Pawleys Island

by Dorothea Benton Frank

  It was true. All the filthy garbage was rolling down the streets in a windstorm of gossip’s delight and Rebecca felt tainted by it.

  “Rebecca? Listen, I trust Judge Shelby to adjudicate this fairly. I really do. If I trust her, you should too.”

  “It’s going to be all right, Mrs. Simms. Go get a good night’s sleep.”

  The courtroom was empty as Rebecca and I passed through it. I imagined that Claudia, Huey and the others had probably gone back to the hotel. I hadn’t seen Julian since the morning. He was probably lost in the crowd. I couldn’t wait to tell him what had gone on and to hear what he had to say.

  From the lobby we could see there was a commotion on the courthouse steps. A crowd was gathered and the police were trying to restore order.

  “Maybe we should take another exit,” I said.

  “Wait! Oh, my God! It’s Jeff! Abigail! Hurry!”

  “Mahoney? What in the world? You wait here! There’s press everywhere.”

  I pushed open the doors just in time to see the arresting officer slap handcuffs on Nat Simms and Jeff Mahoney.

  “Okay!” the police officer said. “Show’s over! Everybody go home!”

  Albright was picking up his briefcase and his papers that were scattered everywhere. I don’t know why, but I went over to help him. I guess I felt a little sorry for him.

  “What happened?”

  He looked at me in utter disgust and said, “Nat didn’t appreciate Mahoney’s testimony and suggested they settle their differences in manly tradition.”

  “Good grief! And Mahoney took him up on it?”

  “He didn’t have much of a choice. Self-defense. Guess we had better go bail them out?”

  “I’m gonna take Rebecca back to the hotel and then I’ll meet you down at the pokey.”

  “Let me go see if I can get the police to let them go. They’re probably still here because they’d have to get their patrol cars out of the parking garage and all.”

  “Thanks, Albright, I owe you one.”

  “Help me find some decent clients and we’ll call it a day.”

  I couldn’t believe it, but when Harry Albright smiled, he didn’t look like the scum of the earth. Like we say in the Lowcountry, if you lived long enough, you’d see everything.

  TWENTY-TWO

  PEANUT GALLERY

  REBECCA and I walked the short distance back to the Governor’s House Inn. Huey was waiting in the lobby.

  “Oh! Rebecca! Abigail! What a day! What a day!” Huey was very excited. “We’re all meeting on the porch of the Kitchen House. If I had known divorce could be so invigorating, I might have dabbled in the law myself! My goodness, y’all must be exhausted!”

  My cell phone rang. It was Harry Albright. “Don’t worry about Nat and Mahoney. I was able to get all the charges dropped.”

  “That’s great news. Thanks, Harry.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m gonna go have a stiff scotch. Maybe two. See you tomorrow.”

  I looked at my cell phone and thought, well, if I’d realized before today that he was a mammal, I would have told him to go get toasted and send me the receipts.

  “Who was that?” Huey said.

  “Harry Albright. Nat and Jeff Mahoney got into a scuffle on the courthouse steps and Albright got them off the hook. I think I might like a glass of wine.”

  “Did I miss something?” Huey said. “The courthouse steps? My dear, Rebecca, you are so much better off!”

  “I know,” Rebecca said.

  She seemed a little down, and while I understood why, I wished she would cheer up. The day had been a decisive victory, and now it was all over except for the actual reading of the will. My patience was hovering around empty.

  We passed the reception desk and the manager stopped us. He was a small, hairless man, and despite the fact that he was no doubt at the top of his class in hotel and hospitality training, he was very overexcited and stuttering a little.

  “Mrs. Sim—uh, Simms?”

  Rebecca said, “Yes?”

  “Mrs. Simms, there have been a number, I mean, quite a few phone calls for—for—fuh you—Diane Sawyer from G-g-g-good Morning America, Katie Couric from the Ta-ta-Taday Show and Paula Za-Za-Zahn from CNN. Kim Hubu-bu-bard Hubbard called from People magazine. Bruce Smith from the Associated Press. Oh, my! Is there something the hotel can do to help you?”

  Rebecca took the messages from him and looked at me.

  “Maybe,” I said. “We’ll let you know. Thanks. Thanks a lot.”

  Huey, who had walked ahead of us and was waiting at the door to the garden, hotfooted it right back to our sides.

  “What in the world?” Rebecca said. She looked bewildered.

  “Wire services. It’s the miracle of technology. You’d better brace yourself.”

  “What’s happened, Abigail?” Huey said.

  “Rebecca is about to have her fifteen minutes of fame.”

  “No, I’m not,” Rebecca said, and during the short walk to Huey’s rooms she said over and over, “I’m not calling these people back. I just want to be left alone.”

  Miss Olivia and Claudia were waiting for us on Huey’s porch. When we told them about the calls from the networks and magazines, the conversation changed gears from courtroom drama to media drama. I looked up to see Julian crossing the courtyard.

  “Good evening!” I was so happy to see him, and from the corner of my eye, I saw Miss Olivia perk up. She was sweet on Julian. He kissed my cheek and shook everyone’s hand, and Byron poured him a glass of red wine. “Congratulations on today, Abigail. And, Rebecca. Now why all the long faces? What are we all so serious about?”

  When we told him what had happened, all he said was, You’re pulling my leg, right?

  “These reporters are just gonna dog Rebecca until they get their story,” Claudia said.

  “Claudia’s probably right,” I said.

  Byron was passing peeled shrimp that were so sweet they must’ve been swimming that morning.

  “These shrimp are incredible, Byron.”

  “I drove over to Simmon’s this afternoon. Right off the boat.”

  “Have you spoken to your sister, Daphne?”

  “No, do you need me to call her?”

  “Well, if you’re talking to her, maybe you could ask her to tape the news for me.”

  “No problem.”

  “She’s wonderful, you know.”

  “She’s a rascal.”

  Byron smiled, and I thought to myself that he must love being here and included in everything. And why not? He was practically family, except for the obvious.

  “Oh! Wait!” Huey said to Rebecca. “I’ll call Frances DuBose from London Hair! She’ll come for me if I beg her, and she can do your makeup too. She’s fab-u-lous!”

  “Hold on, everybody,” Rebecca said. “I don’t want all this, this intrusion. Wasn’t today bad enough?”

  Miss Olivia, who until then had been very quiet, spoke up. “Now you listen to me, Rebecca. I’ve got something to say…”

  “Can I get you something, Mother?” Huey said.

  “Yes, you can give me two minutes of your attention, that’s what.” Everyone got quiet. “But a little more sherry might be nice.” She held her glass in Huey’s general direction, but her eyes were honed on Rebecca’s face. “Sometimes notoriety comes to us whether we like it or not. And that’s what has happened to you today. You have uninvited attention. I can understand why you wish it would all go away—that’s testament to your refined nature. You’re too young to remember the Watergate trials, but I can assure you that Sam Ervin no more wanted to be in front of all those television cameras than Judge Shelby wanted all that nonsense in her courtroom today. Notoriety doesn’t make you any less dignified, young lady. It all depends on how gracefully you manage to handle it.” Huey handed her glass of sherry to her. She looked up at him sweetly. “Thank you, son.”

  Once again, Miss Olivia had put things in perspective.

  “You kn
ow, Rebecca,” I said, “you really do have an opportunity here. Think about it. Just a couple of hours ago, you were disappointed that you didn’t get to tell your side of things. Now, suddenly, without warning, you could have two hundred million people listening to whatever your little heart wants to say. So if they’re gonna torment you until they get their story, what’s the story you’d like to tell?”

  “It surely sounds worthy of consideration, Rebecca,” Julian said.

  I could see the wheels in Rebecca’s mind start to turn as she stood and walked to the porch railing. She picked a sprig of confederate jasmine and twirled it between her fingers.

  It was true enough that the trial had been a distasteful experience, and there was no doubt that in the least case the story would be carried in the local media. At last there was something for them to talk about besides the weather. True, there was another tropical depression stirring around in the Caribbean, but it wouldn’t make landfall for another week. And this was Rebecca’s window of opportunity to talk about morality, if she chose to do so, or about the perils of plastic surgery. What would she choose?

  “Whatcha thinking?” Claudia said to her.

  “I’m thinking that maybe if I had paid closer attention to Nat’s antics when they began, that maybe I could’ve pulled him back into the marriage.”

  “I don’t think that’s so for a minute!” Huey said. “What are you going to wear tomorrow? Does anyone know what time Saks closes? You can’t go in there tomorrow looking like, I don’t know, like a teacher!”

  “Yes, I can, Huey, and I will! What’s the matter with looking like a teacher? This is how I dress!”

  “We’re getting off topic here, my friends,” I said. I wanted to pinch Huey until he was black and blue and he knew it. “So, you think if you’d acted earlier on, insisted on counseling or something, things may have played out differently?”

  “Maybe. But I didn’t because I couldn’t. I mean, look, y’all, if there’s one thing I’ve learned through all of this it’s that having friends like all of you saved me. That’s what was always wrong in my life with Nat. I had no other family around to support me.”

  “Well,” Miss Olivia said, “there’s your message! You get on those cameras and tell American women just that!”

  “She’s right, Rebecca!” Claudia said. “Isolation is a dangerous thing!”

  “No man is an island!” Huey said and pointed his finger to the porch ceiling.

  Everyone looked around and gave Huey a little heat. “Oh, puhleeze!”

  “What? It’s true! Isn’t it?”

  “Listen,” I said. “They’re right. We all need someone in our lives, impartial observers as well as friends who demand and deserve some accountability. Let’s figure out what you’re going to say and let’s return these phone calls.”

  “Abigail?” Rebecca said. “What if the judge doesn’t rule in our favor? What if I don’t get my children back? Or my house? Won’t I look like a fool?”

  “You can’t be serious, Rebecca,” I said, taking a spring roll from Byron, dipping it and getting the sticky sauce all over my arm. Rebecca handed me a wet wipe from her purse. “Judge Shelby tore them to bits in her chambers and then kicked them out! So the question is not whether or not you win—you’ve already won—the question is how large is your settlement going to be.”

  “I can’t say with authority,” Julian said, “but I can tell you that I’ve known Judge Shelby for a long time and she’s not going to reward Nat’s shenanigans. No, sir.”

  Everyone agreed with Julian and me. The cell phones came out, the phone calls were made and Rebecca would grant interviews after the judge read the decision.

  Later on in the evening after a dinner of continuous hors d’oeuvres from Byron and a huge platter of cheese, fruit and bread, which arrived as a gift from the hotel’s management just in case we might be somebody important, Julian and I sat on the porch with Huey. We listened to the lessening drone of traffic and felt the approach of midnight.

  “Frances DuBose said she’d be here at seven-thirty. She’s a wizard. Rebecca’s going to look like Holly Hunter in the flesh—all that translucent complexion is so wasted. If I had skin like Rebecca and Ms. Hunter I’d…”

  “You’d what? Be a movie star? Come on, darling,” I said to Julian, “time for all the old coots to call it a day.”

  We told Huey good night and went to sleep thinking we were well prepared for what the morning would bring.

  My hotel phone rang at six o’clock. It was Huey.

  “Get up and come quickly, Abigail. I’ve already ordered coffee for all of us. It’s the morning papers—and not just the local ones—listen to this! An Eye for an Eye, Okay. But a Breast for a Breast? This is some trash, sugar.”

  “Give me ten minutes.”

  “Who was that?” Julian said, half asleep.

  “You sleep, sweetheart, I’ll be right back.” I washed my face, deciding I could apply some makeup later. Maybe Frances DuBose would take pity on me. Maybe she could spackle my wrinkles. I showered, dressed for court and slipped out, leaving Julian a note, telling him where to find me.

  By the time I arrived, Huey’s suite was abuzz. Everyone had a copy of the newspapers. The headline that Huey read to me was in various font sizes in every single edition.

  “What am I going to do?” Rebecca said. She was dressed, but her wet hair was in a towel.

  “You’re going to get your hair blown out,” Huey said, “and remain dignified.”

  “Well, this is some fine mess we’ve got here, Ollie,” I said to no one in particular. “Laurel and Hardy,” I said to Rebecca’s puzzled expression.

  “I knew that,” Huey said. “More coffee?”

  “I know you knew that. We’re almost as old as Methuselah, Huey baby, and yes, I’ll have some coffee.”

  “I think it’s pretty funny,” Claudia said. “I mean, come on, who’s going to take this seriously?”

  “Taking it seriously is going to be Rebecca’s gig,” I said. “She’s the one who has to talk to these jokers after the judge passes her ruling. What time is it?”

  “Seven-thirty,” Huey said. “I’d better go wake up Mother.”

  We watched him go and I turned to Rebecca. “Well? Have you thought about what you’re going to say to the press?”

  “Yep. Don’t worry about it. I’m going to have my say. I decided to make it a press conference and then I can get it all over with in one fell swoop.”

  “Great idea. Did you arrange it?”

  “All done. That precious little bald man from yesterday was thrilled out of his mind to make the phone calls and set it all up. And Claudia?”

  “Yeah, hon?”

  “No quips, okay? If they happen to ask you anything, please be serious.”

  “Good Lord, Rebecca! I will! I was just kidding yesterday and so was Judge Shelby! There’s not going to be any reverse surgery! Come on! I think all of this press coverage speaks to the depths of Nat Simms’s depravity! Don’t you? Come on! This isn’t about you!”

  Claudia was right. Except for this. The spotlight was on Rebecca, not Nat. Howard Stern could glamorize Nat’s Svengali number that he did on Charlene, but the real players wanted to know how a nice gal like Rebecca felt about it.

  Frances DuBose knocked on the open door, coming in on Huey’s arm, showing her the headlines, and introduced her to Rebecca. “Gracious!” she said and shook her head. “Don’t you worry, Rebecca. I’ll have your hair looking beautiful in no time. Is there a spot where I can plug in my straightener? And blow dryer?”

  “Right here. Can I get you some coffee?” Byron said.

  “Oh, thank you. That would be great.”

  “Now, let’s see about your face,” she said to Rebecca. “I brought just the right…”

  “Wait a minute! I don’t want too much makeup. I sure don’t want to wind up looking like Charlene, okay?”

  “Right,” Ms. DuBose said. “But we have to bring out those eye
s of yours!”

  “Listen to Frances, Rebecca. Where’s Miss Olivia?”

  “Performing her morning toilette,” Huey said. “She’s going to meet us at nine.”

  The morning was under way and rolling. It seemed like when I thought five minutes had passed, I would check my watch to see that thirty minutes had gone by. Before I knew it, we were back in the courtroom. Nat and Albright were at their table; it was standing room only and the media was there in full force.

  Judge Shelby was somber. She repeated her warning from yesterday’s hearing. She opened her folder and put on her reading glasses. Then she stopped, removed them and looked across the crowd, sighing. Shelby looked tired.

  “I have given this much thought,” she said. “I have read the financial declarations, the appraisals of personal property and the valuation of Mr. Simms’s percentage in his family’s business. I have reviewed and considered all the testimony and evidence. I am clear on all aspects of this proceeding except one. I would like to swear in Rebecca Simms and ask her a few questions myself.”

  Well, that was a surprise, but what could Rebecca do except take the stand and swear to tell the truth—not that anyone needed a Bible to encourage Rebecca to be honest.

  Shelby smiled at Rebecca as she took the oath, and when she was finished she said, “Please be seated.”

  From the quizzical expression on Shelby’s face, I knew she was looking for the right words to use to get the answers that she wanted from Rebecca.

  “Mrs. Simms, your husband is suing you for divorce on the grounds of habitual drunkenness including the use of narcotics. It was mentioned in Mr. Albright’s opening statement and alluded to by the children’s high school counselor. We’ve never heard from you on these accusations. So I want to ask you to explain them.”

  Rebecca was very nervous. Everyone could see her hands shaking. But she was not to be underestimated in her courage to let the truth be known.

  “Judge Shelby, thank you. Thank you for this opportunity to tell a little bit about my side of things. May I have a glass of water please?”

  I poured it and brought it to her. “The truth will set you free,” I whispered.