As she orchestrated all the details for the party, other intermittent thoughts kept popping up. She was as annoyed with Faith for botching their mother’s drop-off at Creekside Manor as she was with herself for assigning such an important task to her baby sister. She knew Faith was a softie. She herself, on the other hand, was an expert at emotionally detaching from high-stress situations. Except when it came to Sean and Cooper. Once they got through the holiday weekend, she would reschedule the drop-off at Creekside Manor. She would take charge. And she would get the job done. She didn’t want her mother locked away in a memory care unit any more than her sisters did. In time Faith and Sam would understand Creekside Manor was the best option for their mother’s care. For now they would enjoy their Memorial Day party together. It saddened her to think it might very well be her mother’s last.
Since her appointment with Moses on Tuesday, Jackie had been more effective in communicating with Sean. She was taking her nerve pills with more frequency, but they enabled her to remain calm. Sean had yet to quit his job, but he’d created an account on the College of Charleston’s website—his first step toward applying. When she stopped by the farmer’s market that morning to buy blueberries for the party from Farmer Fred, she was thrilled to see the long line of people waiting to purchase crabs, fish, and the new offering—raw creek shrimp. Sean served his customers with a smile she recognized. One that made his ocean-blue eyes sparkle. One she hadn’t seen on his face since he left for college last fall. He was in his element serving customers fresh seafood. There was no denying that Sweeney blood pumped through his veins. Would it be so terrible for him to go into the family business? She’d rather he be a doctor or a lawyer, but she would settle for whatever profession he chose as long as he was happy and healthy. And clean.
Sam and Jamie would be good role models for Sean. Jackie admired her middle sister’s determination to rebuild the market. She’d strung a banner across the top corner of the lot, where every car passing through the intersection would see it, announcing the market would reopen the next spring. In front of the vendor area, she’d posted another banner that read “Saturdays at Sweeney’s.” They’d turned the simple idea of selling steamed crabs to their old customers into a thriving business. When they broke ground on the new building, they would have to either stop hosting the farmer’s market or find another location. But for now they were earning a little money while sending an important message to their customers—Captain Sweeney’s Seafood was here to stay.
Sean had been zonked out in front of the TV in the game room since he got home around four that afternoon. He was making plenty of money selling seafood. And now that they’d added shrimp to the mix, he was working even harder to prepare for Saturdays, which meant spending much of Wednesdays and all day Thursdays and Fridays on the water. Instead of getting a second job, Bill had suggested that Sean attend summer school to pull up his grades, an idea that Jackie approved. Sean’s taking a class or two at the college would enable her to be in Charleston a few days a week to see clients and supervise her construction projects. He would have to act soon, though. The first session started in less than a week. She’d pressed Sean on it several times, but thus far he’d shown no interest.
Bill was on call at the hospital for the weekend, and she was waiting for him to get home to have dinner. She’d purchased a nice piece of salmon from Harris Teeter, and he’d offered to cook it on the grill. She’d begged Sean to join them, but he’d fixed himself a turkey sandwich instead. Despite the nerve pill she’d swallowed an hour earlier, it took every ounce of self-control she could muster not to needle her son. He’d promised to help her get ready for the party, but so far he’d shown no interest in her preparations. As he sat on the sofa exhausted from his day, she wanted to poke at him. She wanted her fun-loving son back, the one so full of energy he could never sit still no matter how tired. More and more, she was convinced he was suffering from depression.
She’d been coming in and out of the room for the past hour as she gathered decorations for the party. The old Sean would have jumped up to help her. This Sean didn’t acknowledge her presence.
As she descended the stairs from the kitchen with red gingham tablecloths draped over both arms, she asked, “Sean, son, can you take a break from your program to help me bring the big hurricane lanterns down from the attic? They’re heavy. I can’t manage them by myself.”
“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” he asked, his eyes glued to his zombie show.
“No.” She deposited the cloths in a heap on the floor beside the back door. “I want to bring them down tonight so I can clean them tomorrow.”
“All right,” he grumbled. “This show will be over in a minute.”
She went back to the attic and returned ten minutes later with a cardboard box of cobalt-blue vases she planned to use for the tables. “Minute’s up! Let’s get moving. I lined the lanterns up at the top of the attic stairs. It will only take us a minute to bring them down.”
Sean clicked the power button, turning the TV off, and slammed the remote down on the coffee table. “Jesus, Mom! Can’t you give me a break! I’m so sick and tired of you nagging—” He clammed up at the sound of his father’s car pulling into the carport.
Jackie stood in place, arms crossed and toe tapping the hardwood floor. As soon as Bill entered the house, he looked back and forth between Jackie and Sean. “What’d I miss?”
“Your son was just telling me how sick and tired he is of me nagging him.” She turned on her son. “But guess what, Sean, I’m sick and tired of nagging you. I asked you to help me get ready for the party. That has never been a problem before. I don’t understand why it’s a problem now.”
Bill dropped his keys in the bowl on the chest by the back door and crossed the room to his son. “What’s gotten into you? You usually love setting up for family events. Your mother can’t do it alone.”
“Then you do it.” Sean sprang to his feet and stumbled into Bill, who caught him before he fell.
“What did you just say to me?” Bill asked, tightening his grip on Sean’s arm.
Sean jerked his arm free. “I said you do it!”
Gripping Sean’s T-shirt with both hands, Bill backed him against the wall. “What’s wrong with you? Have you been drinking?” He sniffed their son’s breath. “I don’t smell any alcohol.” Pinning him against the wall with his left arm, Bill removed his phone from his pocket, accessed his flashlight app, and shone the light in Sean’s eyes. “His pupils are dilated. What’re you on, Sean? Where’d you get the drugs?”
“None of your damn business.” Sean shoved Bill off him and started up the stairs. Bill clambered after him and grabbed his bare foot, pulling him back down. Sean kicked Bill in the face as he scrambled to get away.
“Ow! Damn that hurts!” Bill lifted a hand to his nose.
Jackie dropped to her knees beside her husband. “Are you all right?”
“I think so.” Blood trickled from his nose, but he appeared unharmed otherwise.
“I’m going after him.” Jackie got to her feet and took the steps two at a time on the way up.
“No, Jack, wait!” Bill yelled. “Let him cool down first.”
Jackie kept moving. She had no intention of letting her son cool down. His kicking his father in the face overstepped big-time the bounds of acceptable behavior.
By the time she’d climbed two flights of steps to the third floor, Sean had locked himself in the bathroom. “Open this door right now!” she demanded, banging her fist against the door. She heard the sound of the toilet flushing. “You are way out of line, young man. You kicked your father in the face. I will not allow that kind of aggressive behavior. Either get your act together, or get out of my house.”
The toilet flushed again and the door opened. “I didn’t mean to kick him, Mom. It was an accident. I’m sorry.”
“Save your apology for your father.” She pushed past him and stared down into the toilet, where two rectangular tablets la
y dissolving at the bottom of the bowl. She stuck her hand into the toilet, removed the pills, and set them on the edge of the sink. “How many pills did you flush?”
Sean stared at the pills as though it was painful for him to watch them dissolve. “I don’t know.”
Jackie glared at her son. “I take that to mean there were too many to count.”
He hung his head.
Bill appeared in the doorway, a bloody dish towel pressed to his nose.
“Oh God, Dad. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Bill started to speak and then stopped himself. He studied his son’s face for a minute before shaking his head. “I don’t even know what to say to you, son. Wasn’t getting arrested enough?”
Jackie lifted her son’s chin, forcing him to look her in the eye. “Where’d you get the drugs?”
“From a dude at work.”
“That’s what I figured.” She studied her son’s face, his coloring and deep-blue eyes so like her father’s. Oscar Sweeney would never have tolerated such behavior from his children. He had high expectations of his girls and he held them accountable for their actions. He’d never been unkind, but he’d always been firm. She’d let Sean down. She’d ignored the signs because she had been too preoccupied with her business and her mother and planning their party. Time and again, she’d failed her family by putting her own needs and wants first. But as the three of them stood crammed together in the small space, with the stench of their body odor filling the room, she understood that her son was a drug addict and his life was at stake. His arrest had been a wake-up call they’d chosen to ignore. But she would not let him die. A strength she hadn’t known she possessed came from deep inside her. “First thing in the morning, you will call your boss and quit your job.”
“But—”
She pinched his chin between her thumb and forefinger as hard as she could. “No buts. If you want to continue living under our roof, you will shut your mouth and do as we say.”
His lip quivered as a tear rolled down his cheek. “Yes, ma’am.”
TWENTY-THREE
Sam
Sam had a bird’s-eye view of the party from the second-floor balcony off Jackie’s family room. She needed a moment to collect herself before joining the others. The temptation to drink was greater some days than others. And today was a doozy with her concern over her mother and Curtis on the loose and the fire at the market. Drowning her worries in the pitcher of blueberry mojitos Jackie had concocted for the party would relieve her stress. If only for a brief time. Tomorrow she would wake up with a horrible hangover and an even greater temptation to drink. Abstaining from alcohol seemed to come easier for Eli. He’d been sober longer than she. Then again, he’d been an alcoholic longer than she. Her sister’s signature cocktails were always a hit among those family members capable of drinking responsibly. She wouldn’t deny them their fun. But she’d stay on the balcony where it was safe as long as she could.
Eli stood on the terrace below with her mother, Jamie, and his friends—a blonde with hair shorter than Sam’s on his right and a brunette with hair pulled back in a loose ponytail on his left. Sam wasn’t sure which girl was currently holding her son’s attention and which was the sister. She’d met Lizbet before, on the day Lovie got lost, but there’d been so much confusion, she hadn’t paid her much attention. Even from a distance, Sam could tell the conversation among the group was awkward. The girls smiled politely at Lovie, who was holding court, babbling on about something. She hoped Jamie had remembered to warn his friends about his grandmother’s condition. Lovie’s outfit alone—cropped red-and-white gingham pants and a white T-shirt with the American flag sequined across it—was enough to make anyone question her sanity.
Eli was eyeballing the grounds as he listened to Lovie with one ear. He’d been on constant alert for signs of Curtis since returning from Columbia. As promised, Eli had confronted Curtis and met with his parole officer. The parole officer had substantiated Curtis’s claim of innocence, and the department of corrections had offered an insincere apology and a lame excuse about why the Prospect Police Department hadn’t been notified of his release.
“Sometimes these things just slip through the cracks,” the director had said in his department’s defense.
Eli responded, “And who’s to say Curtis didn’t slip through the cracks, hail a ride to Prospect, and burn down my wife’s business?”
Both men assured him that Curtis was under strict surveillance, but Eli remained unconvinced that Curtis wasn’t somehow involved in the fire and strange goings-on relative to Lovie’s recipes. But he had no evidence that proved otherwise.
Sam knew it was only a matter of time before Curtis showed his hand. She just hoped it wouldn’t be tonight.
Jamie saw her standing on the balcony and motioned for her to come down. With her index finger, she gestured she’d be down in a minute.
The rest of her family was scattered about the grounds. Faith and Mike were on the dock with Bitsy, who was practicing her backflip off the end. Jackie and Bill were stationed in the outdoor kitchen. With aviator sunglasses shielding his eyes, Bill stared, as if in a trance, at the flames licking the grates of his fancy new charcoal grill—a stainless-steel table on wheels large enough to cook oysters for a large crowd. Jackie presented the picture of elegance with the blunt edge of her dark bob brushing the shoulder of her white silk tunic. But Sam could tell by the wringing of her hands and her pacing in circles in her taupe-colored ankle-strap sandals that she was on edge. Both Jackie and Bill had stared at Faith with blank faces, as though they hadn’t heard her, when she told them Curtis was on the loose again. Sam wondered if Sean, who was nowhere in sight, was the source of their distraction.
Moses and his wife, Merrill, appeared from beneath the canopy of oaks lining the driveway. Her sister pulled Moses aside, leaving Bill and Merrill in conversation at the grill. Jackie stood in lecture-mode stance with her face tight and chin jutted out. Moses massaged his chin as he listened. What is that about? Sam wondered. As far as she knew, her older sister had never sought counseling from Moses. Jackie was hiding something. She feared they would find out what that thing was before the night was over.
Eli waved his hand above his head to get Sam’s attention. “Help,” he mouthed, gesturing for water, and she mouthed back, “Coming.”
She went inside, down the stairs, and out onto the terrace, removing two bottles of water from the red plastic drink tub before joining the group. “Here.” She handed one of the water bottles to her mother. “Drink this, Mom. It’s hot out here. You need to stay hydrated.” She turned to the girls and introduced herself. “Call me Sam.” She extended her hand to each of them in turn. “I’m glad you could make it to the party.”
“Thank you for having us,” the girls said in unison.
Lizbet’s sister, Brooke, was the more stunning of the two, and, Sam sensed, the more worldly as well. Lizbet was every bit as lovely, but in a softer way, with delicate features, a pert nose, and soft gray eyes.
“There are plenty of drinks in the tub, both alcoholic and the boring kind. Help yourselves.” Sam unscrewed the cap from her water bottle and took a swig. “You are kind to offer Jamie a rent-free place to live. Sounds like he’s getting the better end of the deal.”
Lizbet patted Jamie’s arm. “Show your mom your hands.”
Jamie held up his hands, showing palms and fingers that were raw and covered in blisters.
“He spread a whole truckload of mulch yesterday,” Lizbet said. “He’s earned his keep for the week.”
Sam smiled. “He’s good with a pitchfork and garden rake. He’s not bad with a pair of hedge trimmers either.”
Jamie gave his mother a half hug. “She should know. She’s the slave driver who taught me.”
“I also taught him to cook. He’s quite proficient in the kitchen. Hint, hint,” Sam said, winking at the girls.
Brooke gave Jamie a playful shove. “What’s up with that? You
’ve been holding out on us.”
“Thanks, Mom! You blew my cover. I’ve been eating like a Roman god without having to lift a finger.” He rested a hand on each of the girls’ shoulders. “These two are amazing cooks. So is Sawyer when she’s around.”
“Ah! But you’re the expert on the grill.” She pinched her son’s cheek. “You should treat them to your barbecue ribs sometime.”
“I can attest to that,” Moses said as he approached the group with his wife. “Jamie’s ribs are the best in the Lowcountry.”
Old friends greeted one another, and new friends were introduced. When Sam stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, he wrapped his strong arms around her and lifted her off her feet. “You’re looking good, Sammie. Marriage agrees with you.”
“I was thinking the same thing about you.” Sam was actually thinking that he’d put on a few pounds and lost a little hair since the last time she’d seen him. But he appeared happy just the same, and his eyes twinkled when he smiled at his wife.
Sam had met Moses’s wife only once, at their wedding two years earlier. Merrill had a heart-shaped face with high cheekbones and a smile that spread from ear to ear when she looked at him.
They heard squeals of laughter from down on the dock, and all heads turned in time to see Mike shinny up a piling and cannonball into the water.
Jamie gave Sam an expectant look. “Can we join them?”
“You didn’t wear your swimsuits for nothing,” she said, eyeing Jamie’s swim trunks and the girls’ bikini straps beneath their cover-ups. “I left a stack of towels down on the dock.”
Their three faces lit up like little children’s, and they took off running down the hill to the dock.
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