She grabbed a tray and hurried down the refrigerated section, pulling out a dish of Saffron’s delicious hummus and pita and an iced tea, then paid for it and met Cooper at the table.
Cooper rose as she approached and kissed her cheek. “Nice outfit.”
Linnea put her tray on the table and showed off the adorable pleated white top with red piping and the crisp red cotton skirt. “It was Lovie’s. Isn’t it amazing?”
“Really?” He laughed. “Only you . . .”
“Only me what?”
“Only you could pull that off.”
“Thank you very much,” she said, not sure if that was a compliment. As she sat, she glanced at Cooper’s plate. Philly cheesesteak, fries, a chocolate fudge brownie, and sweet tea. Despite his clearly healthy appetite, he looked like he’d lost some weight, and his skin was as pale as paper.
“How are you doing?” she asked.
“Okay.”
“I’ve been expecting you to show up at the beach house, but summer’s half over and we haven’t seen you.”
“I’ve been busy,” he said as he bit into his cheesesteak.
“Come to the beach,” she implored him. “You look like you could use some sun.” She held out her arm on the table next to his. “Next to me, you’re a paleface.”
“How are you so tan?”
“I’ve been surfing.”
Cooper’s sandwich stalled before it reached his mouth. “Surfing?” he asked incredulously. “You?”
She would’ve been insulted, except that his reaction was spot on. At least for the old Linnea. “Absolutely! I’m getting pretty good, too. John’s been teaching me.” When she saw his brows knit, she added, “He’s Emmi’s son. He’s living next door for the summer. And Cara gave me Brett’s old board.”
“No way. That board is sick.”
“I call him Big Blue. I go out whenever there are waves. John said he’ll teach me kiteboarding next.”
Cooper set down his sandwich. “Okay, now I’m getting jealous.”
“Don’t be. Come out and join us. You’re a good surfer.”
Cooper scoffed at that. “Not really. I’m probably not as good as you now.”
“You just need practice. Come on.”
“I’ll try to get out there.”
His voice had a lackluster tone that told her he would not. She was filled with a sudden fear for her brother. His pale skin, lost weight, lack of enthusiasm for life . . . He was dramatically changed from the buoyant, popular boy she was used to being with.
“Coop,” she said in all seriousness. “What’s the matter? You’re not yourself.”
“Come around more often and you’d know.”
That was a deliberate slap and it stung. She had been lost in her own world on the island, her worries for her brother on the back burner.
“I deserved that. I’m sorry. What’s going on?”
He pushed his plate away. “It’s a freaking nightmare at home, that’s what’s going on. Don’t let Dad know I told you this, but the business is going under. Sales are down, and he’s not getting any new orders. And he’s drinking more than ever.”
“That might explain why he’s not getting new business.”
“Maybe. I don’t think so. He’s still on board every day at work. He’s good at what he does. But his heart isn’t in it. Something else is going on.”
“What?”
“Hell if I know. He doesn’t confide in me.” He grabbed his iced tea. “I’m only his son.”
“What does Mama say?”
“Mama? She’s MIA. I mean, she’s there in the house, but it’s like she’s some ghost. She sneaks around, walking on eggshells when he’s drinking. And when they’re together?” He shuddered. “It ain’t pretty. They scream at each other like it’s World War III.”
“Mama? Screaming?” Linnea couldn’t imagine it.
“It sucks. You wouldn’t recognize home.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry? You couldn’t change anything.”
“I feel like I abandoned you.”
“No, you got out. I don’t blame you. It’s every man for himself on a sinking ship.”
Linnea couldn’t believe what she was hearing. This was so foreign to the household she’d grown up in. Sure, her daddy enjoyed a drink at night, but nothing like this. She felt frightened, not only for her parents, but for Cooper.
“How do you deal with all that?”
“I leave as often as I can. I go to my friends’ houses, the hunting lodge.” He shrugged. “I don’t think they notice.”
Linnea pushed his plate back toward him and shifted the conversation back to surfing. She’d heard enough to know that she had more digging to do, and to feel relieved she’d escaped. If she’d stayed at home, she would have been fighting with her father too. Probably screaming like her mother. And that was not the woman she wanted to become.
“Cooper, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. You’re taking a few days off and coming to the beach house. For me. It’s our last summer as kids, right? We’re both going off again, you to college, me . . .” She shrugged and laughed. “Somewhere. Please say you’ll come. This weekend. Please?”
“Yeah, I’ve got some vacation days. I’ll come.”
“You better, little brother, or I’ll sic Aunt Cara after you!”
AFTER LUNCH, LINNEA went directly to Tradd Street to talk to her mother. The gate was open, and after parking her car, she walked through the garden. She found her mother there in her broad-brimmed straw hat and gardening gloves. A basket sat at her feet, but she wasn’t working. She was standing, cross-armed, staring at a bed of annuals that looked like they needed a good weeding. If anything was a red flag for her mother’s health, it was weeds in her garden. Linnea had arrived all bowed up and ready for battle, but now her battle cry dissipated, replaced by a real concern.
“Mama?” she called gently, walking up to her side.
Julia startled and swung her head around. “Linnea! What a surprise! What brings you here?”
“Can’t a girl visit her mama when she misses her?”
Julia’s face crumpled, and she leaned in to hug her daughter. Pulling back, Linnea was caught off guard to see tears gathering in her mother’s eyes.
“What’s the matter, Mama?”
Julia exhaled heavily and, lowering her head, removed her gardening gloves. “Oh, Linnea. I don’t know where to begin.”
“Let’s sit down in the shade.”
“Do you want some tea?”
Linnea shook her head. “I just came from lunch with Cooper.”
Understanding flickered in Julia’s pale-blue eyes. “I see.”
“Mama, he’s not looking good.”
“No.” She bent to pick up the empty garden basket and led the way to the stone bench under the live oak for a respite from the southern July sun. Julia removed her hat and set it on the bench beside her.
“Child, what are you wearing?”
Linnea looked down at her skirt and top. “Don’t you like it? It’s vintage fifties. Cara gave me some of Lovie’s old clothes. I think they’re gorgeous.”
Julia smiled softly. “I thought I recognized them. Sweet Lovie.” She sighed. “I surely do wish she were alive today. We all could use her wisdom. She had a way with your father.”
Linnea sat down on the bench beside her. “What’s going on?” she asked. “Cooper said all hell’s breaking loose here.”
Julia laughed shortly. “That about describes it.”
Linnea didn’t speak.
Julia sighed again, then filled the silence. “He probably told you that the business isn’t doing well?”
Linnea nodded.
“Poor Cooper. I’m sorry he has to witness this. But a mother can only protect her children from so much.”
“It’s not the business that has him worried. Or me. It’s Daddy’s drinking. I noticed it at the party last month. Daddy has always liked his drink, but not like th
is.”
“No,” she agreed in a soft voice. “Not like this. Linnea, I can’t protect you from the truth either. It doesn’t matter, really. It’s all going to be public soon enough.”
“What?” Linnea asked, truly alarmed now.
“It’s not just the business that’s failing,” Julia began. “He’s invested most of our savings in a real estate project and even borrowed from our friends. He was so sure this one deal was going to make his fortune. He’s always wanted to surpass his father’s successes, you know.” She paused. “He really didn’t care for his father.”
“Yes. It’s no secret.”
Julia scowled. “Stratton Rutledge was not a very nice man. And a worse father. He made your father’s life a living hell while he was alive. I never liked him, and to be honest, I was a little afraid of him. I can’t bear that portrait of him hanging in the living room. I feel like he’s staring down at us, finding fault. Cursing us. The old son of a bitch,” she murmured under her breath.
Linnea had never heard her mother swear or speak ill of another person.
“What about the investment?” Linnea asked, bringing her mother back to the point.
Julia sighed again, this time with disgust. “I don’t know for certain, but I suspect”—her eyes flashed with import—“strongly, that there’s trouble. Your father is terribly worried.”
“What did he invest in?”
“I can’t remember the name. Something to do with mermaids, I think. It’s in real estate. Here in Charleston.”
Linnea shook her head. “I remember talking to him about a big project at the beginning of summer. Or rather, I asked, but he shifted the conversation away. Makes sense now. What happens if Daddy loses his investment?”
“Oh, darling,” Julia said, a tinge of frustration in her voice. “What do you think? We’ll be bankrupt.”
A stunned silence followed. For a moment Linnea thought she’d misheard. Not in trouble. Bankrupt. Could it be possible, or was her mother exaggerating?
“But that’s ludicrous! He can’t be that badly off. He has the business, even if it’s not doing well. He’s always managed to stay afloat.” For a dreadful moment Linnea thought she might burst into tears. Instead, she put her forehead in her palm to calm herself. “Mama, you’ve got to stop Daddy’s drinking. It has to be affecting his business.”
“I’m trying, Linnea!” Julia said, her voice rising with her temper. “We argue about it all the time. But he won’t stop! What can I do? I’ve thrown away bottles of bourbon, and he just goes out and buys more.”
Linnea held back, seeing how exhausted her mother was. How brittle. “Daddy didn’t always drink like this.”
Julia heard the change in tone and shook her head. “Not always,” she said more calmly. “But there were times . . .” She paused, then pushed on. “He drank a lot before you were born. It became a serious problem for us. I almost left him.”
Linnea had had no idea her mother was capable of such a thing.
“I told him he had to get help or I would leave. And to his credit, he did. I was proud of him. He didn’t get any support from his father, naturally. His mother tried, of course, but by then she was spending most of her time at the beach house. His father . . .” Julia’s face filled with resentment. “Hardly the example for his son. And now here is Palmer, repeating the same pattern for his son.”
Linnea heard the desperation in her voice, and remembered Cooper telling her their mother was screaming at Palmer. She reached out to touch her mother’s arm. “I know you’re trying, Mama.” There was a long silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Eventually Linnea spoke again. “I’m worried about Cooper. He doesn’t look good.”
“I don’t think he’s happy working with his father. He adores him. Too much, perhaps. Cooper’s always tried to please him. But it’s difficult.”
“Mama, is Cooper . . .” She paused, trying to couch her words so they didn’t sound accusatory. “Do you think he’s doing drugs?”
“What?” Julia’s head snapped up. “Why would you ever say that?”
Linnea realized that her mother wouldn’t recognize the signs of drug use that she’d spotted in Cooper: pale skin, dilated pupils, lost weight, changed personality.
“I’m just asking,” she said in a calm voice.
“Well, don’t,” Julia said brusquely, adjusting her position on the bench. “Your brother doesn’t have a drug problem. I would know.”
“He has a drinking problem.” Linnea stated the obvious.
A cloud crossed over her mother’s face, and Linnea saw that her skin was as pale as the alyssum in her garden and new lines were carved deep into her forehead. Worry lines, her mama always called them.
“Yes,” Julia admitted in a resigned voice. “He drinks too much. But I don’t know that I’d call it a problem. All boys drink. . . .”
“Mama, I think he’s doing drugs.”
“Well,” she scoffed, “he might be experimenting a bit. You know, with marijuana. But that’s normal, isn’t it?”
“That’s where he might’ve started. But I’m worried it’s something more serious.”
“Oh, Linnea, you’re such a worrywart about your brother. You always were, you know. Hovering over him like a second mother. It’s sweet, but I’m telling you he’s right as rain.”
Linnea knew there was no point in arguing with her. She refused to see the truth because she wouldn’t or couldn’t.
“Mama, promise you’ll keep a close eye on him. And you’ll call me if you see anything. Make sure he eats. And look at his pupils.”
“His pupils! I’m not going to stare into his pupils. What do you expect me to see?”
“If they’re dilated,” Linnea explained. “That happens with drug use.” She was having a hard time not letting her frustration flow into her voice.
“Really, Linnea,” Julia said with a huff, and gathered her garden gloves as if to stand.
Linnea put her hand on Julia’s arm to hold her back. “Mama, you’re always making excuses for Cooper. You did all his art projects for him and helped him with his homework. Cooper’s not a little kid anymore. It’s not helping when you cover up for him or look the other way when he’s drinking too much. Or doing drugs. This is too serious. Too dangerous. And it’s called enabling.”
“Now I’m an enabler?” She rose abruptly. “I think I’ve heard quite enough.”
Linnea hurried to her feet. “I’m not saying it’s your fault. I’m just asking you to pay attention.” She reached for her mother’s hand to stop her. “Mama, I’m really worried.”
Her mother’s face softened. “Honey, don’t you worry. I’ll keep my eye on him. Cooper’s a good boy. Why, he starts at the Citadel next month. They’ll keep him on the straight and narrow.” She patted Linnea’s hand on her arm reassuringly.
Linnea stared at the hand till she could assuage her disappointment. When she looked up, she met her mother’s smile with one of her own.
“I’ve invited Cooper to the beach house this weekend. Please make sure he comes. He looks like he could use some sun.”
“That’s an excellent idea. I surely will. I think some time at the beach is exactly what he needs. He spends far too much time holed up in his room.” She patted Linnea’s hand again. “And just forget what I told you about your daddy’s business. I shouldn’t have burdened you with my worries. I’m probably overreacting. You caught me at a weepy moment in the garden. Everything will turn out fine.”
“You’re doing it now.”
“What am I doing?”
“Trying to protect me. Closing the curtains.”
“Nonsense.” Julia leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek. Then she glanced at the gold and diamond watch at her wrist. “Forgive me, precious, but I have to rush. I’m due at the Junior League in half an hour. I really must change.” She rose to a stand.
Linnea felt shoved out the door like some unwanted peddler. She also rose to stand beside her, piqued. “A
ll right, then,” she said, bending to grab her purse. “Bye, Mama.”
She turned on her heel and headed toward the driveway, but stopped when she heard her mother call her name.
“Linnea!”
She turned.
Her mother’s smile was starched and pressed across her face. “Don’t be a stranger, hear? And don’t worry!”
LINNEA WORRIED ALL the way back to Isle of Palms. The sun was setting as she crossed the Ben Sawyer Bridge. Surreal streaks of magenta, purple, and orange filled the sky and shimmered in the high tide. Usually she felt an emotional separation from the mainland as she drove over the bridge. Tonight, however, her heart lay heavy in her chest, and her mind was weighed down by family issues. She took heaving breaths so she wouldn’t cry.
When she got home, she immediately went to Emmi’s to see John.
A light was burning near his desk window in the apartment above the garage, signaling he was home. Linnea climbed the stairs to the double doors with a heavy tread and knocked softly.
She could hear his footfalls coming to the door and the click of the lock, and the door swung wide. His face immediately eased into a grin when he saw her.
Linnea stepped in and wrapped her arms around him.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, his voice rich with concern.
“Just hold me a minute.”
He tightened his arms around her and placed his lips on her head. “I take it you had a bad day?”
Her laugh was short but filled with relief, as he’d intended. She released her hold and stepped from his arms.
“The worst.”
“Wine?”
“Please.”
“Do you want to talk?”
They sat on the green velvet sofa. Linnea tucked her legs beneath her and told him about her lunch with Cooper, her worries about his health, and her visit with her mother, sparing no details. When she was finished, she felt some relief at hearing herself explain it all without emotion. She could think more clearly.
“My mother won’t confront the problem. She doesn’t want to see that Cooper might be using drugs.”
“She’s in denial. She may never see it. Until it’s too late.”
Beach House Reunion Page 21
