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So her grandmother hadn’t known she was coming after all. The tassies were for Lindsay.
She smiled at the girl. “Do you live near here, Lindsay?”
Lindsay, faced with a direct question from a stranger, turned mute. Face solemn, she pointed toward the next house down the beach, separated from Miz Callie’s by a stretch of sea oats and stunted palmettos.
“We’ve been neighbors for a couple of months now,” Miz Callie said. “Didn’t I say? Lindsay is Matthew Harper’s daughter.”
Georgia’s assumptions lifted, swirled around as if in a kaleidoscope and settled in a new pattern. Matt Harper wasn’t just a strange attorney picked at random from the phone directory. He was a next-door neighbor, and his daughter was welcomed as warmly as if she were a grandchild, with a plate of her favorite cookies. He was far more entrenched than anyone had seen fit to tell her.
Matt welcomed the breeze off the ocean, even when it ruffled the papers he’d been working on at the table on the deck. He leaned back, frowning.
After looking through her notes, he understood what Mrs. Bodine wanted, but it would be more complicated than she probably suspected. He’d have to deal with a tangle of county, federal and state regulations, many no doubt conflicting.
And that wasn’t even counting the opposition of her family. How far were they willing to go to stop her?
He put the folder on the glass table top and weighted it down with a piece of driftwood Lindsay had brought from the beach. He’d start work on the project, and he’d fight it through for Miz Callie. But he’d like to be sure she wouldn’t call it off after a talk with Georgia.
Standing, he scanned the beach for Lindsay, not seeing her. She was responsible about staying within the boundaries they’d set up together, which meant that if she wasn’t on the beach, she’d gone over to the Bodine house.
He trotted down the steps. He should have mentioned to Lindsay that Mrs. Bodine had a guest. Now he’d have to go over there and retrieve her under Georgia’s cool gaze.
The woman had gotten under his skin, looking at him as if he were a con man out to steal a little old lady’s treasure. Couldn’t the Bodine clan understand that this was all Miz Callie’s idea? If he didn’t do the work for her, she’d find some other attorney who would.
He couldn’t afford that. He didn’t intend to sponge off Rodney any longer, accepting the clients Rod managed to persuade to use his new colleague. He needed to bring in business of his own, and Miz Callie’s project was the first opportunity he’d had since he and Lindsay moved here.
His steps quickened across the hard-packed sand. He’d taken the chance that this move would be good for Lindsay, a fresh start for both of them. Heaven knew they needed that.
The expression caught him off guard. Once he’d have been praying about this. Once he’d thought the faith Jennifer had introduced him to was strong. But when she died, he’d recognized it for what it was. Secondhand. Nowhere near strong enough to handle a blow like that.
He heard the voices as he reached the stairs to Miz Callie’s deck. Three of them: two soft with their Southern drawl, and then his daughter’s light, quick counterpoint.
She was talking. It was a sign of how desperate he was about Lindsay’s unremitting grief that he didn’t care who she was talking to, as long as she talked. At first, after Jennifer’s death, the two of them had gone days without saying anything, until he’d realized that he had to rouse himself from the stupor of grief and make an effort for Lindsay’s sake.
He went slowly up the steps, hearing the conversation interspersed with gentle female laughter.
“So my brother and I both went under the waves after the shell he’d dropped, but I was the one who came up with it,” Georgia said as he reached the top. “Not that I’m suggesting you should do that.”
“No, don’t, please,” he said.
All three of them turned to look at him, but Miz Callie’s was the only face that relaxed into a smile. “Matthew, I thought you’d be coming along about now. Come and have some sweet tea.”
He shook his head, crossing the deck to them. There was an empty basket in the center of the table, with shells arrayed around it. His daughter was bent over two shells she seemed to be comparing, ignoring him.
“Lindsay and I need to start some dinner.”
“At least take a minute to look at our shell collection. Georgia Lee and I were teachin’ Lindsay the names of the different shells.”
“Not I,” Georgia protested, shoving back from the table. “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten most of what you taught me.”
“You’ll have to take a refresher course, won’t you?” he said, planting his hands on the back of his daughter’s chair.
“How are you at naming the shells of the Carolina coast?” Every time Georgia looked at him, she had a challenge in her eyes.
“Worse than you,” he said promptly. “You may have forgotten, but I never knew.” He patted Lindsay’s shoulder. “Come on, Lindsay. It’s time we went home.”
“Just a minute. I have to line all the shells up before I go.”
He tensed, hating the habit Lindsay had developed, this need to have everything lined up just so. The child psychologist he’d consulted said to go along with it, that when Lindsay’s grief didn’t require her to seek control in that way, she’d lose interest. But sometimes he wanted to grab her hands and stop her.
A desperation that was too familiar went through him. He’d never known family before Jennifer. Bouncing from one foster home to another hadn’t prepared him to be a good father. How could he do this without her?
“How about taking some of these pecan tassies along home for your dessert?” Miz Callie got to her feet, grasping the plate of cookies. “I’ll wrap them up for you.” She’d headed into the house before he could refuse.
“Don’t bother arguing,” Georgia said, apparently interpreting his expression. “You can never defeat my grandmother’s hospitality. Bodines are noted for being stubborn.”
“I’ve noticed.” Something sparked between them on the exchange—maybe an understanding on both their parts that there was a double meaning to everything they said.
She was an interesting woman. If she weren’t so determined to believe that he was some sort of legal ogre, he might enjoy getting to know her.
He realized he was looking at her left hand, pressed against the edge of the table. The white band where a ring used to be stood out like an advertisement.
He hadn’t given up wearing his wedding ring. Rodney kept pushing him to get into the dating scene, and putting the ring away was the first step. He wasn’t ready to do that. What was the point? There’d never be another Jennifer. A man didn’t get that lucky more than once in a lifetime.
The silence had stretched on too long, but surely it was as much Georgia’s responsibility as his to break it. He tapped Lindsay’s shoulder. “Come on, Lindsay. We’ll order in pizza tonight, okay?”
For a moment he thought she’d ignore him, but then Miz Callie came out with the cookies.
“Here you are.” She handed the paper plate to Lindsay. “You carry those home and have one for dessert after your supper, y’heah?”
Lindsay got up promptly, good manners surfacing. “I will. Thank you, Miz Callie.” She glanced at Georgia, but didn’t repeat her thanks. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“That’ll be fine, sugar.” Miz Callie touched the blond ponytail lightly.
Georgia rose. “I’ll walk down with you. I need to get something from my car.”
Miz Callie sent her a glance that said she didn’t believe a word, but she didn’t attempt to deter her. He didn’t believe it, either. Georgia had something she wanted to say to him in private.
He followed her down the steps. Lindsay hurried ahead of him along the sand, her gaze fixed on a flight of pelicans overhead. He’d be amazed if those cookies reached home in one piece.
He took a few steps away from the stairs, Georgia moving next to him.
“I didn’t realize you lived so close.” Georgia’s gaze was fixed on his rental. “The Fosters owned that house when I was little. They had five children.”
“There are a few kids in the neighborhood now.” He watched Lindsay stop and stare at the pelicans as they swooped close to the water. “But Lindsay isn’t getting acquainted as easily as I’d hoped. Your grandmother is the only person she’s really gotten to know.”
“Miz Callie is worth as much as a gaggle of kids any day.”
“That sounds like personal experience speaking.” Maybe meeting his daughter had softened her attitude toward him.
But she looked at Lindsay, not him. “I was pretty shy as a kid. With my grandmother, there was no pressure. I could play with the other kids if I wanted to, but she never objected to my sitting in the swing with a book, or helping her make cookies in the kitchen.”
“Sounds ideal.” He spoke lightly, but he thought Georgia had revealed a lot about herself in those few words. Again he had a glimpse of someone he might enjoy getting to know, if not for the fact that she saw him as the enemy.
“I suppose that’s how my grandmother came to hire you,” Georgia said. “Getting to know you through Lindsay.”
“I suppose.” He kept it noncommittal. The truce was over already, it seemed.
“Havers and Martin have been the family’s attorneys for a couple of generations. It seems a little odd that she came to you instead.”
“Does it?” The spark of anger in her eyes amused him.
Her jaw tightened. “I don’t believe I heard exactly what it is you’re doing for my grandmother.”
“You don’t really expect me to violate my client’s confidence, do you, Ms. Bodine?”
She stopped, her fists clenching, anger out in the open now. “No.” She bit off the word. “I don’t expect anything from you, Mr. Harper.”
She spun and walked quickly back toward the beach house.
Georgia slung her suitcase on the twin bed in the little room under the eaves that had always been hers, the movement edged with the antagonism Matthew Harper had brought out—a quality she hadn’t even known she possessed. She’d spent a lifetime unable to confront people, even her own mother. Especially her own mother.
She caught sight of the pale band on her finger in her peripheral vision as she put T-shirts in a drawer. She still had to break that news to Mamma.
Oddly enough, she hadn’t had any trouble making her anger clear to Matthew Harper, maybe because she didn’t care what he thought of her. Or maybe her love for Miz Callie overrode every other instinct.
Frowning, she shoved the drawer closed. Whatever Matt had in mind, he wouldn’t be easily deterred. She’d seen that kind of type A personality in action before. In a way, Matt reminded her of James, although he didn’t have her former fiancé’s charm. James’s smile could make you think he cherished you above all others. The only time it had failed to work on her was when she’d walked out of the office, knowing things were over.
Anyway, this was about Matt, not James. The only time she’d seen any softening in Matt was when he looked at his daughter, and even then his gaze was more worried than loving.
No, she wouldn’t be able to dissuade him. She had to find out what Miz Callie had him doing for her before she could learn if her family’s suspicions were on target.
She hadn’t gotten anywhere with her grandmother over chicken salad and Miz Callie’s feather-light biscuits. Dinner had been an elaborate game, with her grandmother determined not to talk about her plans and Georgia equally determined not to talk about her breakup.
Maybe now they could relax and get things out into the open. She took a last look around the room, windows open to the evening breeze, and then hurried down the stairs.
Miz Callie was on the deck, a citronella candle burning next to her to ward off the bugs. She looked up with a smile as Georgia came out.
“All done unpacking? Did you speak to your mamma and daddy?”
She nodded, not eager to get into what her parents had to say. They’d taken turns talking, Mamma on the extension, so that it had been like being caught between two soloists, both vying desperately to be heard.
“They’re fine,” she said, knowing Miz Callie wouldn’t believe that. She touched the shells on the glass table, still there from her grandmother’s impromptu lesson with Lindsay. “Do you want me to put these away?”
“I want you to relax and enjoy.” Miz Callie tilted her head back. “Did you ever see so many stars?”
Obediently she leaned back in the chair, staring heavenward, her mind still scrambling for the right way to bring up the things that concerned her. After a moment or two, the tension began to seep out of her. How could anyone sit here surveying the darkened sea and the starlit sky and fret? The surf murmured softly, accompanying the rustling of the palmetto fronds and the sea oats.
“I don’t even notice the stars in Atlanta. Too many city lights.”
Miz Callie made a small sound of contentment. “They seem to put us in our places, don’t they? ‘When I look at the heavens which Thou has created, the moon and the stars, which Thou hast ordained, what is man that Thou are mindful of him, or the son of man, that Thou visiteth him?’”
Her grandmother’s gentle voice brought a lump to her throat. “That’s always been one of your favorite psalms, hasn’t it?”
Miz Callie nodded, and the silence grew comfortably between them. Finally she spoke again, eyes still on the night sky. “I am worried about that child.”
The change of subject startled her. “You mean Lindsay?”
“She’s so withdrawn. You must have noticed how she was when she saw I had someone here.”
“She’s probably just shy.” She knew how that felt.
“Grief.” Miz Callie moved slightly, hand reaching out to the glass of sweet tea beside her. “The child’s still grieving her mother’s death.”
So Matt was a widower. She hadn’t been sure, since he still wore a wedding ring, but it had seemed implicit in the interactions with his daughter.
“Maybe he was wrong to take her away from everything that was familiar to her, just for the sake of his career.”
Miz Callie turned to look at her in the dim light. “Georgia Lee, you don’t know a thing about it, so don’t you go judging him.”
When Miz Callie spoke in that tone, an apology was in order. “No, ma’am. I’m sorry.”
Her grandmother’s expression eased. “I suspect he felt it was time for a fresh start. Sometimes that happens.”
“Sometimes a fresh start is forced on you.” What was she going to do after this interlude? Go back to Atlanta and try to find another job?
“And sometimes you just know it’s the right time.”
Something in her grandmother’s tone caught her attention. “Is that why you want to move to Sullivan’s Island permanently? Because you want a fresh start?”
Miz Callie waved her arm. “Who wouldn’t want to live here, simply, instead of being enslaved to a lot of things?” She said the word with emphasis.
“So that’s why you’ve been giving stuff away at the Charleston house.” A frightening thought struck her. “Miz Callie, you’re not dying, are you?”
For a moment her grandmother stared at her. Then her laugh rang out. She chuckled for several moments, shaking her head. “Oh, child, how you do think. We’re all of us dying, some of us sooner than later, but no, there’s nothing wrong with me.”
“Then why…”
Her grandmother sighed, apparently at Georgia’s persistence. “Do you remember Mary Lyn Daniels?”
Georgia’s mind scrambled among her grandmother’s friends and came up with an image. “Yes, I think so. She’s the one you always say has been your friend since the cradle, isn’t she?”
“Was,” Miz Callie said. “She passed away this winter.”
“I’m sorry.” She clasped her grandmother’s hand, aware of the fragility of fine bones covered thinly by soft skin. She should have known about that. She would have, if she’d come back more often. “Did Mary Lyn’s death—is that what has you thinking of making so many changes?”
Her grandmother smiled faintly. “This isn’t just about grieving my friend, darlin’. At my age, I’ve learned how to do that. I know I’m going to see them again.”
“What then?” She leaned toward her, intent on getting answers. “There must be some reason why you feel such a need to change things.”
Miz Callie stared out at the waves. “I’d go and sit with Mary Lyn, most afternoons. Seemed like all she wanted to do was talk about the old days, when we were children here on the island. Her memory of those times was clearer than what happened yesterday.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” She choked up at the thought of Miz Callie sitting day after day with her dying friend. Small wonder if it made her reflect on her own mortality.
“It was good to sit there with her and remember those years.” Miz Callie’s tone was soft, far away. “But sometimes she’d start in on things she regretted. Old hurts never mended. Relationships lost.” She shook her head slowly. “I don’t want to be like that at the end. And I’m thinking maybe God used Mary Lyn to show me it’s time to right old wrongs and make my peace with life.”
“Miz Callie, I don’t believe you ever did anything that needs righting.” She hadn’t been ready for a conversation about life and death tonight, and she was swimming out of her depth. “If that’s why you want to move here to the island full-time, I can understand, but I know there’s more. That doesn’t explain you hiring an attorney nobody knows to handle business no one knows about.”
Miz Callie sighed, suddenly looking her age and more. Then she leaned over to put her hand on Georgia’s.
Georgia clung to that grip: the hand she’d always held, the one that had reassured her as a child. Now it felt cool and delicate in hers.
“All right, Georgia Lee. I know you’re worrying about me. Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow what?” she asked, confused.
“Matt is comin’ tomorrow to meet with me. You can sit in with us. I’ll explain everything then.”
“But, Miz Callie…” She didn’t want to wait. And she certainly didn’t want to hear about it—whatever it was—in front of Matt.
“Tomorrow.” Her grandmother’s voice was tired but firm. “I’m not goin’ over it twice, sugar, and that’s that. You’ll hear all about it then.”
Georgia clamped her lips shut on an argument. Tomorrow. She’d have to be content with that.
Chapter Three
Georgia sat in line for the drawbridge leading back onto Sullivan’s Island, glancing at her watch as if that would help. She’d be late for the meeting with Matt if she didn’t get moving, and she didn’t want Miz Callie to say anything to him that she wasn’t there to hear.
It was a good thing Miz Callie had reminded her to bring the cooler for the groceries. The closest supermarket was in Mount Pleasant, across the Cooper River from Charleston proper, across the Intracoastal Waterway from Sullivan’s Island. Not far, but not just around the corner, either, so islanders tended to stock up when they went.
At least once she got to the house, the secrecy would be over. Miz Callie would come clean with her so that she could resolve this situation, whatever it was, and get back to her own life, whatever was left of it.
A tall sailboat moved serenely past, and the bridge lowered into place. With a sigh of relief, she rumbled across the bridge and back onto the island. Right, then left, then left again, and she pulled up to the house.
She went up the stairs slowly, laden down by the many bags of groceries she was attempting to take in one trip. She fumbled with the door, staggered in and found that Matt was already there.
He rose, coming quickly to help her with the bags, his dress shirt and dark tie reinforcing the fact that this was a business visit and not a neighborly call.
“Where do you want these?” He followed her into the kitchen.
She nodded toward the counter. “Let me put things in the refrigerator, and then I’ll join you.” She waited for an argument from him, but none came.
“Good. I think you should be in on this.”
He sounded sincere enough. Or maybe he was just accepting what he couldn’t change. She slid the milk and a bag of perishables onto the shelves and closed the fridge. Then she followed Matt into the living room.
Papers were spread across the round table where she and her girl cousins used to play with their paper dolls. She sat down in the wicker chair opposite Miz Callie.
Now that the moment had come, she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to find out what this was all about. She glanced at Matt, but he wore his stolid lawyer’s expression that didn’t give anything away.
Miz Callie sat very straight in her rocker, hands folded in her lap. “I’ve made a decision about the Jones Island property. I’m afraid it won’t be popular with the family, but my mind is made up, and there’s no point in arguing about it.”
“I’m not going to argue, Miz Callie.” The piece of property on the uninhabited small barrier island had come down to Miz Callie through her side of the family. It was hers to do what she liked with. Surely she realized nobody would contest that.
“Good.” Her grandmother gave a short nod. She sounded very much in control, but Georgia could see her hands were clasped tightly to keep them from trembling. “Matthew is going to turn the Jones Island land into a nature preserve to protect it from ever being developed.”
Georgia blinked. Whatever she’d expected, it hadn’t been this, not after all the secrecy. “Do you mean you’re turning it over to the state?”
“Nothing so simple,” Matt said. “Miz Callie wants the land in a private trust, so that she controls what’s done there. That makes it considerably more difficult to navigate all the various governmental regulations.”
“You’re doing fine.” Miz Callie waved away the issue. “It’ll be exactly the way I want it.”
This was a tempest in a teapot, as far as she could tell. “Miz Callie, whatever has all the secrecy been about? You must know that no one in the family will object to turning the land into a nature preserve.”
“Yes, child, I know that.” Miz Callie’s face seemed to tighten, as if the skin were drawing close against the bones. “They won’t object to the preserve. They’ll object to what I’m going to call it.”
“Call it?” Georgia echoed. This was like swimming in a fog.
Her grandmother continued to clasp her hands tightly together. “It’s to be named the Edward Austin Bodine Memorial Preserve.”
For a moment the name didn’t register. Then memories filtered through—of pictures quickly flipped past in the family album, of questions unanswered, of conversations broken off when a child entered the room.
“You mean Great-uncle Ned? Grandfather’s older brother? The one who—” She stopped, not sure how much of what she thought she knew was true and how much was a child’s imagining.
“They said he was a coward. They said he ran away rather than defend his country in the war.” Her grandmother’s cheeks flushed. “It wasn’t true. It couldn’t have been.”
Georgia caught the confusion in Matt’s eyes. “The Second World War, she means. Supposedly Ned Bodine disappeared instead of enlisting when he was old enough to fight.” She tried to think this through, but her instinctive reaction was strong. “Miz Callie, you must know it’s not only the family who will be upset about this idea. Other folks have long memories, too. Why don’t you dedicate it to Grandfather?”
“To Ned.” Her voice was firm. “He’s been the family secret for too long.”
“Will people really be upset after all this time?” Matt asked. “Would anyone even remember?”
The fact that Matt could ask the question showed how far he had to go in understanding his adopted home.
“They remember. Charleston society is like one big family with lots of branches. Everyone knows everyone else’s heritage nearly as well as they know their own.” She ran her fingers through her hair, tugging a little, as if that would clear her thoughts. “And it’s not just that. This is a military town, always has been. Bodines have served proudly.” Her mind flickered to her brothers. “Miz Callie, please rethink this.”