Parrish dipped her egg roll into the last of the duck sauce. “It sounds like you’ve got everything figured out. But what about the missing piece in all of this?”
Riley’s face clouded over. “You mean Nate? That’s a nonissue. This is going to be a big adjustment for Maggy. And for me. Getting us settled into our new lives is my priority. I don’t need any distractions.”
“How’s it gonna be, living and working on the same island with him?”
“It’ll be fine,” Riley said. “I’ll make it work. Somehow.”
62
Evelyn called bright and early on Wednesday. “Listen, honey, I hope you’re planning on coming back this weekend. I want to start getting the house ready to close up for the season, and your brother is no help at all these days.”
“I don’t know, Mama,” Riley said, trying to stall.
“Don’t tell me you weren’t planning on coming at all?” Evelyn said. “You never miss Labor Day weekend. I hope they’re not planning on asking you to work at your new job, are they?”
“No, I’m not working,” Riley said.
“And Maggy will be off school, right?”
“Um, yes, she’ll be off.”
“Then there’s no reason you shouldn’t come. In fact, I’d feel a lot better if you didn’t wait until Friday. Just come tomorrow, will you?”
Riley had been exchanging e-mails with the owner of a small cottage just off the village green, but they’d yet to agree on a price for a long-term rental. She’d been planning on leaving for Belle Isle on Friday, but if she could get the rental agreement today, it could mean getting a jump on traffic heading out of town toward the coast. The last weekend of the summer always meant traffic would be twice as bad.
“All right, I’ll come tomorrow,” she said. “I’ll call and let you know what ferry I’ll be on.”
“Good,” Evelyn said. “Tell Maggy that Roo and Ollie and I have been missing her. We can’t wait to hear all about her new school. And your new job, too.”
“See you tomorrow,” Riley said, shutting down that topic as quickly as possible.
* * *
“We’re leaving now?” Maggy asked, when Riley woke her up at seven the next morning.
“I packed your suitcase while you were sleeping,” Riley said. “Hurry up and get ready. I want to hit the road before traffic gets crazy. You can eat your breakfast and do your meds in the car.”
* * *
Riley pulled to the curb at the ferry loading zone in Southpoint and shook her daughter awake. “Hey,” she said softly. “We’re here. We’ve only got fifteen minutes before it’s time to board. I’ll unload our stuff now, and you go walk Banksy while I park. Okay?”
Maggy nodded sleepily and collected the dog and his leash.
The ferry was just starting to unload arriving passengers when Riley and Maggy began lining up to board. Families and couples streamed off the ferry, weighted down with carry-on baggage, kids, and pets. She was a little surprised at the number of islanders leaving today. After all, this was supposed to be summer’s last hurrah, a three-day weekend.
The horn blew the five-minute warning, and the crowd of departing passengers streamed forward onto the boat. With an eye on high banks of clouds in the sky, Riley herded Maggy into the main-deck cabin.
As the boat lurched away from the landing, Riley clicked the weather app on her phone. The latest bulletin was about what could be expected for this time of year on the southeastern coast.
The National Weather Service is reporting that the second named storm of the season, Tropical Storm Brody, has formed over the eastern Caribbean, as the area experiences winds up to 60 m.p.h., heavy rain, and seas swelling an estimated 15 to 20 feet. Storm projected to track in northwesterly direction over next 24 to 48 hours.
Riley gazed anxiously up at the sky, and then relaxed. Every other Labor Day weekend, it seemed, the National Weather Service issued dire-sounding storm and hurricane warnings, sending newcomers to the coast scurrying for higher ground. But as far back as she could remember, the last hurricane to make landfall anywhere near Belle Isle had been Hurricane Floyd. What year had that been? She Googled it, and the answer was reassuring. It had been 1999.
Maggy sat up on the bench, took out her iPod earbuds, and set Mr. Banks on the floor. “Mom? Is it okay if I go get something at the concession stand?”
“I packed snacks in your bag,” Riley said, looking up from her online search of hurricane statistics.
“I mean something good, like a barbecue sandwich maybe. Okay?”
Riley took a five-dollar bill from her pocketbook and handed it over. “Okay, but I want you to…”
“Mooom! I know what to do? Okay? I’m not gonna screw up and get sick again. I promise. So, will you quit telling me what to do? I’ll test my blood. I’ll take my insulin. And you don’t have to remind me. Every. Single. Time.”
“Sorry,” Riley said. “I’ll try not to be such a helicopter mom.”
* * *
She clipped the leash to the puppy’s collar and walked out to the observation deck. Leaning over the rail, Riley could just spot the silhouette of Big Belle on the horizon. She glanced upward, toward the pilothouse, but the sun’s glare obscured her view. Not that she cared, she told herself.
Maggy was back, happily licking barbecue sauce from her fingers as Riley reclaimed her seat. “I spotted the lighthouse before you did,” Riley said gleefully. “I win.”
“And I spotted your boyfriend,” Maggy said. “He was going up the stairs to the pilothouse.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Riley said quickly, feeling heat seeping into her cheeks.
Maggy gave her an appraising look. “What if I said maybe he’s not as bad as I thought?”
“Really? What made you change your mind?”
“When we were in Raleigh, seeing how depressed you were, it made me sad. And I remembered how happy you were, when you were with him, before I got sick. Remember how you asked me if I didn’t want to see you happy again? I think now, maybe if Nate makes you happy, that’s a good thing.”
Riley gave her daughter a light kiss on the cheek. “That’s very sweet, Mags. Unfortunately, it’s too late. He’s a nice man, but the timing is all wrong.”
* * *
She called Billy but there was no answer. A minute later, he called back. “Are you coming this weekend? Mama’s all worked up about closing the house for the season.”
“I’m on the ferry, about to dock now. Can you come pick us up?”
“Now? I was kind of in the middle of something. Can’t you call Mama? Or just take the shuttle?”
“I could, but I really need to talk to you about something pretty important. So, can you come?”
* * *
They waited at the curb at the loading area for ten minutes before Billy Nolan zoomed up in his cart. He jumped out and hugged Maggy. “We’ve missed you!” he exclaimed. “How’s the new school?”
“That’s kind of a long story,” Riley said, as they loaded their luggage onto the cart. As they pulled away from the ferry dock he took a sip from his insulated tumbler, and Riley looked away, annoyed. She had a very good idea of what he’d been busy with when she called.
“What’s so important that you needed to talk to me about?” he asked.
“Guess what, Bebo? I quit my school,” Maggy said, temporarily removing her earbuds. “And Mom quit her job. And I’m going to school in Southpoint.”
“Whaaaat?”
“It’s true,” Riley said. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” She told him, in the broadest strokes, about the plan she’d drawn up for their future.
Billy listened, but looked skeptical. “It sounds fine, theoretically, but do you really think you’re up for something like this? I mean, your background is journalism, not real estate. And what’s Mama going to say?”
“I can do this, Billy. I know I can,” she said. “For the past few weeks, I’ve been doing a lot of soul-search
ing. And research. I’ve read up on small family-owned resort businesses like ours, and I’ve even talked to some people in the business. And who better to do it than me? I’ve loved this island my whole life, and I’ve watched Dad, and then Wendell running it.”
“What do you want from me?”
“I need your help.”
“You think Mama is going to listen to me? Really? Hasn’t she bent your ear about how irresponsible and selfish I am?”
“I do think she’ll listen to you. You’re a part of this family, and you have a vote in how the business is run. Don’t you think I can do it?”
“I don’t know why you’d want to,” he said, sounding irritated. “The company is on the skids, if you haven’t noticed. Wendell gambled everything and lost big, and we’ve got all kinds of vacancies in the village. Cut your losses, Riley. Let somebody else deal with all the headaches.”
“There is nobody else,” she said heatedly. “Nobody else is going to have as much invested in Belle Isle’s future as we do. Please, Bebo? Back me up on this?”
He took another sip of his drink, jiggling the ice cubes absentmindedly. “Okay,” he said finally. “I’ll try. Even though Mama stays on my last nerve.”
“About what?”
He jiggled the ice cubes again. “You know.”
Riley glanced at the backseat, but Maggy had her earbuds in again. “I hate to agree with her, but Mama’s got a point. I’m worried about you, Bebo.”
“Jesus!” he exploded. “First Scott, then Mama, now you. I wish all of y’all would just lighten up and leave me alone.”
“I don’t want to fight with you. When is Scott getting here?”
“Tomorrow, I guess.”
She decided not to pursue the matter. “Will you do me one more favor? Take Maggy and Mr. Banks back to the firehouse with you, and let me borrow this cart? I’m supposed to walk through a house today at two, and if it checks out, I’ll get the keys and we can start moving in right away.”
“You mean, this weekend? What about your furniture?”
“It’s fully furnished, with everything we need. I’ll leave most of my stuff in storage in Raleigh until I figure out our next move.”
“You got it,” he said.
* * *
At three, Riley pulled Billy’s cart up to the front steps at the Shutters. She found Evelyn in the kitchen, putting a bowl of chicken salad in the refrigerator.
“Riley!” she said, hugging her daughter. “When did you get in? Why didn’t you call?”
“I got in a little while ago. Billy was in the village, so he picked me up.”
“Where’s Maggy?”
“She’s with him.”
“Was he drinking?”
Her mother’s directness took Riley aback. She couldn’t ever remember her mother even vaguely mentioning Billy’s drinking before. But then, denial was Evelyn’s middle name. It had only been since W.R.’s death that Evelyn had publicly acknowledged that her son was gay and that Scott was something other than “a dear friend.”
“He had that plastic tumbler. I assume it wasn’t water,” Riley admitted.
“I’m so worried about that boy, I don’t know what to do,” her mother said, sinking down into a kitchen chair. “I think he might have a problem.”
Riley sat down at the table and took both of Evelyn’s hands in hers. She looked her mother directly in the eyes. “Mama, Billy is an alcoholic. We all know it. He knows it, but he won’t admit it. We have got to see that he gets help. But nagging at him or giving him the silent treatment won’t work.”
Evelyn nodded and bit her lip. “He’s been working again, you know. He played at a doctors’ convention in Charlotte, and a wedding in Charleston. Your brother has a real, God-given gift, Riley. He just needs to keep busy, that’s all.”
Riley took a deep breath. “Speaking of keeping busy, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”
The kitchen door flew open and Roo walked in, holding up what looked like a small portable transistor radio.
“Evelyn!” she said excitedly. “I just got an alert on my weather radio. Brody is on the move. It’s over the Turks and Caicos right now, and they’ve got flooding and huge tides.”
“Mary Roosevelt Nolan, I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Tropical Storm Brody,” Roo said. “It was just spinning away out there in the eastern Caribbean, but now Jim Cantore says the winds have shifted, and he says we’ve got a good chance of Brody being upgraded to a hurricane. Isn’t that exciting?”
“And just who is this Jim Cantore?”
“He’s the Weather Channel storm chaser, Mama,” Riley said. “Roo, does the radio say which direction the storm is headed now?”
“Oh, pooh,” Evelyn said. “Hurricanes. That always happens this time of year. Some silly low-pressure system dumps a lot of rain over one of those islands out in the middle of nowhere, and everybody starts to panic. Those things always peter out over Cuba or the Dominican Republic. And in the meantime, everybody on the coast gets all hot and bothered. For what? A little wind and rain? If you ask me, it’s all a ratings ploy for these television people.”
“Right now, he says it’s projected to head out to sea,” Roo said, sounding disappointed.
“See?” Evelyn said. “A lot of fuss over nothing.” She pointed out the kitchen window. “Look at that beautiful sky. Roo, I was just fixing to call you. If we leave right now, we can get in nine holes before dinner.”
“All right,” Roo said. “My bag is still on your cart. Let’s do it.”
“You’re playing golf? Right now?” Riley asked.
“It’s a holiday weekend, and we might not be able to get another tee time. Anyway, with all I’ve got to do this weekend, this could be my last chance to play.” Evelyn patted her daughter on the shoulder. “We can talk at dinner tonight. All right?”
Just as well, Riley thought, watching her mother and aunt head out for the golf course. The size and location of the cottage she’d just leased was perfect, but the long-term tenants who’d recently vacated had left it a filthy wreck. There was no way she and Maggy could stay there while it was in that condition.
She went into the laundry room and helped herself to the cleaning supplies she’d need—broom, mop, scrub bucket, trash bags, rubber gloves, Pine-Sol, and bleach.
* * *
Maggy stood in the doorway of the cottage and wrinkled her nose in distaste.
The living room was small, with white-painted pine paneling, a fireplace, and two picture windows that looked out at a tiny fenced garden overrun with weeds and discarded plastic beach toys. The slipcovered flowered sofa was stained and worn looking, and the area rug was strewn with trash and coated with sand. The room smelled like essence of wet dog.
“Gross!” She turned to look at her mother. “I’m glad we left Banksy with Bebo. He might get fleas. This place is nasty. Why can’t we get Delores to clean it before we move in?”
Delores was Evelyn’s longtime housekeeper at Shutters.
“Because Delores costs money, and we’re officially on a budget,” Riley said. “Now, let’s get busy. I want to take this rug outside and air it out before the rain gets here.”
Although the sky outside was still blue, gray-tinged clouds had started to gather on the horizon. They might have a couple more hours of sunshine. Riley went from room to room opening windows to let in fresh air. “Let’s do this!” she declared.
Shortly before six, she heard the distant rumble of thunder and saw the first raindrops spattering against the bedroom window she’d been cleaning. “Maggy! Come help me get the rug inside.”
They managed to drag the heavy rug back to the living room just as the heavens opened up. “Dang,” Maggy said, standing at the window. “Do you think it’ll rain tomorrow? I was gonna meet the kids at the beach in the morning.”
Riley took her phone out of her purse and tapped the weather app to check on the storm’s progress.
NO SIGNAL appeared on the screen.
“Looks like this house doesn’t have wireless,” Riley said. “I guess I should have asked the owner about that.”
“Mom! Are you kidding me? There’s no Wi-Fi?”
“I’ll call the phone company and see about it next week,” Riley said. “Uh-oh. Looks like I missed a call from Mimi.”
Riley tried twice to return her mother’s call, but each time got a CALL FAILED notice. Her phone had zero bars. Fortunately, Evelyn had left a message.
“Riley? Roo and I are at the club because our last couple of holes got rained out. I think we’re just going to have dinner here in the grill with a couple of the other girls. You and Maggy could join us here, or you can just have the chicken salad I fixed.”
Riley looked over at Maggy, who was still staring out the window. “Are you hungry, Mags? When was the last time you…”
“Stop!” Maggy exclaimed. “I had a juice box and some crackers a little while ago.”
“Okay, but what about dinner?” Riley asked. “We could go over to the club. Mimi and Roo are having dinner in the grill. Or we could go back to Shutters and get dinner there.”
“Bebo’s cart doesn’t have any plastic sides on it,” Maggy pointed out. “We’ll get soaked. Anyway, I’m not even hungry. Let’s just get this place finished so we can leave. It’s kind of depressing here, you know?”
“I’m not really hungry either. And I’ve got plenty of snacks in the cooler I brought. Okay, yeah, let’s keep working.” She put an arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “I know it looks kind of grungy right now, but we can fix that. The owner said it’s okay if we paint, as long as we don’t do anything too outrageous, so maybe next week we’ll go to town, and you can pick out a color for your bedroom.”
“Can I do purple?”
“Pale purple,” Riley said. “If you’re sure you want to keep going, I’ll tackle the bathroom and the kitchen while you finish up your room.”
At eight o’clock, with her energy flagging, Riley dragged the last of the trash bags to the living room, adding them to the pile by the front door. She poked her head in the doorway of the bedroom and found her daughter curled up in the middle of the bed, fast asleep with her head on a pile of freshly laundered sheets and towels. For a moment, she panicked.
The Weekenders Page 41
