Stargazey Point

by Shelley Noble

  The sun finally broke through the clouds just before the weekend. And with the sun came the heat.

  “Yep, summer’s comin’ on,” Ivy Lee said as she passed Abbie on her way to the kitchen. “Come on back when you get a chance and sample some of my sweet potato biscuits.” She held up a foil-covered package. “They’re mighty fine with a glass of sweet tea.”

  “Thanks, I will,” Abbie said. She’d been hearing laughter and some raised voices for the last half hour. She grabbed her video cam and headed back to see what was going on. The kitchen was more crowded than usual. There were more women than chairs, and someone had brought a picnic bench inside. Tea glasses and mugs, paper napkins, and plates of cakes and cookies littered the table.

  Abbie stood just outside the door, listening to the women talk. Reminiscing about the carousel had set off other memories, and they were lamenting the loss of the co-op gift shop that had sold many of the local crafts.

  Abbie booted her camera and stepped into the kitchen. The voices stopped, all faces turned toward the door.

  “Come on in and take a load off,” Momo said.

  Abbie held up her camera and looked a question.

  “Sure, bring that thing in, we’re gettin’ to be right movie stars, ain’t we, girls?” Momo moved over to make room for Abbie. “We were just talking about the shop that used to be here. I sold my baskets there and Ivy sold cornhusk dolls. It had all sorts of local crafts and things.”

  “And don’t forget the farmers’ market,” said a heavyset woman, who Abbie thought must be related to Pauli.

  “Rayleen, you got rocks in your head,” said Ivy, as she poured Abbie a glass of tea. “That weren’t no market, just a handful of dirt farmers settin’ in the parking lot.”

  “Same thing,” Rayleen shot back. “Met every weekend during the spring and summer and on Wednesdays for the local people.” She grinned. “Prices were better on Wednesdays.”

  Everyone smiled and nodded as they all shared the joke.

  “Why did you stop having the farmers’ market?” Abbie asked.

  “Not that many farmers left,” Ivy said.

  “Got golf courses instead,” said someone else.

  “There are some.”

  Ivy shrugged and handed Abbie the glass of tea. “Not that many folks to buy from them. They gone over to Georgetown and Myrtle Beach.”

  “What? We don’t look like folks to you?” Rayleen leaned her ample chest across the table and glared at the naysayer.

  “I meant summer folks.”

  “We got us some,” Momo said. “And we all have gardens. We could be sellin’ the surplus.”

  “You crazy, woman. I suppose you think we oughta open up the arcade and the gift shop, too?” Ivy shook her head and reached for a slice of bread filled with plump raisins.

  “And why not? With the carousel coming back and most of town lookin’ good, we’re gonna attract tourists again.”

  “Not our end of town,” said Rayleen.

  “We did it before.”

  “Hannah Stevens did it before,” said Ivy. “And she just displayed things from us and gave us a percentage. Hannah’s gone back to New Jersey. Might be dead for all we know.”

  Abbie panned the camera from one woman to the other.

  “Well, I don’t think it’s a crazy idea at all,” Momo said. “We’ve been sittin’ around here for twenty years watching our property being sold off and our way of life disappearing. Heck, Sarah over there had to come all the way back from New York City to try to put us in history before we disappear altogether. And we didn’t even lift a finger to help her.”

  The women all looked down at their plates.

  “My man didn’t like it.” Ivy shook her head. “Anyway, his people ain’t nothin’ to write home about.”

  The woman sitting next to her patted her shoulder. “I don’t even know nothin’ about my family.”

  “Me neither. My Dermott tried to do one of those family trees. Didn’t get too far.”

  “Heck, we got nothing to be ashamed of,” Wanda, a big woman with a high soprano voice, said.

  “No, we don’t. Just took getting us talking to figure that out. What I want to know is why are we sitting here reminiscing about the good old days—”

  “Weren’t all that good, most of them.”

  “No,” agreed Momo. “But we were all involved in our town. You saw them movies Abbie put together. Things were happening in those days. Now it seems we’re just sitting back waiting for our young people to grow up and move away. I’m thinking we oughta start doing something for ourselves.”

  “Like what?” Ivy asked.

  “Like maybe reopening the co-op and startin’ up the farmers’ market again. I could sell my basketry and such here instead of driving all the way to Beaufort or Charleston and sittin’ out in the sun all day being a spot of local color and feelin’ like a monkey in the zoo.”

  “And what about customers? You can make a living going to Charleston and Beaufort, but who’s gonna buy your goods over here?”

  “Tourists,” Wanda said.

  “And where are we gonna get us some of those?”

  “Like I said. The beach is coming back, the carousel is reopening, and uptown is doing okay. We just need to spruce things up down this way a bit. Get us some paint and a sign ’cause people are gonna have to walk right past us to get to the beach.”

  “They sure do. That’s a great idea, Momo. I vote we do it,” Wanda said.

  Ivy leaned back in her chair and rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. “Listen to you, Miz Rockefeller, you gonna buy this old run-down building, kick out Sarah and the children, and ren-o-vate it yourself?”

  “Don’t be dense, Ivy Lee. We’ll use one of the other buildings. Maybe that vacant store by the post office.”

  “Foolishness. Besides it’s too small.”

  “Well, what about the old arcade?” Wanda piped in.

  “Too big. And anyway, we can’t afford to buy no building, even if whoever owns it would be willing to sell.”

  “Who does own them?” Abbie asked.

  Nobody seemed to know, but everybody had something to say. And Abbie was kept busy moving the camera from one person to another as they argued.

  “Bet we can find out from Mr. Oakley. He knows everybody’s business.”

  “Oh, him. We’re not gonna talk to him.”

  “We ain’t gonna kiss him, just gonna ask him who owns the boardwalk buildings.”

  “And he’s gonna ask you if you owe him any taxes.”

  Murmurs shot around the table. It seemed that several of them were sketchy about their taxes.

  “I’m not gettin’ near him,” Ivy said and put her tea glass down on the table in a way that said the subject was over.

  “Me, neither,” Wanda said. “He come around us twice last year.”

  “I’m not going. That’d be like sticking your hand down a snake hole.”

  Momo stood up and slapped her hands on the table. “Well, I will. The Lord helps those who help themselves. And it’s about time we started.”

  Abbie and Sarah stood on the porch and watched the last of the women and children leave the center. It was after eight, and even so, Sarah had to force them to leave. It had been a free-for-all for a while, but finally they settled that Momo would approach the town about renting one of the buildings at this end of town. They were still unclear as to how they were going to pay for it.

  “You and Cab make some kind of team,” Sarah said on a giant yawn.

  “Me and Cab?” Abbie said. “Where did that come from?”

  Sarah grinned at her. “Besides the fact that you two are just cute as buttons together?”

  “Right,” Abbie said at her driest. Cute wasn’t exactly what she was feeling when it came to Cab.

  �
�Beyond that, Cab getting the carousel back in shape gives this town a chance at a comeback, but without you pointing that out to them, they would have never realized it until it was too late for them to take advantage of it. And from the sounds of things in the kitchen tonight, I think there’s going to be some changes going on pretty damn soon.”

  “I hope so, but I think they would have figured it out on their own. Besides, you’re the one who got the center up and running, which, if you haven’t noticed, is a hotbed of activity.”

  “I noticed. But we’d still be floundering around trying to concoct a history nobody thought they remembered until you started making this documentary about something else.”

  “Which I recall you pretty much strong-armed me into doing.”

  “And I could never get anyone to help out before they came to be interviewed. Now I practically have a staff. Whether I want it or not.”

  Abbie laughed. “Some of them are a bit opinionated.”

  “I’m hoping you’re going to stick around to see it all through.”

  “Think I’ll desert you before the opening of the carousel?”

  “God, no. But I may have to desert you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I do have a job I have to get back to.”

  The statement caught Abbie off guard. She knew the university was pressuring Sarah to return early. Abbie would also be leaving at some point. But she wasn’t ready for either. “Just when things are firing up? I thought you had until August. Who’s going to take over the center?”

  Sarah continued to look at her.

  “No. I don’t know anything about long-term organization. I do hit and run.”

  And wasn’t that just what had left her empty before and threatened to make her even emptier now. Where did she go after this?

  And how could she leave without knowing if Beau’s paintings sold or if the new director of the center was nurturing and inspiring? How could she leave Marnie or Millie or Beau, the carousel or Cab, Bethanne or Penny? The children? Especially the children.

  And what about Ervina? She was a walking repository of history. Someone should tell her story before she was gone.

  “You turn to stone, girl?” Sarah stood looking up at her. Seeing Sarah with her hands on both hips reminded Abbie of the first day they’d met. That exaggerated drawl, and the sophisticated New Yorker blanketed beneath the country girl façade.

  But today was the first time Abbie saw her as a person straddling two worlds, not willing to leave either one for good. She knew as sure as she was standing here, Sarah would be back. At least as long as Ervina was alive. And then what? Would Sarah become the witch doctor of Stargazey Point or would she leave it behind for good?

  And what about Abbie? Where would she go from here?

  “All right, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” Sarah stifled another yawn. “I don’t know about you, but I’m beat. See you tomorrow.”

  Abbie watched for a minute and turned to go back inside. The door to the carousel opened and Cab came out.

  Abbie’s heart did a little skip and flutter that she was beginning to recognize.

  “Got a minute?”

  “Sure.” She went to meet him. He pulled her inside to where Beau was waiting.

  “You’re not going to believe what just happened,” Cab said.

  “Dom Gaillard called,” Beau said.

  “What did he say?” Abbie’s fluttery heart dropped into a churning stomach. She mentally crossed her fingers.

  “He’s in Charleston having my painting appraised. And someone came into the gallery, saw it, and put a retainer of five thousand dollars down.” Beau sat down suddenly on the carousel platform.

  “That’s great.” She frowned at Cab, trying to figure out if Beau was happy or panicked over the news. “So what did you tell him?”

  “Huh?” Beau’s eyebrows creased. “I told him to sell the damn thing.”

  Abbie laughed. “Beau. You didn’t say it like that.”

  “No, he didn’t,” Cab said. “He and Dom talked for a bit. I tried to listen in, but Dom was talking a mile a minute.”

  “I told him to set a price that he thought fair. He wants to see more.”

  “Great,” she said again, though with a little less enthusiasm. She didn’t look forward to another scene when they tried to sneak the others out of the house. “What about Millie?” she asked.

  Beau broke into a broad smile. “Dom’s driving back tonight. He’ll meet us at the house in the morning . . . after Millie leaves for church.”

  Chapter 26

  Abbie, Marnie, and Beau watched as Millie climbed into the Oakleys’ car. They stayed at the window until the car disappeared down the drive, then they let out their collective breath.

  A few minutes later, a white van came up the drive and stopped in front of the house. Dominic Gaillard, dressed in khakis and a polo shirt, jumped out of the car. He was followed by Cab.

  “Hope you don’t mind that I brought Cab,” Dom told Beau. “But if we come to an arrangement, I wanted to be ready to transport them.” He looked back at the van. “She’s specially equipped to insure against damage.”

  Beau nodded, and they all climbed two flights of steps to Beau’s hideaway.

  “Amazing,” Dom said when Beau had unlocked the door and they’d all stepped inside. He walked slowly along the shelves and tables, bent over as he perused the wooden carvings.

  Cab whistled.

  Beau looked uncomfortable.

  “I don’t handle miniatures, but I know who would give his eyeteeth to get his hands on these.” Dom glanced up at Beau without standing up. “If you’re interested in selling them.”

  Abbie took one look at Beau’s face and said, “Why don’t you have a look at the paintings and talk about the figures later.”

  “Absolutely. That’s what I came for.”

  Beau ambled over to the storage rack and stood facing it. For a moment Abbie thought he might change his mind. Then he resolutely pulled the first painting out of the bin and placed it on an easel that had appeared since the time she’d visited.

  They all hovered close to Dom and he nodded, moved closer, stepped back. It was one of Beau’s seascapes. The edge of a roof, the gazebo? On one side, two young girls in long dresses and sun hats, sitting on the sand, their skirts spread out around them.

  “Oh my,” Marnie said. “Oh my.”

  Beau pulled the next one out, held it to his chest. “I thought you might be interested in these,” he told Cab. He turned it around, replaced the seascape with the head of a carousel horse, so vivid that it looked real in spite of the fanciful colored mane and the detailed body.

  No one spoke as Beau stepped away from the canvas, though next to her, Cab caught his breath. Marnie covered her mouth with both hands. And Abbie watched Beau, his expression calm, but years of emotion and memories rippling just beneath.

  “Good God, Beau. Are there more of these?”

  Beau nodded.

  “Let’s see them, man.”

  Beau moved to the bin, Dom at his heels. He handed one out; Dom took it and handed it to Cab who leaned it against Beau’s workbench. Another followed and another. When Beau at last stopped, eight carousel paintings lined the space, capturing the viewers in a magic circle.

  “Would you be willing to let me show all these in the Charleston gallery? We get much more traffic there. A wealthier clientele. I’ll keep a couple of the horses to put in the window of the gallery here. “What do you say?”

  “All of them?” Beau asked.

  “Yes,” Dom said, drawing out the word. Abbie could practically see him calculating. “To coincide with the carousel opening.”

  “Wow,” breathed Cab. “These are incredible.” He turned to Beau. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

 
“I kinda forgot about ’em till a few weeks ago. Ned kept the paintings for me all those years until I came back. Then I put them in here and just forgot. When I started carving that carousel for you, it all came back.”

  “That’s why you remembered things so well.”

  “You didn’t need these, son. You know what to do. You got it inside you.”

  Dom cleared his throat. “I hate to break up this Hallmark moment, but if you’re going to let me have these, I suggest we get them in the truck before church lets out.”

  They all pitched in and carried the paintings downstairs until only one painting remained in the bin.

  “What about that one?” Dom asked. Abbie had noticed that Beau hadn’t brought out the picture of the young nude.

  “Not that one,” Beau said.

  “Intriguing,” Dom said. “But I have enough to bring out slowly over the next year or so.” He glanced once more at the lone canvas and left the room.

  Beau and Cab drove with him back to town to unload the paintings. And, Abbie suspected, so they wouldn’t be there when Millie got home.

  “Coffee?” Marnie asked.

  “Absolutely,” Abbie said.

  They were in the kitchen when Millie returned from church. She came straight into the kitchen and dropped her purse on the counter. Then turned and glowered at her sister. “What’s this I hear about Beau and Cabot seen riding in Dom Gaillard’s van this morning?”

  Marnie shrugged. “Care for some coffee?”

  Millie turned on Abbie, then back to Marnie. “This is her fault. Nothing’s been the same since she came here.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Millie,” Abbie began.

  “I don’t want to hear anything from you. And after all we’ve done for you.”

  “Millie!” Marnie stood up so abruptly that she hit the table and coffee sloshed over their cups and spilled on the table. “You forget yourself. If anyone’s done anything for anybody around here, it’s Abbie. And you know it.

  “If you must know, Dom has taken several of Beau’s paintings to be sold. And I’ll expect you to be glad for him.”

  The blood rushed from Millie’s face and her lips pursed. “It’s evil, evil.”