After she’d helped her aunt into the bathroom and closed the door, Felicia turned back to Brooke with a stern expression.
“I didn’t want to say anything more in front of my aunt, Ms. Trappnell, because she doesn’t like to ‘fuss,’ as she calls it, but I think it’s best you know who you’re dealing with here. My aunt is an amazing woman. First in her family to finish high school, and then to leave the island to take business classes and work for the railroad. You have no idea what an accomplishment that was in the forties, and in the Jim Crow South. She is the matriarch of this family, and she has been doing for others her whole life. But she still very much suffers from a plantation mentality. She’s grateful for whatever stale crumbs Josephine Warrick throws her way.”
Felicia crossed her arms over her chest. “But that’s not me. In case you’re interested, after I finished Emory, I got a master’s in American history and a PhD in African American studies at Northwestern, but I’m currently my aunt’s caregiver.”
“That’s very admirable of you, giving up a career for your great-aunt,” Brooke said.
“Please don’t patronize me,” Felicia said. “Auntie Vee is the one who did without to buy me a secondhand car to take to college. A month didn’t go by that I didn’t get a card with a little check in it from her. I didn’t give up my career. I’m teaching online classes through the University of North Florida and working on a book proposal. All of this is just to let you know—I don’t intend to let Josephine continue exploiting my aunt or the rest of my family.”
Brooke was startled by Felicia’s intensity. “I know it’s late in the day, but I honestly do believe Josephine wants to make things right by your aunt and by the others living at Oyster Bluff.”
“Do you know anything at all about my people? About the Geechee and how long we’ve lived on these coastal islands?” Felicia asked.
“Only a little,” Brooke admitted. “I know there was a plantation where Shellhaven now stands and that your ancestors were slaves who worked there.”
“Typical,” Felicia snapped.
They heard the toilet flush through the thin Sheetrock walls, and a moment later, Varina slowly emerged from the bathroom.
“All set?” she asked, smiling at her niece.
“Yes, ma’am,” Felicia said, taking her arm. She looked over at Brooke. “Do you have a business card or something? I’ll make some phone calls after I get her home, and then I’ll email you the names and addresses of the Oyster Bluff folks.”
“Any idea how many people we’re talking about? Like, maybe a ballpark figure?”
“My guess? Nine or ten families,” Felicia said.
Brooke fetched a card from her desk and offered it to her visitor, and at the same time, Varina Shaddix reached up and planted a kiss on Brooke’s cheek. “You tell Josephine I’m coming to see her real soon,” she whispered in Brooke’s ear. “You tell her I’ll be praying that demon cancer lets loose of her. Will you do that?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Brooke said. “I’ll let her know.”
16
Felicia Shaddix had hit on a matter that had been worrying Brooke ever since she’d changed her mind and decided to work for Josephine Warrick. The State of Georgia was, as her client said, circling like buzzards, trying to force Josephine to sell Shellhaven and the land surrounding it to add to the existing park on the other end of the island.
Brooke knew little to nothing about statutes pertaining to condemnation law. The good news was that she knew somebody who would be able to school her on the issues. The bad news was that he was a senior partner in her old Savannah law firm. And she hadn’t spoken to Gabe Wynant since the day she’d turned in her resignation letter four years ago.
He had actually been the one who’d hired her, been a mentor and a friend to her, and Brooke could still see the look of disappointment on his face the day she’d shown up, unannounced and dripping wet in his office doorway, to tell him she was quitting and leaving town.
The morning she’d quit, Brooke had to make three circles of the block around Calhoun Square, where the Farrell, Wynant offices were located, before finding a curbside parking space a block away. And of course, she’d left her umbrella at home. By the time she stepped into the office’s marble-floored reception area, she looked like a drowned rat.
“Gabe?”
He was sitting at his desk, his suit jacket draped over the back of his chair, his face still ruddy from having just showered and shaved in the bathroom adjoining his office.
“Brooke! My God, what happened to you?”
She gestured toward the bow window that looked out on the live oaks of the square. “Poor planning,” she said. Rain streamed down her face and her legs, leaving a puddle on the jewel-toned Oriental rug.
He stood, went into his bathroom, and came back with a thick, white monogrammed bath towel. “Here, see if this will help.”
She toweled off her hair, made a half-hearted attempt to mop up the worst of the water, then draped the towel over her shoulders.
“Sit,” he said, gesturing toward one of the leather wingback chairs facing his desk. “Unless you want to go home and change first. I’m sure whatever it is can wait.”
“No,” she’d said quietly. “I’m afraid if I leave now, I’ll lose my nerve.”
“You? Never,” Gabe said. “But I don’t like the look on your face right now. As a matter of fact, aren’t you supposed to be on your honeymoon?”
Gabe Wynant was then in his late fifties, but he claimed his hair had turned white overnight after a particularly grueling lawsuit he’d filed against the City of Savannah. He was lean and tan, with a beaky oversized nose and dark eyes behind trendy tortoiseshell Warby Parker glasses.
Brooke took a deep breath. “I’m resigning.”
“What? Why? Aren’t you happy here?”
“I have been. I was.” She felt her upper lip quivering and swallowed. “I thought you would have heard by now. Harris and I … anyway, the wedding’s off.”
“I just got back from vacation, so no, I hadn’t heard,” Gabe said. “I’m sorry, Brooke. We all really liked Harris. He’s a nice guy.”
“The best guy in the world,” Brooke agreed. “And I’m the biggest idiot in the world. But I just can’t…”
She was crying now, big, huge, crybaby tears. He sat and waited. Finally, he handed her a box of tissues.
“I’m not ready to be married,” she said finally. “I thought I loved Harris enough to get past that, but I guess maybe I don’t. Love him enough, I mean. In fact, I’m terrified of being married. And I was terrified to tell anybody, which is why I ran away.”
“Okay,” Gabe said slowly. “But just because you broke off your engagement, that doesn’t mean you have to quit your job. Does it?”
“I can’t stay here any longer,” Brooke said. “I’ve lived in Savannah my whole life, except for when I was in school. I know this sounds like a horrible cliché, but sometimes clichés are true. For me anyway. I feel like I’m suffocating. I’ve made a huge mess of my life. I’ve let my family and friends down, hurt Harris and his family terribly. I’m a disaster. You don’t want me working here, Gabe.”
“You’re the furthest thing from a disaster. You’ve got a fine legal mind. Your work here has been excellent, and all your clients adore you. The fact that you were savvy enough to walk away before getting entangled in a marriage you had doubts about means you’ve got a good head on your shoulders.”
“I didn’t walk away. I ran. All the way to Cumberland Island. I was a coward. I’m still a coward. I snuck into town last night. My parents don’t even know I’m here. Harris is still at his parents’ house in South Carolina. I’ve packed up the rest of my stuff, and as soon as you and I are done talking, I’m headed back down there. I can’t face anybody, Gabe. It was all I could do to make myself come in here this morning, to hand in my resignation in person. I thought it was the least I owed you.”