LOWCOUNTRY BOOKSHOP

by Susan M. Boyer

  They both said their nice-to-meet yous and whatnot. There wasn’t much time for us to talk before we rolled into Mamma and Daddy’s driveway.

  I inhaled deeply, then slowly exhaled and turned to Poppy, who was in the backseat. “My family may be a little…animated…this evening. There’s a pool going in the backyard, and it’s created a lot of stress. But, they’re nice people, really, and I promise the food will be good.”

  “They’re harmless,” said Nate.

  “Okay.” Her face creased, and she smiled a little smile. “But I thought you wanted to talk about the redhead and Mr. Drayton.”

  “We’ll get to that later,” I said. “But we all have to eat, right?”

  “Sounds great.” She reached for her door handle, looked at me for a sign I was getting out of the car.

  “Okay then,” I said.

  We opened the doors and climbed out of the Explorer.

  “What a beautiful home,” said Poppy. “Did you grow up here?”

  “Yes, I did.” I grabbed Nate’s hand, and we walked up the steps.

  He opened the door and held it for both of us.

  “Mamma,” I called out as we walked down the entry hall.

  “In the kitchen.”

  Oh, thank you, Sweet Lord. Maybe things would be back to normal. She sounded calm.

  A loud squeal came from the den.

  Nate and I looked at each other, then dashed down the hall and into the den. I didn’t want to look.

  “Hey, Tootie. Nate.” Daddy stood. “Who’s this you have with you?”

  I looked past Daddy to Kinky, who was back in her bed. Chumley sat in his customary place by Daddy’s chair, oddly disinterested. I stared at the pig.

  “Liz?” said Daddy.

  I looked up at him. I might’ve had a crazed expression on my face.

  Poppy held out her hand. “Hey, I’m Poppy Oliver.”

  “Frank Talbot. Nice to meet you. What can I get you to drink?”

  “Oh, I’m good right now, thank you,” said Poppy. “What a cute pig. What happened to her leg?”

  “She is, isn’t she?” Daddy said. “Pretty little pig. She took a fall. But she’ll be fine, soon as the cast comes off.”

  “Daddy?” I gave him a look that said, What the hell?

  “Oh.” Daddy winced, gestured with the hand that wasn’t holding a high ball glass. “Kinky didn’t take to the man’s other pig after all. He brought her back this afternoon. Nate, pour yourself some bourbon.”

  “I think I will.” Nate moved to the wet bar.

  “How’s Mamma?” I asked.

  “Your Mamma’s in the kitchen,” Daddy said, like maybe I was Not Quite Right.

  “I know where she is.” I spun on my heels and walked across the hall. “Mamma?”

  She stood in front of the stove, stirring gravy, like she’d done thousands of times before. “Liz darlin’, ask your daddy to open some wine for dinner. Maybe a blend tonight. Do you know what your guest likes to drink?”

  “Mamma, Kinky—”

  She smiled brightly. Was she medicated? “Sweetheart, I know that infernal pig is back. I was here when the gentlemen who came on Sunday returned her. They brought the goats back, too. Did you know that?”

  “Why on earth would they do such a thing?” The vague alarm that had been building in my stomach rose in my throat.

  “It seems the woman in Folly Beach didn’t have any takers for goat yoga, whatever on God’s green earth that’s all about. But right now, we have a guest for dinner. And this family is going to hold it together until after she leaves. Now. Please, ask your daddy to open a nice red blend.” She nodded at me, round-eyed.

  “Hey everybody,” Merry called.

  I stepped into the hallway, met her eyes. Joe and Blake were right behind her calling out hellos.

  Merry stopped short. “What’s wrong?”

  Joe and Blake ran into her, then both apologized. They all looked at me expectantly.

  “Pig,” I said softly. “Goats.”

  “What?” Merry squinched up her face

  Kinky squealed again.

  “Oh no,” said Blake. He stood there a split second, then slid behind Merry and Joe and went into the den. “Dad, what in the—”

  I crossed the hall in two steps. “Blake,” I said, “this is my friend Poppy Oliver. Poppy, this is my brother Blake. Merry, you and Joe come meet Poppy.”

  They stepped into the den, and everyone said hey and all that.

  I took a steadying breath. “Daddy, Mamma asked if you would please open a nice red blend for dinner.”

  “Sure thing.” Daddy moved towards the wet bar, pulled two bottles of wine out of the adjacent wine rack. “Maybe better open three.”

  I suppressed the urge to ask for tequila. “Poppy, come meet Mamma.”

  Poppy followed me into the kitchen.

  “Mamma,” I said, “this is Poppy. Poppy, this is my mamma, Carolyn Talbot.”

  Mamma put the wooden spoon in the spoon rest and moved around the island to get a better look at Poppy. “It’s lovely to meet you, dear. I’m so happy you could join us this evening. I’m afraid things are a bit disheveled here tonight. I hope you’ll forgive us.”

  “My goodness,” said Poppy. “You cannot be serious. It’s so nice of you to have me. You have such a lovely home, and dinner smells amazing.”

  “Oh, it’s nothing fancy,” said Mamma. “Just a simple weeknight dinner.”

  Poppy took in the stove and counter behind Mamma. Her eyes widened.

  Mamma moved back to the stove. “Liz, honey, would you set the table? Ask Merry to come put things in serving dishes.”

  “What can I do to help?” asked Poppy.

  “Thank you, honey,” said Mamma. “But we have this down to a routine.”

  I called Merry, then moved to the sink to wash my hands. I lathered them for two minutes, then rinsed thoroughly. Then I applied a thick coat of sanitizer. From the corner of my eye, I watched Mamma roll her eyes.

  When I turned around, Poppy seemed to be trying to swallow a smile. She was looking out the backdoor. My eyes followed hers. Daddy’s cousin Ponder held all three goats on leashes. Two of them had twisted around him in opposite directions, while the third strained to run away. In the background, Ray Kennedy struggled to prop panels of plywood over the top of Chumley’s compound. The good news was I could see Chumley’s compound from the house again, because the piles of dirt were gone. The backyard was vastly improved since Sunday, but still had a long way to go. The goats would not be a help.

  “The pool is coming along, Mamma,” I said.

  “Umm,” Mamma said.

  Poppy said, “I’ll help you set the table. Let me just wash my hands.” She began repeating the process exactly as I had done it.

  When Poppy reached for the sanitizer, Mamma said, “If you like that stuff, help yourself. But please don’t feel obliged. It’s not a household custom.”

  “Oh.” Poppy took a small squirt, rubbed her hands together.

  “Are Ray and Ponder staying for dinner?” I asked.

  “I’ve already fed them,” said Mamma. “Ray doesn’t eat after four o’clock anymore. Some newfangled health kick he’s on. An array of pills and tonics are involved, of course. Ponder ate with him so he wouldn’t have to eat alone.”

  I walked towards the dining room and Poppy followed. In short order we had Mamma’s mahogany dining room table set for eight. Merry brought in the steak and gravy and set it on a trivet next to the vase of blue hydrangeas in the center of the table. Then she carried in mashed potatoes, fried squash, butter peas, green bean casserole, sliced tomatoes, fried apples, and biscuits. There wasn’t enough room, and tomatoes and the apples had to go on the sideboard.

  Poppy said, “I haven’t seen this much food at th
e same time since I was little and my mother would take me to pot luck suppers at church.”

  “This is how Mamma expresses her love,” I said. “She feeds us all silly.”

  “Frank,” Mamma called. “Y’all come on now. Dinner’s getting cold.”

  Nate carried two bottles of Radius red blend and worked one on to each end of the table. Blake set a third directly in front of his place. Joe and Daddy filed in behind them. We all sat in our customary places, with Poppy on the other side of Nate, next to Daddy, and across from Blake.

  Mamma offered Merry and me her hands and said grace. After she finished, she sat there for a moment with her eyes closed, squeezing my hand, and I guessed from Merry’s expression, hers too.

  Merry and I looked at each other for a long moment.

  Daddy passed the steak and gravy to Poppy. “Here you go.”

  Mamma finally let go of my hand. She served herself some butter peas and passed them to Merry. For the next few moments, we passed food, fixed plates, and complimented the cook, who was very quiet. Daddy kept stealing glances at her, then looking back at his plate. What on earth was he planning to do with those animals?

  “Poppy, are you originally from this area?” Mamma asked.

  “Yes ma’am,” said Poppy. “I grew up in West Ashley.”

  “I’ve always loved the established neighborhoods in that part of town,” said Mamma. “Do you still live there?”

  “No, I live downtown now,” said Poppy.

  “Wow,” said Merry. “That must be nice.”

  “It is,” said Poppy. “I love it.”

  “Do you have family nearby?” asked Mamma.

  Mamma was off her game, and understandably. I had told her Poppy didn’t have family, hadn’t I? I gave Mamma a warning look—one she normally would have understood immediately.

  “No,” said Poppy. She cleared her throat gently. “I…my family is gone.”

  “Where’d they move to?” asked Blake.

  “No,” said Poppy. “I mean, they’ve all passed away.”

  Blake looked stricken. “I…I’m so sorry.”

  Poppy shook her head slightly, sipped her wine. “No, it’s fine. Really. How could you have known. And, I mean, it wasn’t recent. I really like this wine. It’s great. I don’t drink wine very often. But I like this. A lot.” She sipped some more.

  “It is good,” I said. “Daddy, I hope you stocked up on this.”

  “Hmm? Oh, yeah. There’s more if we need it,” said Daddy.

  “Mamma, those hydrangeas are gorgeous,” I said.

  “They are lovely, aren’t they?” she said. “They’re All Summer Beauties.”

  Everyone seemed to be struggling to find safe topics of conversation. There were so many places we dared not go, especially in front of company. The table was quieter than usual. Finally, my brother had all of that he could handle.

  “So, Dad, what’s the plan?” he asked.

  “What plan?” asked Daddy.

  “For the goats, the pig,” said Blake.

  “Well, I don’t know.” Daddy moved food around on his plate. “They just got here a little while ago. Ray and Ponder are settling the goats in for tonight, so they don’t bother the neighbors. Kinky, she’s fine.”

  Mamma set down her water glass a little harder than normal.

  “Why can’t the goats go back wherever they came from?” I asked.

  “It’s a farm over on Johns Island,” said Daddy. “They have a no return policy.”

  “As should we.” Mamma’s voice was coated in saccharine.

  “Is Chumley all right?” asked Merry. “He seems awfully quiet.”

  “Oh,” said Daddy. “I gave him some Valium.”

  Everyone but Poppy looked at Mamma, and we were all thinking the exact same thing. She’d had Valium too. And it would wear off, for both Chumley and Mamma.

  Nate said, “Surely there’s another petting zoo somewhere around that would love to have them.”

  Poppy said, “What about the one at Magnolia Plantation? Or, there’s one that brings pets around to children’s birthday parties.”

  “That’s a fine idea,” said Daddy. “Two fine ideas. I’ll call them both tomorrow.”

  Joe said, “I’m sure there are others. We’ll find a place for them. Don’t you worry Mamma C.”

  Merry looked vaguely unhappy but resigned.

  Mamma made note. “Perhaps you’d like to keep them with you until permanent arrangements are made.”

  “No,” said Merry. “I’d just get attached.”

  We all continued eating and complimenting the food. My Mamma’s steak and gravy really is decadent. But things were still abnormally quiet.

  Blake tried again. “Did y’all see where there’s another storm in the Atlantic? Leroy. Some of the models have it headed our way. We need to keep an eye on this one.”

  My stomach clenched. I put down my fork and picked up my water glass.

  You cannot live your life in fear. Colleen’s words echoed in my brain. I took a deep breath, tried to chase the tension from my body.

  Nate looked at me, cut his eyes at Blake.

  Blake gave him a quizzical look, shrugged. Then he tried another track. “Poppy, what do you do for a living?”

  “I’m a mail carrier,” she said.

  “Oh my goodness.” Merry put a bite of food together and pretended she hadn’t witnessed the scene at Taste between Poppy and Sonny. “That’s a hard job, especially in this heat.”

  An odd look crossed Blake’s face. He and Sonny spoke several times a week. He’d probably heard Sonny’s take on Poppy Oliver.

  “It’s not so bad,” said Poppy. “Actually, I like my job most days. I get to be outside, talk to people. Get to know some of the people on my route.”

  Blake opened his mouth to speak.

  Loud noises I couldn’t identify came from the direction of the kitchen, bumps and bangs. We all looked in that direction.

  “Frank,” Ray Kennedy’s voice was urgent.

  Then we heard the bleeting.

  “Oh, dear Heaven,” said Mamma. “Is that—”

  Three goats bleeting.

  In the kitchen.

  Kinky squealed urgently.

  Chumley gave a medicated, half-hearted howl.

  “Cuz,” called Ponder. “Cuz. We need you in the kitchen. Come quick.”

  “I’m coming,” called Daddy. “Liz, you girls take your mother over to your house for a while, would you?”

  “Cuz, I’m real sorry,” Ponder called.

  The goats trotted down the hall and into the dining room.

  Everything happened at once.

  One of the goats hopped up on the dining table.

  Water and wine glasses toppled.

  The sound of crunching glass and hoofs on mahogany filled the room.

  Daddy cursed and the rest of us gasped and slid our chairs back.

  With one foot in the mashed potato bowl, the goat on the table commenced munching on the hydrangeas.

  Mamma’s eyes got huge. She leaned back as far as she could, then stumbled to stand, backed up, and gave a soft cry.

  The other two goats were under the table bleeting their heads off.

  “Where’s the rest of the Valium?” I asked.

  “Powder room medicine cabinet,” Daddy said over his shoulder as he stepped into the foyer.

  Blake lunged for the goat on the table.

  I grabbed Mamma’s arm. “Come with me. Merry, medicine cabinet.”

  “Got it.” She dashed across the dining room.

  I swiveled my head to make sure Poppy was following me.

  “Come on little fellow.” She reached down and picked up one of the goats. “Let’s get you back outside.”

  “Popp
y, I’ll wait for you in the car,” I said.

  “Be right there,” she said in the softest, gentlest tone.

  Blake stared at her with an expression I couldn’t read. But he didn’t look happy.

  I gentled Mamma outside and into the Explorer. Merry brought the Valium, a bottle of water, and two unopened bottles of wine. After a few minutes, Poppy climbed into the back with Mamma.

  “The goats are all outside. The men are going to clean everything up, good as new,” said Poppy, in the same voice she’d used on the goats.

  Mamma said, “Franklin Talbot has never cleaned a solitary thing his entire life.”

  Poppy took her hand. “Nate and Blake and Joe are going to help. And the other two gentlemen.”

  Mamma clasped Poppy’s hand in both of hers. Tears filled her eyes. “I’m positively mortified.”

  “Why?” asked Poppy.

  “You’re our guest,” said Mamma. “And wildlife ate hydrangeas on my dining room table.”

  “Mrs. Talbot,” said Poppy, “this is the best meal and the best time I’ve had in ages.”

  “Please, sugar,” said Mamma, “call me Carolyn. Merry, I’d like two of the little yellow pills please.”

  EIGHTEEN

  Nate, Rhett, and I all missed our run Thursday morning. Mamma was in the guest room—the yellow one that had been mine before I moved into Gram’s old room. Merry had gone back to the house and packed Mamma an overnight bag. Blake dropped Nate off the night before just in time for him to take Poppy home and get back on the last ferry.

  I came downstairs at six thirty, an hour and a half later than usual. Halfway down the stairs I smelled bacon and coffee. When I walked into the kitchen, Mamma said, “Good morning, Sunshine.”

  She was flipping blueberry pancakes. I might have groaned. Not that her pancakes aren’t good—they’re legendary.

  Nate handed me a cup of coffee. “Sit.”

  I sat at the bar. “Have you heard from Blake this morning?”

  “Yeah,” said Nate. “He and Nell are calling around to find someone to take the animals. The goats are incarcerated until they get that worked out.”