Folly Beach - Dorothea Benton Frank [111]
“No, not everything. Just changed the drapes and repainted.”
Patti had her cans of Diet Coke balanced on her hip and she was standing by the sliding glass doors, debating opening them to take in the beach at night.
“Here,” I said, “let me do that.”
I took the drinks from her and put them on the coffee table and opened the doors. The salty air rushed in and the ocean was loud. It was high tide and the waves rolled in relentlessly, banging the shore and grabbing all it could on its way back out. We stepped outside.
“Holy mother!” Patti said. “Why is it so easy to forget how powerful this place is?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “The first morning I was here I stood on this deck and just looked out over the water, wondering why I ever left.”
“Why did we leave?” she said.
“Because we were stupid knuckleheads, that’s why. And we thought Nirvana was out there over the causeway, just waiting for us.”
“You can say that again,” she said. “Meanwhile, Nirvana was right here.”
“It’s the truth.”
The door opened again and Ella came out to join us.
“You girls want hot chocolate or are y’all too old for that?”
“Not too old,” I said. “Too fat.”
“Oh pish!” Ella said. “Remember when I used to make it for you when you were little?”
“Yep,” I said, throwing my arm around her shoulder. “I sure do. Your hot chocolate mended plenty of disappointments and broken hearts.”
“Remember you used to put candy canes in it at Christmas?” Patti said.
“Only if you were good,” Ella said, smiling.
“We were always good around Christmas,” I said.
“That’s why you only got candy canes in December!” Ella said with a chuckle.
“I knew there was a reason,” Patti said.
“Come on, let’s go back inside,” I said, yawning. “It’s late and I’m completely exhausted from last night.”
“Me too,” Ella said. “Sleep sounds like a good idea.”
“Well, Ella, it’s so good to see you,” Patti said, giving her a hug. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too, girl. You are a sight for sore eyes.”
I gave Ella a parting hug, picked up the Diet Cokes, and held the elevator for Patti.
Back at the Porgy House it was as dark as pitch and maneuvering the uneven ground with Patti’s luggage was a bit of a minefield.
“Don’t you have a porch light?” Patti said.
“Right? You’re not the first person to make that remark. John said he was going to get me one and then we never got around to it. Well, so far.”
I opened the door and flipped on the light switch, illuminating the exhibition room and my piano. Patti stepped inside, put her bags down, and looked around. I went back to the kitchen and turned on the light there, too, and in the back bedroom.
“Holy cow,” Patti said. “This is a little weird. All this stuff?”
“It grows on you. You want a Diet Coke?” I said. “Come see the kitchen.”
“Coming!” Patti walked right in and the first thing she did was open the oven door to inspect the insides. “Cate?”
“Wild, isn’t it?”
“Totally. Ain’t no way I’m leaving here without baking something in this baby.”
“Be my guest,” I said. I held a Diet Coke can in one hand and a cold bottle of white wine in the other. “Your call.”
“Just gimme all the grapes and nobody gets hurt,” she said.
I giggled and began the process of twisting out the cork.
“I’m good for about twenty minutes and then I am going to pass out facedown like a starfish.” The cork came out with a loud pop! “Love that sound!”
“Me too,” she said. “You have to be dead on your feet.”
“Pretty much,” I said, handing her a glass. “Here. Cheers!”
“Yeah, here’s to Aunt Daisy getting the hell out of that place in one piece pronto.”
“I’ll drink to that,” I said and we hoisted our glasses again. “Pretty scary, right?”
“Scary as hell,” she said.
“And here’s what’s worrying me . . .”
I told Patti that besides the small concerns I had about Aunt Daisy’s business, which she agreed to help me look into the next day, I was becoming more and more worried about her estate. Did she have a will, an executor, a plan? What would become of Ella if she went first and how did Aunt Daisy