Also by Ashley Farley
Magnolia Nights
Sweet Tea Tuesdays
Saving Ben
Sweeney Sisters Series
Tangle of Strings
Boots and Bedlam
Lowcountry Stranger
Her Sister’s Shoes
Adventures of Scottie
Breaking the Story
Merry Mary
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
No part of this work may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.
Published by Kindle Press, Seattle, 2017
Amazon, the Amazon logo, Kindle Scout, and Kindle Press are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
For families whose lives have been affected by Alzheimer’s disease
CONTENTS
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
A Note to Readers
Acknowledgments
ONE
Sam
The shrill ringing of Sam’s cell phone jolted her upright in bed a few minutes before twelve on a stormy Wednesday night in early May. Blinking his eyes open, Eli propped himself up on one elbow beside her. She snatched the phone up from her nightstand. Sam could barely hear the man’s voice over the wail of sirens in the background.
She pressed the phone closer to her ear. “You need to speak louder, sir. I can’t hear you.”
“I . . . said . . . I’m Lester James . . . from the local fire—” In spite of his attempts to enunciate, the sirens drowned out his voice.
Sam turned her back on her husband’s worried gray eyes. “Can you repeat that, please? I’m having trouble understanding you.”
This time, she heard every word when Lester James yelled into the phone, “Captain Sweeney’s Seafood Market is on fire!”
“I’m on my way.” Sam ended the call as her feet hit the ground. “The market is on fire! I need to get down there. Fast.”
Eli struggled to free himself of the tangled covers. “I’m coming with you.”
She glanced down at her nightclothes—a gray Carolina Baseball tee over an old pair of Eli’s plaid boxers. She wouldn’t take time to change. It was the middle of the night, and no one cared about her attire. “I’ll meet you in the car. But hurry.”
She stuffed her feet into the rain boots she’d left beside the front door when she’d arrived home from work earlier. She stared down at their two sets of keys on the hall table and grabbed Eli’s. His strobe lights would come in handy. She hurried out to his unmarked sedan and started the car from the passenger seat. She turned up the volume on the police radio and was listening to the dispatcher bark orders to officers about the fire when Eli emerged from the house, struggling to zip up his jeans over his pajama bottoms.
Eli slid behind the steering wheel and peeled out down their driveway. He skidded onto Creekside Drive and engaged his lights—sans siren so as not to wake the neighbors—as he raced toward the center of town. The police had cordoned off the intersection of Creekside and Main Streets in their small coastal town of Prospect. A uniformed officer signaled them into the parking lot of the Inlet View Marina across the street from the market. Eli and Sam jumped out of the car and ran to the sidewalk, staring at the small square building engulfed in flames. Smoke filled her nose and mouth and made her eyes water. Eli tugged his red bandanna free of his back pocket and handed it to her.
She wiped her eyes and then covered her mouth with the bandanna. “Do you think they can save it?”
“I don’t know, honestly. Anything that isn’t destroyed by the flames will be ruined by smoke and water damage.” He drew her in for a half hug. “I’m so sorry, babe. This is a tough break for your family.”
She rested her head on his shoulder. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
He kissed the top of her cropped blonde head. “Not that it’s any consolation, but at least you have insurance. You’ll rebuild even better than before.”
She couldn’t bring herself to think about that now.
Sam squinted at a familiar figure standing with one of the firemen next to the hook-and-ladder truck in the market parking lot. “Is that Mom over there?”
Eli followed her gaze. “It certainly looks like Lovie. I wonder how she beat us here.”
“I have no idea, unless the fire department called her first.” She ducked out from beneath his arm, and before he could stop her, she darted across the road to her mother. As she drew near, she recognized the fireman as Jared Rhodes, an old friend from high school who stopped by the market two or three times a week for lunch. A look of relief spread across his craggy face when he spotted Sam.
She placed a hand on her mother’s trembling shoulder. “Are you okay, Mom?”
Lovie tightened her grip on the blanket draped over her cotton nightgown. Her legs and feet were bare, the soles filthy dirty.
“How did you know about the fire?” Sam asked. “Did someone from the fire department call you?”
Lovie stared at Sam with a bewildered expression, the fire reflected in her glazed eyes.
Jared leaned in close to Sam’s ear. “She was already here when we arrived. She seems confused. She keeps mumbling something about a dream.”
Sam squeezed her mother’s shoulder. “Aw, Mama, did you have a bad dream?”
Lovie bit down on her lip as she bobbed her gray head up and down. “I had a dream about Oscar Sweeney. He told me to hustle on down here, that we had trouble at the market.”
Sam was at a loss for words. Oscar Sweeney? Why was her mother referring to her husband as one might an acquaintance? Never mind that Sam’s father had been dead for eight years. Lovie was prone to periods of forgetfulness and confusion, but this sounded more like a premonition than dementia.
Sam turned to the fireman. “Thank you for taking care of her, Jared. Do you have any idea how the fire started?”
He lifted a shoulder. “My guess is a lightning strike. But we won’t know for sure until we conduct our investigation.”
“That was my first thought as well,” Sam said. “But how is that possible when the storm ended hours ago?”
“It’s not uncommon for lightning to ignite a fire that doesn’t become a full-on blaze until several hours later.” He squeezed Sam’s elbow. “I’m sorry for your loss, Sam. I know how much this place means to your family.”
An explosion inside the burning building shook the ground beneath their feet. Sam stepped in front of her mother to shield her from the fire.
Lovie placed her hands over her ears and cried, “Lord in heaven, we’re being bombed!”
Sam shot Jared an apologetic look. The dream about Oscar
Sweeney or the fire or a combination of both had triggered one of her mother’s spells.
Jared gestured at the cluster of pedestrians gathered in the marina parking lot. “It’d be safer for y’all across the street.”
Sam tugged off her rain boots and set them on the ground in front of Lovie. “Here, Mom, put these on.” She held tight to her arm while her mother slipped her tiny feet into the boots. They’d once had the same shoe size, but Lovie’s feet had shrunk like the rest of her body in recent years.
Sam prodded her mother forward. “Let’s get out of Jared’s way so he can do his work. We need to call Faith anyway.”
She trod gingerly on bare feet as they crossed the rocky pavement. Once they were safely back at Eli’s car, she placed the call to her younger sister.
Faith answered on the fourth ring. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice hoarse from sleep.
“The market’s on fire. You better get down here. And bring me some shoes, please.”
Eli conversed with a group of his coworkers while Sam sat with her mother on the hood of his car, watching fifty-nine years of Sweeney family history go up in smoke. Her mother had started the business on a Saturday in late June of 1958 at an umbrella stand she’d set up in this very parking lot. She’d sold fish caught by her husband and his lifelong best friend, Captain Mack Bowman, on their commercial fishing boat, the Dreamer. Her baked goods and charming personality contributed to her overnight success. A year later she’d leased, and eventually purchased, the small building at the main intersection of town where the market had been located ever since. Lovie was a legend throughout the Lowcountry, with customers traveling from miles away to buy her goods and consult with her for cooking tips.
Faith’s red SUV came to a screeching halt beside them fifteen minutes later. “What a nightmare,” she said, unable to take her eyes off the fire. “Any idea how it started?”
“Lightning maybe, but they won’t know for certain until after the investigation.” Sam eyed her sister’s flannel pajamas—an odd choice for a steamy night—under her yellow rain slicker. “I see you received the memo about the attire.”
Faith gave them the once-over and rolled her eyes. “I hate theme parties.”
“Mom left her house in such a hurry she forgot to put on her shoes. I gave her my boots.”
“That explains why you wanted these.” Faith removed a pair of flip-flops from the pocket of her raincoat and handed them to Sam. As she climbed onto the hood next to her, she whispered, “Mom’s awfully quiet. Is she okay?”
“I’ll let you be the judge.” Sam nudged their mother. “Mom, tell Faith about your dream.”
Lovie pried her eyes away from the fire. “What dream?” she asked, her gray brows knitted together.
“Remember what you told Jared and me? That Oscar Sweeney visited you in a dream and told you we had trouble at the market?”
Lovie shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, and returned her attention to the scene across the street.
Faith shot her sister a look of concern. “Oscar Sweeney?” she mouthed.
“Let it go for now,” Sam whispered. “The fire is enough to addle anybody, let alone an eighty-five-year-old woman.”
Flames licked the night sky as Sam considered the loss in profits. How would her family survive without the income? Summertime had always been their busiest season, but in recent years the fall months, particularly the holiday season, had proven equally profitable. She knew little about commercial construction. How long would it take to rebuild? If they decided to go that path? She leaned into Faith. “Please tell me our insurance premium is current.”
“I made the quarterly payment last month,” Faith said.
All three Sweeney sisters had grown up helping their mother at the market, but only Faith and Sam had chosen to make it a career. Over the years, they’d slowly taken over management of the business. Faith was in charge of financials, while Sam handled everything else.
“We’ll have to decide if rebuilding is even the right choice for our family. You’re retiring soon. Without my income Eli and I would have to cut back, but we’d survive. The decision will affect Jamie the most.”
“You don’t need to worry about your son. With his outgoing personality and hospitality degree, he will have his choice of jobs. Maybe not in Prospect, but there are plenty of great restaurants and hotels in Charleston.” Faith lowered her voice. “Mom is the one we need to be concerned about.”
“Are you kidding me?” Sam said in a loud whisper. “She’s been saving ever since she was forty so she could retire when she reached sixty-five. And that was twenty years ago.”
Faith shifted toward her sister, placing her back to their mother. “I realize that, Sammie, but we have no way of knowing what to expect of Mom’s health. She could rip through her entire savings as fast as this fire is burning through the market.”
“But—”
Eli approached them, putting an end to their discussion for the moment. He gave Faith a peck on the cheek. “I don’t know what to say, other than I’m sorry.”
Faith swiped at her eyes. “There were a lot of memories in that old building. I’m just thankful no one was hurt.”
“That’s the most important thing to remember at a time like this.” Eli winked at Sam, a reminder for her to stay focused on the positive. She’d suffered a big loss tonight, but it could’ve been so much worse. He pulled her to her feet. “Let’s go home. It won’t do any of us any good to stay until the bitter end.”
Sam hesitated, knowing it was time to go but not willing to leave, as if her staying could somehow bring about a miracle that would save the market. She felt as though she were saying goodbye to an old friend, as when she’d visited her Uncle Mack in the hospital the night he died.
“I guess you’re right,” she said finally, and looped her arm through her mother’s. “You’re coming home with us.”
“Oh no I’m not!” Lovie yanked her arm free. “I’m going home to my own bed.”
Sam sighed. She knew better than to argue with her mother in her current state of mind. “Then Eli and I will drive you home. Where’s your car? I’ll bring it to you tomorrow.”
Sam followed her mother’s finger to the burning building. Lovie had driven her old Buick right up to her usual parking spot at the back door as though reporting for work. Sam viewed this as evidence that her mother had arrived before the fire was in full blaze. Once metallic blue in color, the sedan was now charred black. Sam and her sisters had worried for years about their mother’s driving, but they’d had no concrete reason to take away her license until now. The fire’s destruction of the car solved that problem while presenting yet another. Sam and Faith would now be at the beck and call of their active mother, a woman accustomed to coming and going at will. Lovie would not take kindly to having this major change of lifestyle forced upon her. It would cramp Sam’s style as well. Then again, now that she no longer had a workplace to go to every day, what else did she have to do?
Sam said goodbye to her sister and climbed in the back seat beside her mother. She watched out the back window as the blaze disappeared. Captain Sweeney’s Seafood Market was no more.
She waited until they were out of sight of the market before she said, “Tonight has been hard on all of us, Mama. Let’s pack up some of your things, and you can come stay with Eli and me for a few days.”
Lovie pinned Sam against the seat with her death glare. “I told you, Samantha. I’m going home to my husband, and I don’t want to hear another word about it.”
Sam studied her mother’s face through the darkness. The steely determination she hadn’t seen in years, if not decades, was apparent in the firm set of Lovie’s chin and the defiant look in her hazel eyes. I’m going home to my husband? She was no longer dreaming about Oscar. She spoke as if she expected him to be waiting for her at her front door.
When Eli pulled up in front of Lovie’s town house, Sam hurried around
to her mother’s side of the car. She opened the door, but when she offered her hand, Lovie brushed it away and marched toward the town house. Sam followed her up the brick steps. “Is there anything I can say to change your mind? I would feel better if you stayed with us, at least for the night.”
“Stop your fussing now.” Lovie inserted her key in the lock. “Your father is inside waiting for his supper. Run along home to Allen. I’m sure your husband is wondering where on earth you are.”
Allen? Sam’s heart skipped a beat. She’d never married Jamie’s father, and even if she had, he’d died of liver cancer the summer before last. And what about Eli? Lovie adored him. She’d just ridden home in the car with him, for crying out loud.
“Fine, Mom. But I’m going to call you when I get home, and you’d better pick up.”
Lovie slammed the door on her in response.
“I don’t feel right about leaving her alone,” she said to Eli when she got back in the car. “She’s seriously lost it this time. She won’t even let me in the house. She thinks my dad is inside waiting for her.”
“Your mom’s a tough old bird,” Eli said, putting the car in reverse. “She’ll be fine in the morning.”
“I can’t take that chance,” Sam said. “Drop me off at home. I’ll get my car and come back. I’ll sleep in the parking lot if I have to.”
“No need to do that.” Eli backed the sedan out of the parking space. “I’ll have one of the guys drive by periodically to check on her.”
Sam thought about the situation and Eli’s proposal. “I guess that’ll have to do. We both need some sleep.” She stared out the window as he pulled back onto Creekside Drive. “I’m worried, Eli. I’ve never seen her this bad before.”
Eli stroked Sam’s thigh. “Give her some time, honey. She’ll come around.”
They rode in silence the rest of the way home. Eli wove through the back streets of town to avoid the market. But no detour could erase the image of the fire from her mind. Just as no amount of detergent, shampoo, and soap could rid her clothes, hair, and skin of the stench of smoke.
Saturdays at Sweeney's Page 1
