“Now, as I was saying,” Booker continued. “As you may know, I have been pursuing this flower of southern womanhood, Julia Elizabeth Capelli, for well over a decade. And as you also know, your friend Julia has, thus far, refused—nay, scorned—my entreaties to allow me to make of her an honest woman.”
“Boo!” Dorie booed.
“Hiss,” Ellis hissed. “Get to the good part, would you?”
Julia rolled her eyes. “Now you know what I’ve been dealing with for all these years.”
“Be that as it may,” Booker went on, gesturing grandly. “Last night, under the influence of a full moon, not to mention nearly two bottles of very good French pinot gris, your friend, and my beloved, did me the great honor of agreeing to, at a date to be announced, make me the happiest man on earth. May I introduce to you all my fiancée, the future Mrs. Julia Capelli-hyphen-Calloway.”
With that, Booker grabbed the champagne bottle and popped the cork, and with the champagne spewing over his hands, he clasped Julia and planted a huge, noisy kiss directly on her laughing lips, while Dorie, Ellis, and Madison cheered wildly.
The lunch that followed was the happiest, craziest, loudest meal Ellis could remember attending in recent memory.
Julia had finally, after much baiting and begging, agreed that the wedding would take place sometime in the fall. “Before you get too fat,” she told Dorie, “and he,” she said, turning fondly to Booker, “has time to change his mind and find another girl.”
But Booker had more than one surprise up his sleeve, they soon discovered. When their appetizers arrived, Julia stared down at her plate of calamari, and finally, with a fork, picked up a vinaigrette-drenched ring—platinum, with a band of small diamond chips surrounding an enormous, glittering cushion-cut diamond.
“Booker!” Julia sputtered. “What the hell?”
Booker lifted the ring from the tines of Julia’s fork and slid it, dressing and all, onto her left hand. He kissed the ring, and then Julia’s palm, and finally, her lips.
When she’d recovered from the shock, Julia held her hand up and twisted it back and forth, admiring the glint of sunlight on the diamond. “It’s perfect,” she declared. “If I’d designed it myself, it could not have been more perfect. It looks so much like my grandmother’s engagement ring. How did you know? And where on earth…?”
Instead of answering her, Booker stood, picked up the camera he’d slung over the back of his chair, aimed, and started shooting photos of the group around the table.
“It is your grandmother’s,” he told her.
“But…” Julia sputtered. “Mama left it to my brother Joe.”
“And your sister-in-law decided it was hideously old-fashioned,” Booker said, planting yet another kiss on Julia’s cheek. “I’d e-mailed to ask if there was a piece of family jewelry he might be willing to part with, in the remote event that you would ever agree to get married, and he was only too happy to let me take this off his hands.”
“You!” Julia squealed. She got up, backed him into a chair and then planted herself on his lap, kissing him passionately.
“Get a room,” Dorie called.
After lunch, as the group was filing out of the restaurant, Booker pulled Ellis aside.
“Great news,” he said. “Simon texted me just as we were getting in the car to drive over here. The producers loved the scouting shots. He’s flying in with them first thing Monday to work on lining up the rest of the locations. Have you told Ty about any of this?”
“That’s so great,” Ellis said, trying to refrain from squealing. “I haven’t talked to Ty, he’s been gone all day. But I’ll call him right away and let him know you need to talk to him.”
“Good, because Simon says the whole production schedule’s been sped up. It’s supposed to be top secret, but one of the leading ladies just disclosed that she’s pregnant.”
“I wonder which one,” Ellis said, watching Dorie climb into the driver’s seat of the red van. “Um, Booker, do you have any idea how much the movie people will pay to use the house?”
“Nope,” Booker said. “That’s something Ty will need to negotiate.”
* * *
It was close to six when Ellis saw the Bronco pull into the garage. A few minutes later, her phone dinged, announcing the arrival of a text message.
COCKTAILS ON MY VERANDA? MR. CULPEPPER.
She grinned and texted back:
B RITE OVER.
Ellis pulled on a pair of white shorts and a scoop-necked lime green top that made her tan look golden. After slicking on some lip gloss and spritzing on some perfume, she strolled over to the garage apartment.
Ty was just emerging from the shower, a beach towel wrapped around his waist, when she got to the top of the deck stairs.
“Oh,” she said, blushing. “Uh, guess I’m early.”
He laughed at her modesty and pulled her to him. He was still damp from the shower, but she didn’t mind at all that her top and spotless white shorts were getting equally damp.
“There’s some beer and a bottle of white wine in the fridge,” he told her. “And I think I’ve got some chips and salsa, if you’re hungry. I’ll get dressed and be out in a minute.”
Ellis set out the chips and salsa, poured herself a glass of wine, and took it out to the deck. She stood at the rail, looking out at the beach, which was mostly deserted now, with the exception of two adolescent boys riding skimboards at the water’s edge.
She’d noticed the boys earlier in the morning and realized they’d spent the whole day lounging on the beach, playing Frisbee, and now skimboarding. It was probably their last free weekend before school started, Ellis realized, feeling that prickle of sadness again. She couldn’t remember when she’d been so sad to see the end of summer.
Ty was behind her now, his arms around her waist, kissing her neck. “You smell good,” he said, breathing in her scent. “Is that for me?”
“All for you,” she said, turning to return his kiss.
They sat companionably in the teak Adirondack chairs, sipping their drinks and catching up.
“I know you hate swordfish, but how do you feel about grouper?” Ty asked. “A buddy of mine called me early this morning and asked if I wanted to crew on his charter. That’s where I’ve been all day. We caught the hell out of the grouper and snapper.”
“I love grouper,” Ellis said. “Are we having dinner?”
“Thought I’d try to impress you with my culinary skills,” he said. “You’re not one of those girly girls who won’t eat fried fish, are you?”
“Not me,” Ellis said.
He nodded approvingly. “Okay. Fried grouper sandwiches and coleslaw for dinner. You’re in charge of the coleslaw.”
“I can do that,” Ellis said, following him into the kitchen. “But first, I’ve got a proposition for you.”
43
“Summer Fling could be the thing that saves Ebbtide,” Ellis said, outlining what Booker had told her about his friend Simon. “A big Hollywood movie. If they use your house for filming, they’d probably pay enough in rent to get you out of the hole.”
Ty gazed out the kitchen window at the big house. “But Ebbtide’s a wreck. You said so yourself. Who would want to shoot a movie here?”
“Apparently they like what they’ve seen,” Ellis insisted. “Starting with the crummy pictures Julia took with her cell phone, and including the professional-quality photos Booker’s been taking for the past couple of days. Maybe the movie’s about an old house. They make movies like that all the time, and they can’t all be filmed from specially built sets.”
“I guess,” Ty said, placing the flour-coated grouper into a cast-iron skillet full of bubbling oil. “I never go see movies anymore. Probably the last one I saw was Die Hard 2.”
Ellis buttered the hamburger buns and put them in the tiny oven to brown. “Well, I see lots and lots of chick-type movies, and I can tell you that my favorite ones are the ones where the houses are as much a chara
cter in the plot as the actors. And,” she added, “with the actresses that have supposedly already been signed for Summer Fling, it sounds like a really big-budget flick.”
With a long-handled fork, Ty flipped over each of the fish fillets. “You like tartar sauce, or do you wanna try my super-secret sauce?”
“What’s your super-secret sauce?”
“If I tell you that, it won’t be a super secret, now will it?”
“What if I swear not to tell?” Ellis asked. “Pinky swear?”
“I’ve got a better idea,” Ty said, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her.
“And the secret?” Ellis asked, stepping away from his reach.
“Bottled chili sauce, lemon juice, horseradish, and Duke’s mayo,” Ty said.
He laid out the grouper on a brown paper grocery store sack to drain, deftly mixed up his sauce, and five minutes later, they’d pushed aside the papers on the tiny dining table/desk to eat.
“Mmm,” Ellis said, biting into her sandwich. “I am officially impressed. This might be the best grouper sandwich I’ve ever had. And growing up in Savannah, I’ve had a lot.”
Ty lifted a forkful of coleslaw. “This slaw’s not too shabby either. How’d you make the dressing? It’s not mayonnaisey, which I like.”
“It’s my mama’s recipe, and my daddy taught her how to make it,” Ellis confided. “You just sprinkle sugar and salt on the shredded cabbage, and you crunch it together with your hands ’til the cabbage kinda ‘weeps.’ Then you heat up some apple cider vinegar on the stove, and put in some more sugar and some celery seed. You just pour that over the cabbage while it’s still warm, mash it around with a wooden spoon, and put it in the fridge. It’s even better if you let it sit a day or so.”
“We make a decent team,” Ty said, resting his elbows on the table. He looked around the room. “Apparently, somebody broke in here today and cleaned the joint up. They even did my laundry. You ever hear of a burglar doing that?”
“It was me,” Ellis admitted. “Don’t know what came over me. I was so excited about this movie thing, I ran over here this morning to tell you about it. I let myself in, and I kinda got carried away.” She flashed him an apologetic grin. “Sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“Why not? I mean, who am I to tamper with your domestic urges?”
“Oh my gosh,” Ellis said, setting her fork down. “I completely forgot! You had a visitor while I was here cleaning up. So much has happened today—what with Julia and Booker getting engaged, and the movie stuff—it totally slipped my mind.”
“Who came by?” Ty said, his mouth twisted sardonically. “Another bill collector?”
“Your ex,” Ellis said. “And her husband.”
“I hope you ran ’em off with a pitchfork,” Ty said. “What the hell did they want?”
“To get a better look at this apartment, and the house, of course,” Ellis said. “They actually wanted me to let them inside so they could figure out if this apartment would make a good income property.”
“That’s Kendra,” Ty said bitterly. “Never lets any dust settle under her feet once she’s on a mission.”
“She said she’s been calling you and leaving messages that you never return.”
“Hmm,” Ty said. “Guess I must have forgotten.”
“I couldn’t believe how nervy they were,” Ellis said. “She was up here peering in the windows, trying to scope out the kitchen, while he was down in the garage with a measuring tape! And then, she had the gall to ask me if I thought your tenants in Ebbtide would let them in to look around.”
“Amazing,” Ty said, shaking his head in disbelief. “What did you tell her?”
“That I had no idea who the tenants were,” Ellis said, pleased with her subterfuge.
“Good,” Ty said sharply. He got up from the table and began to clear their plates. “Now, can we think of something else to talk about? Anything else?”
The mood in the room had subtly shifted. Before, they were just messing around, flirting, having fun, getting comfortable together. But now, Ellis sensed, Ty was moody, withdrawn. She was sorry she’d mentioned Kendra. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.
She helped him wash the dishes, and while he was drying and putting them away, she picked up the broom from the corner and started to sweep the kitchen floor, needing a way to work out her nervous energy.
“You don’t have to do that,” Ty said, taking the broom from her hands. He looked around the room for a diversion. “Can’t watch television.”
“Maybe you should call the cable company,” Ellis suggested.
“And lie and tell them I promise to pay them next month?”
“Oh.” She’d put her foot in it again, reminding Ty of his financial situation.
“I’m sorry,” Ty said, catching her hand in his. “None of this is your fault. It’s just … One minute I think I’m digging myself out of the hole I’ve gotten myself into, and the next minute, Kendra and Fuckface are knocking at my door, looking to buy my house out from under me.”
“I understand,” Ellis said softly. And she truly did. “Look,” she said. “It’s been a nice evening. Dinner was great. But I think maybe you could use your space tonight.”
“No,” he protested. “Stay. It’s early yet. I thought we’d take a walk on the beach.…”
“Another night,” Ellis promised. “I want to go back to the house and make sure we’ve got everything tidy. Remember, the movie people are flying in tomorrow.”
“There’s no way they’ll want Ebbtide,” Ty said. “It’s just an ugly, falling-down old dump. Look around. These days, places like Ebbtide are a dime a dozen.”
“They’ll love it!” Ellis insisted. “Please don’t talk like that, Ty. I know it’s discouraging, but I honestly believe this could work out and be the break you’ve been waiting for.”
“Break?” Ty looked dubious. “People like me don’t get breaks. I’ll just have to figure something else out. My dad offered to loan me the money, but I can’t let him touch his retirement.” He gestured towards his computer, which Ellis had jokingly covered with a dish towel during dinner. “There’s a stock I’m watching. I’ve been reading the reports on this company, and I think it’s radically undervalued. They’re working on a new software application, and if they get it patented before anybody else, that actually could be the break I need.”
“Okay,” Ellis said, feeling herself being dismissed, literally and emotionally. “Thanks for dinner, Ty. I’m going to give your cell phone number to Booker so he can give it to Simon, and you can talk to him directly, instead of having me be the go-between.”
“What? Now you’re mad at me? Did we just have a fight?”
“Nope,” she said, trying to make her voice sound lighter than she felt. “I just don’t happen to agree with you. No fight. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
She was climbing the first step to Ebbtide’s porch when she heard her cell phone ding in her pocket. She took it out and saw that she had a text. And it was from Ty.
I’M AN ASS. I’M AN ASS. I’M AN ASS.
“You certainly are,” she muttered to herself. She put the phone back in her pocket and went into the now-dark house.
She found Madison stretched out on the sofa in the living room, reading a moldy-looking paperback detective novel.
“Where is everybody?” Ellis asked.
“Dorie had a dinner date with her new cop friend, and I think Julia and Booker decided to go catch a movie,” Madison said.
Ellis flung herself into an armchair opposite the sofa, kicking her legs over the arms. “What’s that you’re reading?” she asked, squinting to get a look at the lurid cover illustration.
“John D. MacDonald, The Turquoise Lament,” Madison said. “There’s a whole shelf full of them here. My grandfather always used to read John D. MacDonald, and he used to talk about Travis McGee as though he were a real person.”
“Never heard of him,” Ellis said. She got up an
d roamed idly around the room, leafing through books and putting them down, picking up magazines only to discard them.
Her cell phone dinged and she looked at the screen.
PLEASE COME BACK.
Ellis snorted and with the press of a button, cleared the screen of its latest text. “Men are idiots, you know that?”
Madison looked up from her book. “Who me? You’re talking to me?”
“Of course,” Ellis said.
Madison put the book facedown on her chest and sighed. “Having man problems, are we?”
“It’s Ty,” Ellis blurted. “He doesn’t even want to help himself. I told him about Booker’s friend, the movie scout, and no matter what I say, he just seems to think this is some big fantasy of mine. And now he’s got his panties in a wad because I told him his ex-wife and her new husband came around the house while he was gone today, sizing it up to buy it out of foreclosure. Like any of this is my fault.”
“You said it yourself,” Madison said. “Men are idiots. And take it from me, on that I am an authority. The problem is, there really aren’t a lot of good alternatives. So you just have to decide if you want to deal with a whole gender of people who are intrinsically flawed.”
“I have been doing without men for years. A decade, actually,” Ellis said gloomily, slumping down in her chair. “I finally thought I’d found a guy who was different, who was smart and funny.…”
“And sexy as hell,” Madison said meaningfully. “Ty Bazemore is all that.”
“And he’s got a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas,” Ellis added. “I don’t need that.”
“Of course not,” Madison said. “You can just go right back to Philly and your old life there, and leave his stupid foreclosed self right here in Nags Head. Let him figure out how to save his house on his own.”
“I will,” Ellis said. “That’s just what I’m going to do.”
“Good for you,” Madison said. She picked the book up again.
“Have you heard anything from Adam?” Ellis asked, determined to forget her own problems.
Summer Rental Page 33
