The Cottage on Rose Lane

by Hope Ramsay

  This was the definition of being caught between a rock and a hard place. But someone had to keep Daddy safe from his own worst intentions. If not Jude, then who? Not Colton, who’d given up on Daddy. Not Momma, who’d walked out on Daddy. And not Micah, who’d abandoned them all to pursue his own career.

  There wasn’t anyone else to do it.

  These sour thoughts swirled in Jude’s head as he walked up Palmetto Street to the Alibi, a dive bar on the corner of Lilac and Palmetto, which had been in business for a good forty years under the same management. This explained the garish COCKTAILS sign above the storefront windows. Advertising cocktails had once been a big deal back in the 1970s, when prohibition had finally ended in South Carolina.

  The old sign had seen better days. It was missing a few letters, so it now spelled out TAIL in fading pink neon. Quite ironic, since no woman (respectable or otherwise) had set foot in the Alibi since the Clinton administration.

  The place was dark inside, lit by a couple of Miller and Bud signs and a few dirty pendant lights over a long U-shaped bar. There was nothing special about the Alibi. It didn’t have trendy exposed-brick walls hung with local art or a menu heavy on oysters and clams or local specialties that featured okra or grits. It had no views of the bay, and it didn’t even have a television.

  It was more like a cave, floored in dirty green and black checkerboard linoleum. It reeked of beer and cheap whiskey with overtones of mildew, the result of the roof leak that had watermarked the ceiling tiles. Tourists didn’t come here. It was a haven for the weary who needed a place to numb themselves to life’s pain. Right now, some old George Strait torch song about lost love was playing on the jukebox.

  It took a moment for Jude’s eyes to adjust to the gloom before he saw Daddy at the end of the bar, a longneck beer in front of him. Well, at least he wasn’t drinking hard liquor.

  Jude crossed the room and took the seat to Daddy’s left. “Hey,” he said.

  His father turned a pair of dark eyes in his direction. “Where you been? I thought you’d be out washing down Reel Therapy.”

  “I was with a client.”

  Daddy’s eyebrows rose, wrinkling his brow. “What kind of client?”

  “I just earned a grand giving a sailing lesson to someone who’s on your side of the fight.”

  “What fight?”

  “The fight over our land.”

  “Well, it’s good to know that you’re not above taking his money,” Daddy grumbled, then took a long pull on his beer.

  “Her money. The client was a woman.”

  “Well, that explains everything.” Daddy put his beer on the bar. “You’re pissing in the wind, boy. You know that. When our ship comes in, we’ll be riding high on the hog.”

  Jonas Quick, who was anything but fast, chose that moment to notice Jude’s arrival. The old man hollered down the bar, “Ya want somethin’, Jude?”

  “I’ll have a Coke,” he replied.

  Jonas shook his head as if to say that Jude was wasting his time. He shuffled away, an ancient relic, like his bar.

  Jude turned back toward his father. “Daddy, Santee Resorts isn’t going to give us much for that land. And once you sell out, you’ll need to find another place to live. You’ll probably have to get a mortgage. That resort is not your ship coming in.”

  Daddy shrugged. “College boy. You and Colton both, always being so smart about stuff you don’t even know nothing about.”

  That was a constant refrain. Some parents were proud of their kids’ accomplishments. Daddy, not so much.

  “Look, Daddy, I know how to fix what’s wrong with Barrier Island Charters. All it will take is a bank loan. With a line of credit, we can beef up our advertising and get the business back in the guidebook and on the tourist map. We can also add some new tech to the boat. It wouldn’t take all that much to make it the best charter on the island.”

  “We don’t need any of that.”

  Jude blew out a frustrated breath and balled his fists. He loved his father, but he was at his wit’s end. Between them, he and Daddy had more fishing knowledge and experience than 90 percent of the other charter captains out there. They were the best fishing guides on Jonquil Island.

  They should be succeeding, especially since Jude had gotten his coast guard masters certification and even taught boat safety for the sailing club. He knew more than Daddy, really, because Daddy had never learned to sail, and sailing was harder than captaining a boat with a motor.

  Jude knew the winds and the tides as well as the fishing grounds. He’d made the study of Moonlight Bay the work of a lifetime. He would put his knowledge and experience up against anyone’s. He was totally confident out there on the water. But here on dry land, he was under Daddy’s thumb.

  Daddy was the reason their business was shrinking instead of growing. Daddy drank too much. He made stupid mistakes out on the water. And either he didn’t understand the company’s balance sheet or he just refused to pay attention to the numbers.

  They needed a line of credit, which wasn’t a bad thing. Every growing business needed access to capital. Didn’t Daddy understand that? Apparently not.

  It was the most frustrating thing in the world to be part of a family business but to have no control. Everything was in Daddy’s name. It wasn’t like Old Granny’s land, where at least he owned a share and could have a say. No. He did all the work, managed the books, and kept the boat going. But Daddy’s name was on everything, specifically Reel Therapy, their main asset.

  Jude pounded his fist on the bar, the frustration mounting to the breaking point. “Dammit, Daddy,” he said in a savage whisper, “if you hadn’t taken out part of the pier last year, we wouldn’t be struggling under the high insurance premiums, and we wouldn’t have had to cut back on the advertising. Can’t you see that you’re driving Barrier Island Charters into the ground?”

  “I am not. If we’re failing, it’s your fault. In my day, I didn’t whine to my daddy about credit lines and borrowing money. I just worked my butt off for him. How many times I gotta tell you, we ain’t borrowing any money? That’s the most important thing about business that Granddaddy taught me. Never borrow a cent. And you know what? He didn’t lose his business to bankers like a lot of others did.”

  This conversation always ended with Daddy bringing up Granddaddy’s prohibition against borrowing money. Unfortunately, in Granddaddy’s time, the advice had probably been good. Black folks didn’t get fair loans, if they could even get a loan. But things were different today. And every other captain on the bay had a line of credit. Cash flow could be an issue with a seasonal business like theirs. But trying to get Daddy to unlearn this lesson was like sailing into the wind.

  “And you know what else?” Daddy asked, pounding the bar. “You’re just flat-out crazy if you think you can fix up Old Granny’s house and turn it into a bed-and-breakfast. That old place is more of a shack than my place. History tourists. Lord have mercy. I heard what you said yesterday. What a load of crap.” Daddy shook his head and finished his beer just as Jonas arrived with Jude’s Coke.

  “I’ll have a Jack neat,” Daddy said.

  “No, he won’t. Just total the tab, Jonas.”

  Daddy scowled at him. “Since when do you tell me what to do?”

  It was an old argument. “Daddy, we have a charter tomorrow. Which means we have work to do right now. And I get to tell you what to do because I’m the only one who hasn’t abandoned you.”

  “That’s not true. I see Colton every once in a while, and you’ve heard that Micah is coming back.”

  “Every once in a while? Every time Colton comes around, you two end up arguing or worse. And Micah’s been gone for half my life. So don’t talk to me about my brothers. I’m here. I’ve always been here. And without me, Barrier Island Charters would have sunk years ago.”

  Daddy hung his head. “Yeah, I guess.” He looked up, his eyes kind of shiny in the dim light. “I really appreciate it, Jude. You know that.”r />
  Damn. Daddy had been drinking beers for a while, hadn’t he?

  “Yeah. I do know it,” Jude said gently. How could he walk away from this man? He couldn’t. Bottom line, he still loved the bastard, and he’d promised to stick with him come hell or high water.

  Chapter Seven

  Saturday dawned clear and warm. Jenna finished her morning routine by nine and found herself at loose ends without sailing lessons to occupy her. And it was still a day away from Sunday, when she planned to attend the Church at Heavenly Rest, where she’d discovered that Patsy Bauman chaired the Altar Guild. Right now, her path to a relationship with Patsy seemed clearer than the path to her uncle.

  She had no idea how to use Jude to meet Harry. And after the way he’d behaved on Friday, she wasn’t sure she wanted to use him that way. In truth, she was far too attracted to him. He’d even invaded her dreams. Night after night, she dreamed about sailing, but not in a small boat. No. She dreamed of a big boat with old-fashioned square sails and a captain with a dark complexion and tawny eyes. Her dreams were like the old pirate movies featuring a stunningly handsome man with a ring in his ear, a cutlass at his hip, and a musket tucked into his waistband.

  Clearly the pirate culture of Jonquil Island was invading her subconscious.

  With nothing better to do, she decided to go shopping. She strolled from the cottage down to the main business district, stopped in at Bread, Butter, and Beans for coffee and a scone, and then played tourist, ducking into shops along the way.

  The Treasure Chest, a seasonal souvenir shop with a clichéd pirate theme, was open, and she bought herself a new pair of flip-flops. The shop had a ridiculously large collection of pirate-themed T-shirts similar to the one Tim Meyer had worn the day he and Kyra had rescued her.

  Daffy Down Dilly, a high-end gift shop selling all things daffodil, had an interesting concept, and she eyed a sundress with daffodils around its hemline but didn’t buy it because it was too expensive. But the store, with all its daffodils, left Jenna thinking about her mother. Daffodils had been Mom’s favorite flower. So much so that she’d insisted there be as many as possible at her funeral—not an easy task since Mom had died in December two years before Milo Stracham had darkened her door with his surprising news.

  Mom had been a role model. A single mother who had doggedly worked to earn a college degree. A woman who was fiercely independent and who had taught Jenna the value of self-reliance. Jenna stood in the middle of Daffy Down Dilly and had a poignant moment. She missed her mom. And if she couldn’t build a relationship with Harry and Patsy Bauman, she’d remain a family-less person. She’d always been family-less, really. But today it seemed like a heavy burden to bear.

  She pushed the sudden sadness away, wiped an errant tear from her eye, and left the gift store to continue down Harbor Drive until she spied A Stitch in Time, the fabric shop Patsy had mentioned.

  Now, there was an idea. Maybe she could talk her way into one of Ashley’s quilting bees if she took a quilting lesson at the yarn store. At the very least, she’d have something to say to Patsy tomorrow when she cornered her at church.

  Jenna stepped into the narrow store, which had wide-plank wood floors and a comfy-looking couch and chair in the front window, where several older women sat knitting and chatting.

  Cubbies of bright yarn lined the right wall of the shop, while bolts of cloth, most of it cotton prints, lined the left. A checkout counter stood in middle with a cutting area on one side and a point-of-sale on the other.

  Everything about the shop was bright and cheery, starting with yellow paint and the daffodil wallpaper. Jenna hadn’t taken more than three steps into the store before a fiftysomething woman with short hair dyed candy-apple red approached and asked, “Can I help you find something?”

  “Um, well, I’m here for the quilting lessons. I’m staying at Rose Cottage, and the other night I met Patsy Bauman at the quilting bee, and she suggested that this was the place to learn quilting.”

  The woman chuckled. “It’s not a quilting bee, dear. That’s the weekly meeting of the Piece Makers. And I’m sure they sent you to me because they’re a bunch of snobs.”

  “Oh.”

  The woman smiled, her face filled with happy expression lines. She extended her hand. “I’m Louella Pender. My mother started this store around the same time as Mrs. Howland started the Piece Makers. That was just after Pearl Harbor, you know. My word, those ladies have bought a lot of cloth here. But you have to be someone to quilt with them.”

  “Someone?”

  “From one of the older families in town. You have to be born a Howland or a Harrington or a Martin or a Rains. Those families were all here at the beginning, and I’m quite sure every member of the Piece Makers comes from one of those families. Ashley Scott, who was born a Howland, may be younger than the rest of them, but she’s carrying on her granny’s traditions like they were written in stone. I tell you what, those ladies are a tight-knit group. Now, what did you say your name was?”

  “I’m Jenna…Fairchild.” She tripped over the phony last name, not for the first time. “I got that impression, but they sent me here for quilting lessons. How do I sign up?”

  Louella stopped and gave Jenna’s worn camp pants and faded tank top the once-over as if the woman was starting to question Jenna’s honesty because she didn’t look like the type of person who booked a five-star B and B. She needed to reassure the woman before she clammed up. “I’m staying at Rose Cottage for a month to recover from my trip,” she said. “I’ve been traveling all over the world this past year. Just me and my backpack. But I’m on my way home at the end of the month.”

  “And where is home? Boston, maybe? I’m just guessing from your accent.”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “And what do you do there?”

  Wow, Louella was collecting information to add to her gossip stream. Jenna needed to tread carefully but give her as much truth as possible. “I’m a businesswoman. I used to work in the business development department of a Fortune Five Hundred company. But that was before I decided to take a year off to travel.”

  Louella’s smile returned. “Lucky you. I’ve been living here my entire life. I’d love to go to Italy. Did you go there?”

  Jenna shook her head. “No. India, China, Tibet mostly. Then I sailed home across the Pacific, stopped off at the Galápagos Islands, and then spent a little time in South America.”

  “Wow. No wonder you look a little threadbare.”

  Jenna smiled. “So, are there quilting lessons?”

  Louella frowned. “Honey, I teach people how to make a quilt top. For that you need a sewing machine. And I can’t think of a time when a tourist ever came in here looking for lessons. That Patsy has a weird sense of humor sometimes.”

  “Oh. So you mean she sent me here just to get rid of me, huh?” So much for thinking that the path to Patsy Bauman was easier than the path to Uncle Harry.

  “Honey, if you want to learn, you should do it when you get back home. And don’t mind Patsy. She’s kind of dictatorial at times. She was born a Harrington, and that’s an old family around here. And she married very well too.” Louella leaned in a little closer still. “Patsy’s husband is Robert Bauman’s younger brother. You know, the sunglass magnate?”

  Jenna willed her body to stillness despite the sudden rush of adrenaline. “Didn’t Robert Bauman pass away recently? I think I read about that in the Wall Street Journal.”

  “He sure did. And I don’t mean to tell tales out of school, but I think Harry and Patsy were surprised when they didn’t inherit a penny of Robert’s estate. It all went to an illegitimate granddaughter no one knew anything about except Robert himself.”

  “Illegitimate?” Jenna asked. She hated that word. So many newspaper articles about her inheritance had taken pains to point out that Mom and Jamie Bauman had never married. And as far as Jenna knew, they’d hardly known each other.

  “Well, so they say. And with billion
s of dollars on the table, I’m sure they did a DNA test to make sure she truly was his heir. But the thing is, I don’t see Jamie Bauman as the kind of man who would father a child out of wedlock. Jamie was Robert’s son, you know. And I knew him some. He spent his summers here with his aunt and uncle. I met him in vacation Bible school when I was about ten. He and I are the same age. Or would be, if he hadn’t died. He was a quiet boy, and a religious one.”

  “He died young?” she asked, knowing the answer but hoping Louella would add more details.

  “Oh, dear me, very young. Only twenty-two years old.”

  “Oh. What happened?” It took all of Jenna’s willpower to keep her voice neutral as her heart hammered away in her chest. Louella Pender was the first person she’d ever spoken to, besides her mother, who had actually known her father. That thought humbled her. She wanted to know so much about him.

  “He was out sailing in that small boat he loved so much,” Louella said. “What did he call that thing? Oh, yes, I remember. Independence. He used to say that out there on the water was the only place he felt independent. Anyway, he died on a clear day. No weather, no high winds, nothing. They found Independence near the inlet, capsized. Jamie’s body turned up a few days later, way down the bay. He wasn’t wearing a life vest. And you know what? To this day, there are some folks who think he might have been murdered, or worse.”

  “What’s worse than murder?” Jenna asked, her voice shaky.

  “Suicide,” Louella whispered with a firm shake of her head. She stepped back with a dismissive wave. “My, but listen to me go on. Now, how about I fix you up with a learn-to-knit kit for a nice scarf? Honey, you can take knitting anywhere, but quilting requires a dedicated space.”

  A tropical storm had formed out in the Atlantic overnight. It wasn’t close enough to threaten the coast, but it was near enough to send bands of heavy rain on shore starting in the wee hours of Sunday morning. By dawn, when Jenna left her bed for her yoga hour, the rain had let up, but the bay looked angry, roiling with whitecaps.