As the Tide Comes In

by Cindy Woodsmall

  She wanted to agree with him, but something seemed so out of place.

  “Where are you going?” His wife leaned over to ask.

  Tara had to pause to remember the name of the hotel. “The Lighthouse Inn.”

  “Ah, on Mallery Street. I know right where it is. We’ll pass by it on our way to our rental house. Come.” He looked at her suitcase. “The hardest part will be finding room for your lone small suitcase in the trunk with our fifteen hundred.”

  “Thank you.” Her heart ached with relief. Once she was at their hotel, she and her brothers would find each other, and their week of fun would begin.

  6

  Luella hastened along the St. Simons Island fishing pier. The pungent scents of salt water and fish assaulted her nose as the sea breeze whipped around her, carrying the sounds of children’s voices as they laughed and played. Oh, how she’d love to take her time, but she had only a few minutes before her friend’s class was over, and Sue Beth needed her help carrying the heavy easels back to her car. Dell and Julep were using the shop’s hand trucks.

  Lucky that her black dress flats were comfortable.

  She breathed in the aroma around her. It wasn’t a bad smell, at least not to her. Her daddy used to bring her to this pier to fish starting when she was just a tiny thing. That was closing in on fifty years ago.

  One of the pier regulars was fixing some bait on his fishing pole. Luella grinned. She needed to keep moving, but she couldn’t help but take a moment. “Mornin’, Roger. Coming to my tour tonight? I’m changing the route.”

  Changing the locations she went to allowed her to share the history surrounding more sites. Besides, locals were more prone to take the tour again if it had new places and information.

  The middle-aged man snorted. “Good to see you, Luella, but I think I’ll pass. You know, I couldn’t sleep after hearin’ your stories last week. I did write you a good Welp though.”

  His teenage son, Frank, shook his head, rolling his eyes, but he was smiling. He cast his own line, and the lure plopped in the choppy water. “Dad, that website is called Yelp.”

  “Nope. It’s Welp. I’m never sleeping again thanks to Luella Ward’s ghost tour.”

  Luella chuckled as she waved goodbye. A gust of wind from behind blew her silver and black ringlets into her face. She swooped her hair back and tucked it behind her ear. Unlike her friends she was proud of going gray and refused to color her hair. It seemed to help her business as a local historian and author. Or maybe that was just in her head.

  At the east end of the pier, a group of five adult art students had their easels set up facing the striking white-and-black lighthouse sitting on the shore above gray rocks and sprawling live oaks. Numerous clothespins secured each person’s paper to a fixed panel on the easel, a necessity against the nearly constant wind. Luella glanced at the paintings as she approached.

  Sue Beth’s cheery drawl cut through the breeze and the caws of the nearby crows as she gave instructions. “Thank you so much for painting with me today. Feel free to hang out as long as you want, but I need to take the easels in about five minutes. Be sure to take your creation with you.”

  Sue Beth noticed Luella and then grinned, giving her a small wave.

  The art students started to pack up their paints and pictures. Luella reached into the canvas bag hanging over her shoulder, pulled out a bottle of water, and handed it to her friend. Sue Beth thanked her, opened the drink, and tilted her head back to take a sip. The pink streaks in her blond hair were a shining example of her unique style and free spirit, which she’d had for the forty-one years Luella had known her.

  Forty-one years. How was that possible?

  They’d met at Epworth By The Sea, a church summer camp on the island, when they were eleven: Luella, Sue Beth, Julep, and Dell. The four girls had made a pact to be lifelong friends—the Glynn Girls. And they had kept that pact and added another member: their former art teacher, Sapphira O’Keefe. Well, basically they kept it. In the past year and a half, things had been touchy between Julep and Sue Beth. Luella was doing what she could to help smooth out that relationship.

  She studied Sue Beth. Whatever this animosity was between her and Julep, it had to be only a speed bump. After all, fights were normal even among friendships like theirs, right? Surely the two would agree that what the four of them had was worth a little work.

  Sue Beth used a handkerchief to dab sweat off her upper lip, careful not to swipe her lip gloss. “Are my Glynn Girls ready to impress at this picnic? I made my famous peach cobbler and gave it to Dell before my class began.”

  “Of course we’re ready. Last I saw Julep she was minutes away from pulling her fried chicken out of a sizzling deep fryer. It’ll be the tastiest, fanciest picnic our guests from New York have ever had.”

  “For our shop’s sake it better be. We need that corner storefront if we want to emerge as the premier home goods store in all of Glynn County.”

  Twenty years ago their current location was a solid one. The Glynn Girls pulled together to help Julep open Blue Sails Casual Living, and each of them had built a successful business inside that space, helping one another as needed. But lots of changes had happened on the island since then. Not the least of which was St. Simons’s population—and their competition. It was Julep who took out a starter loan and signed the original lease, but the businesses that took place inside the store were bread and butter for all of them.

  Julep’s skill in balancing their expenses and income had allowed the store to have unique pieces and keep an edge over the rest of the saturated market. If they could get the corner storefront, their possibilities seemed endless. Sue Beth would be able to spread out. Right now she subleased and taught art classes in the upstairs loft and sold her original paintings in the store. But in the new building with a completely separate loft entrance, she’d have the room to hire additional art instructors and host even more people. Dell rented a small studio in the loft too for her photography, and she specialized in portraits. With her eye for home decoration, room staging, and arranging, she was brilliant at staging the store. She’d turn that corner store into something special, no question. What Luella did day to day wouldn’t change too much: writing in the store between waiting on customers. But the increased foot traffic would give her a greater chance to sell her books on the island’s history, as well as her widely published travel guides to other cities.

  Sue Beth and Luella helped the students remove their paintings so they could pack up the wooden easels and haul them to Sue Beth’s car.

  “Seems like”—Luella shifted her easels to get a better grip—“a successful class.” They weren’t so much heavy for her as awkward.

  “Yep, it’s a good little group. I never get quite the class turnout that Sapphira could.”

  “Miss Sapphira was something special.” The thought of their former art-teacher-turned-friend made Luella smile. They were still mourning her loss in surprising ways each day. “But your art classes will pick up as more tourists arrive for the summer.”

  “Yeah. Hope so.” Sue Beth was puffing as she carried three easels.

  “Besides”—Luella set her easels down against the pier, giving Sue Beth a moment to catch her breath—“if you had more students, we’d be carrying even more!”

  They laughed.

  Sue Beth exhaled and lifted her easels again. She seemed to be struggling a little. Maybe Luella should push harder for Sue Beth and Julep to join Dell and her in their twice-weekly yoga classes or perhaps come with her on her daily brisk walks in the still-cool mornings. But no amount of working out would help the fact that summers on the island were hot, especially this time of day.

  They finally made it to the parking lot and approached Sue Beth’s green Jeep.

  “Phew.” Luella laid her easels on the ground next to the Jeep and wiped her forehead with the back
of her hand. “Where are your boys when we need them?”

  “I know, right?” Sue Beth chuckled, putting each easel in the back of her SUV before closing the tailgate and dusting her hands off. “They grew up on me. And then to top it off, all three got married and didn’t even ask my permission to move off the island. How rude.”

  Luella chuckled. “The nerve. But I never hear complaints from you when the grandchildren visit.”

  “I should have borrowed Gavin from Julep to give us a hand. But she would not be happy with me if I did that. Do I look okay? No stray paint?” Sue Beth held her hands out and turned around for inspection.

  Luella looked Sue Beth up and down and then adjusted Sue Beth’s collar to be even on both sides. “No paint that I can see. You look great.” Luella glanced down at her own go-to “nice clothes,” consisting of black slacks and a tan button-up shirt. “I hope I don’t look too out-of-date.”

  “Nonsense, you’re adorable.” Sue Beth smiled and then frowned. “I forgot to put on a watch. But I bet we’re late.”

  “Punctuality doesn’t seem to be our strong suit.”

  “But it is Julep’s and Dell’s. Let’s go before we’re in trouble.”

  They hurried across Neptune Park.

  Oh, how Luella loved this area. How many times as a child had she run along this same sidewalk from the parking lot, along the seaside near the rocks, then on to the picnic area and playgrounds? She’d loved coming here at high tide to watch the Atlantic Ocean splash against the rocks. At low tide she’d be on the sand, setting up a picnic. Nowadays low tide provided just enough sand to take a little stroll on the beach. She sighed. Erosion had changed so much of Georgia’s Golden Isles. The fact that they were one of the fastest-changing landmasses in the world with a unique history and population was what led Luella to study and write about the island.

  They approached the picnic area and found Julep in the shade under the many arms of the giant live oak at the center of the park.

  “Took you both long enough.” Julep had her arms crossed. “We could’ve used a hand.” When the sea breeze gusted, she uncrossed her arms and smoothed her shoulder-grazing dark brown hair.

  Gavin passed them going the other way, nodding hello. He was carrying a cooler with boxes stacked on top, probably to remove from sight the empty containers used to transport the food.

  “Psh. All of you need to stop and take a good look.” Dell surveyed the immaculate picnic table. She held her hands out, framing it as though it were the subject of one of her photos. “Even if Luella and Sue Beth were here to give their opinions, do you think this spread could look any better? You don’t mess with perfection. And this picnic looks like something straight out of HGTV, y’all.”

  A lovely blue-and-white, pastoral-patterned quilt covered the concrete picnic table. Two two-tiered white porcelain serving trays were in the center of the table. One held fried chicken on the bottom tier and fresh biscuits on the top tier. The second had slices of watermelon on the bottom tray with fresh strawberries on the top. A large glass bowl of ice was also in the center of the table, and a second glass bowl sat inside it full of potato salad. A blown-glass pitcher of iced tea was shedding beads of water courtesy of the humidity. Each place setting had antique china, a glass filled with ice, and shiny silverware on cloth napkins.

  Dell lifted the digital SLR camera from around her neck and snapped a few shots. “Beautiful job, girls.”

  “There they are!” Sue Beth pointed at three men walking toward them. Walter had on a full suit. The other two, probably midforties, were wearing button-up shirts and dress pants. “Didn’t Walter say there would be three men flying in today?”

  “Yeah,” Dell said. “Someone’s missing. But we’ll convince these two, and they’ll convince the third guy.”

  “All right, Sue Beth.” Julep stepped forward to stand next to her. “You’re the cute one. Pull yourself together and go flirt.”

  Not this again. Did anyone think it was funny when Sue Beth flirted or when Julep encouraged her or made jokes about it? The thinking was stereotypical—every Southern woman flirted to get what she wanted.

  Sue Beth put a hand on the center of her chest as if to steady her heart, her eyes wide open. “Excuse me? I’m married.”

  “Never stopped you before,” Julep whispered, barely moving her lips.

  Luella shot Julep a look. That remark was uncalled for. Why had Julep taken so many potshots at Sue Beth lately? “We all know this is a professional meeting, right? Flirting shouldn’t factor into it.”

  The men approached the table, and Walter nodded at them. “Good afternoon, ladies. What a beautiful spread. I’d like you to meet the owners of Seaside Properties. This is Stan. And this is Rick.”

  “Oh, hi!” Sue Beth spoke first, and then the Glynn Girls echoed the greeting.

  Walter introduced the men to each of them.

  “How are y’all liking our island so far?” Sue Beth moved her hand, inviting the men to observe the gorgeous view of the seaside and the draping branches of the live oak above their heads.

  Rick swatted a bug on his forearm. “It’s…rather hot.”

  Really? Luella hadn’t seen or felt any bugs today, and the sea breeze had been wonderful and cooling.

  Stan smiled as he looked around. “It’s absolutely beautiful. And flat.” He turned to Rick. “Maybe we should invest in bicycle rentals. The shade and breeze make it feel like the perfect temp to me.”

  “Maybe.”

  Sue Beth smiled. “Where is home for you? Since the property management group is based in New York City, is that where you’re from?”

  Rick pulled a small bottle of hand sanitizer from his pocket, squeezed a dollop on his hands, and rubbed them together. “It is.”

  Dell gestured at the table. “Oh, then you are in for a treat of Southern cooking. Come sit. I’ll fix plates. Walter, please join us.”

  After the men sat, Dell, Sue Beth, and Julep each prepared a plate for the men, making pleasant conversation while doing so. Luella poured Dell’s famous sweet tea into their glasses.

  Once the men had their plates, the women joined them and made small talk while eating. Although Walter had nearly polished off his food, Stan and Rick still had almost full plates. Luella glanced at Dell. Should they keep pushing food on these businessmen? But Dell was already spooning helpings of peach cobbler on dessert plates. She passed them to Julep, who set them at each place on the table. Luella nudged her foot against Julep’s leg and nodded toward the men. It was as good a time as any to broach the subject of the corner shop.

  Julep seemed a bit nervous. Her smile trembled. “We are so glad to be a part of your investment, and we believe that your group has a good vision for the future of the island. As you may know, our store has been a staple of St. Simons for nearly twenty years, and we’ve been growing out of our current building for quite some time. We’ve been eyeing the corner shop between Mallery and Oglethorpe. The owners have been wanting to retire for some time, and when they do, we’d like to move from our current place to the other one, and y’all own that property too…”

  Stan wiped his mouth with a corner of his cloth napkin. “Now that sounds like a strong plan, right, Rick?”

  Rick nodded. “It does. But, ladies, as good as your chicken and potato salad are, you are barking up the wrong tree. The property manager makes all those decisions. You’ll have to take that up with him when he gets here. His name is Charles McKenzie. We just buy and leave.”

  “Pardon?” Julep blinked, and the plate in her hand tilted forward, as if she forgot she was holding it. The dessert slid off the plate and plunked to the ground. Her cheeks were growing brighter pink by the second. She leveled the plate, and Dell plopped another scoop of peach cobbler on it without missing a beat. “This visit is your only time to be on the island?”

  “Sure. We
can’t spend physical time at all our investments.” Rick turned down a corner of his mouth. “Which is too bad. But Charles McKenzie will be hands-on. He was supposed to fly in with us but had to cancel at the last minute. He’ll live here on the island for now. Anything you need from Seaside Properties will go through him.”

  “Great.” Luella smiled and tried to make her tone positive. “When can we meet Charles?”

  “Oh, he should be here tomorrow.”

  An awkward silence descended, and the men shook their heads, declining the cobbler. The two men had barely made a dent in the copious amounts of food they’d been given, and yet they were full?

  Stan stood. “Meeting all of you has been fantastic, but we’re on a tight schedule. This was quite the picnic.”

  “Quite.” Rick folded his napkin and stood. “We were expecting just snacks of some kind.”

  “Thank you, ladies.” Stan shook hands with each of them, and the men traded a few goodbye civilities.

  Luella looked at the untouched bounty on the table. All the work they’d put into this meal and for what?

  As the men walked off, all four women were left sitting there, staring at the abundance of home-cooked food left untouched.

  Gavin walked up and nodded his head in the direction of the men. “How’d it go?”

  Julep flopped down on the concrete picnic table bench and leaned her forehead against her palm. “Take a guess, Son.”

  “Gavin, you must be hungry. Someone needs to enjoy this masterpiece!” Dell’s voice cracked a little. She lifted the fried chicken platter.

  7

  It was soft beneath her…a bed. Tara tried to open her eyes, but an intense, head-splitting pain drew a groan from her. Finally she could pry one eye open.

  Darkness. She moved her head to look around. This room…this bed…the feather pillow smelling of lavender—they weren’t hers. Where was she? What day was it?