Folly Beach - Dorothea Benton Frank [42]
“What in the world are you doing?”
It was Aunt Daisy’s voice right behind me. She startled me so that my body lurched, throwing the remains of my coffee into the air and fortunately not on her. Or me.
“What? Hey! Good morning!”
“You’d better put a hat and sunglasses on your head or you’re going to look like me before you know it!”
“You’re probably right. Not that looking like you is a bad . . .”
“Oh, hush! I know what you mean! I’m a thousand years old. You think I don’t know I have a few wrinkles? Prune face, that’s what. And this wattle?” She flipped the hanging skin beneath her chin and laughed. “Never mind my upper arms. You want more coffee? Ella’s making breakfast.”
She stood before me like an obelisk fashioned of milky-pink marble pulled from the depths of the quarries decades upon decades ago. Her hands were firmly planted on her hips.
“Well, I think you look great. Maybe I’ll get another shot of coffee but I don’t really feel like break . . .”
“Yes, you will! We all need breakfast, otherwise our blood sugar plummets before noon and we get all cranky. Besides, you can’t live on pecan pie, no matter how good it is.”
“Well, I sure would like to give it a try,” I said and stood up to give her a peck on the cheek.
“Me too.” She sank into the chair next to mine and put her mug on the table. I sat again. “But I’d get as big as a house. So now tell me. Did you sleep well?”
“Like a stone.”
“Good, good. After breakfast, I want to get you moved over to the Porgy House. I think it’s best if you have your own space. Besides, all my rentals are full.”
“Well, that’s a lucky thing, isn’t it? I mean, who rents a house at the beach in the winter?”
“Honey, this is Folly Beach. Everyone wants to come here. Remember? We’re a bargain next to the downtown B&Bs. And the hotels? Forget it! Sky-high! You’d think only millionaires can afford a vacation!”
“Well, especially these days . . .” I was thinking about the god-awful unending recession.
“What? That’s just ridiculous! No, no. I’m busy all the time, calling the housekeepers to come clean up after the last tenants and get ready for the next horde, coming with five more people than they stated on the contract and nasty old dogs that aren’t allowed. I had one renter last month who brought their pet boa constrictor.”
“What? What. Are. You. Saying? A boa?”
“Yes! They said, Oh, don’t worry. Walter’s in his cage. I said, Oh really? I feel much better! Get Walter and his cage outta here on the double or y’all can leave right now! During the summer it’s ten times worse. So, I stop by unexpectedly, you know, on the excuse to see if they’re happy, bring them brochures of things to do and then I count bodies and pets at the same time.”
“Well, maybe I can help you with some of that. You know, the spy stuff.”
“That would be a blessing, Cate. I mean, there’s not much to it. Just some running around that . . . well, obviously, my running days are on hold until this silly cast comes off.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty clear. So how much longer is it supposed to be on?”
“I don’t know. I go back to that damn fool doctor sometime next week. I wish they’d just give me the one you can take off so I can get a decent shower! I’m so tired of wrapping my leg in dry-cleaner bags and rubber bands, you can’t imagine!”
“Actually, I can. I wouldn’t like it, either.”
She stopped and looked at me. I knew she wanted to ask me something that she didn’t quite know how to ask.
“Come on, Aunt Daisy. I can smell your wood burning. What’s on your mind?”
“It’s none of my business.”
“Let’s make it your business.