Saturdays at Sweeney's

by Ashley Farley

  “You’re not alone in this, Jack. If you get angry, go to your room for a few minutes like you did this afternoon. Think about what you want to say instead of flying off the handle. We’ll work through this together. Sean needs us to be strong for him right now. It’s our job to help him find his own way, not force him down the path we want him to travel. Regardless of what career he chooses, living a clean and healthy life is what really matters.”

  “But clean and healthy doesn’t always pay the bills,” Jackie mumbled, more to herself than her husband.

  Bill tilted his face to the breeze blowing in off the water. “I hate to waste this nice evening. Sean isn’t in any hurry to eat dinner. Why don’t you start the fire while I fix us some adult refreshments?”

  “Sounds perfect.” Jackie clicked on the gas logs and settled into one of four lounge chairs arranged around the fire pit on the terrace. Bill returned with two glasses of rosé and a plate of aged Gouda and water crackers. He handed her one of the glasses, sank into the lounge chair next to her, and set the cheese on the table between them. He held his glass out to hers for a toast. “To the summer’s first rosé.”

  Jackie clinked his glass, and then a second time. “To surviving the summer.”

  “We’re going to survive, honey. Sean is a good boy with a good head on his shoulders. He just needs a little guidance.”

  “A job is what he needs. And the sooner the better. He’s coming off a semester-long bender. His party is over.” Jackie sipped her wine while she considered his options. “What about construction? That would give him plenty of outdoor physical activity. He’d have to get up early, which means he wouldn’t be able to stay out late at night. The skills he learns will serve him well in whatever career he chooses. Besides, every husband should know how to fix a leaky faucet.”

  “I wouldn’t start making demands about his summer job, Jack.” Bill cut a hunk of Gouda and popped it into his mouth. “It’s going to be a big blow for him when he learns about the fire at the market. We should tell him tonight before he hears about it from someone else. I’m worried how he might respond. I think you underestimate how much your family’s business means to him.”

  Jackie realized she was being selfish, but she couldn’t stop obsessing about how all this would affect her work schedule. She’d planned to take some time off to spend with her son, but she couldn’t afford to take the whole summer off. “All the more reason for him to start looking for a job right away. He needs structure. He’s liable to find his way into trouble if he has too much time on his hands.”

  On the dock Sean landed a doormat-size flounder. He looked up at the house to see if anyone was watching and held the fish up for them to see.

  Jackie couldn’t help but smile. She gave him a thumbs-up. “Maybe working on one of the fishing boats isn’t such a bad idea after all. He certainly can’t get in trouble out on the ocean. Communing with nature might help him do some much-needed soul searching.” Getting up before dawn and spending the day on the ocean would leave little time for much else. Which meant she wouldn’t have to sit on him like a mama wren sitting on her eggs. “Whatever we do, I think we should strongly suggest he stay away from restaurant work. The restaurant scene, with its late hours and alcohol consumption, might be too tempting.”

  Bill set down his wineglass. “Speaking of alcohol consumption, I’ve been wondering . . . Do you think maybe we’ve set a bad example for the boys, that we’re responsible for Sean’s addiction problems by the lifestyle we lead? We have wine most nights and sometimes during lunch on the weekends.”

  “But we never have more than one or two glasses, except on the occasional holiday,” Jackie said. “We taught our children how to tie their shoes and drive a car. It’s our job to teach them how to be responsible about drinking alcohol.”

  “I feel guilty for letting them drink scotch with me on Christmas Eve.”

  “Come on, Bill. That’s more about male bonding. You never give them more than a sip.” Jackie twirled her wine around in her glass. “You’d think Sean would have learned something from watching Sam struggle with her addiction.”

  “Maybe we should have Sam and Eli talk to him. I admire the way they cope with their addictions. They might be able to offer him some valuable insight.”

  “Over my dead body.” Jackie nearly came out of her chair. “I refuse to involve my family in my son’s problems.”

  “Don’t get so upset. I’ll leave it up to you whether to tell them or not.” Bill pulled her back down to her chair. “I’m just making the point that families are supposed to support one another at times like these. You should know that better than anyone. Your family has certainly had its fair share of trouble.”

  “And we nearly killed one another over Annie’s pregnancy crisis. I mean it, Bill. Not one word of this to my sisters. Sam will try to drag Sean to the drug user’s equivalent of Alcoholics Anonymous, and I won’t have my son standing up in front of a roomful of people and proclaiming himself a drug addict.”

  Bill cut his eyes at her. “Why not, Jack? Are you afraid to admit your precious child is anything less than perfect?”

  SEVEN

  Sam

  Sam stopped by Faith’s house on the way to the grocery store midafternoon on Saturday. She had market business to discuss with her sister, and she wanted to see if their mother had come around. Faith’s car was in the driveway, but the front door was locked, and no one answered when she rang the doorbell and hammered the knocker. She walked around to the backyard and spotted her mother and sister out on the dock with her niece. Bitsy was fishing for crabs with a chicken neck attached to a spool of string while Lovie and Faith watched from nearby wooden Adirondack chairs. Neither mother nor daughter heard Sam calling their names until she was standing in front of them on the dock.

  “Dang it, Sam!” Faith’s head jerked back and her hand flew to her chest. “You scared the bejesus out of me.” She clambered out of the Adirondack chair. “You can’t go sneaking up on people like that.”

  Sam lifted her Ray-Bans and inspected her sister’s face. Her pale skin was pulled tight over her cheekbones. Had those crow’s-feet been there two days ago? Was she upset about the fire, or had the situation with their mother taken its toll that quickly? “I didn’t sneak up on you, Faith. I called your name three times.”

  She knelt down beside her mother’s chair. “Hi, Mom. How’re you feeling today?”

  “I’d be better if everyone would stop fussing over me.”

  “In that case, I’m happy to oblige. I like it when you’re feisty.” She walked to the end of the dock and sat down beside her niece, dangling her legs over the side. “How’s it going, squirt?”

  With a toothy grin, Bitsy pointed at the five-gallon bucket beside her.

  Sam peeked inside the bucket. “Holy smokes! You got yourself a whole mess of crabs here, young lady. Is Mike going to steam them for you?”

  Her perky brown ponytail bounced up and down as she bobbed her head. “For dinner! Tonight.”

  Faith left her mother and migrated to the railing beside Sam. “Why didn’t you call first to tell me you were coming?”

  “Since when do I need to call first? I was on my way to the grocery store, and I thought I’d stop in to see if you needed anything. Jamie got home from school yesterday, and he’s already munched his way through all the snacks in the pantry.”

  Faith slumped against the railing. “We don’t need anything, but thanks for checking. I guess I’m a little on edge with the fire and having Mom here.”

  Sam glanced over at Lovie, who was picking at the frayed hem on her rainbow-striped plissé housecoat. “How’s she doing, by the way?”

  “About the same. She has a few lucid moments, but not many.” Faith watched their mother for a moment before directing her gaze to something up at the house.

  Sam brought her knees to her chest and leaned back against a piling. “The first available appointment with the neurologist is a week from Monday. Why
don’t I plan to take her?”

  “I think we should both go to the appointment. Jackie too, if she’s free,” Faith said, her attention still focused on her house.

  Sam’s eyes roamed across the green span of lawn. “Are you waiting for someone?”

  Redness crept up her neck to her face. “What makes you say that?”

  “Because you’re watching your house like you’re expecting someone.”

  “I was just looking at my house, Sam. Can’t a person admire their home? It wasn’t so long ago that I lived in a trailer.”

  “Geez, Faith. You need to take a chill pill. I thought maybe Mike was on his way home from the hospital or something.” Sam got to her feet and stood beside her sister at the railing. “You’re really jumpy. Are you having some kind of delayed reaction to the fire?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” Faith lowered her voice. “Someone set fire to our business, and there’s a chance that that someone is living in my house with me. So what if I’m a little unglued? You would be too.”

  “I know who started that fire, and it’s not Mom.”

  Sam felt her sister’s body go rigid beside her. “Who, then?”

  “Donna Bennett. She’s guilty, whether she had an alibi or not.”

  “How do you know she has an alibi?” Faith asked.

  “Eli questioned her. She claims she was home alone in bed asleep the night of the fire, which no one can dispute since she’s divorced and her children are away at school.”

  “Did Eli say whether they found any fingerprints on the containers of gasoline?” Faith asked, her eyes closed as though she was bracing herself for bad news.

  What is up with her odd behavior? Sam wondered. “Nope. There were no fingerprints. You and I talked about installing security cameras. If only we’d followed through . . .”

  Faith pushed off the railing and spun around to face Sam. “So you’re blaming me now, since I dropped the ball on getting a price for the cameras.”

  “I’m not blaming anyone, Faith. I’m simply suggesting we install a state-of-the-art security system, including surveillance cameras, in the new market.” As the words crossed her lips, Sam realized there’d never been any doubt about Sweeney’s future.

  “I thought you were undecided about rebuilding?”

  “I was. Until now. Jamie and I stayed up late last night discussing the pros and cons. I need to work, Faith. My livelihood and my mental stability depend on it. I considered trying something different, but with Jamie graduating, it makes sense to continue the family tradition.”

  Faith crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, leave me out of it. I’m done with Sweeney’s.”

  “I figured as much.” She looked over at Lovie, who was snoozing peacefully with a smile on her face. “I think Mom’s working days are over as well.”

  “Where will you get the money if the insurance company won’t settle?”

  “I’ll use Mack’s money if I have to.”

  Sam had always thought of her father’s best friend as Uncle Mack. With no children of his own, Mack had doted on Oscar’s three daughters. When he died two summers earlier, he’d left his vast estate to the three Sweeney sisters and their mother.

  Sam had been saving what she referred to as her rainy day mad money for her retirement. She often joked about buying a luxury trawler and cruising around the world, but secretly the money gave her peace of mind about some unforeseen tragedy falling upon her family. A month shy of turning fifty-one, she was mentally and physically years away from being ready to retire. And Lovie, who’d worked hard from the time she was a new bride at twenty-five until she turned eighty-five, had been her inspiration. Sam felt confident risking the investment. She and Jamie would make the new Captain Sweeney’s Seafood a success. Their income would be greater with only Sam’s and Jamie’s families to support.

  “Didn’t you already use Mack’s money to decorate your house?”

  “I only bought a few pieces of furniture, Faith. I gave the rest to a broker to invest. He’s grown my portfolio considerably. Hopefully, I won’t have to use much of my money. The bank should approve a loan based on our P&L’s from the past few years.”

  “Speaking of which, I printed those documents for Eli. I made copies for you as well. They’re inside on the kitchen counter.”

  “Look, Mama!” Bitsy cried, dangling her empty line in the air.

  “I see, sweetie. Looks like you need some more bait.” Faith nudged Sam. “Keep an eye on these two while I run up to the house for another chicken neck.”

  “Grab those documents while you’re up there,” Sam called after her sister.

  She moved to the empty Adirondack chair beside her mother. Lovie had woken up and was watching a butterfly dance around her head. “You know what I’ve been craving, Mom?”

  “Hmm . . . What’s that?”

  “Your banana pudding. Do you by any chance remember the recipe off the top of your head?”

  Banana pudding was a good test of her mother’s memory. It wasn’t one of the items they sold at the market, but Lovie had served it to them at least once a week when they were growing up. Even now, she often brought it to family potluck get-togethers.

  “Of course I remember the recipe. One box of vanilla wafers, three cups of milk, three or four bananas, four eggs, and a half cup of ketchup.” She giggled like a schoolgirl.

  “Ketchup? That’s not funny, Mom. That’s gross.” The thought of ketchup mixed with bananas made Sam feel nauseous. “Be serious for a minute. What else is in the recipe?” She knew the answer was somewhere in Lovie’s rattled brain. If only she could regurgitate it.

  “I have no idea, Samantha Lynn. You’ll have to look in my recipe box. It’s in the cabinet to the right of the stove up at the house.” Lovie flicked her wrist in the direction of Faith’s house.

  Her mother hadn’t called her Samantha Lynn since she was a little girl. And why would her recipe box be in Faith’s kitchen? Was Lovie referring to the cabinet to the right of the stove in the cottage where she and her sisters had grown up?

  Sam gripped the arms of her chair. “What about vanilla extract? I bet you put some of that in your banana pudding.”

  Lovie’s eyes clouded over, and a painful expression crossed her face. “Stop pestering me with all these questions I can’t answer. Now run along and play.”

  Run along and play? Her mother’s prior bouts of confusion had been fleeting moments of disorientation and memory loss. This current spell was altogether different. Based on this conversation, her mother had slipped back in time four decades. This created a whole new host of challenges for Sam and her sisters. Faith wouldn’t be able to take care of their mother for long. They would have to find a caretaker or a memory care unit. Although they’d known for some time that this was possible, Sam had been unprepared for the swift decline. She’d thought they’d have more time.

  And what about the lost recipes? Not to seem callous, but the success of the market depended on them.

  The answer came to her during the Lord’s Prayer at church the following morning. Eager to share her light-bulb moment with her sister, she reached for Faith’s hand, and then remembered that Faith had skipped church that morning. And Sam had given Jamie permission to play hooky, as he was recovering from exam week and needed to rest up before starting his new job as a bartender at the Roost the following day.

  “Can we stop by Staples on the way home?” Sam asked Eli as they walked to the parking lot after the service.

  “What for?” He took her keys from her. Even though she had a perfect record, he teased her about her driving; Sam suspected that driving her Wrangler made him feel like a boy again.

  “Office supplies. Duh.” She grabbed his arm and dragged him to the Jeep. “I’m just kidding. I’ll explain on the way.”

  Eli thought her idea brilliant and pushed the cart for her while she shopped for the items she needed—a dry-erase board and markers, a notebook binder, a box of plastic sleeves, notepad
s, pens, and index cards.

  Jamie was in the kitchen eating a bowl of cereal despite the lunchtime hour when she got home. “What’s all this?” he asked when he saw the shopping bags. “And where’s Eli? I was hoping he’d go fishing with me.”

  “Eli’s in the bedroom changing. I’m sure he’d love to go fishing with you. This”—she dropped the bags on the floor—“is a solution to our problem.” She propped the dry-erase board on the counter against the cabinets and scribbled “Test Kitchen” across the top in green marker. “Lovie doesn’t remember her recipes, which means we have to create our own. We’re both good cooks, Jamie, you more so than me because you instinctively know what ingredients go best together. Can I count on you to help me?”

  “Heck yeah!” Jamie offered her a high five. “I take it this means you’ve decided to rebuild?”

  “That’s exactly what this means.” Sam slid onto the bar stool beside him. “I see this as an opportunity to reinvent ourselves. We’ll continue to offer fresh-from-the-ocean seafood, with friendly tips on how to prepare it, and our traditional prepackaged meals that everyone loves. We added wine and fresh produce after the last renovation. This time we’ll hire a butcher and incorporate a cheese counter. We’ll give our customers products that are organic, grass fed, locally sourced, and sustainably harvested. And we’ll feature a new line of prepared foods. We’ll reinterpret the southern classics by using healthy ingredients and modern cooking methods.” When Sam paused to breathe, she noticed her son eyeing her and listening intently. “Of course, the fun part will be the testing and the tasting. We’ll start with the tried and true. We have our work cut out for us getting our recipes as close to Lovie’s as possible. We’ll make up the rest as we go.”

  She hopped off her bar stool and went around the counter. She removed her iPad from her junk drawer and placed it on the counter before continuing. “One thing I’ve learned from this experience—we need a backup. I have an app that I use for organizing recipes. And it automatically backs up to iCloud.” She removed the notebook and plastic sleeves she’d purchased from the Staples bags. “Just in case, we’ll print hard copies and put them in this binder.” She snapped her fingers. “Darn, I forgot to buy a printer.”