“Via’s Sports Bar and Gentleman’s Club,” Darryl said.
“Oh,” I returned mindlessly. “Do you work there?”
“For now,” he said. “I’m a bouncer. Get paid to beat up idiots.”
I pulled another snake into the bag and he caught it easily. Less than a dozen to go.
“Via’s is right over there,” he said pointing down the alley. “We’re neighbors. Well, more like butt buddies.” He laughed. “We share that dumpster.” Our two businesses were backed up against each other, separated only by a narrow alleyway.
“Wait! Hold the phone! Did you say it was a gentleman’s club?”
“Yeah, a strip joint,” he clarified.
“Oh, my gosh,” I grimaced. “How can there be a strip club right across the alley from Aunt Laura’s store?”
He shrugged. “It’s really not that bad. It’s safe and all.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
“You’re having a bad day, aren’t you?” Darryl asked.
“Kinda,” I admitted. I yanked another snake into the bag.
“When I was a kid, my brother and I used to find baby snakes in the marshes and keep ‘em as pets,” Darryl shared. “Never quite worked out though. Momma didn’t like it. We’d try to make pets outta anything – bugs, mice, lizards. That your dog in the Jeep over there?”
I nodded. “That’s Willie. I named him after William Shakespeare.”
“Best defense against criminals is a good watch dog,” Darryl Chambers told me. “Good thing you got ‘em.” I glanced up at the dangling snakes and nodded.
Another snake dropped in the bag, shifting its weight. The bag fell to the ground with a squishy thud. We both leaned over to pick it up, bopping our foreheads together like two children.
I laughed, rubbing my noggin with my arm. Darryl did the same.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” he said with a chuckle. “I gotta hard head.”
“No harder than mine,” I smiled.
A green pick-up truck pulled up to the curb, and the automatic window on the passenger side went down.
“Darryl, let’s go!” a female voice said. A blond woman with a bob hair cut sat primly in the driver’s seat. She cast a curt look in our direction.
“My mom,” Darryl explained.
“Thanks for your help,” I said. He left me holding the bag.
Chapter Five
Possibility
“Being left holding the bag” is an 18th century expression referencing either criminals who, upon being ditched by their cohorts, are caught with stolen goods or a rude prank involving a hunt for a nonexistent creature called a snipe (a bag is needed to catch the snipe; the one left holding it is obviously the victim of the prank). All meanings applied here.
I finished the snake work, trying to control my gag reflex. Even when they were all collected, their little blood drippings left a unique pattern on the concrete. I prayed for a heavy rain to wash it away.
I tossed their bodies in the dumpster without ceremony.
Willie bounded out of the Jeep, sniffed the alley and was quick to mark his territory. I pulled him along to the front sidewalk. “We have work to do, Willie,” I told him.
We stared up at the three-story brick building. The white paint was chipping, as was the blue paint around the upper windows. I shrugged. The weathered look wasn’t so bad.
The front door was glass to match the two large windows overlooking the sidewalk. I couldn’t wait to replace the For Sale or Lease sign with the one I had made – the Countdown to the Grand Re-Opening of Beach Read sign. I’d snagged some thick cardboard from the dollar store in bright pink neon, pasted the words in chunky die-cut letters, and affixed a hook onto a black square to hang the numbers.
For now, the sale sign looked rather depressing.
The door jingled when it opened, bringing good memories back. Dust drizzled down like snow as we walked under the bells.
The store was a beautiful mess. Dark wood floors reached out to walls lined with matching shelves – floor to ceiling two floors up. A rusty spiral staircase stood in the back corner and led up to the interior balcony. Four square columns marked each corner, mimicking the loft apartment upstairs, and led the eyes up to the ceiling. The room was tall and dramatic.
The air was a mix of dust, mildew, and decay. A good cleaning was needed, and even though there were cracks in the wood and parts that needed to be sanded and stained, I didn’t care. Just like the paint on the outside, the worn look suited the place.
I could still see Great Aunt Laura’s red hair bobbing through the store as she hunted for some new adventure for me.
“Tell me what happened on your date,” she’d prodded the day after I’d gone to the beach with Sam Teague. She was curled up on the cushy beanbags she kept in the corner. I spilled everything – Sam teaching me to surf, our picnic lunch, hunting for shells, dancing in the waves. “Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same,” I had told her, just like in Wuthering Heights. What a mistake that had been!
I circled the store, climbed the staircase, and leaned over the balcony. We used to fly paper airplanes off this ledge, taking bets on where they might land. One got caught in the light fixture, and Aunt Laura left it there until Great Uncle Joe insisted it was a fire hazard.
My eyes drifted from the light to the countertop just below it – a heavy, dark wood mammoth covered in dust. I looked closer. My mouth fell open. Words had been etched into the dust on the top. It’ll be great. A message from Teague. A short smile edged up on my lips. This place could be great again.
Laura’s eyes had welled with happy tears to hear me talk that way about Sam. She was such a romantic. I didn’t have the heart to tell her what happened while we were dishing at the store. Sam Teague dropped by Grandma Betty’s house and asked Aunt Candy to give me a message. “He’s just not interested in you. He wouldn’t say why, and believe me, I asked. He said it was a nice day, but that’s all it was.” I ran my fingers along the dusty railings, sending particles flying through the air.
Back downstairs, I turned to the rear of the store. A short hall led to an office, bathroom with a small shower, and a storage closet. Dusty boxes filled the corners. The hall ended with an emergency exit that led to the back alley.
“What do you think, Willie?” I asked returning to the counter. He sniffed the floor. “It’ll be great. It’s a beautiful mess, but we’ll get it cleaned up.”
By my seventeenth birthday, Laura had closed the store. I visited her the following summer, and by that time she was bed ridden. I remember how red her hair looked against the white pillows. Her first question to me was, “What are you reading?” and the second, no less important question, was “How’s your Heathcliff?” I answered with a simple, “Good.” She shook her head weakly. “Don’t give up.” She died a week later lying in bed with her husband holding her hand.
She was telling me not to give up on love. She somehow knew that it hadn’t worked out. Love at sixteen rarely does. Maybe she was also telling me not to give up on her and this place. It could be great again. I could be the one handing over books like bricks of gold.
Emily Dickinson’s poetry came to mind. “I dwell in possibility,” I told Willie.
Chapter Six
Family
I’ve always envied my Dad for two things: first, the man is as laid back as a rocking chair, and second (which contributes to the first) he grew up in my grandparents’ oceanfront dream house.
Summers here meant freedom. Adventure. We’d spend our days on the beach, of course, ocean or cape side, sunning, and playing with the waves (or in my case, watching people playing with the waves). Sometimes, I was left on my own to traipse around the island as I pleased. Mostly, I found perfect reading spots, and would lose myself for hours.
Grandma Betty greeted me at the door wearing a wide smile and a rooster apron. She has a thing for roosters and most of her house was decorated with them. The funny thin
g is that Grandma Betty looks like a chicken. Tall, pear-shaped, with a long neck and a beak-like nose. She has short, spiky gray hair, kind eyes, and a smile that can make anyone feel welcome. It warmed my heart to see it.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” she crooned, embracing me. Willie barked and walked in the house like he owned the place. “How you been, girl?”
I gave a weak, “Okay” for an answer as she led me through the dining room to the back of the house. The kitchen smelled heavily of onion and garlic.
“Shrimp and grits,” she announced proudly.
“You made my favorite?” I cooed. “That’s so sweet, Grandma.” She led me down the hall to the sunroom, an open living room with a wall of windows looking out to the ocean.
The Duffy clan’s lighthearted chatter came to an abrupt halt. I felt like Hester Prynne with her bright red letter A strolling into town. What was up with the cold reception?
“Everyone, welcome Delilah,” Grandma Betty said, putting her hands on my shoulders. “She’s had a long trip today, and could use some good, Southern hospitality.”
Uncle Clark stepped over the coffee table to give me a hug, and whispered in my ear, “Now you know how Daniel must’ve felt in that den.” He chuckled and backed away. I cast him an odd look, just as Grandpa Charlie reached out and grabbed me.
“Good to see you, Bean!” he gruffly announced. “Good trip?”
“Mostly uneventful,” I said.
My three aunts, Candy, Clara, and Charlotte stood near the window looking like Roman goddesses in their sundresses and blond locks. Clara and Charlotte were wearing hats and shoes, of Charlotte’s design, from their store, Top to Bottom: A Hat and Shoe Boutique, which sits beside Beach Read. They spoke quietly amongst themselves.
Peter Saintly, Clara’s husband, offered me a drink from the bar, and I asked for water with lemon. Mamma Rose sat regally in the rocking chair in the corner. Her sheet-white hair was curled tightly, as if she’d just gone to the salon. She gave me a warm smile and waved me over. Mamma Rose is my great-grandmother, on my father’s side, and is eighty-nine years old. As I crossed the room, I said hello to everyone: Rachel and Raina, Clara’s eighteen-year-old twin daughters, Damon Carver, Candy’s husband, and their girls, Neisha and Nikita who played a matching card game on the coffee table. Willie followed along behind me, and did his part to lighten the mood.
“Heard you had a rough induction party this afternoon,” Clark began. “Any comment?”
“No,” I said sternly.
“Must’ve been pretty freaky,” Clark urged. Grandpa Charlie asked what he was referring to, and Uncle Clark happily reported the story of the snake prank.
“You know, there’s only one snake farm in a fifty mile radius,” Clark informed. “It’s in Shawsburg, owned by a guy named Freddy Weaver. He sells them as pets, to zoos and aquariums, even markets their skins.”
“Disgusting,” I remarked.
“There’s a market for snake skinned shoes, boots, purses,” he went on. “Isn’t that right Charlotte?” He bellowed the question across the room, and Charlotte turned her back on him. He laughed.
“What are you-” I started to ask when Grandma Betty called everyone to the table for dinner. The Duffy clan shuffled to the dining room. Mamma Rose invited me to sit next to her. Raina took my other side.
“What a lovely necklace, Raina.” I eyed the silver piece dangling outside her t-shirt. “It’s very unique.”
Her hand went up to it, and she smiled. “Thanks, it was – a friend made it.”
“Any plans for the summer, Raina?” I asked as we got settled.
“Um, well I’m volunteering at church, Vacation Bible School and all and workin’ at the Piggly Wiggly,” Raina reported dully, “maybe some with my mom-”
“Raina will be going to UNC Charlotte,” Clara cut in loudly, “majorin’ in business-”
“And art,” Raina added quickly.
“I’m making tons of money this summer,” Rachel announced. “I’m workin’ at the Sweet Treat sellin’ lemon ices on the beach, and babysittin’ and workin’ for mamma on the side.” She smiled widely, and had she been standing, I think she would have curtsied.
Grandma Betty placed the main platters on the table, and Grandpa Charlie said the blessing. The clink of dishes danced across the room as plates were passed and servings were taken.
“So, I spoke to your mamma the other day,” Aunt Clara announced. She sat diagonally across from me, but her voice carried to the entire table. “She said she has a job lined up for you at her school.”
“I know. I’m not interested,” I replied.
Charlotte chimed in, “Be nice to work with your mamma in the same school, don’t you think?”
The Duffy side of the family had a soft, southern accent that made just about anything sound pleasant. But, even their buttery voices couldn’t make working side-by-side with my mother the least bit appealing.
“Are you kiddin’ me?” Grandma Betty piped in. “Delilah would hate that! I saw them talkin’ about mammas like yours on Oprah one time. They call ‘em helicopter parents. Isn’t that ingenious?” Grandma Betty lifted up her fork and twirled it around. “Helicopter parents because they hover ‘round all the time.”
“Mamma, I was just suggestin’ that Delilah put some serious thought into this foolish little venture she’s considerin’ here,” Clara went on. “Teachin’ is what she knows. She don’t know a danged thing about runnin’ a business.”
“Neither did you, as I recall,” Mamma Rose added.
“I can’t go back to teaching,” I said in the sternest voice I could muster without sounding angry. “That part of my life is over for good.”
“Well, surely there’s somethin’ else you can do with a degree in books or whatever,” Charlotte suggested. “What about writin’ for the paper?” All eyes turned suddenly to Uncle Clark.
Clark swallowed, and said, in a sarcastic voice, “Maybe you could teach her to be a hat maker, Charlotte.”
I cut in with, “No one has to teach me to do anything. I’m reopening Beach Read. Might seem risky, but I’m willing to take my chances.”
“Right,” Clara returned, shaking her head. “You ain’t got a thing to lose, since you’ve lost everything already.”
“Who cares about the rest of us,” Charlotte piped in.
Clark cast Clara a disapproving stare. “Don’t include all of us in this. We aren’t all against you, Delilah.”
“Why would any of you be against me?” I asked.
“Uncle Joe didn’t tell you?” Candy asked from the other end of the table.
With my eyes wide and frustrated, I emphatically said, “Tell me what?”
Clara started to speak, but Clark cut her off. “My sisters had their sights set on Beach Read first. You pulled the rug right out from under them.”
My mouth dropped open. “I had no idea. Uncle Joe never said-”
“Of course, he didn’t,” Clark added. “Keeping it a bookstore is better than flipping it into some kind of shoe and hat mega-mall.”
“Mega-mall?” Clara retorted. “How dare you! I would never have a mega-mall of any sort!”
“We were goin’ to expand,” Charlotte explained. “Our store is famous. We’re in demand. I was goin’ to have my own design studio.”
“Then you had your little, well, whatever it was that got you fired,” Clara chimed in with a flip of her fingers, “and now all our plans are in the toilet.”
“Not exactly,” Candy spoke up. “She’s gotta earn it to keep it. Uncle Joe gave a stipulation.”
“This whole thing’s givin’ me heartburn,” Grandma Betty muttered.
“Delilah has two months to turn a profit,” Candy said. “If she can’t turn a profit by the end of August, then he’ll sell to Clara and Charlotte.”
The aunts were so excited by the news that they screamed, giggled, and gave each other high five’s. I sank in my chair, mind spinning.
“Wil
l the repairs I have to make be included in my deficit?” I tried to ask Candy through the celebrations.
“What kind of repairs?” Damon Carver asked from Candy’s other side.
“The easier question is what I don’t have to fix,” I answered, defeated.
“I could help with that,” Damon offered, earning him an arm punch from Aunt Candy.
I zoned out. Conversation, mostly jubilant, went on around the table and I felt like another wave of mistakes had just washed over me. What was I thinking?
“Now wait here just one cotton-pickin’ minute,” Grandma Betty called out suddenly. “I don’t like what’s going on here. Not one bit, and this is my house.”
“Amen to that,” Grandpa Charlie mumbled, heaping another serving of greens onto his plate.
“Now, I don’t know much about business, but I know a few things about family,” Betty said, “and this ain’t how we’re supposed to be treatin’ one of our own. Clara and Charlotte, you’ve had years to buy that place up from Joe and haven’t done it, so you’ve peed in your own pool, as far as I’m concerned. And, Candy, why didn’t you tell Delilah the truth about these stipulations before she came all this-”
“I only just gotta hold of the contract myself, Mamma,” Candy defended. “Came FedEx just yesterday afternoon. I assumed that Uncle Joe woulda told her.”
I nodded. “It’s true. I’ve talked to Great Uncle Joe a dozen times and he hasn’t said a thing to me about stipulations or that anyone else wanted the building.”
“Joe probably didn’t want to scare you off,” Clark suggested.
“He’s got a strange way of doing things sometimes,” Grandpa Charlie confirmed.
“No matter how you got here, you’re here,” Grandma Betty went on, “and I expect all ya’ll to be supportive and help Delilah do her best ‘cause we’re family-”
“Excuse me, but no,” Clara stated, finger wagging. “Business is business, and Top to Bottom is the lighthouse that brings customers to this town. So, Delilah, your failure means our success. The advertising in Clark’s newspaper goes up. Candy gets a juicy commission. Every business on the boardwalk gets a piece of the pie. We all win. Besides, a musty bookstore’s about as useful as ants atta picnic these days. ”
Sea-Devil: A Delilah Duffy Mystery Page 3
