It seemed like she was always running lately. She was the little Dutch boy, running from place to place trying to stem the flow of money. She had a lot of support from her brother and John Denning but everything was moving so fast. Hurry up and wait. Stop and go. Just like this damn summer traffic.
After waiting through three lights she finally made the turn onto Isle of Palms. A few blocks later she was pulling into her own driveway. Emmi’s and Flo’s cars were parked there, and she spotted both of them standing in the front yard studying the FOR SALE sign. The temperature hovered around ninety and no one in their right mind should be standing outside. She cast a grateful glance at the large oak tree that shaded the front property under its pendulous branches. Thank heavens for the shade, she thought.
“Sorry I’m late,” Cara called as she hurried up the front walk. She was dressed all in black—skinny linen pants and a flowy top. Her arms were loaded down with large bags bulging with supplies from a moving company.
Emmi reached into the plastic box below the sign to take one of the brochures, then came running across the yard. Her green sparkly tunic top caught the light dappling through the leaves. Emmi’s freckled face was always animated, especially when her expression involved her wide mouth. It was rounded in an O of shock. She grabbed one of the bags from Cara’s arms.
“Open the door, honey. Once we get inside and out of this heat, you’ve got some explaining to do.”
“Like what in heaven’s name is a FOR SALE sign doing up in your yard?” demanded Flo, huffing as she caught up with them.
Cara paused to look out at the front yard, then pulled out the keys and opened the front door. “Come in.”
Cara dropped the keys in the bowl on the front table and walked directly to the kitchen. She set the bags down with a sigh. Everything tired her out. It seemed she was always either exhausted or sleeping.
She heard Flo and Emmi talking in the other room and sighed again, knowing she was about to get reamed out by her friends. She pulled out three tall glasses from the cabinet, filled them with ice, and poured sweet tea. Then, to stall for more time, she cut lemon wedges and added them.
“Well, for the love of Mike,” Flo called out. “What are you doing in there? Cooking dinner?”
Cara placed the glasses on a tray and carried them out.
“You don’t have to wait on us,” Emmi said.
“I’m not,” Cara replied. “But after keeping you waiting outside in this heat, the least I could do is offer you a cool drink. It’s only civilized.”
The three friends gathered around the coffee table with their iced tea. Cara took a long drink, enjoying the cool sweetness flowing down her throat like rain on a desert.
“So.” Emmi put her glass on a coaster. “Please explain to us what’s going on.”
“It all happened very fast,” Cara began wearily. She explained about discovering Brett’s lapsed insurance policy and the financial problems she was facing, sparing no details. “I had to be sure the life insurance had expired, so I went to see John Denning.”
“Good man,” Flo said in her forthright manner. “Like his daddy.”
“He’s an angel of mercy,” Cara agreed. “He got me right in to see him. We went through everything—the insurance policy, the loans, the mortgages, the cost of continuing Brett’s business. It’s a mess, I’m afraid.”
“Brett was never one for business,” Flo said. “God rest his soul.”
“He tried,” Cara said in his defense. “And he had so many other gifts. That boat was his last dream. Unfortunately, it turned into a nightmare. After we got the boat loan, I suspect he stopped making the other payments to fund that one.”
“Putting all his eggs in one basket, so to speak,” said Flo.
“More like robbing Peter to pay Paul,” Emmi piped in.
“I know, but nothing to be done about it now.” Cara took a sip of her tea. The sweetness was already rushing through her bloodstream, reviving her.
“And?” Emmi prompted.
Cara set down her glass. “Once John assured me the insurance policy had indeed lapsed, there was nothing left for me to do but figure my way out of the whole mess. It was clear the fastest way to pay off the debt was to sell this house.”
“But, Cara . . . selling your house?” Emmi said, reaching across the table to take her hand. “Do you really have to?”
Cara had gone over this heart-wrenching scenario a hundred times in the past few days, and always she came up with the same answer. “Yes, I do.”
Everyone was silent for a moment, no one knowing what to say next.
“It could be worse,” Cara said with a light laugh that held no humor. “I won’t go bankrupt. I’m lucky I have this house to sell to pay off the debts. It was Brett’s debt and his house. Looking at it that way, he came out even.” Cara looked around the room and said with a sigh, “Besides, I want to leave this house.”
Emmi sat back in her chair. “You want to leave? Why?”
“Brett’s everywhere here. Everywhere I turn I see something of his. This was his house when we got married. His dock, his boat. He loved it here, and I loved living here with him. We were happy. But with him gone . . .” Cara’s voice caught, and she shook her head. “It’s too hard. This life is over. I need to get out of here or I’ll lose my mind with grief.”
“Sure you do, darling,” Flo said, her face crumpled in worry.
“But, Cara, I mean . . . are you sure you should be making big decisions like this so soon after Brett’s . . . you know?”
“After Brett’s death. It’s okay, Emmi. I can say the word. I know he’s gone. I feel his absence every minute of every day. And you’re right. John said he doesn’t advise a widow to make big decisions too soon after the death of her spouse as a rule, but in my case, he agreed I had no choice. And”—she sighed—“I already got an offer on the house.”
“What?” asked Flo, stunned.
“Palmer knew someone who’d been looking for just such a spot. It’s a one-in-a-million offer. They bid over the asking price. Cash. On the condition they can close quickly. In two weeks.”
“You’re kidding! So fast?” Emmi whistled, eyebrows high on her forehead. “Well, tell them you can’t close till the end of summer!” she exclaimed with heat. “You shouldn’t be rushed. You need time.”
“No one’s going to want to wait till the end of summer for a summer house, Em. Least of all this buyer. He’s pushing to get in and enjoy the rest of the season. Can you blame him? It’s a miracle offer.”
“It’s not a miracle. It’s your deepwater dock,” said Flo matter-of-factly.
Almost imperceptibly, Cara lifted her shoulders. “Well, I accepted the offer. I close in three weeks.”
Stunned silence reigned as this news was digested.