Saturdays at Sweeney's

by Ashley Farley

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think that Curtis was responsible for setting the fire,” Sam said as they drove down the long driveway to their bungalow.

  Three years ago, when Faith had finally summoned the nerve to leave her abusive husband, Curtis had come after her family with a vengeance. He blamed Sam for breaking up his marriage and went on a rampage, torturing her for weeks on end.

  “But you do know better, because Curtis is in prison.” Eli put the car in park and killed the engine. “Besides, the fellas are convinced that lightning caused the fire.”

  “Jared said the same thing. And it makes sense considering the storm we had earlier. But I can’t shake this creepy feeling the fire was intentionally set.”

  Eli tilted her chin and looked deep into her eyes. “Put your overactive imagination back in its cage. There’s no point in looking for trouble when there isn’t any.”

  She held his gaze for a long minute before shaking off her concern. “I’m sure you’re right. It’s been a long night.”

  He put his arms around her and held her tight. “Lean on me, babe.”

  As recovering alcoholics, they both instinctively knew when one was close to the breaking point. “Lean on me” was their motto, their way of comforting each other when one of them was in trouble.

  She buried her face in his neck. “Believe it or not, I’m more concerned about my mother than the market. I need to stay strong for her, which means staying sober. I’ll be fine if I focus on her. I promise my head is in the right place. At least for now. If that changes, you’ll be the first to know.”

  TWO

  Jamie

  Jamie’s cell phone, beside his face on the desktop, vibrated and startled him out of a sound sleep. He cracked an eyelid and saw his mom’s image on the home screen. He fell back against the chair and raked his fingers through his greasy black curls. When was the last time he’d taken a shower? Yesterday? The day before? He stared across the room at the silver-rimmed wall clock that had marked his time for the past three years. Seven o’clock. Was that a.m. or p.m.? He’d spent so much time in the library during the last week, his days and nights were all mixed up.

  He picked up the phone. “What day is it, Mom?”

  She hesitated as though she didn’t know either. “It’s Thursday morning.”

  Right. He’d pulled an all-nighter studying for his last exam. He must have fallen asleep during the last set of accounting problems.

  He whispered into the phone, “Why are you calling so early? Did someone die?”

  “No, son. It’s nothing like that, thank heavens. But I do have some bad news. I wanted you to hear it from me before you saw it on Facebook or Snap whatchamacallit,” she said, speaking so fast her words came out all garbled.

  “Slow down, Mom. You’re not making any sense. I can’t really talk right now anyway. I’m in the library, and people are trying to study.” He glanced around at the sea of empty desks. “Can I call you back in ten minutes?”

  “Sure, honey. But don’t forget. This is important.”

  He stuffed his books and computer into his backpack and took the escalator to the main floor. He stopped by Cooper’s Corner to pick up a coffee in the lobby before exiting the building. A chill in the air reminded him it was still spring, even though many of the students had already left campus for the summer. Locating an empty bench near the fountain, he set down his coffee and backpack and tugged his hooded sweatshirt over his head. He stretched out on the bench, propping his head on his backpack, and called his mother back. “Are you better now?”

  “Not really, no. I’m sorry to have to tell you this while you’re in the middle of exams. There was a fire at the market last night. We lost everything.”

  Jamie scrambled to sit up without spilling his coffee. “Wait, Mom. I’m not sure I heard you right. Did you just say that our market, Captain Sweeney’s Seafood, burned to the ground last night?”

  Her voice sounded choked. “Yes, son, that’s exactly what I said.”

  Jamie thought about the artifacts that had hung on the walls marking decades of the family’s business. “Were they able to save anything?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll have to sift through the rubble today.”

  “What about Gran’s recipe box? Please tell me it was locked in the fire safe.” Jamie held his breath when his mother hesitated, envisioning her pinching her lower lip. Those recipes were the foundation on which his grandmother had built the business. Some she shared with customers, others she didn’t.

  “That’s a good question, now that you mention it. Roberto had the box out yesterday. I hope he put it back in the safe when he locked up last night.”

  He got off the bench and began pacing in tight circles. “What caused the fire? Do they know?”

  “Lightning, most likely, although we won’t know for sure until the firemen conduct their investigation.”

  He heard a loud slurp coming from the other end of the line. “Are you okay, Mom? You’re not drinking, are you?”

  “As a matter of fact, I am. I’m drinking coffee, and I’ve had way too much. I’m pretty strung out between being up half the night and the caffeine. As for me drinking anything stronger than coffee, you have nothing to worry about.”

  “Good.” He let out a deep breath. “I’m going to hold you to it.” His mother had been sober for nearly two years, but he worried constantly that something would set her off. “We have insurance for this kind of thing, don’t we? I mean, we’re going to rebuild, right?”

  “I wish it were that easy, Jamie. We have the loss of income to consider, and there’s no guarantee the insurance will cover the full cost of construction. We may have to raise money from another source. We can count Faith out since she’s retiring. And your grandmother . . . Well, Lovie had another one of her spells last night, the worst one yet. I’m afraid her days of working at Sweeney’s are in the past.”

  Jamie felt an aching in his chest. “Is Gran gonna be okay?”

  “I honestly don’t know. Time will tell. But even if she snaps out of it, I wouldn’t feel right asking her to invest. She has her health to consider. She needs to save her money. She may be facing a long stay in a nursing home.”

  “Don’t give up on her yet. She’s a trouper. She’ll bounce back.” Jamie dropped down to the bench as the repercussions of the situation hit home. “I guess I’m out of a job for the summer. Hell, I’m out of a career if we don’t rebuild.”

  “In the short term, the Pelican’s Roost may have something. They always beef up their staff during the summer months. You’ve done well for yourself, Jamie, with a near-perfect GPA in a field that makes you highly marketable, not only in the restaurant business but in the hotel industry as well. If we decide not to reopen, you may have to move to Charleston to find a position that is suited for you, but that’s right up the road.”

  Jamie got to his feet and slung his backpack over his shoulder. “I’m not moving to Charleston, Mom.” He dumped his coffee in a nearby trash can and set off toward Sumter Street. “I’ve told you this a million times. I have no burning desire to discover the world. Prospect is where I plan to live. End of discussion.”

  “Calm down, sweetheart. I was merely pointing out that you have choices.”

  The sound of Jamie’s heavy breathing filled the line as he hustled his way across campus.

  “All this can wait until you get home,” Sam said. “For now you need to concentrate on your exams.”

  The sadness in his mother’s voice tugged at his heartstrings. The family business meant everything to her. “I love you, Mom, and I’m sorry about Sweeney’s. I’ll be home sometime late tomorrow afternoon, maybe sooner depending on how long it will take me to move out of my dorm. We’ll grill out and have a long talk over dinner. We’ll put our heads together and figure out a plan.”

  Jamie ended the call and pocketed his phone. He took a left onto Williams Street and walked down a block to Founders Park, where he often sought refuge w
hen he needed a break from studying or to clear his head. He’d come to the University of South Carolina on a baseball scholarship, and had played the best baseball of his career during the spring season of his sophomore year. The following September, this past fall, he’d resigned from the team. The decision to quit had not come easy, but his determination to graduate early, in December of his senior year instead of May, necessitated an insane number of hours each semester. Ultimately the rigorous demands of his academics had taken priority. Baseball had played a major role in his life and he missed the camaraderie with his teammates as well as the physical activity. He still worked out four or five times a week in the campus fitness center, lifting weights and running on the treadmill, but he didn’t get the same satisfaction as he did when training for a sport.

  Jamie entered the stadium and sat down on the bleachers near the dugout behind home plate. The team was having batting practice, and the pitcher who had taken Jamie’s starting position appeared to be doing an okay job. A sophomore from Greenville, South Carolina, Tomas was likable and coachable. Jamie had offered him suggestions that had improved his pitch.

  George Hodges, Jamie’s favorite coach, slid onto the bleacher beside him. “You’re here early. Something on your mind?”

  Coach Hodges had lent a sympathetic ear when Jamie was struggling with his decision to quit the team. The coach’s counsel had convinced Jamie to follow his heart. “Your career and your family are what matter. Down the road twenty years, baseball will be a dim memory.”

  Jamie hung his head. “My mom called. Our family business burned to the ground last night.”

  “Oh man. I’m so sorry to hear that.” Hodges laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “I know how much that place means to you. Will you be able to rebuild?”

  “I’m not sure. A lot depends on the insurance company.”

  “I have faith in you, Jamie. I’ve rarely known someone as passionate as you are about your future. You believe in yourself and you believe in your family. You’ll find a way to rebuild.”

  Jamie’s head shot up. “Do you really think so?”

  “Hell yes, I think so. I know so.” Coach huddled up close to Jamie. “I have a saying that I tell my own children. When life throws you a curveball, you stay focused and hit the ball out of the park. Don’t look at this as a setback. Look at it as an opportunity to make your business bigger and better than before.”

  “Thanks, Coach. I really needed to hear that,” Jamie said, feeling a glimmer of hope for the first time since hearing the news from his mom.

  “You’re welcome, son. You come talk to me anytime about anything.”

  For the next few minutes they discussed the team’s potential for success in the upcoming playoffs. Coach eventually excused himself and returned to the field to help a player who was struggling with his swing.

  Jamie’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket, and he was surprised to see Annie’s name on the caller ID. “Long time no hear, sis!” he said, even though she was technically his half sister. “How are things in New York?”

  Annie giggled. “I wouldn’t know. I’m back in Charleston now.”

  “What happened to traveling the world and studying under the top chefs?”

  “Nine months of living in the Big Apple cured me of that. Why follow someone else’s path when I can chart my own course?”

  Her words hit close to home. “I applaud that mentality and enthusiasm.”

  “I’m glad I went, though,” Annie said. “The experience was amazing. I learned all the skills I need at the culinary institute. The rest, the creative part, is up to me.”

  “Are you planning to stay in Charleston?”

  “I think so. Heidi needs me here. Her business has taken off like you wouldn’t believe.”

  The excitement in her voice brought a smile to his face. “Sounds like the two of you are getting along well.”

  “We are, Jamie. Heidi and I make a good team.”

  Annie and Jamie shared the same father. Jamie’s mother had been engaged to Allen, but he left her at the altar when he found out she was pregnant with Jamie. When his next girlfriend, Heidi, found herself in the same predicament, Allen decided to stick around and help raise the kid. Six months after he married her, she headed for Hollywood, leaving him to raise their baby girl, Annie. But Heidi never became the movie star she’d always hoped to be. She became a caterer to the stars instead.

  Brother and sister had met for the first time two summers earlier, when Annie came to Prospect desperate for the slice of Jamie’s liver needed to save their father’s life. But Allen died before the doctors could arrange the transplant. The one positive outcome of the sad situation was learning about and connecting with his only sibling. When Heidi moved to Charleston from California six months later, she used their shared love of food to try to worm her way into her daughter’s heart. Annie had been neither accepting nor forgiving of this woman who had abandoned her as a baby. It had taken a near-death experience before she was willing to give her mother a chance.

  “I saw the fire at Sweeney’s on Instagram just now,” Annie said. “I’m so sorry for your family. Do you know what happened?”

  “A lightning strike. At least it looks that way.”

  “How long will it take to rebuild?”

  “You mean if we decide to go that route. Mom’s freaking out on me.” Jamie told Annie about his conversation with Sam.

  “I wouldn’t worry too much. Sam without Sweeney’s is like a schizophrenic without her meds. I know your mom. She’ll lose her mind without a job to go to every day. And I don’t mean any job. I mean her life’s work, her pride and joy. She needs that seafood market like she needs air to breathe.”

  He chuckled. “I hope you’re right.”

  “When are you done with exams?” Annie asked.

  “Today. I’m packing up tonight and heading home tomorrow sometime.”

  “If I can get away, I’d love to drive down and see your family. Can you pencil me in for lunch on Monday?”

  “It’s a date.”

  THREE

  Jackie

  Jackie looked out across her backyard from the second-story bedroom window of her house on Lamboll Street in downtown Charleston. She watched her young designers, Liza and Cecilia, transport lamps, rugs, and other accessories from her design studio to their delivery truck in preparation for a large installation later that morning. Jackie was on edge about the project. She’d spent a large amount of her client’s money based on a few photographs torn from a magazine. She usually interacted more with clients when decorating an entire house, but Ellie Hagood seemed content to let Jackie make all the choices. What if Ellie wasn’t satisfied? Would Jackie be forced to eat a percentage of her profits? She couldn’t bring herself to think about that now.

  Her eyes roamed across her courtyard garden to her pool, where two blue jays splashed about in the water. Leaves and other debris floated on the surface of the pool from last night’s storm. Lightning had caused her power to go out and stay out for most of the night. But she’d fared well in Charleston compared to her family in Prospect. She envisioned the seafood market ablaze while her sisters and mother watched in helpless despair. She’d never cared much for the business, but Captain Sweeney’s was the heart and soul of her family. She respected how hard her mother and sisters worked, and applauded Sam for the steps she’d taken to expand the business into an upscale market that offered everything from raw oysters and clams to salmon cakes. If Sam kept her head together and didn’t hit the bottle, she would succeed in rebuilding.

  Even more concerning to Jackie was her mother’s current mental state. Most days, Lovie seemed normal. But Jackie had been warning her sisters for years that her condition would change, that their mother would slip into a state of confusion and never return. They’d done nothing to prepare for that eventuality. Her sisters had been furious when, several years back, Jackie had taken Lovie to visit the Hermitage Retirement Community in Charleston. She�
��d even offered to make the deposit required for placement on the waiting list. If they’d followed through then, Lovie would now be tucked away in a nice apartment in independent living with a straight and narrow path across the property to assisted living or the memory care unit when the time came. But her sisters had been adamant that Charleston was too far away for everyday visits. At the time the only retirement facility in Prospect had been a nursing home with none of the amenities the Hermitage offered.

  She’d arranged her summer schedule to spend two days of the workweek in Charleston as opposed to the usual five. Although cutting back her hours troubled her, the additional time would give her the opportunity to help her sisters assess their mother’s mental state and make decisions regarding her future. She’d already planned to do the same for her son, but for very different reasons. So much for empty nesting. This was not the life of freedom she’d anticipated when she’d shipped her twin boys off for their freshman year in college.

  Cooper was thriving at Virginia Commonwealth University. He was fully engaged in his studies, and his grades reflected his enthusiasm. He planned to stay in Richmond for the summer to work as an intern at a boutique marketing agency. While one twin seemed on track for a career in graphic design, the other was floundering at the University of Georgia. At least as far as academics were concerned. Sean was plenty successful in his frat boy social life. Jackie was beginning to think she’d made a mistake in encouraging him to attend her alma mater. In hindsight, a school with a population of nearly thirty thousand, where the students were not held accountable for attending classes, had probably not been the right choice for a small-town boy. He’d dropped one class his first semester and barely passed the other four. She had no idea what to expect of his second semester’s grades. After weeks of trying, she’d finally gotten in touch with his adviser late yesterday afternoon.

  Professor Paul had spoken frankly with her. “I’ll tell you like I told Sean, Mrs. Hart. He will have to perform miracles on all of his exams to pass any of his courses this semester. Prepare yourself. In all likelihood your son will not be invited back next term.”