Loralee felt Mr. Williams looking at her with expectation, but she knew her offer of help wouldn’t be welcomed. Taking care of the details was probably how Merritt took back control, and Loralee wondered whether every girl who lost her mother did the same thing when life got muddier than a puddle. At least it had been that way for her.
She was about to mention that they might be staying longer than a few days, perhaps leaving out the details that she’d sold their house in Georgia along with all the furniture and had no place else to stay, when Mr. Williams pulled out his phone. “Let me call my wife and see if she can round up some supplies, or maybe even call her cleaning lady to see if she can come by. . . .” He stopped, his flip phone held in midair, and watched as a recent-model black Explorer pulled up at the curb.
The lawyer replaced his phone in his pocket and began quickly walking down the path toward the visitor with a worried look creasing his forehead.
Just as he reached the truck, the driver stepped out and stood facing the house, watching Mr. Williams approach. “Hello, Sidney,” the man said, and Loralee understood for the first time what her mama had meant when she’d described a man as a tall drink of cool water.
He was young, early thirties, with light brown hair and tanned skin, as if he spent a lot of time outdoors. He was lean, but not thin, with broad shoulders and legs that filled out his khaki pants just right.
“I’m not sure now is a good time,” Mr. Williams said to the visitor. “Why don’t I set up a meeting at my office, and I’ll let you know . . .”
But the younger man had shifted his focus from Mr. Williams back to the house, where Loralee stood with Owen and Merritt, and had begun walking up the path toward them. When he got closer, Loralee could see that his eyes were golden brown, like the color of Robert’s favorite brandy. She could also see that he wore a smiley-face pin on his breast pocket, a wardrobe choice that seemed out of place with the expression on his face.
He made a beeline toward Loralee, but was distracted by a small, strangled sound from Merritt. Her face had gone even paler than it had been, and she was holding both of her hands to her face. She looked like a person who was seeing a ghost.
“Cal?” The one word seemed to suck the rest of her color from her face and the man stopped, his expression turning to one of worry as Merritt dropped back into the porch chair like a bag of rocks.
Loralee pushed on Owen’s back. “Go find a clean glass and bring Merritt some cool water, sweetie. And hurry.”
Mr. Williams rushed to Merritt’s side and laid a fatherly hand on her shoulder. “No, Merritt, this is Gibbes. Cal’s brother.”
Her breath was coming in shallow gasps, and it looked like she might faint. Loralee wondered whether Merritt would ever forgive her for witnessing weakness. She figured that to Merritt, nearly fainting in front of three strangers would be right up there with being caught locked outside naked as the day she was born.
Without saying anything, Gibbes took Merritt’s wrist in one hand, then glanced at his watch on his other arm like he was checking her pulse. That was when Loralee noticed his Mickey Mouse watch and the wrapped tops of three lollipops sticking out of his shirt pocket. Out of habit, left over from her days as an airline attendant, her eyes drifted to the empty ring finger on his left hand. She found herself wishing that she’d known he was coming over, because she would have tried to talk Merritt into a little bit of mascara and maybe a swipe of lipstick. First impressions were the most important. She’d put that one in her journal right after she’d met Robert.
Merritt snatched her hand out of his grasp, and Loralee was relieved to see two spots of red appear on her cheeks. “I’m fine,” Merritt said, but she didn’t try to get out of the chair, probably because she wasn’t sure she could be steady on her feet and didn’t want Gibbes to see. Thankfully, that meant Merritt had at least a bit of vanity, or at least enough for Loralee to work with.
Owen came through the doorway holding a tall aqua aluminum tumbler, an identical match to the ones Loralee’s grandma had once owned, purchased with Green Stamps and used only for company and special occasions. The sides had already begun to sweat when he handed it to his sister.
Merritt took her time drinking, her eyes darting around, and she was looking like a giraffe at a watering hole filled with alligators Loralee had once seen on TV. She and Owen watched a lot of National Geographic so she’d know things she hadn’t learned growing up in Gulf Shores, Alabama.
Mr. Williams’s phone rang and he stepped off the porch to answer it, leaving Loralee to fill the silence. That was another thing she was good at, besides serving peanuts in small packets and pouring drinks. “I’m Loralee Connors, and this is my son, Owen.”
Owen stepped forward and put out his hand just like his father had taught him and shot his mother an annoyed glance. “I’m going by Rocky now. It’s nice to meet you, sir. Mama and I have just moved to Beaufort to live with my sister, Merritt.”