Choosing Charleston Read online

  “Of course.”

  “The magnetic fields improve your circulation and keep your chi flowing, and that helps to keep the fat cells from forming while you sleep. This thing is a top seller on the show. The manufacturer can hardly keep up with orders.”

  “Wow.”

  “You want one? I’ve still got two or three left, brand new in the box. They were samples.”

  “Sure…why not? It’s important to keep the chi flowing,” I said, humoring her. She didn’t catch the sarcasm in my voice.

  “I’ll have my assistant send you one when I get back.”

  “Thanks.”

  She attached a few other contraptions to her body, including high tech battery operated footies to moisturize her feet and an armband that was supposed to cure carpal tunnel syndrome. Jenny didn’t actually suffer from carpal tunnel syndrome, but she always tested every product she hawked on In Home Now.

  “Do you, um, sleep like this every night? I mean, do you always test all your products?” I tried to imagine how Stephen could get turned on by a woman wearing a chi belt, footies and twelve differently scented products ranging from citrus to menthol.

  “Sure I do,” she said. “Well, unless it’s a lovemaking night. Then, I’ll put on my pheromone lotion, moisture gold glow face cream and some skimpy lingerie. Oh, and tune the nature sound machine to breaking ocean waves or something romantic like that.”

  Smothering an impulse to guffaw, I asked, “How do you know when it’s a lovemaking night?”

  “If I’m in the mood, then it’s a lovemaking night. He’s always in the mood, so that’s never a problem.” She thought for a moment. “And if it’s a Saturday. Always on Saturdays, because he takes me out every Saturday night and then we sleep in on Sunday.”

  It was more information than I needed to know about my sister’s sex life, but then, I had asked. I had no one to blame but myself.

  It dawned on me that it was Saturday and should have been a lovemaking night according to her system. I guessed that, even though he’d flown several hundred miles to retrieve her, it didn’t count since he hadn’t taken her out. I heard Stephen coming down the hall, so I decided to leave my product-savvy sister in his capable hands.

  I found Daddy deep in contemplation on the back porch. Cherry tobacco smoke made lazy curls from the pipe he held to his mouth. I’d poured myself a glass of chardonnay and brought him an icy mug of beer. He had a spread of papers in front of him and I knew he was thinking about the business.

  “So tell me what’s going on,” I demanded. “What did you decide to do?”

  “Go out of business, before I’m forced out. I’ll just liquidate the inventory and put the building on the market.”

  “You’re giving up that easily?” I asked, not wanting to believe the words I’d just heard. He loved the hardware and building supply business. “Maybe there’s something you can do. Maybe I can help.”

  “You can’t negotiate our way out of this one, Little Girl. There’s nothing to talk about. That’s just the way business works sometimes; big fish eating little fish.”

  I took a long, slow sip of wine, shaking my head in disagreement. “There’s always something to negotiate. We’d just have to figure out an angle.”

  “No, there’s no angle. Nobody’s done anything illegal. It just is what it is. It’s time to fold my hand and get out of the game.” He looked up from a plat map and smiled at me. “Protter has won.”

  “But are you ready to quit the business?” Daddy just giving up on something didn’t happen. “I mean, would it be your choice to retire right now?”

  “Who said anything about retiring? I can go be a greeter at Wal-Mart or something.”

  I just gave him the look. The Stone family reprimanding look.

  “Really, Carly. I know you just want to help. But there’ve been too many small businesses that tried to hang on and compete with the big boys, out of pride or stubbornness. It never works.” He drank some beer. “I’ve even talked to Protter to see if the Handyman’s Depot is definite. It is. It’s a done deal. They don’t have to anchor the center with a building supply business, but this area is ripe for one. It’ll work and it’ll go over big. Handyman’s has been looking at the demographics and the competition in this area for some time now. They did their research and they wanted that spot. Protter simply took the highest bidder.” He shrugged his shoulders. “We’re not the first family that Handyman’s or Protter has put out of business, and we won’t be the last.”

  Taffy had joined us and Daddy was absentmindedly scratching the top of her head.

  “We’ve had a good run,” he said with a sigh, setting his pipe down. “I’m just glad Wade’s not here to see what’s going to happen to the business. He started it from scratch… it was his life’s work. And it’s been our livelihood.”

  So that was what was really bothering him. Mamma’s grandfather had passed the family business along to Mamma and Daddy, along with all the sweat and time and energy he’d put into it. And now, Daddy felt like he was dishonoring my great-grandpa.

  “You’re not out of business yet,” I told him. “There’s always a way.”

  “Not in this case, Little Girl. Not in this case.”

  Chapter Seven

  He was as gorgeous as the first time I’d stumbled across the man. Only this time, the construction worker was wearing a pair of yellow and white swim trunks. I was stretched out in a lounge chair, nestled among healthy palm trees and piped-in music, drinking an icy margarita, watching, enjoying. The swimming pool was endless and I noticed his abdomen muscles constrict as he effortlessly pushed himself up out of the water and jumped out.

  “Aunt Carly!” I felt a tug on my foot. “Aunt Carly, it’s for you! Wake up. The telephone’s for you!”

  “Huh?”

  One of the twins, Sherry, shoved a cordless phone at me. I looked at the bedside clock and realized it was already past nine in the morning. I rubbed a hand over my eyes, and thought about trying to go back to sleep to recapture my erotic dream. But curiosity got the better of me and I pressed the phone to my head.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, Carly. How are you doing?” It was a man’s voice.

  “What?”

  “I just called to see how you’re doing. I’m worried about you,” he said.

  “Robert?” I sat up in bed.

  “Look, Carly, we need to talk. I treated you badly and I’m sorry. Come home and let’s talk.”

  “Come home?”

  “Yes, come home and let’s talk.”

  Lori Anne’s prediction that Robert would change his mind and want me back had proven right. But he’d caught me off guard, and I didn’t know what to say. The first rule of mediation was to always be prepared for what either side might throw on the table, but I’d just been blindsided.

  Hearing his voice had induced a microsecond of pleasure, in the moments while my sleepy brain was relaxed and unencumbered by bad memories. But almost immediately a vision of him screwing Corin in my bed brought back a flood of hurt. And red hot anger at the fact that he wanted to divorce me after I’d caught him at it. The more time I’d had to think about it, the more I’d realized he should have been groveling for forgiveness. Not doing the filing.

  Had the twins not been listening, I might have told him to go screw himself. Had they not been watching, I might have given in to my urge to throw the telephone against the wall. Instead, I took a deep breath and told myself to stay calm.

  “It took a week to decide this?”

  “I wanted to give you some time to calm down.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “What happened to Corin?”

  “Well, nothing’s happened to her,” he said, and drank some coffee. The long sip traveled through the phone line and I envisioned him sitting at my kitchen table. The one I’d bought right after college, for my first apartment in Charleston. He’d have the newspaper on the table in front of him, the sports section on top, sprea
d out beside a saucer of buttered wheat toast and exactly half of a banana. He wouldn’t have the coffee cup on a saucer, as many new stains would attest. “We’re not together, if that’s what you mean.”

  “But I thought you loved her.”

  Silence.

  “Well, you certainly told her so, when I stumbled upon the two of you. ‘I love you. I love you. I love you’, you kept telling her,” I said, dredging the only mud I could think up on such short notice. At least it was really dirty mud.

  “Look, Carly.” Another sip. “It was just sex. It’s like, you were so busy at work and all, I turned to her for companionship. I enjoyed her company. But I was never after her. I mean, she’s the one who seduced me, and well, I did let it happen. But I know it was a huge mistake. I’m sorry and I want you to come home. Please. Come home.”

  He wanted me back. Even though I wasn’t sure I wanted him, a small thrill of victory rushed through my abdomen, diluting the anger. I knew I’d played my hand correctly. I’d been patient. I hadn’t begged him to choose me over her. I hadn’t shown any weakness and I wasn’t going to start now. The ball was back in my court and I wanted to keep it there for a while.

  “I’ll be coming back in a few days, Robert,” I told him and the steadiness in my voice surprised me. “But not because of you. I’ve got to get back to work before my firm fires me. So I was planning on returning to New York anyway, whether you were in or out of the picture.”

  He sighed. “Carly, I never left the picture.”

  “So the divorce lawyer thing was all just for fun?” I shooed the twins away but instead of allowing me some privacy, they climbed up and snuggled into my bed to hear better.

  “I wasn’t thinking right,” Robert said. “Marriage is for better or for worse, and we’ll get through this. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I love you. I know you’ll make a wonderful mother, when the time is right. I want us to start a family. I don’t want a divorce, Carly. I told my lawyer to tear up the papers. Please come home.”

  “Did you know about Minnie Beth and Patrick selling their land?” I demanded, changing the subject. “The land across from Daddy’s store?”

  He hesitated. “They had mentioned something about it, but I don’t really know anything. You know I don’t keep up with their affairs. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about them. I called to talk about us.”

  “Is Patrick sick? Mamma said she heard that he hasn’t been well. But they don’t answer the phone.”

  “Last I heard, he’d come down with some form of cancer and he was getting treatment at the medical university in Charleston. But I don’t want to talk about them. I called to talk about us,” he repeated, his voice all businesslike.

  I was genuinely shocked at his aloofness. “How can you be so indifferent about the people who raised you? They’re the only parents you’ll ever have.”

  Sherry and Stacy gave each other a look, silently debating about the outcome of my phone call.

  “My parents are dead, Carly. I was raised by a foster family. They did their good deed, and I’ve repaid them. It is was it is and that’s that.” His voice was flat.

  “Repaid them? How? You never even visit them.”

  “I gave them money because they were too stupid to plan ahead and buy supplemental health insurance. Medicare coverage of certain treatments is quite limited. In any case, it’s really not your business.”

  This impatient, callous man did not sound like the same one I had married and I wondered if I knew him as well as I thought. On the other hand, being raised by people other than his natural parents had been difficult for Robert and perhaps he had done the best he could by offering money rather than emotional support. At least it was something. It proved he wasn’t totally heartless.

  “Look, I’m sorry to sound crass,” he said, softening. “It’s just that I don’t want to talk about Minnie Beth and Patrick. They are not my family. I don’t have a family until I make one with you, Carly.”

  His plea sounded genuine and it seemed he was truly sorry for what he’d done. People were not perfect, and if nothing else, Robert had learned a valuable lesson. The cheap thrill of adulterous sex was not worth ruining a marriage. If I took him back, he would never screw around on me again, especially if he was serious about starting a family.

  On the other hand, I was still shell-shocked and hurt. It would be difficult to go back and face the man who betrayed my trust. Confused, I sucked in another long breath and tried to calm the activity in my gut.

  “Look, Robert. I can appreciate that you realize you made a terrible mistake. But I’m not going to commit to anything right now just because you’ve suddenly changed your mind and want me back. So I’ll see you in a few days and we’ll talk then.”

  The twins disappeared to tell Mamma the news.

  “Good,” Robert said and I heard what might have been a sigh of relief. “But don’t wait too long, or I may have to come after you,” he threatened, only half joking.

  We disconnected and, tired as I suddenly was, sleep evaded me. I lay in bed, not wanting to get up but unable to doze. Several unsettled minutes later, the fertile aroma of Mamma’s freshly ground coffee nudged me into to action. I thought about my husband and his character and fixing our damaged marriage as I stood beneath the rejuvenating spray of a steamy shower.

  * * *

  Stephen’s mood at breakfast was jovial and I surmised it had turned out to be a lovemaking night for Jenny after all. Since the pilot had been forced to carry the poodle back to Atlanta, the house was pleasantly free of growling. The kids were behaving, Granny and Daddy played a game of gin rummy and Mamma fed everyone a feast of grits, peeled sliced tomatoes, homemade biscuits, ham and scrambled eggs. It felt good to be pampered but if I kept eating Mamma’s cooking and didn’t start exercising, I’d be the twin who needed to worry about getting fat.

  “Robert called this morning,” I announced. “He says he wants me to come home. That he doesn’t really want a divorce. He had his lawyer tear up the papers.”

  “The nerve of him!”

  “No!”

  “Who does he think he is?”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Everyone spoke at once and I wasn’t even sure who said what. But the collective look on their faces told me the twins had already spread the news.

  “Wasn’t there another dog wanderin’ around here?” Granny asked. “A mean one that must’ve got kicked in the noggin as a pup?”

  “Yes there was another dog,” I told her, “but it went home. Like I’m going to do soon. I guess I’ve got to go back to figure things out.”

  Even as I spoke the words, something nagged at my will. It was the sense of belonging and contentment. It was, perhaps, the feeling I already was home.

  Chapter Eight

  The knowledge that I would soon be returning to New York made my remaining time in Charleston that much sweeter. I didn’t know exactly what awaited me up north, and I didn’t want to think about it.

  In a delightful state of emotional suspension, I witnessed the days come and go. There were no plans, no expectations, no deadlines or clients and perhaps most importantly, no husband to face. I went to bed when my body told me it was time to sleep and, although I’d brought an alarm clock, I hadn’t bothered to set it. Mornings in the Stone family household were my own and I gluttonously slept until probing rays of sunlight found their way through the sheer curtains covering my bedroom windows.

  I spent my afternoons playing with Taffy, rummaging through downtown thrift shops and catching up on the local gossip with Lori Anne, playing gin rummy with Granny on the porch, gardening with Mamma, surprising Daddy with lunch at the hardware store and lying on the beach, relishing my shaded chunk of earth where I’d stretch out beneath a colorful umbrella and watch the goings on around me between chapters of a seductive paperback.

  Late afternoons brought the traditional cocktail hour on the piazza with whoever happened to drop by and
evenings revolved around cooking supper. Each chunk of my days and nights blended fabulously with the next like the ingredients in one of Mamma’s famous fresh coconut cakes.

  Jenny and Stephen happily relinquished their parental duties when Mamma or I offered and in a decidedly maternal way, I found myself enjoying Hunter’s fascination with the five-foot radius of world surrounding him. Mamma observed me with amusement as I successfully fished a bead from the depths of his ear canal, bribed him into eating a spoonful of collard greens, and taught him how to make sounds come out of Daddy’s harmonica.

  Although I was cognizant of what day it was, I was gloriously unaware of the calendar date. Robert had called twice more, but I hadn’t been home and hadn’t returned his calls. My boss’s secretary had also called, inquiring as to when I’d be back in the office. Being as ambiguous as possible so as not to be telling an outright lie, I said something about a family emergency and bought myself another few days. I knew my real life, the one with a good job, a not-so-good neighbor, and an apologetic husband, was waiting to be reclaimed. But for now, I wasn’t in a hurry to do so.

  It was a misty Monday morning and the earthy smell of rain merged with that of Mamma’s cinnamon buns. The house was unusually quiet because Stephen had joined Daddy for the day at the store and Jenny had taken Mamma, Granny and the kids shopping.

  My family had been thoughtful enough to leave me a cinnamon bun – just one – but it was still warm and the icing was gooey. Halfheartedly flipping through the paper, I was relishing each bite while when a bold headline commanded my attention.

  “Council Approves Zoning Request; Protter Releases Blueprints.”

  My cinnamon bun lost its flavor. Daddy had already read the same headline. Blameless black ink pressed onto newsprint that affirmed his fears. The Post and Courier article simply reinforced what he already knew – that the shopping center was going to happen and it would include a Handyman’s Depot.

  Next to the brief article was an artist’s rendering, and sardonically, it looked like a first-class project. The buildings were all going to have brick exteriors and the entire complex would be spacious and beautifully landscaped.