The Summer's End (37 page)

“That still leaves the entire living room.”

“And curtains and dishes. . . .”

Mamaw held up her hands. “Girls, we can do this. Taylor and his father did a beautiful job and the walls are dry. I have furniture in storage. All we have to do is shop for a few items. I've never known you girls to be shy about shopping. Dora, you have the most wonderful eye for decorating, and Harper, just look at how you fixed up the kitchen in short order. Carson, you can keep these two in line so they don't go too crazy. How hard can it be for three talented, energetic women to fill a small cottage?”

“We need to go simple and clean,” said Dora, warming to the idea. “Lots of white with bursts of blue here and there. It's the end of summer. There are lots of summer things on sale.”

“But, Mamaw,” said Harper, “I can't pull out my checkbook. Those days are over for me.”

“No worries,”
Mamaw replied breezily. “It won't be much if we're careful. Bare necessities. Spartan, eh?”

“Think Santorini,” said Harper. “Granny James loves Greece.”

Dora clapped her hands excitedly. “I've helped Devlin stage a few houses for sale, and honestly, girls, Mamaw's right. We don't need that much. In fact, the less clutter the better. We need to make a list of only what we absolutely need.”

“Hold that thought,” Harper exclaimed, getting caught in the enthusiasm. “I'll get a paper and pen.”

“Let's move this conversation to the cottage,” Mamaw said, upbeat. “I swanny, I can't think on my feet anymore. And I always do better with a cup of coffee.”

W
ednesday afternoon, Harper stood at the security gate of Charleston International Airport clutching her raffia purse, which held a bottle of cool water, searching the faces of the line of bedraggled-looking people walking through the exit. Some walked with heads bent, arms pumping with determination. Others strolled lazily, dragging carry-on luggage behind them. A lucky few were met with high-pitched greetings and kisses from loved ones.

While she waited, Harper felt a wave of guilt wash over her as she realized she hadn't seen Granny James for over two years. Harper used to travel to England to see her grandparents every year, usually over spring break. As she grew to be an adult, her mother bought the house in the Hamptons, and Granny James began flying over to the States to spend several weeks in sunshine. She loved the warm air and sea. For the past few years, however, Papa James's
health had been poor, and Granny chose not to leave him.

Harper frowned, worried how her grandmother had managed to fly all this way with a broken leg. What was Georgiana thinking to encourage Granny to make such a trip? Harper kept her eyes peeled for a wheelchair.

A minute later Harper spied striding toward her an older, handsome woman of average height and chin-length auburn hair, stylishly, if conservatively, dressed in a well-tailored navy suit with crisp white piping and sizable pearls. She still had beautiful legs, yet on her feet were thickly soled navy shoes, what Granny referred to as “sensible” shoes. A testament to Granny's no-nonsense approach to life. Her arms were burdened with a floral-patterned bag, which undoubtedly held her knitting, and an enormous black leather purse.

“Granny James!” Harper called, waving her hand.

The woman paused, catching Harper's wave, and her stern expression lifted to reveal an astonishing smile of relief and joy. “Dear girl!” Granny James feebly tried to lift one arm burdened with a heavy bag, continuing at a determined pace through the passage, past the exit guard, directly into Harper's waiting embrace. She dropped her parcels and wrapped her arms around her granddaughter. For several minutes, time stopped as Harper was engulfed in the familiar, loving scent and feel of Granny James.

After the embrace Granny pulled back and gripped Harper's shoulders. Standing eye to eye, Harper studied her grandmother—her hair swept to the side in soft waves, a red much deeper than Harper's softer color. Granny's pale blue eyes
under finely arched brows were searching Harper now like an acetylene torch.

“You look well enough,” Granny James said in way of a verdict.

Harper laughed. “Of course I'm well. In fact, I'm better than I've ever been. How are you?”

Granny James dropped her arms and straightened. “As well as can be expected after a hellish journey crammed into a tin box in the air. I flew coach,” she added with distaste. “I couldn't get first class at such short notice.”

Harper laughed. Same old Granny. Picking up her grandmother's parcels, Harper moved several feet to where rocking chairs faced the plate-glass windows. It made for a pretty waiting spot with a southern motif.

“I . . . I'm confused”—Harper looked at Granny's legs—“I expected you to come out in a wheelchair or something.”

“A wheelchair!” Granny James sounded insulted.

“Yes. Your leg . . .”

“What about my leg?”

“Didn't you break your leg?”

“Whatever are you talking about?”

“Mummy told me at the beginning of summer that you couldn't come to the Hamptons this year because you'd had a bad fall and broken your leg. She very much wanted me to fly to England to be your nurse.”

The puzzled expression on Granny James's face shifted to one of resigned understanding. “Your mother told you I broke my leg?” It was more a statement of fact than a question. Granny James shook her head with exasperation. “I did
no such thing. I broke my toe! She made a tempest in a teapot. As usual.”

“Your toe . . . ,” Harper repeated slowly as understanding dawned. Her mother had manipulated the truth to get Harper to go to England rather than South Carolina.

Granny James's face softened with affection. “So you expected to see me pushed in a wheelchair?”

“At the very least hobbling on crutches.”

“Poor dear, you must have been worried.”

“More than worried. I couldn't imagine why you flew here in such haste.”

“I think, perhaps, you can.”

Harper waited.

“Your mother called me. She was very upset.” Granny James hesitated. “Dear girl, I'm just going to come straight out with it. Are you getting married?”

Harper smiled. “I am. Someday. For now we're engaged.”

Granny James was taken aback. All pretense fled. “Then it's true.”

“What else did Mummy tell you?”

“Oh, she was in a state, I can tell you. She said how you're throwing away your inheritance. Cutting yourself off from the family. All to marry some . . . fisherman? Your mother made it sound like you've been trapped by some kind of cult!”

Harper burst out laughing. “A cult?” Then, seeing how upset her grandmother was, Harper realized Granny was exhausted and worried. Harper shouldn't respond flippantly. “Granny, there is a lot to discuss and you're tired. Let's get you to Sea Breeze and we'll thrash it all out.”

“I'm staying at the
Charleston Place hotel. I have my reservation number in my bag.”

“Oh, we wouldn't dream of you staying at a hotel. You're to stay at Sea Breeze. It's all arranged.”

“I wouldn't dream of the inconvenience.”

“It's no inconvenience. We've got your room all ready for you. Besides, it's too far to go back and forth from the city way out to Sullivan's Island.”

“I thought perhaps you could stay at the hotel with me. I reserved you a room as well. Honestly, you're the only one I've come to see. I don't see much point in mingling with the others.”

“With the natives, you mean?” Harper grinned crookedly. “Meeting Taylor and Mamaw and my sisters is exactly why I want you at Sea Breeze. To form your own opinions. Granny, I want you to see me in my element. I need you on my side.”

“Darling girl, I am already on your side.”

Harper leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “Trust me, you'll be much happier at Sea Breeze.”

Granny James looked resigned to the idea, if not entirely convinced. “If you insist,” she said through pinched lips.

“I do. Thank you.” Then, trying not to sound worried, Harper asked, “How long are you staying?”

Granny James straightened her shoulders and delivered a no-nonsense look that would have sent her staff scurrying if they'd seen it. “As long as it takes.”

Harper had borrowed Carson's vintage Cadillac to pick Granny James up from the airport, as it required less of a climb to get in than Harper's Jeep. Granny's
blue eyes sparkled when she saw the baby-blue convertible with the great fins rising like a phoenix. Harper had cleaned out the empty water bottles, the coating of sand and trash, and given the car an inside-and-out cleaning. Harper was fastidious about such things and, she acknowledged, a little obsessive-compulsive, especially when compared to her sister.

Granny James let her hand graze along the high tail fins. “Vintage. Very nice. This car has style.”

Harper grinned and opened Granny's door. All Harper's efforts had been worthwhile.

The sun shone in a cloudless sky as they crossed the wetlands leading to Sullivan's Island. All chatter ceased as Granny James stared out her window in silence. Harper smiled, understanding full well the awe and wonder Granny was experiencing. Harper felt it every time she crossed on the narrow road. Once on Sullivan's Island, they turned onto Middle Street. Harper slowed down and drove past the charming restaurants, the art gallery, the park, the fire station. The steeple of Stella Maris Catholic Church rose up in view. The lovely church, a favorite of local artists, was set back from the road amid palm trees and flowers. At nearby Fort Moultrie a few people were milling about. Harper briefly told her grandmother the long history of the fort in the Revolutionary War, the Civil War, and World War II. Granny James took everything in with silence, but Harper knew she was listening from the watchful look in her eyes. At last Harper turned off Middle and headed down small-town roads toward the back of the island. Moments later she was turning past the tall row of hedges into the circular drive of Sea Breeze.

Granny James leaned forward in her seat, eyes sharp and her hands tightening on her purse. Harper circled the great oak tree to park directly in front of the house.

“Here we are!”

Granny James pushed open the door and slowly, stiffly, climbed from the car.

Harper ran around the hood to assist. “Let me help.”

“I'm all right.” Granny brushed away Harper's hand. “I'm just stiff from the long flight.”

In the bright sunlight Harper could see the new, deep lines that coursed a path in her grandmother's face.

“My suitcase is in the boot.” Granny James looked at the long flight of stairs to the front door. “Can someone help us? It's very heavy.”

“I've got it.” Harper opened the trunk and, with a soft grunt, hoisted the big suitcase to the ground. She saw the surprise on her grandmother's face that she could lift it with such ease. “Lifting forty-pound bags of soil and compost all summer does wonders for the muscles.”

Granny James looked confused.

“I've been gardening. . . . No worries about the stairs.” Harper began dragging the suitcase toward the cottage. “You're staying here. In the cottage. It's quite nice and will give you some privacy.”

En route to the cottage the front door of the main house opened. Mamaw, Dora, and Carson stepped out onto the porch, all smiles and welcome.

“Hello there!” Mamaw crooned. “Welcome to Sea Breeze.”

Granny James turned her head in acknowledgment but, Harper noticed, did not smile.

“I'll just
leave the suitcase on the cottage porch. Let's go up and say hello.”

Granny James made the climb, clinging to her large purse as though someone would snatch it from her.

At the top of the stairs Mamaw, standing tall and refreshed, stepped forward, hand outstretched. “I'm so glad to meet you at last. I'm Marietta.”