Lula cupped her daughter’s chin, turning her head one way and then another. “It’s gonna take some getting used to, but I like it. It’s sassy, like you.” She kissed her fingertips and touched them to Brooke’s cheek. “Welcome home, darling. Shall we go claim your luggage?”
“I already have my bags. I carried them on the plane with me.”
Lula eyed her daughter’s rolling suitcase. “You packed for ten days in that?”
“I have this bag as well.” She tugged at the strap of the small duffel slung over her shoulder. “I’m trying to save money. I didn’t want to pay to check my bags.”
“Since when do the airlines charge for checked luggage?”
Brooke laughed. “You really should get out more, Mom.”
“I can’t argue with that.” They walked toward the exit. “Are you hungry? I made a tub of your favorite pimento cheese.”
Brooke licked her lips. “Yummy. I’ve been craving your pimento cheese.”
She hooked her arm through Brooke’s. “I’m glad to hear your taste buds haven’t changed.”
“Oh, they have. I don’t eat beef anymore. Only chicken and seafood.” Brooke flashed Lula a smile she remembered—one that hinted at mischief but was loving just the same. “And cheese. I’ll never give up cheese.”
Lula cast frequent glances at her daughter on the twenty-minute drive home, trying but failing to get used to her new look. She longed for the little girl with the braided pigtails, the child whose angelic face lit up when Lula entered the room. But that child was gone, and in her place was a stranger. She’d been harboring hope that Brooke would one day move back to Charleston or somewhere on the East Coast. Seeing this confident creature beside her, she realized that wasn’t likely to happen. Brooke had set out into the world and made a life for herself on the other side of the country. A life that didn’t include Lula. Her baby girl was lost to her forever.
#
Brooke excused herself after lunch and went upstairs to unpack and rest. She didn’t come back down until nearly five o’clock. Lula kept herself busy at the kitchen table, going over her to-do list and counting and recounting the RSVPs for the party. When Lizbet had come over to help with the invitations, she’d cautioned Lula against inviting so many people. “You’re throwing the party on such short notice, I’m sure most of these people already have plans.”
“I don’t expect them to come,” Lula had said. “But I’ll get brownie points for including them.”
Lizbet had rolled her eyes. “And you won’t have to pay the caterer for their share.”
As it turned out, she received way more acceptances than regrets and was glad about it. She hadn’t seen some of these friends in years. The party couldn’t help but be a success with old friends, delicious food, live entertainment, and free-flowing alcoholic beverages. Only rain could put a damper on their good time. Maybe she should rent that tent after all. She went to the wall phone, punched in the now-familiar number for the party rental place, and asked to speak to Melissa.
“May I say who’s calling?” the receptionist asked.
“Lula Horne.”
She watched the clock tick off five minutes while she waited. Melissa sounded exasperated when she finally came on the line. “How can I help you, Mrs. Horne?”
“I’m calling back about the tent,” Lula said. “How much would it cost if I rented two smaller ones instead of that giant circus thing?”
Melissa released an audible sigh. “Let me check our availability and work up the pricing. I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”
She waited all afternoon, but Melissa never called. Lula took that as a sign from above that a tent was unnecessary.
Brooke had just come downstairs from her nap when Phillip arrived home around five thirty. He embraced his daughter in a bear hug and then held her at arm’s length. “You changed your hair. It looks nice.”
Humph. Her husband wasn’t one to criticize or praise. Nice was the only adjective in his vocabulary. She could be wearing a cow patty on her head and he would say it looked nice. He didn’t mention Brooke’s attire. She’d changed into a sheer sundress that barely covered her breasts. Did he think the black bikini top she wore underneath it instead of a bra looked nice, too?
“I made a fresh pitcher of tea.” Lula gestured at the tray on the counter that held a pitcher of sweet tea and three tall glasses. “Why don’t we go sit a bit on the porch?”
They had just gotten settled when Lizbet’s Honda pulled up to the curb. She hopped out of the car, removed two shopping bags from the trunk, and started up the sidewalk. “Heidi sent dinner,” she called to them, holding up the bags. “Chicken enchiladas, a fruit salad, and blonde brownies for dessert.”
“That was kind of her. Never mind that I spent the morning making Brooke’s favorite.” Lula patted her daughter’s knee beneath the flimsy fabric of her dress. “Although I guess lasagna is no longer your favorite since you gave up red meat.”
Lizbet smiled at her sister. “Hi, you. Let me put these inside,” she said, struggling to open the door with her hands full. “I’ll be right back.”
Lula followed Lizbet to the kitchen. “You knew about her hair, didn’t you? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Lizbet set the bags on the counter. “How did you not know about it?”
“I haven’t seen her in years, remember? How would I have known about it? She certainly didn’t call me up and tell me she’d cut off all her hair.”
“Social media, maybe? Facebook. Instagram. Snapchat.”
“You know I don’t do social media.” Lula ran her hand down Lizbet’s mahogany mane. “Her hair was so pretty. Lighter in color than yours but with the same thick waves.”
Lizbet brushed Lula’s hand away. “I think her hairstyle fits her artsy personality.” She rolled an elastic band off her wrist and gathered her hair into a messy ponytail. “I don’t know why you’re making a big deal about it, anyway. She got her hair cut, not a sex change.”
The creases in her forehead deepened. “Artsy? Since when did Brooke become artsy?”
Lizbet narrowed her eyes at Lula. “She’s a graphic designer. Of course she’s artsy. Where have you been?”
“I never thought of it that way.” Lula removed the containers from the shopping bags and lifted the casserole’s lid. “This looks delicious. I hope you’re planning to stay for dinner.”
“Sorry, but I can’t. Not tonight.”
“But you promised.” She fastened the lid back onto the disposable casserole dish. “I wanted us to have a family dinner to properly welcome your sister home.”
“I’m pretty sure I never promised I’d eat dinner with you tonight. I can only stay for a minute. I need to get organized before the weekend.” Lizbet left the room, putting an end to the discussion.
Lula trailed her down the hall and onto the porch.
Lizbet nudged Brooke over and sat down next to her on the bench swing. “You look good. California agrees with you. How’s work?”
Brooke smiled. “Going well! I just got a promotion.”
Lula gasped. “That’s great! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it wasn’t a done deal until yesterday,” Brooke said.
“I’m proud of you, kiddo,” Phillip said. “Your hard work is paying off.”
“How about you?” Brooke elbowed her sister. “I hear you really like your new job.”
Lizbet shrugged. “It’s fine for now. We’re crazy busy, which is good for me. I really need the money. But it also means I have to work straight through the Fourth.”
Lula assumed Lizbet would have the day off to spend with her family, but she never thought to ask. “You mean to tell me Heidi’s making you work your own party?”
Lizbet stiffened. “It’s not my party, Mom. It’s yours. And Heidi isn’t making me work. She’s paying me to work. She’s counting on me to serve dinner. After everything is cleaned up, I’ll join the party for fireworks.”
“I wa
s counting on you to spend the night,” Lula said.
Lizbet hesitated. “Let me look at the schedule. I might actually be able to spend two nights if we don’t have any events planned for the fifth.”
Brooke laid her head on Lizbet’s shoulder. “Oh, please! Will you try? A friend of mine might be coming in from out of town. We can hang out.”
Lula’s hand flew to her chest. Her daughter had a boyfriend after all. “That’s so exciting, honey. Does your friend have a name?” With any luck, her boyfriend would ask Phillip for her hand in marriage. The timing was perfect. They would announce her engagement at the party.
“Sawyer Glover,” Brooke said.
“Sawyer Glover. That’s a lovely name.” Lula beamed. “When are you expecting Sawyer Glover to arrive?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Brooke said. “I’ll let you know when we figure out our plans.”
Lula wanted to press her for more details—birthplace, job title, annual salary, family net worth—but sensing Brooke would say no more, she decided it best to keep her mouth shut. At least for now.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Lizbet
Lizbet navigated the busy, narrow streets to her apartment. She considered going for groceries, but she didn’t want to waste valuable time sitting in traffic on the way to Harris Teeter. She’d been neglecting her chores. She was down to her last pair of underwear, and her apartment was a wreck, since neither of her roommates helped out with the housework. To save money she’d lived at home during her first two years at the College of Charleston. The summer before her junior year, her father sat her down for a talk. “It’s time you move out of the house. You’re not getting the full college experience by living at home with your mother and me. I’m not suggesting you live in a dorm. Get an apartment with some of your friends.” He’d insisted on paying the bills, but she’d gotten a job anyway to earn her spending money.
Two years later she still lived with her same roommates from college in the same second-floor apartment of a run-down old home on Society Street. She rarely saw her roommates anymore, but she heard them most nights making loud sexual noises with their boyfriends in their bedrooms. The thought of moving into her own apartment appealed to her, but she’d never be able to afford living alone in downtown Charleston on her salary. She was beginning to realize she’d never be able to afford much of anything on her salary, aside from the basics. Brooke had worked several years before getting her first promotion. Lizbet had only just graduated from college. She’d learned a lot about managing her money in the six weeks since her father had stopped her allowance. Combined, the rent, electrical, cell phone, groceries, gas, and car insurance all added up to zero money in her bank account. Lucky for her, her father had agreed to keep her on his health insurance plan. “At least until you find a more permanent job that offers benefits.”
There were no promotions on the horizon for Lizbet. There were no positions at Tasty Provisions to be promoted to. She’d been so enamored with Heidi, she hadn’t bothered to apply for jobs within her field of study—hospitality and tourism management. But, thanks to Heidi, she’d begun a love affair with food. She couldn’t imagine working in any other industry. Instead of being deterred by the demands of a restaurant career, she thrived in her work with a team committed to a common goal—pleasing clients with unique and flavorful food. She enjoyed experimenting with new recipes and was developing a talent for presentation. She had no choice but to make the best of the situation until she could save enough money for culinary school.
Lizbet gathered up her dirty clothes, stuffed them in her hamper, and carried it down the hall to the laundry room. She started a load of whites, retrieved her bucket of cleaning supplies, and set off to work.
She contemplated her future while cleaning her bedroom and all the common areas, including the bathroom she shared with her roommates. She considered moving back in with her parents to save money on rent but dismissed the idea right away. How could she live with her mother when she could barely stand to be in the same room with her for longer than a few minutes? A lump developed in the back of her throat. She didn’t want to feel such . . . such what? Irritation and frustration? Did these emotions stem from anger? Deep down, she loved her mother. Lula hadn’t always been so demanding. It was only in the past couple of years she’d grown more set in her ways. Unyielding in her opinions. Refusing to listen to anyone else’s advice. Never mind that she was wrong more often than not.
When Lizbet finished cleaning, she returned the bucket to the laundry closet, moved her whites to the dryer, and started a load of darks. She went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of pinot grigio and a bowl of Frosted Flakes. She imagined her family gathered around the kitchen table, chatting and laughing and devouring Heidi’s delicious chicken enchilada casserole while she ate her cereal alone in her empty apartment. What was wrong with her? She’d once been so easy to please, a happy-go-lucky child who got along with everyone. Now she found fault with her mother, once the center of her universe, and her roommates, who she’d once thought of as her best friends.
She finished her cereal, slurped the milk from the bowl, and placed it inside the dishwasher. Pouring the rest of the wine into her glass, she took it out onto the porch. Despite the thick, humid air, the streets below teemed with students milling about, coming and going from their evening summer-school classes or going out for a quick bite to eat before hitting the library. She spotted a couple holding hands and walking toward her. She didn’t recognize either of the girls, but something about the one on the left seemed oddly familiar. She waved down at them as they passed the house.
Holy cow! Lizbet fell back against the porch railing. The girl on the left with the super-short haircut and ankle-length skirt looked familiar because she reminded her of Brooke. Could her sister possibly be gay? Her mind reeled as the puzzle pieces fell into place in rapid succession. Brooke traveling across country to attend college. Her long periods of absence. Her cropped hair and funky clothing. The social media posts with Brooke and her friends. All of them girls. Kissing each other’s cheeks, hugging one another tight. So close, too familiar. Why had she never noticed it before? Everything suddenly made perfect sense. Brooke had chosen a college on the opposite side of the country because she had no other choice. In order to live her life the way she wanted to, the way she needed to, she had to get as far away as possible from Lula.
A friend of mine might be coming in from out of town. We can hang out. Lizbet had assumed the friend Brooke was talking about was her boyfriend. She didn’t know anyone with the name Sawyer, boy or girl. She’d thought it sounded masculine, but plenty of parents gave their daughters boys’ names.
Lizbet set her wineglass on the railing and hurried inside for her phone. Accessing her Facebook app, she searched for Sawyer Glover. Facebook listed four matches, three of them female. When she clicked on the top listing, the profile for a stunning young brunette filled her screen. In her profile photo, Brooke was standing beside the brunette with her arm wrapped possessively around Sawyer.
Lizbet had heard the wedding chimes playing in her mother’s head when Brooke mentioned a friend coming to visit. Lula was going to birth a baby calf when she found out that Sawyer, her future son-in-law and the father of her grandchildren, wasn’t a son and would never be a father. That Sawyer was actually her daughter’s girlfriend—that her beloved daughter, her princess, was a lesbian.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Lula
Lula spent a quiet weekend with Brooke and Phillip at the cottage on Sullivan’s Island. They ate seafood for every meal and slept long hours at night, but mostly they talked, making up for the years they’d been apart. They discussed world affairs and politics. Lula and Phillip discovered that the girl who’d left for college seven years ago, with Dave Matthews and Widespread Panic on her playlists and her dream of saving the world intact, had grown into an intelligent young woman. Brooke had developed an appreciation for classical music and a somewhat cynical
view of the world. Lula agreed with her on most counts. It was hard to have faith in the future of a country with a broken political system.
Theirs was a rustic cottage with wraparound porches, spacious rooms, and few modern conveniences. On Saturday and Sunday, while Phillip dozed in the hammock on the porch, mother and daughter spent much of the day soaking up the sun on the beach—splashing in the waves, reading their summer romance novels, and sharing their lives with each other.
It was lunchtime on Sunday and they were eating ham and cheese sandwiches and sipping lemonade when Lula disclosed that she was considering starting her own flower business. “I’ve been supplying flowers to Tasty Provisions, the gourmet market where Lizbet works. I’m proud to say my bouquets have become a hot commodity.”
“That’s exciting, Mom. Your business will do well. You obviously have a green thumb. Your garden is certainly thriving.”
While they finished their picnic, Brooke spoke of her friends in San Francisco and the apartment she rented in the Marina District. When she failed to mention her boyfriend, Lula pressed her. “Can you tell me a little more about Sawyer?”
Brooke stared for a long time at the waves as they crashed against the surf, her silence giving Lula the impression her daughter was preparing to open up about her love life. When she finally spoke, she said, “I’d rather wait and let you form your own opinion of Sawyer. But I need to borrow the car Tuesday morning to go to the airport. If that’s okay with you.”
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