Folly Beach - Dorothea Benton Frank [129]
“Hopefully you never get another one! What are you going to do? I mean, what do you think? Is she asking for you?”
“No. The doctor I spoke to said she’s pretty out of it, conscious one day and then she sleeps for three. But I’m still in the records as next of kin so I got the call. So strange. I never thought it would end this way.”
“I’m sure. Oh, I’m so sorry, darling. I mean, I’m sorry for her, too, you know?”
“Yeah, her life is a very sad story. Tragic, really.”
“It is. Listen, speaking of shockers . . .” I told him the story of Heather Parke and he was aghast.
“See? People and their sense of entitlement! It’s just incredible. The brazen thing.”
“Yeah, so I think I need a lawyer to tell her to back off or else we’re going to call the police or something.”
“You know what? I know someone. Got a pencil? Here it is. Jennet Alterman. She runs the Center for Women downtown. No doubt she knows a lawyer who’ll write a letter for you gratis. Here’s her number . . .”
I copied it down and wrote her name next to it.
“But don’t you love Aunt Daisy trying to get involved, not telling me and trying to fix it?”
“Your aunt Daisy is a G-flawless diamond, Cate. So, are you ladies still on for tonight?”
Diamonds. Humph. I hadn’t told him the diamond story yet. I was saving that one.
“Yes! Absolutely.”
He said he’d come by at six thirty. It was cocktail night. Did I have ice? He was bringing his shaker and we were making martinis and playing all the music from Porgy and Bess we could find in the house. And he was bringing me a stage play format to follow to write my first draft. Maybe he’d have two martinis, he said and was it all right to sleep on the couch?
“Of course! But I forgot to buy liquor!” I said.
“An insignificant oversight. You’ve had plenty to worry about and I have enough vodka in this house to share with everyone. My students actually give it to me for the holidays and when they graduate and so forth. Isn’t that crazy? I probably shouldn’t take it but I do. Anyway, don’t worry. And I’ve got olives and vermouth. By the way, what are y’all cooking?”
“Lasagna. Garlic bread. Salad. Pound cake.”
There was a pause.
“God, I’m a lucky man. I might get there on the early side if that’s okay?”
“Of course it is!”
Patti stuck her head in the bedroom.
“Did I overhear favorable news?”
“Oh, Patti, come on. The poor woman is on her deathbed.”
“Yeah, I know, it’s disrespectful. Sorry. Is he upset?”
“I think he’s more surprised than upset. There’s no love lost between him and her.”
“Well, let’s be honest here. If she goes, you two could make it legal any time you want.”
“I am not ready to even think about something like that. If I marry John it will be when everyone thinks we should have done it a long time ago. Besides, I don’t need to get married again, do I?”
“No, you really don’t. You’ve got a family and children and I suspect you’re not going to starve. But I wouldn’t string him along forever.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t. But you know what? I don’t think he’s going anywhere. I think we are so groovy together that maybe this summer we’ll take up surfing.”
“I think you need to get your head examined.”
“You’re probably right. By the way, the lasagna smells really good, doesn’t it?”
“Thanks. You know, sometimes I wonder if women ever do anything else besides grocery-shop, cook, eat, and clean up the kitchen. I swear it seems to take up way too much time.”
John arrived at six with a cooler of ice and all the makings of a little bit of wickedness, including a manila envelope for me.
“Your homework’s in there,” he said.
“Ah! When’s it due?”
“ASAP. There’s a deadline for submissions. Thirty days.”
“Yikes.”
“Just write and don’t worry about deadlines. It’s content that matters.”
“Right. Okay.”
In his cooler, resting on plenty of ice, were several brands of vodka, two kinds of olives, olive juice for those who liked it dirty, and a shaker that looked like a penguin.
“Aunt Daisy has the same shaker!” I said. “What is it with this penguin?”
“I brought this for you,