Brooke and the others scrambled out of the backseat, and Felicia hurried around to her great-aunt’s side, taking her arm and guiding her carefully through the soft sand.
“This looks like a good spot.” Brooke pointed toward a flat stretch of beach just above the high tide line. Lizzie spread the quilt onto the hard-packed sand and unfolded the beach chair she’d brought for Varina.
“Perfect,” Marie agreed. She set down the basket she’d brought from the house and slipped out of her shoes, easing herself down onto the quilt beside Brooke, Lizzie, and Felicia.
Brooke uncorked the wine, pouring it into plastic cups that she handed around to the others.
“Auntie Vee?” Felicia held out a cup.
“Oh, no, honey,” Varina said.
“Just a sip? To toast the full moon?” Felicia teased.
“All right, a sip.”
When everyone had been served, Brooke raised her cup. “Let’s drink to Josephine.”
Felicia frowned and looked away, muttering something unintelligible.
“Felicia Shaddix, don’t you go acting ugly,” Varina chided.
“Well, I don’t mind toasting Josephine,” Lizzie said. “She’s the one who brought us all together here on this island. She helped me understand a little about my grandmother Ruth and, indirectly, my messed-up, dysfunctional family.” She looked at the other women. “Did I tell you I got my ex to go through the boxes of my grandmother’s stuff I’ve had in storage? He’s sending me the rest of her letters and scrapbooks so I can look for more of Ruth’s correspondence with Josephine and Millie.”
“You’ve got an ex-husband?” Felicia asked.
“Josephine’s not the only one with secrets,” Lizzie said with a touch of sadness. “We were together for nine years but never actually married, which might have been our problem.”
“Sorry,” Felicia said. “I know what that’s like.”
“Not to mention Josephine seems to have reignited my stagnant writing career,” Lizzie said, brightening. “I’ve never been as productive as I’ve been since I came to Talisa. I’ve sold my piece about the High Tide Club ladies to Vanity Fair, and I’ve even started fiddling around with a screenplay. So here’s to Josephine.”
Brooke tapped her cup against Lizzie’s. “She made me take a closer look at my family too. I’ve gained a new appreciation for my amazing mom, and I’m suddenly on speaking terms again with my dad. More importantly, I’ve reconnected with my own son’s father.”
“Does that mean you and Pete…?” Marie asked.
“We’ll see,” Brooke said. “He’s coming back into Savannah tomorrow, and he wants to have a serious talk about the future. Whatever that means.”
“Josephine almost got you killed,” Felicia reminded Brooke, pointing in the direction of the lighthouse.
“That was my own fault. I fell for Gabe’s lies. I wanted easy answers, and he was only too willing to give them. Maybe if I’d listened when my dad tried to warn me about him, none of this would have happened.”
Varina took a tiny sip of the wine and made a face. “Why do folks like this stuff? Tastes nasty to me. Josephine was my first friend and my oldest friend.” She patted Felicia’s shoulder. “I know you can’t understand it, but that’s a fact.”
“Auntie! She stole your child, told you he was dead, then gave him to strangers to raise. It’s obscene! She treated you just like those plantation owners treated their slaves right here on this island. It kills me to think about it.”
Varina was unfazed by her niece’s brutal judgment. “Or maybe she did what she did out of love. I was so young. Had no money, no friends or family in Savannah. No education. How could I raise a child? And maybe I wouldn’t have been able to love that baby, knowing how he came into the world. I had nightmares for a long time about that bad man. Sometimes I would wake up, crying and sweating, thinking about him, about what he did to me. Maybe I would have seen his face every time I looked at that baby.”
“But she had no right,” Brooke said. “That should have been your decision, not hers. And what about C. D.? How different would his life have been if he hadn’t been dumped in that orphanage and then shuttled off to a children’s home?”
Varina shrugged. “I guess that was God’s plan. For him and for me.” She looked at Brooke, and her eyes seemed to brighten. “I know it was God’s plan that brought me back to this beautiful island where I was born, and then, it brought my son here too. After all these years. You see that, don’t you?”
“No,” Felicia said, shaking her head again. “I don’t. I don’t see it that way at all.”
“Try it this way, then,” Varina said. “It’s easier to walk around with love in your heart than with hate.” She clutched her chest. “I don’t want that burden. I let go of all that mess. You need to do that too.”
“I’ll drink to dear old Aunt Josephine,” Marie said. “It’s been painful, I’ll admit, but finding out that my biological father was Gardiner Bettendorf has been a blessing in disguise. It gives me a new appreciation for Pops, who loved and raised me as his own, and it’s deepened my admiration for my mom. I had no idea of the depth of her courage and quiet determination. And her strength. And now … all of this.” She waved her arm at the landscape around them. “Talisa is such a wonderful opportunity and a challenge, especially for somebody my age. Ever since I found out, I wake up every morning and my head is spinning with plans and ideas for Shellhaven and Talisa.” She grinned. “After all those years of being a wife and stay-at-home mother, of being a volunteer and a fund-raiser, I have a project again. And it’s big and inspiring and intimidating. I tell you, it’s like a youth tonic!”
“What kind of plans do you have?” Felicia asked, sipping her wine.
“I really want to fulfill Josephine’s dream of saving the island and keeping it out of the state’s hands, but I’m going to need all of you to get on board.”
“Us?” Felicia looked skeptical.
“All of you,” Marie said. “Josephine had the right idea.”
“But the wrong lawyer,” Brooke said. “Which was my fault.”
“I’m going to honor her intentions as best I can. I’ll create the Talisa Trust, with all of you as partners. First priority is to preserve and update Shellhaven.”
“Please tell me that means central air,” Lizzie said.
“Central heat and air, a new roof, updated electrical. All new bathrooms and a new kitchen. I’ve got a contractor coming over Monday to start working on an estimate.”
“Does that mean you’re moving to Shellhaven?” Lizzie asked.
“Full-time? No. I’ve got a much better idea. I want to turn Shellhaven into a nonprofit retreat house for writers, painters, musicians. We could offer residencies for creative types to come for, say, two weeks or maybe even a month’s stay. That’s why all the bedrooms will need new en suite baths. Then, I want to convert the barn into studio spaces, maybe with moveable walls so there could be a central performance space for readings or art exhibits or concerts. I’m not going to live here full-time, but I was thinking maybe you”—she pointed at Lizzie—“might agree to that. I wouldn’t want you to give up your writing, now that it’s going so well again, but maybe you could live on-site and help vet the writers applying for residency.”
“Twist my arm,” Lizzie said.
“Mom, that’s a genius idea!” Brooke exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Marie tapped her skull. “A lot of it’s still just up here. But you won’t mind, will you? Not inheriting some big old white elephant of a house to clatter around in during your old age?”
“No.” Brooke laughed. “And I definitely won’t mind missing out on the upkeep or the tax burden.”
“What about all of Josephine’s cars? She loved those old things,” Varina said wistfully.
“I’ll have a new garage built, and of course, I’ll keep the Packard, but those other cars are too rare and valuable to keep here on the island, where the salt air is so destructive and nobody really drives them. I want to sell them and use the money for something that does real good.”