Share with Me: Seaside Chapel Book 1

by Thompson, Jan

  Brinley could fix it. She could fix that porch, repaint this whole room, give Yun a new bedroom, renovate the dumpy kitchen, give them a new roof, a new house, and make it all better.

  “How about this? I came to your house. I didn’t bring a hostess gift. Let me do this for you.”

  “Well…” Yun looked concerned. “Let’s think about this. The toilet’s been having problems on and off for two months and completely broke two weeks ago. Ivan doesn’t have time to fix it, with all his rehearsals. Besides, how expensive could it possibly be?”

  “There you go. So let’s get it taken care of, and Ivan needn’t worry.”

  “If you give us the bill.”

  Without committing to being reimbursed, Brinley was on her iPhone right away, calling the plumber who worked with Brooks Renovations. After getting to the owner, who happened to be Tobias’s younger brother, she was given the runaround.

  “What do you mean you can’t send someone right now? Get someone from the job site. Toby’s there. Ask him. He’d understand—What? No one’s available? Seriously, Felipe?”

  Brinley raised an index finger to signal to Yun that she needed a minute, then went outside to the front porch.

  “Tell you what. I’m going to tell your older brother everything you told me. And I’ll call Always Flush and tell them you’re short of plumbers. I’m sure Adam over there would be glad to send me someone right away—Yes, now.”

  She paced up and down the creaky porch, walking past two dirty white plastic chairs and a side table up against a window. Between the plastic chairs was a low plastic side table. On top of it someone had placed a small flower pot of what looked like silk flowers.

  “What about you? Send yourself. I’m sure you still remember how to fix—What? You need to answer the phone? Am I hearing this right?”

  Brinley stopped at the edge of the stairs. The floorboards needed new nails. “This is too funny, Felipe. I’m sure Dad would get a kick out of—oh, you can send someone? When? Twenty minutes? Very good. No, I don’t care what your super emergency rate is.”

  Brinley’s iPhone told her it was three o’clock. It wasn’t like she had all afternoon to spare, but it was best if she were here when the plumber showed up, considering that Ivan wasn’t home. She’d rather not leave Yun alone with a stranger. Felipe was Brinley’s business associate, not Yun’s.

  She went inside and sat with Yun in the family room.

  Rocking in her chair, Yun seemed to have second thoughts. “Maybe it’s not a good idea. Ivan would be mad.”

  “We’re helping him. Why would he be mad?”

  “He doesn’t like handouts.”

  “If he wants to pay me back, that’s fine, but the bottom line is that your commode will be fixed today.”

  * * *

  Brinley heard the crunch of gravel. Like the sound of a heavy truck was rolling on it.

  “Must be them now,” Yun declared.

  “I’ll get the door.” Brinley opened it only to find it wasn’t Felipe but an older version of him. “I don’t believe this. Felipe’s dad to the rescue.”

  “Alonzo Vega at your service, Miss Brooks.”

  Brinley laughed. “So Felipe is sitting in the office answering the phone and he sends his dad?”

  “Don’t forget. I’m still a master plumber. I taught him everything he knows.”

  “I know.” Brinley held the door. “Come on in.”

  Alonzo stepped in and stopped right there with his heels on the rotting threshold.

  Oh no. His knees have gone arthritic.

  Then Brinley heard Yun’s voice in the background.

  “Thank you for coming.” It was in a sweet, low voice.

  Alonzo began to stutter something unintelligible.

  “Alonzo, this is Yun McMillan,” Brinley said as stoically as she could. “She owns this house. I’m helping her fix the toilet her son doesn’t have time to work on. Yun, this is Alonzo Vega, master plumber at Plumb Good.”

  “That should be Plumb Well, don’t you think?” Too sweet.

  “Grammar’s not my forte, ma’am.”

  Brinley’s eyes darted between the two of them. Something’s going on, but I know not what.

  Alonzo’s knees unlocked themselves and he propelled forward, except in the wrong direction.

  “The powder room’s over there.” Brinley pointed.

  Alonzo must not have heard her. He went straight into the family room. “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. McMillan.”

  “Yun.”

  “Yun. Pretty.”

  They stood there smiling at each other.

  Brinley cleared her throat.

  Alonzo snapped to attention. “If you’d just show me the offending commode, I will resolve the issue for you.”

  Offending commode? Brinley’s eyes widened. Resolve the issue?

  “Come with me, then, Alonzo.”

  Come with me?

  Alonzo?

  And off the two of them went down the hallway. Brinley thought Yun stood a little taller, walked a little more purposefully. And hey, she wasn’t using her walker.

  “Uh, don’t mind me.” Brinley plopped down on the flat couch in the family room. She could feel the hard springs underneath the cushion. “I’ll just chaperone from over here.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The rain came down in sheets of ice-cold water that Ivan’s cheap plastic poncho could barely hold off as he hunkered down over the handlebars, pedaling as fast as he could toward the house. What had been no more than a mile and a half of cycling now turned into a dangerous low-visibility ordeal as vehicle headlights and swerving bad drivers filled both sides of Old Demere Drive at rush hour.

  What did he expect? It was five o’clock on a Friday. He could have left earlier, but the opportunity to play again and again on the violins for auction at the SISO fundraising dinner Monday night was too good to pass up.

  Two violins, can you believe it?

  He wasn’t sure which he preferred. The 1721 Schoenberg Stradivarius had a bold voice that filled the practice room, but the 1736 Guarneri del Gesù wanted to sing. Conductor Petrocelli had left it to Ivan to pick which one to play what. They’d agreed on two pieces, one slow and one fast, both of which Ivan could easily accomplish.

  That was, if he didn’t get into an accident on the way home.

  At least his borrowed Vuillaume was safely tucked away in the hard-case backpack under the plastic poncho. He was sure it was all right. He wondered when he’d be able to afford his own Vuillaume. Or Guarneri. Or Tononi.

  Or even a Stradivarius.

  Nah.

  Never gonna happen.

  When Ivan cycled onto the gravel driveway of the McMillan family home, he expelled a heavy load of relief. “Thank you, Lord! I made it home safely.”

  He got off the old bike, whose wheels needed oiling, and wheeled it to the carport. He chained it, just in case, and shed his poncho. Shook it a bit and hung it over the rung of a ladder to dry.

  The same porch floorboards creaked as usual when Ivan stepped on them with squishy tennis shoes soaked all the way through socks and soles. He could have taken them off but not on this porch with its splinters that he had known too well as a kid. Someday when he had more money he’d fix this entire porch. All those rotting floorboards would be gone, replaced by brand new treated pine boards that he’d stain the original color, some kind of brownish tone that Grandma Yun had picked out the last time they’d cleaned the porch.

  He could see Grandpa Otto hammering down the new boards. Quincy and Ivan had helped some though most of the time they were playing and acting silly. Just keeping Grandpa company.

  Ivan turned the key in the front door keyhole. He took off his wet shoes and socks before he stepped on to the linoleum foyer, chipped in places from years of heavy use. “Grandma, I’m home!”

  Oh, there she is.

  Coming out of the kitchen, Grandma came shuffling toward him on her walker, one cut tennis ball glide almost
coming off a back wheel. He’d have to get more tennis balls for that two-wheeler.

  As he watched her, Ivan realized that Grandma could barely press down on the front-wheel release button. He’d been noticing sapping strength by the week.

  Lord, please sustain Grandma.

  “You’re all wet, dear,” Grandma Yun remarked.

  “I made it home.”

  “Thank God.”

  “How was tea with Brinley?”

  “It went well.”

  “And?” Ivan wiped some rain off his face and neck. He felt a bit chilly, but he was more curious about Brinley being here in their home. He wondered what she had thought about the house and their living conditions. Some people didn’t care, but Ivan was a bit sensitive about it since it showed his poverty more than Grandma’s. Compared to Sea Island opulence, the contrast was stark between the Brooks family home and the McMillan hole-in-the-ground.

  “She asked a lot of questions about heaven.” Grandma looked like she was about to get into the details of her afternoon when she stopped abruptly. “You need to dry off, Ivan. Don’t want you to catch a cold. I’ll tell you more over dinner. Spaghetti okay with you?”

  “Yum. My comfort food.”

  “Whoever marries you better know how to cook spaghetti.”

  “Haha, Grandma. I don’t think you need to worry about that for a very long time. I’m not marrying anytime soon.”

  Ivan dropped off his violin in his basement studio before heading up two flights of stairs, two steps at a time, to his attic bedroom overlooking the live oak grove and the rest of the marshes. After a long hot shower, he donned an old sweatshirt and sweatpants, and padded downstairs.

  He heard the toilet flush.

  Oh no. Not again.

  Grandma had been forgetful lately. Had she forgotten that the commode was broken? He stopped in the hallway, expecting toilet water to spill over the bowl, across the floor, and out to the hallway.

  No such thing.

  Grandma came out of the bathroom.

  Is she humming?

  “He fixed it all right, that whipper-snapper.” Grandma made her way to the kitchen.

  “What whipper-snapper?” Ivan followed her.

  “Alonzo Vega. He’s a master plumber, you know.”

  Ivan stopped at the door. “You called the plumber?”

  “I didn’t. Brinley did, but I agreed to it.” Grandma pressed a palm to her chest and nodded once. “Do not make a fuss, dear.”

  A fuss? “How much did it cost?”

  “I don’t know. Brinley told me not to worry about it.”

  Ivan raised an eyebrow. “Brinley Brooks paid for it?”

  “She said we’re practically family since her sister is now my granddaughter-in-law.” Grandma was still smiling. “Besides, there was nothing on the bill except Alonzo’s phone number.”

  Alonzo? First-name basis now? “What about his phone number?”

  “Don’t worry, dear. I’m not going to call him. Say, did you know that Alonzo served in the US Army too? Just like my Otto, but on different continents and about ten years apart.” Grandma’s eyes were far away. “I enjoyed meeting Alonzo.”

  Ivan saw the sparkle in her eyes. A moment of happiness? He wished he were able to provide more for Grandma Yun. Fix the leaky roof, for example. Or those creaky floorboards on the porch. Or that back door that was always stuck.

  But his paycheck from the Sea Islands Symphony Orchestra was only supplemental to his music studio income. The more performances they had, the more he’d be paid. But SISO was a small private orchestra, unlike big city ones such as the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra, where salaries were higher.

  Yeah, he’d been thinking he needed more students. Or go work for a bigger music studio that could pay him a second salary.

  Perhaps someday he could play in the ASO. But for now Ivan felt at peace staying on this small St. Simon’s Island, taking care of Grandma Yun. God would provide for them as He had always provided. They hadn’t had to go hungry yet, and that in itself was a lot to be thankful for.

  “Grandma?” Ivan walked up to her. “What’s Brinley’s number? I’ll call her and arrange a reimbursement.”

  “You have her number. I asked her to text you last night, remember?”

  Oh yeah.

  “Why don’t we eat first while the spaghetti is hot and then you can call her?” Grandma stirred her meat sauce on the stove.

  Ivan watched that spindly hand grasp the wooden ladle and wondered how long Grandma would keep her strength. The money he had been secretly squirreling away from extra SISO gigs to buy her an electric mobility scooter must now be portioned off to pay for the commode.

  He had no idea how much the plumbing had cost. He hoped it wouldn’t be more than a few more hundred dollars. He read the bill from Plumb Good company again, but couldn’t guess the cost of any of the parts or labor. Give him a music manuscript in German and he could read it. But these plumbing jargons looked like Greek to him.

  * * *

  Dinner filled Ivan after the third helping of pasta. He scraped the bottom of the pan to get all the sauce out onto his plate. After telling Grandma that he’d take care of the dishes after he called Brinley, Ivan went to his music studio to find his disposable phone.

  He tabbed through the text messages until the one from last night’s party came into view.

  This is Brinley. Your grandma is tired. I’m driving her home.

  Mentally he rephrased it.

  This is Brinley. Your grandma’s commode is broken. I’m fixing it.

  He got it that Brinley wanted to be helpful but—

  “Hello?”

  A pleasant voice.

  Ivan felt so nervous he had to sit down. “Uh, er, uh, is this Brinley Brooks?”

  “Yes. Who is this?”

  “Ivan McMillan. Quincy’s brother.”

  “Oh. I didn’t recognize your voice. You sound like you’re in a cave. How are you?”

  Ivan gulped and felt like a giddy schoolboy. For a moment there he couldn’t remember why he had called or what question she had asked him.

  “You didn’t have to fix my commode,” he finally said.

  “Your commode? I thought that’s Yun’s commode. She agreed to have me call the plumber.”

  What a mess. “I would’ve fixed it two weeks ago, but I was busy rehearsing and teaching.”

  “Your studio closed for the holidays last week.”

  “But SISO gigs and string ensemble performances pick up every Christmas season, and we’re busy through New Year’s Day.”

  “And I want to know your schedule because…?”

  “I’m saying that we can take care of our own problems. We’re not charity cases.”

  “Did I say you were?” Brinley said. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing. I was trying to use your bathroom and it was broken.”

  “So you have to do something about it.”

  “Wouldn’t anyone?”

  “I don’t want us to take advantage of your kindness and generosity.” Ivan tried to calm down.

  “It was nothing. Really, Ivan. Don’t worry about it.”

  “I can take care of it.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ivan had to know.

  “You’re both a violinist and a plumber. You can do it all.”

  “How hard can it be to fix the commode? Home Depot has kits.”

  “But when can you get to it?”

  Ivan went silent. She was right. He had no time. And if he did, did he really know how to use those kits?

  “You have to admit that your grandma was pretty happy it’s all taken care of,” Brinley said.

  “It will be your fault if Grandma has a new boyfriend.”

  Over the phone, Brinley guffawed. “You think too much, Ivan.”

  “I do appreciate your help in getting a plumber, and thank you.”

  “Welcome.”

  “But I’ll reimburse
you.”

  “It’s all taken care of.”

  “I insist.”

  “Stubborn, are we?”

  “Like I said, we’re not taking handouts.” Ivan braced himself. “So if you can send me the bill, I won’t hound you again.”

  “Well, if you must, you can buy me lunch and we’ll call it even—oops—I didn’t—what did I say?”

  “You asked me to buy you lunch.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “You can’t retract it now. When do you want to do lunch?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “All right. Do you like home-cooked meals?”

  “I love home-cooked meals.”

  “Anything specific that you like?”

  “I’m not allergic. Whatever you want is fine.”

  Easy to please. “Great. Grandma and I would love to have you over. Unfortunately, I’ll be in Savannah most of next week. Can you do Monday lunch? I’m gone Tuesday onwards.”

  “Let me check my calendar.” Brinley said nothing for a while.

  “I will too.” Ivan waited. Tensed. He walked toward the calendar he had nailed to the wall, and sat down at his computer desk next to his MIDI keyboard. He stared at his giant wall calendar. Yes, he had an iPad, but there was something about seeing the whole month on the wall. Something tangible and visual, not in pixels on a too-small screen. The calendar showed that all next week he either had rehearsals or performances. Working in a free day would be hard.

  He wanted to get it over and done with before Brinley changed her mind or left town. If she had asked for a restaurant dinner, it could be more expensive than fixing the commode. He knew those people, those rich and famous patrons of SISO. Nothing was too expensive for them, it seemed.

  Throw a soiree, invite SISO, splash down half a million dollars, and no one bats an eye.

  All that money could pay off his family debts and send him back on tour.

  Tour?

  Ivan wondered why he had thought of that. As long as Grandma was still alive he could never leave town. And Grandma could live a long time. His great-grandma had passed away at a hundred and two years old. Longevity ran on the maternal side of the family.

  “You there?” Brinley was back.