Savannah by the Sea

by Denise Hildreth Jones

“Too drastic a change.” I plopped down on the blue and white cushion that sat atop the white wooden bench.“You just need to loosen up a little. I mean, your face is pretty enough without makeup. Ever thought about wearing a little less?”

  Her perfectly manicured hand reached up to touch her face. “You think I could get away with it?”

  “Absolutely. And then if you would just loosen your hair up a bit. I mean, I think your hair looks great just straight and shiny.”

  “Straight and shiny?” I didn’t miss the sarcasm in Paige’s voice.

  “Well, it does.” I glared. “Just natural.”

  Amber’s hands ran across a long, layered cotton skirt.

  “Ever owned a pair of jeans?” I asked.

  “No,” Amber responded flatly.

  Paige’s face contorted. “You have never owned a pair of jeans? How old are you?”

  “You shouldn’t ask a woman her age,”Amber said shaking her head as her hand moved up to the army green tank that rested on top of the skirt. “And no, like I said, I’ve never owned a pair of jeans. I did have a lovely linen ensemble once that had the look of denim, but that’s as close as I’ve ever been.”

  I eyed her long legs.“Amber, your legs were made for jeans. You are a jeans dream.”

  She looked down at her lean legs sticking out from beneath her sundress. “Really? So why would you want to cover them?”

  “Don’t think of it as covering them,” I informed her. “It’s more like accentuating them.”

  “Swimsuits first, then jeans,” Paige said, taking the flip-flops out of her hand and directing us toward Fabs.“You will be a new creature by nightfall.”

  Fabs has some of the most beautiful swimsuits I’ve ever seen.There would be no new one for me this year, however. I usually bought one every year just because I wore it so often it fell apart that fast. But this year my budget had no room for extras. Mother would buy me one if I asked. After all, she would be in here by tomorrow morning getting herself a new one as well. But I had decided I wouldn’t ask this year. A free vacation was enough. I would enjoy that. Plus, the thought of parading my Coke-loving thighs in front of Amber’s perfectly proportioned body didn’t excite me much anyway.

  My point was proven when she exited the curtain, poured into a fabulous taupe number. She looked as good as Entertainment Tonight’s host and former beauty queen herself, Nancy O’Dell. The small spaghetti straps and slightly squared neck complimented her shoulders and bosom to perfection. But the small matching belt that sat at the top of her hips with the tortoise buckle just made me want to scream,“I hate you!”

  “Ahh!” Paige screamed as she exited her dressing room and caught sight of Amber. Once she saw herself, the scream turned into a moan.

  “Whose pitiful idea was this?” she asked the mirror. It mocked her.“I drink Diet Cokes, for goodness’ sake.Where did this come from?” She jiggled the barely visible little piece of skin hanging over the top of her bikini bottom. She had obviously forgotten the Doritos. Her hands moved on down to her hips. I almost thought I saw a tear in her eye.

  “You look wonderful, Paige,” Amber offered.

  Amber, however, looked almost inhumanly flawless. Her legs went up to there. Her breasts were the perfect size for her body. Her skin was the perfect tone for her bathing suit, and neither her hands nor feet were disproportionate to her frame.

  “This is a sad comparison,” Paige stated as they stood side by side, Amber’s six-foot frame towering over Paige’s five foot five.

  “Just look at it like this, Paige,” I tried to encourage. “If you had a slightly greater area of distribution, you would look just like her.”

  She turned and glared at me, and then headed to the one-pieces with skirts. “These hips should not be forced on anyone’s eyes.”

  “You need a bathing suit like this,” Amber said, reaching up into a mass of two-pieces and pulling out a red halter-style top with bikini bottoms that had a short red and white stripe sheer skirt. “The top will lift you up and give you wonderful support. And the bottom is cut high enough to make your legs look leaner. Yet the sheerness of the skirt hides that slight . . .well, that slight . . . extra.”

  “How do you know this?” Paige asked, yet to be comforted.

  “I know bathing suits, Paige. I’ve competed in them for more than half my life.” Neither one of us could argue with that. So we didn’t .And when Paige made her second entrance, she looked fabulous. We both stared at Paige’s reflection in the mirror.

  “That is unbelievable,” I said, walking up behind her to get a better view myself.

  “It wasn’t that bad before,” Paige responded.

  “Well, it didn’t look like that, I assure you.”

  Amber laughed.

  “You are really good at this,” Paige told her.

  My word. If I’d had the money, I would have let that girl turn me into a calendar model. I sure hoped I didn’t look like Paige’s first attempt once I donned last year’s suit. But I was certain these two would inform me tomorrow. Paige grabbed a matching pair of flip-flops. Amber purchased that divine suit she had had on, with a beautiful pink-and-taupe floral wrap, and I decided I just might have to come down with the flu tomorrow. Then my muumuu wouldn’t be any big head turner.

  We walked to dinner. Me, Dad, and Paige in flip-flops. Victoria and Victoria Jr., in three-inch heels. Victoria’s were Stuart Weitzman pumps, and Junior donned Stuart Weitzman wedges. But the girl was wearing jeans and had let us straighten her hair and do her makeup. Vicky had eyed her curiously when Amber descended the stairs. Paige and I almost regretted talking her into them at Venus, a women’s clothing store on the square. When we looked down at our own stubby legs in our own jeans, we realized we should have left the woman in sundresses. And when she slung that beautiful mane of hair,we were regretting that too. But for the first time in our almost fifteen hours together,Amber was smiling. So we would endure the double takes she would get for an evening with no tears. It would be our sacrifice for the cause of peace. World peace, that is.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Watch out!” Paige hollered. Four adolescent boys who had lived all fourteen of their years befriending ding-dongs about careened into us on a bicycle built for six small people—or four of them.

  They laughed.

  So did I.

  Joshua would enjoy this place, I thought to myself. My workplace compatriot rode his bicycle everywhere. I didn’t know why. I just knew it gave him some of the most beautiful-looking calves I’d ever laid eyes on.

  Paige nudged me.“What land did you just travel to?”

  “Amityville Horror.”

  “Ooh, thinking about a guy, huh?”

  “Let’s change the subject.”

  “Okay, let’s talk about how stupid we were to put that creature up there in a pair of jeans.”

  “Let’s change the subject again.”

  “Okay, let’s talk about how lame we are to still be taking vacations with our parents. I mean, how old are we?”

  “It’s free.”

  “Okay, let’s talk about how brilliant we are the older we get.”

  I turned to her and smiled.“Yes, I like that subject.”

  In Seaside you’ve not much need for a car, unless you’re going to go shopping or to the movies in Destin, or plan to eat at a restaurant outside of Seaside (thus the reason for bicycles built for small football teams). And if you’re perfectly content with the restaurants within walking distance, you wouldn’t even have to pick your keys up off of the counter for the duration. Tonight, we would eat at the Water Colors Fish out of Water restaurant, which was so close that driving wasn’t a necessity at all.

  We rounded the sidewalk that led the way to the hotel restaurant. Although Water Colors didn’t have the maturity of Seaside, it had done an excellent job in maintaining the integrity of the area. The pale yellow beachfront hotel gave way to the welcoming building that housed the reservations desk. The lime-green, full-lengt
h door shutters that flanked all the windows were subdued by the ivy that grew up the walls. The restaurant was just beyond the lobby. Its plain wooden doors with pewter handles were no reflection of the bold statement of style and color that awaited inside.

  The bright mosaic fish that greets you on the first level is as tall as your mama. Well, mine anyway. And the kaleidoscope of color emblazoned upon it hints at what awaits the eyes upstairs. The restaurant is on the second floor, offering a fabulous view of the white dunes and the ocean. Near the hostess station, two hanging porch swings face each other, so the nuisance of waiting on a table can be overlooked with a front-porch experience. A fabulous idea, I might add.

  The walk to our table led us through the bar. Most restaurants are that way around here, making it clear everyone likes a little vino on vacation. Or that on vacation all clocks are on after-five time. And that’s when the explosion of color hits you, from the bar stools with their multicolored seats to the iron railing that looks like dancing seaweed topped with crystal balls in primary colors.

  The hostess led us past the terra-cotta walls, past the grills with the expansive copper hoods, straight to a table that overlooked the water. I pulled out my chair and noticed that the lime green on the cushion matched the shutters outside. Mother gazed up lustfully at the hand-painted light fixtures.

  Yeah, don’t let that lady fool you. She has a lust demon or two she needs to get rid of.

  The hand-painted shades in their subtle Tiffany-blue tones have fishes painted on them in the same terra-cotta tones of the walls. And as the scene laid itself out, I realized the writer in me rarely missed the details of life.Whether in a restaurant, on a face, or the mere nuisances that surround.

  Vicky sat across from me and almost melted into the sunset that backlit her hair color.

  Good for the sunset.

  Not so good for Vicky.

  “These men haven’t taken their eyes off of Amber since we walked through the door,” Paige whispered in my ear. Her breath moved my dainty silver earring.“It’s as if they are celebrating her.”

  “Vicky ain’t doing too bad herself,” I noticed. “And I do believe that woman just ogled my father!”

  She sighed heavily. “I guess we’ll just pull up the rear.”

  “I hope these jeans have magic powers, if that’s what we’re supposed to do!”

  She snickered.

  Paige and I pulled our chairs up to the curved booth that faced us. “Scoot over, honey,” Dad said, pushing Mother around the booth. They had shared the same side of the booth since I can remember, regardless of whether anyone was sitting opposite them. So weird, wasting a perfectly good booth like that.

  We watched the rest unfold. He opened the menu; she peered inside. He placed her order and his. And the evening was spent with them eating off of each other’s plates.

  I scooted the stone-gray placemat with the fish design closer to me. I didn’t want to be the one who ended up with remnants of dinner attached to my blouse. I had chosen a sheer cream crepe top with dainty capped sleeves and a cream tank underneath. White enough to announce whether I had had the filet mignon or the beef short ribs.

  But no matter how appealing everything on the menu looked, I would have the same thing I had every time we ate here: the low-country shrimp and scallops, minus the scallops, with creamy grits and asparagus.

  When dinner arrived, I placed the first bite of grits in my mouth. “Hallelujah!” I shouted a little louder than I had intended.

  Paige snorted.

  Mother glared.

  “I can’t help it. These are the best things I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

  “Ever?”The queen of culinary inquired.

  I could not lie.“Next to your fried chicken, yes. Ever.”

  I laid another bite on my tongue and rolled them around, searching for a remnant of grain. None could be found. By the time the chef had cooked those grits in chicken stock, heavy cream, and enough butter to make Paula Deen look stingy, they tasted more like mashed potatoes.

  Slurp! Paige licked the first of her short-rib beef bones, her lips smacking rather loudly. Vicky eyed her. Paige picked up another and ran her tongue across it.

  In the time we cleaned our plates, I do believe three verses of “How Big Is God?” could have been sung.

  Vicky never commented. There was no “This is absolutely wonderful.” No “Someone go see if that man in the kitchen is married, ’cause Savannah needs a good man.” Nothing. She doesn’t compliment many chefs.Well, she does compliment Miss Paula. But that’s because the two women are so close they go to the spray-on tan booths together and stand there buck naked! If someone knew me that well, I’d compliment her biscuits too!

  Mother caught Amber’s bloodshot eyes. “You know what you need, darling? You need a good man.”

  “I have one,” she stated matter-of-factly as she flaked the crust from her bread.

  Mother sighed.“Darling, Joshua North is not necessarily the man for you.”

  I looked up, trying to disguise my shock that Mother knew how crazy Amber was over Joshua. Of course, she pretty much knew this girl’s underwear size. Why wouldn’t she know she was crazy about Joshua? Amber’s lip began to quiver.

  “But if Joshua is what you want, then we’ll just hope that happens for you. Then maybe we can help Savannah find a man. Ooh, Savannah, what about that cute little blond over there?” Paige and I turned slowly.

  I gasped.“What? The forty-year-old?”

  “He’s not forty.”

  “He is if he’s a day.”

  “Well, you need someone mature,” Mother said. “Like I got with your father.”

  “Victoria, you make it sound like I need to purchase my own defibrillator.”

  “They say every home should have one,” Amber said.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Dad assured her.

  I felt my butt vibrate. I twitched, realizing it was my phone. A few glances stole my way. I looked down, knowing I couldn’t answer it. I had been told it would end up in the ocean if I didn’t cut the ringer off, so answering it at the table wasn’t necessarily a good idea. I tried to be discreet and took a peek. It was Thomas. I sent him to oblivion. I refused to be his alibi. I refused to be his anything. He would tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth, and he would tell it himself. And I wasn’t going to listen to him go on about me keeping his secret.

  I twitched again. He had just left a message.

  “Victoria . . . Jake, so good to see you both,” Dennis Starling said as he exited the kitchen of the restaurant he managed.“ How are things in Savannah?”

  “Oh, Dennis darling, they have been wonderful. Never a dull moment.”This from the woman who controlled all moments.

  “Dennis, great to see you,” Dad said, standing and gently folding his napkin by his plate to greet the familiar friend. “Dinner was amazing, as always.”

  “We’re so glad you joined us. I’ll have some dessert sent out to you, on the house.”Amber’s eyes lit up and it faintly seemed as if she licked her lips.

  “Dennis, we don’t expect dessert.” Dad returned to his seat.

  Paige coughed loudly. She prevented me from having to kick him.

  “I know you don’t expect it, that’s why I enjoy doing it. Victoria,” he said, turning his gaze to my mother, “word has it your good friend the president might be coming through this way in the next couple weeks.”

  Mothers eyes lit up like a lighthouse calling in the entire Coast Guard. Sad, first of all, that people who only saw my mother once a year actually knew her and, second, knew that she was insanely infatuated with the president of the United States. This woman would never be selected to guard the briefcase that carries the codes for our national security.

  “Oh, he is, is he? When? Do you have any idea when?” She practically bounced.

  “Not sure. They talked about the Secret Service coming through sometime the end of the week or first of the next.”

  �
��Oh, he’s got one Secret Service agent, George, that I just fell in love with when we went to the state dinner a couple months ago.” Her dainty wrist flopped around.

  Dennis rested his hand on the table.“You went to a state dinner?”

  Paige moaned. She knew she wouldn’t see dessert now for another thirty minutes.

  “Oh, I love this story,” Amber mused in a bemoaning sort of way as her fork tickled her salad leaves.

  I do believe not a day has gone by since we went to the White House that Mother hasn’t brought it up. You would have thought her own self-penned write-up in the newspaper would have gotten it out of her system. And if not that, then the special she did on the public access network, where she showed her pictures of the event and a video clip that she had gotten from C-Span, all while wearing the same evening gown that she had dined in. But amazingly enough, none of these outlets emptied her of her excitement. So we were forced to listen to the account often.

  “How did you get that invitation?” Dennis asked.

  “Well, I was part of a left-wing conspiracy.”

  “Mother, that is ludicrous.” I took over for the sake of truth in reporting. “Mother was making a statement in front of our courthouse. The president was headed around the square in his motorcade, and his driver had a heart attack behind the wheel, which caused him to careen into Mother, which prompted an invitation to the White House.”

  “Breathe, child, breathe,” Paige said.

  “Like I was saying, Dennis,” Mother said, staring at me,“a left-wing conspiracy to take me out failed, allowing the president to meet me and Jake and wonder why we had never made it to a state dinner before.”

  Dad took a drink of his sweet tea and leaned back into the deep lime-green cushion.

  “It was for the prime minister of Saudi Arabia,” Mother continued.

  “He’s one of those men who wear dresses,” Amber clarified.

  “But you must tell him how you prepared for months before the actual event,” I coaxed.

  Now Paige was kicking me. Obviously, backtracking increased the distance between here and dessert.

  “Don’t be catty, Savannah.”