without, is bounty enough. And let's not forget my going in for a physical at your urging. I still have an appointment coming up for a treadmill test, but my doctor seemed reasonably confident, from what I described, that the episodes I've been having are panic attacks, not my heart. For the main part my happiness is here in the house and garden, either when it's just the three of us or when our visitors come, especially Oliver – for your sake and because he's such a joy.'

‘That's my lamb baby.' Twyla spread a red and white checked cloth over the wicker basket. As with Mrs Broom she was one for the extra homely touch. ‘I surely can't thank you enough, Gwen, for making that possible by coming up with that garden club plan as a way to get past the barricades, then working your way round to the piano lessons. He's coming on real good, isn't he?'

‘His mother would be so pleased with his quick progress. I'm sure she and his father are cheering us on, along with Sarah and Evan, for trying to find out as much as we can about all that goes on at the Cully Mansion. Nellie Armitage told me it was Nathaniel's father who imposed that grandiose name upon it, which should surprise no one who's sat in that living room under the surveillance of his austere patriarchal portrait.'

Twyla moved the basket to the edge of the counter near the garage door. ‘That Nellie is some woman to have in your corner. She slipped word to me that to hopefully find out from Mrs Polly about what goes on at that house was the reason why she asked if Mrs Polly could come in once a week to clean. Said she's never cared a hill of beans what her place looks like, but with Oliver being best friends with her Brian she's gotten real fond of him and has been fretting about how things are going with him. Even more so when I'd told her Oliver doesn't feel he can talk to me about problems for fear I'd worry myself sick, especially since I couldn't bring it up to Frank in his continuing failing state.'

‘What a difficult position for him and you.'

‘It sure is a comfort now he has Sarah and Evan to turn to.'

‘Talk about turning up at the right moment.' Gwen let Jumbo out to the fenced area in the back. She had wondered in recent days if Twyla might be a little wistful as well as thankful at this turn of events. Either this thought showed on her face, or the woman she had come to admire as well as like profoundly was a mind reader.

‘Don't you go worrying that I'm feeling a little displaced, Gwen. It your kind nature to see things from every angle, but even if Oliver could bring his worries to me same as always, what he's going to need after Frank is gone is what he's lacked for as long as he can remember – parents of the right age. Mine was always something of a concern, even before the Cullys stepped in. And I don't need Nellie's spirit guides to tell me that Sarah and Evan will end up married and my lamb baby couldn't be better off than with them. And then my relationship would be how it should, as his one living grandmother.'

Gwen let Jumbo back in. ‘You are a remarkable woman, Twyla – no wonder Oliver loves you so much. I was foolish. It's so obvious nothing can ever diminish the bond between you. As for Sarah and Evan, I'm not only convinced there'll be a wedding, but that they'd also be thrilled – honored – to take guardianship and if possible adopt him. But that can only be wishful thinking. I imagine this would require court approval.'

Twyla glanced at the wall clock, which showed it was close to five. Gwen would need to leave shortly to be in time to get to Bramble Cottage ahead of the other guests. ‘Nellie said it took time gaining Mrs Polly's confidence sufficiently for her to open up about Gerard and Elizabeth Cully. Said she's not readily the gossiping sort.'

‘That's usually the opening line with most gossip, but I tend to believe it in her case. Robin Polly may have had to withstand enough talk going the rounds about what her father's gotten up to over the years, and how she's to blame for not keeping him under lock and key, to put her off gossip for life. But, let's say the Cullys have been holding it over her head that her neglect as to his whereabouts contributed to his holing up in their cellar as a means to get her to work on the cheap, and she's found other reasons to dislike them, then she may well have decided to make an exception to her closed-mouth rule.'

It was Twyla's turn to smile. ‘You sure have a way of getting the pieces in the right places. That is pretty much what I got from Nellie. Mrs Polly told her she agreed to go back and work at the Cully Mansion out of curiosity after Elizabeth got in touch with her. And when it came to paying her, the amount wasn't as promised, for the reasons you just said. There was even talk about civil charges for aiding and abetting. All nonsense, but Mrs Polly said Elizabeth must have figured she was too dumb to realize that.'

‘Wrong there, from the sound of it. I'll hazard that she's sharp as a tack,' said Gwen.

‘She took her time opening up to Nellie, but sounds like it didn't take her long to suss out at least one thing at that house: said she knew more than enough about boozers to know Gerard Cully is into the bottle the best part of the day and it isn't likely to be that way only when she's there. Her guess is he doesn't do a lick of work from one week to the next. When she's peeked in on him in his home office he's had the radio going and been slumped in an armchair with a glass in his hand or asleep at his desk. Usually I'd feel bad repeating that. We've all more than enough shortcomings of our own to be casting stones. And I don't need to be a nurse to know alcoholism is a disease and mighty cruel to be stuck with. But this is about Oliver.'

‘Gerard may well be an alcoholic, which I agree wholeheartedly is something we should all be grateful to be spared, but if he's a mellow drunk, not one to go off into violent rages, I doubt that would be sufficient for a court to take custody of Oliver away from him. It could be he doesn't need to work, but likes to make a pretense of it and his drinking has escalated from having too much time on his hands; though somehow I got the impression from that meeting with Elizabeth that they're not as loaded with funds as was thought. It might have been because the roots of her hair could have done with a touch-up, but I don't think that necessarily means anything. She struck me as very much the arty type, perhaps not overly inclined to focus on her appearance; although what she wore did show a personalized sense of style. What put the idea that there might be some financial issues in my head were her fidgeting hands when telling me that getting the landscaping done for free was no inducement. To be objective, she did quite a bit of poking her hair and smoothing her skirt throughout, but it struck me that time as fluttery to the point of agitation. And now we know she wangled matters to get Robin Polly to work on the cheap.'

‘There's one more thing Nellie passed along, and then you really need to be going, Gwen.'

‘What's that?'

Twyla sighed. ‘I surely dislike this smearing people and it's not your way either. This time it was about the parents of those boys – with the strange names – that Oliver didn't take to from the start. Like you know, he's not one to look for reasons, so I've right along had the feeling they must have gone on making his life miserable and that that's one of the things he's been keeping from me. But back to their mother and father; according to Mrs Polly they've a reputation at their local bar for regularly knocking it back to the point of someone intervening and dragging them off home. She said it's her guess that's why they were allowed in, even welcomed by the Cullys.'

‘Maybe Elizabeth hoped Gerard would agree to confine his drinking to a glass or two on those visits. If he does have a serious problem, sufficient to keep him from working, that alone would be enough to give her those severe headaches. And there could be other problems that we don't have a clue about.' Gwen stroked Jumbo's head and told him soothingly she wouldn't be gone too long. She was about to pick up the wicker basket, having decided it was best not to say another goodbye to Sonny, but Twyla got to it first.

‘I'll get it onto the front passenger seat. It's sufficiently weighted not to slide. You'll have your turn at the other end.'

‘Thank you.' They went out into the garage. ‘I already feel like the wicked stepmother leaving Cinderella at home.'

‘We agreed that if I went the Cullys could think the whole thing was a setup to thrust me on them and leave quick as they could. And it's been made plain they're set on avoiding me like the plague.' Twyla paused while getting the basket onto the seat. ‘Seems it's Mrs Polly's thinking that has much to do with me being a nurse as my closeness to Oliver. She said there are some who have it stuck in their heads that those with any medical knowledge have ways on zeroing in on what's the least bit off, especially when it comes to the mental.'

‘We came up with that possibility ourselves. And to be fair, Robin Polly's viewpoint is also slanted. Nevertheless, a second opinion is always something,' Gwen responded, adding while getting into the car a reminder that Twyla mustn't hesitate to call if Sonny's behavior required her presence.

Once out of the garage she pressed the automatic door return. Even driving at well below the speed limit to ensure the basket stayed put, she arrived at Bramble Cottage within a couple of minutes, making it five thirty as aimed for. She wasn't concerned about being hemmed in on the drive and had thought it likely that almost everyone else would come on foot. Even if they didn't, the potluck rule was arrive at six, depart at eight – with no shilly-shallying to delay the hosts from getting on with the clearing up – unless invited ahead to stay on. Libby had made all of that clear to Sarah. And Gwen did anticipate staying on an extra half hour or so. If she had to make an early getaway she could walk if it meant asking too many people to move their cars.

She was about to put the basket down on the step when Sarah opened the door, saving her from having to do so. They had gotten into the habit of letting themselves into each other's houses when expected without ringing the bell first. Both knew they were welcome to come in a hurry if need be, but were punctilious about never dropping in unannounced. Sarah took the basket from her before she stepped inside.