*
The funeral-goers milled around inside the house, helping themselves to the buffet provided by Louette, Varina, and other AME church ladies. Platters of golden fried chicken vied with trays of deviled crab, potato salad, pickled shrimp, baked ham, macaroni and cheese, and sliced tomatoes on the polished dining room table. The sideboard was loaded down with more desserts than Brooke had ever seen in one place. Coconut cake, caramel cake, pound cake, chess pie, lemon meringue pie, pecan pie, brownies, and three different colors and shapes of congealed Jell-O salads. Pitchers of iced tea and lemonade stood on a huntboard alongside an enormous crystal punch bowl that held a vivid red concoction that resembled Hawaiian Punch and lime sherbet.
Lizzie brought a plate of food to Varina, who, as the oldest living member of Oyster Bluff and Josephine’s oldest friend, held court in a high-backed chair near the fireplace, then joined Brooke and Marie, who stood near a pair of open windows in a corner, hoping for a bit of cool air.
“I don’t know about you, but I could really use a drink,” Lizzie told the women. “And I can’t wait to get out of this dress. I’m melting!”
“Amen to that,” Marie said, fanning herself. “I wanted to have an open bar, but Louette and Varina were appalled at the suggestion. They said Josephine didn’t mind drinking, but she wouldn’t want to be ‘likkerin’ up half the island,’ as they put it.”
“How much longer before everybody clears out?” Brooke asked. She’d smiled and nodded and accepted the sympathy of strangers for what seemed like an eternity. Her feet hurt, and she desperately wanted a cocktail.
“It’s nearly eight,” Marie said. “But it seems like everybody is just settling in.”
Brooke looked out at the sky, which had turned a deep bluish purple. She leaned forward and spotted what she was looking for. “It’s a full moon tonight.”
Lizzie looked out. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“There’s C. D.,” Lizzie said, nodding toward the dining room, where C. D. was clumsily attempting to load a plate with fried chicken.
“I saw him in church,” Brooke said. “It’s sweet that he made such an effort to dress up for Josephine, especially considering what we know now.”
“Uh-oh,” Lizzie said as Felicia walked into the dining room. “Look who the cat dragged in.” Felicia was dressed up too, in a long, black halter-necked dress. She wore subtle makeup and large gold-hoop earrings. Once again, Brooke was struck by how stunning Felicia was.
She stood for a moment, leaning down to chat with her great-aunt before noticing the other women and walking over to join them.
“My goodness, C. D. really does resemble Varina,” Marie muttered. “It’s uncanny.”
Felicia spotted C. D., who’d found a spot on the sofa and was balancing his plate on his lap. “It looks like he’s taking the news in stride. Better than I would.” She looked at Brooke. “I’m sorry I lost it and blew my stack at you yesterday.”
“It’s understandable,” Brooke said.
“Here’s the thing. Auntie is over it. She was upset when she came home, but this morning, when I got up, she was dressed in her church dress, all ready to go. At 7:30 in the morning! She was sitting in a chair, reading her Bible, clutching a string of rosary beads, of all things. And she proceeded to cite me chapter and verse on forgiveness.”
Marie smiled. “I think I’ve marked some of those same verses in my Bible lately.”
“She waited until ten, then she went into Louette’s kitchen and fixed a plate of food from all the stuff the church ladies have been cooking, covered it with foil, and then she asked me, sweet as pie, if I would take her to see C. D.”
“She what?” Lizzie said.
“She wanted to be the one to tell him. I tried to talk her out of it, but Auntie was not having it. So I took her over to C. D.’s cottage. She told me to wait in the big house, then she went up and knocked on the door, and he peeped out, and she offered him his plate of takeout.”
“I would have loved to have heard that conversation,” Brooke said.
“Me too. I waited an hour, then I walked back over there, and they were sitting on that teeny little front porch, kind of talking and staring at each other.”
“How did C. D. seem?” Marie asked.
“Shell-shocked,” Felicia said. “Auntie said he had no idea.”
“Did she tell him the whole story? About Russell Strickland and the rape and how they somehow disposed of the body and kept it a secret all these years?” Marie asked.
“Yep,” Felicia said. “She spilled it all. Then I took her home, and she had a nap and insisted on going over to her house at Oyster Bluff to check on the progress. And then she fixed two dozen deviled eggs and her famous 7UP Jell-O salad to bring over here. I can’t keep up with her, y’all.”
“Your aunt is a marvel, Felicia.”
“She’s my superhero,” Felicia agreed. “God, I wish I had a drink.”
“Look at that moon tonight,” Brooke said. “We need to figure out what time the tide is high.”
“I’ll go ask C. D.,” Lizzie volunteered.
She maneuvered through the crowd, then pulled up a chair and sat down beside the old man. They talked quietly for a moment, then he became visibly agitated, gesturing wildly with his good hand and occasionally pointing at Varina, who was in turn watching him.
“That was a whole lot of conversation just to get a tide report,” Brooke said.
“You’re not going to believe this,” Lizzie said as she rejoined them. “That old goat does not miss a beat. Varina told him about being attacked and raped by Millie’s fiancé, but she still won’t say his name. That’s what he was asking me. I figured the secret’s already out, right? So I told him everything I know about Russell Strickland, how he disappeared the day after the party and was never seen again. I told C. D. that Russell’s grandparents hired a private detective to come down here from Boston to look for Strickland. C. D. wanted to know all about Strickland’s family—where they were from and whether they had money. I told him Josephine said the family was stinking rich and that Russell was an only child. His face lit up like it was the Fourth of July.”
Brooke laughed. “He’ll be over at the library in St. Ann’s before the doors open Monday morning, badgering those poor women to help him track down the Strickland family fortune.”
“And why not?” Felicia asked. “If there’s any money anywhere, why shouldn’t C. D. get it?”
“Did you ever get around to asking C. D. about high tide tonight?” Brooke asked.
“It’s at 9:10. We’ve got forty minutes.” She glanced at Marie. “Are you in?”
Marie’s smile was impish. “You know, I’m seventy-six years old, and I’ve never done it in my life.”
“No way,” Felicia said.
“It’s true,” Marie insisted. “Let’s do it.”
“But we can’t just leave with all these people here,” Brooke said. At least a dozen stragglers seemed to have made themselves at home, lounging on the sofas, leaning in corners, chatting with old friends.
“I’ll ask Louette to put away all the food. That’ll clear stragglers out,” Marie said. “I’ve got a couple bottles of good white wine in the fridge. I’ll pack them up and sneak them out to the car.”
“And I’ll run upstairs and get some beach towels and a quilt out of the linen closet,” Lizzie volunteered. “Felicia, will Varina come with us? Do you think she can manage?”
“I’ll help her manage. Going out to Mermaid Beach tonight is just what she needs. I think it’s what we all need, after the past few days.”
80
Marie eased the Packard off the pavement and as far as she dared drive down the sandy beach overlook before stopping and setting the hand brake.
The ocean spread out before them with the full moon a glowing white orb, spilling silver onto the surface of the deep blue sea.
“Look at all those stars,” Marie marveled.