Folly Beach - Dorothea Benton Frank [25]
When I heard the water stop I waited a few minutes and then rapped my knuckles on the door.
“Good morning!” I said.
The door edged open and there she stood in a towel with clouds of steam all around her.
“Do you need me, Mrs. Cooper?”
“No, I’m sorry to disturb you. I just wanted to let you know that I’m going over to Patti’s with a carload of stuff. If the wine movers show up early, just show them where the cellar is, okay? And call me on my cell if they do. And the electricians. FYI, there’s some fabulous oatmeal, well maybe not so fabulous, in the kitchen. Just nuke it for a minute. And it’s snowing like the devil outside. I’ll be back. You take your time. No rush! No rush at all!”
By three that afternoon, the streets were plowed, all of my personal possessions, the contents of my safe, and the children’s belongings that they wanted were all piled up in Mark and Patti’s basement, and Albertina was safely home with her children. We hugged and promised to keep in touch. As she was leaving she put a business card in my hand.
“What’s this?” I said.
“This is the number for the piano repair company.”
“Oh! Tina! Thank you. Oh my God, what am I going to do without you?”
“You’ll do just fine, Mrs. Cooper, but I’m going to miss you a lot.”
“Me too.”
When her car pulled slowly away from the driveway I burst into tears one more time. Patti threw her arm around my shoulder and gave me a squeeze.
“Doors close so others can open, you know,” she said.
“I know that but hellfire, do they have to be so hard to close? She was my dear, dear friend.”
“I know, I know. This is so hard.”
“Yes. This is so hard. I hate Addison.”
“Me too.”
Patti and I had returned my SUV to my house and took another walk around. The electricians were there, doing their reprehensible best on removing the lighting and the home theater components. Another team of men were breaking down the gym equipment and I wondered how they’d ever get it put back together again. And what would the banks do with all the stuff left behind—old Christmas decorations, old bicycles, curtains of no value, CDs, old linens that I didn’t want . . . I imagined they’d bring in a Dumpster. It was sort of amazing how quickly you could pack up a life when you were only taking the things you really wanted. We had simply left all our clothes on their hangers, tying their necks with garbage-bag twist ties like the dry cleaners did, and covered them up with lawn-size black garbage bags. I walked away from all of Addison’s clothes, because Albertina said she would give them to her church. We tied a ribbon around all of them with a note.
Mark took Addison’s golf clubs that had been overlooked yesterday. He couldn’t resist and I didn’t blame him.
“Just take them,” I said.
“Do you think I’m a crook? I mean, we were exactly the same height and it would be a shame. But if you’re not one hundred percent comfortable, just tell me and I’ll put them back.”
“Good grief! Is your widdle bitty conscience having a renaissance?” I said.
Mark’s face blanched.
“Come on,” I said. “They’re used anyway. And Addison would want you to have them. If we leave them here they’ll wind up in the garbage. Besides, you don’t know what I have.”
“What?” he said and the color in his face returned.
“My piano. It’s out being repaired. Tell no one. The banks can’t have it. Screw ’em. I don’t know how much they’re going to charge me to fix it but . . .”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of that one. You’re sure you don’t want to switch some wine?”
“Oh, Mark.” Mark was going to cover my piano repairs? Thank heaven!
Earlier around noon and over some deli sandwiches they brought in, Patti had asked for the tenth time, “How much stuff do you have left to pack?” How much more became the mantra of the day.
There were about five inches of snow on the ground and going back and forth to their house was starting to become a real challenge, even with four-wheel drive.
“Not a whole lot. I mean, the kids left what they wanted on their beds, Albertina boxed