“She didn’t mean anything bad by it, you know. She sold her car to get money for all of us,” Zoey pointed out as we pulled into the shop parking lot. The mermaid’s tear dangled around her neck, a reminder of the two-person birthday party that turned out just right.
Her lips trembled downward at the edges as she reached for her door handle, then stopped. “I wish you wouldn’t be mad at Aunt Gina, okay? Everybody doesn’t like her already.”
“I’m just . . . disappointed.” Zoey’s eyes were filled with so much hope right now, so much faith in my sister. I didn’t want her to be hurt if Gina changed directions and took off with her sights set on something new. “Let’s not talk about it, okay? Let’s just have a good day.”
I leaned over the console and smoothed Zoey’s hair. It was a good day. Zoey looked adorable in her new birthday dress from Sandy’s shop. The sun was out. The tourist crowd looked promising. I wanted to just enjoy all that was good and right, to forget about Gina, at least for now, and just live in the bliss.
Unfortunately we were only halfway through the day before Gina showed up at the shop, and my bliss came crashing back to earth. Gina was all smiles and gifts. She’d bought silver necklaces, two halves of a heart with My Sister, My Friend printed on them. One for me. One for her. Our names were engraved on the backs.
“Friends again?” she said as she dangled mine in front of me.
I tucked it into my pocket. “I’m not supposed to wear jewelry here, unless it’s from the shop.”
“Well, that’s a stupid rule.”
Sandy gave her a dirty look. Whether I chose to forgive Gina or not, it was fairly clear that she wouldn’t be invited into the Sisterhood of the Seashell Shop anytime soon.
“But . . . okay,” Gina added, smiling at me. “You guys here for the whole day? Because I was thinking we could take the Jeep out, drive down the beach . . .”
“We’re here for the day.” I was careful to indicate that Zoey would be staying too. She, Megan, and Stephanie were enjoying themselves, making sale posters and shell-based decorations for a sidewalk display out front. “J.T.’s gone fishing with Paul.” So don’t try to kidnap him, either.
Gina yawned behind her hand. She looked warmed-over this morning. “Think I’ll mosey on home and catch a few winks, then. I’m beat.”
I didn’t argue with her. I just let her go. Sandy gave me a dirty look for that too. Not long after Gina was gone, she caught me in a corner and told me I should kick my sister to the curb. “Not that I’m trying to tell you your business,” she added.
“I just . . . need time to think it all through.” I didn’t want to be a wimp, but Sandy had no idea how Gina could be when you made her mad. “She’s the only family I have.”
“You’ve got us.” Sandy’s gaze met mine, and she sighed, her shoulders slumping. “But I know you’re a big girl. You can make your own decisions, and I need to butt out.” I had a feeling she’d been told that more than once before. The line had a practiced quality to it.
“I love it that you care.” I turned back to making coffee. After so many years of dysfunctional relationships that masqueraded as love, having someone offer real love and ask nothing for it in return was startling, sometimes too much to handle. I wasn’t sure I could trust it or was worthy of it.
“Well, just remember, we’re here if you need a friend . . . a bouncer . . . anything.” Sandy circled the counter and went out the back door to the glass shop. After a busy week, she and Sharon were working on more boxes, wind chimes, and suncatchers. During the un-birthday party last night, she’d asked me again to make more driftwood boxes. She especially liked the technique of filling the cracks with shell hash and lacquering over it. She was sure that my boxes would sell for big dollars in the shop. She described them as “sea art.” I’d never thought of myself as an artist, but I guessed I was.
A while later the shop phone rang, and it was Paul. I’d noticed that, so far, he had subtly refused to call me on the cell that Ross had given me. Paul hadn’t come right out and said it, but he didn’t like Ross or my sister any more than Sandy did.
“Hey, so how was the fishing?” I asked. “Did you and J.T. catch anything?”
There was a strange pause on the other end. “Listen, Tandi, I’ve got some bad news —I mean, not about J.T. or anything. He’s fine, but earlier today we were fishing the Boiler up at Pea Island, and I got to talking to a couple guys who were there. Anyway, Fairhope came up, and they said they’d heard that some property had been condemned in Fairhope for flood retention and a borrow pit. I told them I didn’t know anything about it, but it’s been bothering me all day. So I finally made a few calls . . . and . . . well . . . as far as I can tell, they’re talking about Iola’s house. We’ve got to reel in the lines here and pack things up, but I’m headed to Bink’s to see if they’ve heard anything. This doesn’t sound good, though.”
The fear that had been lingering in the back of my mind for weeks now bubbled to the surface. In some way, I’d known this was coming, but in another way, I’d been living in total denial —pretending Iola’s big white house would always be there. If the situation was about to change, I had to get there first, to at least take care of the boxes before Iola’s letters could become fodder for public discussion.
“Paul, I’m headed home. There’s something I have to do there. I’ll need help, and I need the ladder —the tall one, okay?”
“No problem. Whatever you need. I’ll go by Bink’s and then meet you there.”
We hung up, and I hurried to the workshop to find Sandy. Zoey was out there with her, learning to solder the leading on sea glass picture frames.
Sandy pushed her goggles up and beamed at me when I came through the door. “I’ll tell you, we’re going to have to keep this girl a . . .” The smile faded midsentence. “What in the world is wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I explained the situation with Iola’s house, and within a few minutes, Zoey and I were hurrying out the door. “Anything you need, you just call me!” Sandy yelled after us. I realized it was the second time I’d heard that in less than fifteen minutes. Anything you need. What could I possibly have done to deserve people like Paul and Sandy?
And Iola.
I couldn’t let the house be demolished. Somehow, I had to find a way. Yes, there was storm damage, but the place could still be saved. It had withstood a hundred years of storms. It shouldn’t be taken down by a wrecking ball, by someone’s random decision that the property should be used for something else.
Adrenaline surged through my body as we drove home, and with it came determination, a sense of focus. Just as quickly, I felt it draining like a wave retreating into the sea. My skin went cold and clammy as we pulled into the driveway. Gina’s new Jeep was parked in front of the cottage and beside it a tricked-out four-wheel-drive truck that I recognized. Ross’s.
Zoey slanted a glance my way as we drifted to a stop without pulling into the cottage parking nook. All of a sudden, I wished I’d left my daughter behind.
“Zoey, go over to Bink’s and see if Paul and J.T. are there, okay? Tell them we’re home.”
“But, Mama . . .”
“Just go.” My stomach was churning, my mind racing ahead, dashing back and forth between harmless explanations for those two vehicles being parked together and terrible visions of why they probably were.
Zoey slid from the truck and jogged off across the yard, casting nervous backward glances as I crossed the driveway and walked up the steps to the cottage. I waited until she was out of sight before going in. The door was unlocked, but no one was inside.
Maybe Gina had some kind of trouble with the new Jeep, and . . . and she called Ross. Maybe the obnoxious man from the county came back, and . . . and Gina was worried, and . . .
So many logical scenarios, but none seemed to fit. There had never been logic where my sister was concerned. Only impulse and a constant, wild changing of direction, like the sails on an unmanned boat, the boom swinging dangerously in the wind.
A part of me knew. I felt it as I walked out the door of the cottage again, looked around the yard, toward the hedges, toward the barn, toward Iola’s house. Something moved beyond the glass —just a transient form, a ghost, a specter from the past, from all the other times that I’d hoped and believed and yearned and wanted . . . and been disappointed.
Dread flowed cold inside me as I crossed the yard, tiptoed up the porch steps, settled my hand on the doorknob, heard Gina’s raucous laughter, high and light. They didn’t even notice me when I stepped inside. They were too busy on the rug in front of the parlor fireplace —Gina slipping out of her sundress seductively, Ross with his shirt off, one arm braced, his flesh ruddy and tan against hers.
I felt sick, then wounded, then filled with rage. “Get. Out!” I screamed, grabbing a cheap ceramic flowerpot from the hallway table. I flung it at them, and it shattered against the hearth. “How dare you come in here? You have no right! Get out! Both of you get out!”