“Bert, I’m coming in and I want to taste a roux that will make Major’s head spin!” She looked at me over her shoulder as she walked through the doorway and disappeared into the darkness of the hallway.
19
MAGS
MAY 1960
I was out on the dock, staring at the decrepit motorboat suspended by fraying ropes in the boathouse. The hand crank wouldn’t budge, so I was trying to figure out how to lower the thing into the water to see if it would still float. There were no obvious holes in the hull, but I knew even pinpricks could sink it. Years before, Daddy gave me boating lessons on summer mornings. He spent a small fortune on a wooden Chris Craft and stored it in Point Clear. In the absence of a son to teach these things to, I was going to be his sportswoman—only I wasn’t very good. The first time I took a turn at the wheel, I ran straight into a sandbar in Mobile Bay, damaging the motor so badly that Daddy had to jump in and pull the boat back to shore.
“I need rubber boots,” I said under my breath. If I stood in the shallow water right under the boat, I’d get a better look at the bottom, as well as the motor, a rusty Evinrude.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to try your hand at boating again.”
I spun around. Daddy stood on the grass at the edge of the dock, shielding his eyes from the sun. It was as if I had conjured him out of the still Sweet Bay air.
I waited for his image to float away, but he walked down the dock toward me, smiling. “I’ve missed you. Your mother made shrimp cocktail last night. Since you weren’t there to share, I had to finish them off myself.” He patted his round stomach. “I didn’t mind so much.”
“Daddy, I . . .”
“So, this is The Hideaway, huh?” He looked behind him at the house overlooking the bay. “I’ve read about it but never actually seen it. Looks like it could use a paint job—or two—but it’s nice. Can I have a tour?”
He sounded friendly, but there was tension in his casual smile. I had no way to tell what he knew, and I didn’t want to give too much away before I figured that out.
“Sure. Let’s take a walk.” I led him around the house to the front door. When we walked up the front steps, a group of three black-clad women passed through the door on their way out. Daddy turned to watch them climb into a waiting car, driven by yet another woman in black, this one sporting sunglasses and a black-and-white knit scarf. She waved at me and I waved back. Daddy raised his eyebrows but didn’t comment.
Inside was surprisingly quiet, and I was thankful. Gary stood at an easel at the front window, his paintbrush suspended in air, apparently waiting for the muses to tell him what to paint. Starla was in the kitchen humming under her breath, preparing the evening meal.
I walked him around, showing him some of the artwork hanging on the walls and propped up against door frames. He nodded and smiled when appropriate and poked his head into each room.
“Oh, this is nice,” he said when we got to the back porch. He sat in a glider facing the lawn. “I can see why you like it here. It’s peaceful.”
We sat silent a moment. Daddy settled into his seat, his arms stretched over the back, a picture of relaxation. I waited as long as I could.
“How did you know where to find me?”
“I didn’t at first. When you left, I thought you’d bunk with a friend for a week or so, then get back home where you belonged. But when the weeks kept coming with no word from you, I grew concerned.”
“I was going to call. I—”
“Then I remembered the check I gave you.”
I inhaled sharply. The check.
“After a couple of weeks, I called my bank and asked them to alert me the minute you cashed it. I was relieved you were still close by. A simple call to First Coastal in Sweet Bay told me you were here. The teller I spoke to was terribly complimentary about this place. I wanted to wait for you to come home on your own, but it’s tearing your mother apart not knowing what’s going on with you.”
I gave Daddy a look. “If it’s tearing her apart, then why isn’t she here with you?”
“Now, Margaret, that’s just not fair. Your mother loves you. And so does your husband.”
When I didn’t respond, Daddy cleared his throat. “So this is a bed-and-breakfast, right? Did you check in for an extended stay?”
“You could say that.”
“What have you been doing this whole time? I know you haven’t just been working on that old boat out there.”
“Actually, I’m managing the house now. The owner had to leave and she asked me to take over. I think the job suits me.” I smoothed down my pants—wrinkled and linen, so different from the pressed pencil skirt I’d be wearing back home.
Just then, Daisy crossed the backyard in yoga attire, her mat slung over her shoulders. “Hi, Maggie,” she called out.
I held up a hand in greeting.
“I just ran into William,” she continued, unconcerned with the strange man sitting on the porch with me. “He said to tell you he’ll be a little late for dinner tonight.”
My breath caught in my throat and heat crawled up my cheeks. I kept my eyes on Daisy making her way around the side of the house, even though I could feel Daddy’s stare.
Finally he broke his gaze and laughed to himself. “When you were born, I suggested we call you Maggie, but your mother refused. She said Maggie was the name of someone in pigtails and bobby socks. She said there was power in a name, and Margaret held the kind of power and influence she wanted you to have.” He shook his head. “I still think Maggie’s cute.” He paused. “Is William a guest here?”
I closed my eyes. “Daddy—”
“You know what? Whoever he is doesn’t matter. You’ve had your time away. I even gave you a little money to help you out, but you’ve made your point. It’s time to come on back.”
“What?”
“People are starting to talk, and you know how your mother feels about that. I don’t particularly care for it either. I know you’ve had a hard time with Robert, but we’ve let you stay gone long enough.”
“You let me stay gone?” I fought to keep my emotions under control. “You didn’t let me do anything. It was my choice to come here, and it’s been my choice to stay.”
“Okay, fine.” He held his hands up in surrender. “You’ve stayed gone as long as you needed to. But enough is enough. It’s time to get home.”
“Home? I don’t even know where that is anymore.”
“What are you talking about? Your home is with Robert, your husband. Where else would it be? Certainly not here.” He gestured toward the house with his hand, casually dismissing the place that had become my entire world.
“I don’t belong with Robert anymore—not in his life and definitely not in his bed.” Daddy’s mouth dropped open. I’d shocked him, but I didn’t care.
“Margaret,” he whispered. “Do not disgrace yourself by speaking of such matters.”
“Oh, Daddy, you sound like Mother. We’re both adults. Can’t we speak that way?”
“You want to speak like adults? Okay, you’re holed up here in this secluded hotel when all of Mobile is talking about how you packed your bags and left your war-hero husband. You may feel slighted by Robert’s actions, but you’re not coming out on the right side of this.”
“If I cared what side I came out on, I wouldn’t have left in the first place. And anyway, Robert left first, if you remember. Funny how no one mentions that. You knew it wasn’t business—you said so yourself. His leaving just showed me it was my time to leave too. He opened the door and I walked through it.”
“Tell me about this William, why don’t you? You talk about the speck in Robert’s eye, but what about you carrying on with another man?”
“What makes you think I’m carrying on with William?”
“Your red cheeks when that gal over there mentioned his name told me all I needed to know. If he’s here in this hole-in-the-wall hotel, he’s no one you need to be associating with. Does he even
have a job?”
“Of course he has a job.”
“He does know you’re married, right?”
I sighed while Daddy drummed his fingers on the seat next to him.
“Let’s just forget about him for a minute. What about a job for you? A real one. You can work for me and I’ll make sure you’re paid double. Your own spending money in your pocket—that’ll give you the freedom you want without having to make your point living and working at a place like this.”
I shook my head slowly. “You don’t get it, Daddy. I’m not here because I want a job. This job fell into my lap and I took it, simple as that. I’m here because I couldn’t stay back home any longer. Not as the person I was. I’ve been forcing myself into molds for too long. I need to make my own life, and it’s happening here.”
“I don’t understand what you mean by needing your own life. Your own life is all you’ve ever known.” He threw his hands up. “I’ve worked hard to make sure you and your mother never have to go without a single thing. Do you mean to fling that in my face and tell me it was unnecessary?”
“No, I appreciate all you’ve done for me. It’s just that what I want—what I need—can’t be bought and paid for. Not with money, anyway.”
We both turned when we heard a noise coming from the doorway into the house, but no one was there. He took a deep breath before speaking again.
“Robert may have left, but he’s back now.” I raised my eyebrows and he nodded. “That’s the real reason I came to get you. He’s back in Mobile and he’s sick. He needs his wife by his side. If he’s a decent man, this William should understand.”
“Sick? Robert doesn’t get sick,” I said with a laugh. “He’s never even had a cold in the three years we’ve been married.”
“I don’t know why you’re laughing. Death is not a laughing matter.”
“Death? What are you talking about? Robert is not dead or about to be. He’s been in the mountains with AnnaBelle. If folks are talking about anything, they should be talking about that.”
“He may have started there, but he’s been in a hospital these last few weeks. He had an episode—some sort of shock or mental break. From the war. He’s home now and he needs you.”
I shook my head. “This is crazy. If he’s really sick, then all he needs is someone to nurse him back to health. That could be any woman with a cool washcloth as far as I’m concerned. He doesn’t need me.”
“Listen to yourself! You said ‘in sickness and in health.’ Yes, he did wrong, but Margaret, you have to understand that sometimes men do things to test those marriage vows. If you stand firm, he will see your strength and integrity and renew his commitment to you. It will happen. Believe me, I know.”
I wanted to question him, but I was also afraid that would take us down a path I wasn’t sure I wanted to go.
“This is one of those times when you need to put aside your differences and your . . . your stubbornness, and just be his wife. For the sake of your family. Your future family.” He tilted his head, then looked down at his shoes and sighed. “I know nothing is perfect, but it’s worth a shot. If something happens later and you still want . . .” He raised his hand and gestured to the house. “What comes is what comes. But right now, you need to stand behind the vows you took. I’ve talked to Robert and he sees the error of his ways. I believe him. He’s ready to give you 100 percent.”
I heard a rustle in the hallway again. I got up to look, but by the time I got there, the hall was empty and the front door to the house was just closing. Probably just someone going out for the day. I took a deep breath, my hand shaky on the smooth door frame.
“This is a life-changing decision you’re asking me to make,” I said. “I’ve already changed my life once by coming here. Why would I do it again when the end result isn’t a sure thing?”
“Is what you have now a sure thing? This house? This William? You’ve only been here a short time, and you’ve been married to Robert for three years. Has your time here had that much of an effect on you?”
I thought of William moving his hands expertly across pieces of wood. Wiping the dust from them before crossing the workshop to push my hair out of my face and kiss my lips. I thought of the tiny house he carved for me. Then I thought about Robert’s and my house back in Mobile. The gleaming countertops, the perfectly manicured lawn, the cushioned window seat in the living room that looked out over our treelined street full of antebellum homes.
He stood and smoothed the creases out of his pants. “I think you’ve already made your decision. You need to get home to it.” He nodded, then walked down the hallway and passed through the front door.
20
SARA
MAY
Over the next week, renovation work started in earnest, and stress levels in the house increased accordingly. When the team arrived to repair the cracked and water-stained ceiling in the parlors and dining room, Major and Bert were hard at work at the dining table, Bert looking up new recipes and Major balancing his checkbook. Bert hopped up and moved his cookbooks onto the back porch when the men brought out the plastic sheet to cover the dining room table. Major, in keeping with his nature, grumbled.
“This is my home, people. Why does no one understand this but me?”
“We all understand it,” I said, trying to soothe his irritation. “I know it’s inconvenient, but it won’t last forever.”
He slapped his checkbook closed and pocketed his calculator. “I don’t know what I’m even going to get out of all this.” He trailed behind Bert toward the porch.
“You’ll thank me for it later, Major,” I called after him. I surprised myself by assuming Major would still be living in the house after renovations were over. In truth, I didn’t know what would happen with the house when everything was finished, so I hoped I hadn’t lied to him. If I had to ask him, and everyone else, to move out, no one would be thanking me.
On Friday evening of the first full week of work at the house, Crawford picked me up twenty minutes late for our first date. When I answered the door, he held out a creamy white rose as a peace offering.
“I’m sorry,” he said. His still-damp brown hair curled around the bottom of his ears. He smelled faintly of cedar and fabric softener. Oddly, a splotch of mango-yellow paint stained the front of his khaki pants. The edges of the paint blurred, like he’d tried to wipe it off but only made it worse.
“Don’t laugh. I had to go to a client’s house in Daphne before I came this way. The woman said it was an emergency, so I dropped what I was doing, thinking my guys had taken out the wrong wall or something. Turns out, the painter used the wrong color on her dining room wall.” He held his hands up. “She was mad.”
“Looks like it,” I said, biting back a laugh. I ducked inside and found a vase for the rose, then followed Crawford out to his truck. He opened my door for me, then closed it gently once I settled in.
My stomach had been bothering me for much of the day, and as I got dressed after my shower, it hit me that I was nervous. Had I crossed a line by accepting a date from a man I hired to work for me? I’d never done that with any of the contractors or builders I’d worked alongside back in New Orleans—it went against my nature to mix work with my personal life. But something about Crawford made me want to break the rules. As he pulled out of the driveway and onto Highway 55, the quivering nervousness in my stomach settled.
“I’m glad you said yes,” he said.
I looked over at him. He’d left his window down a couple inches and the breeze ruffled his hair. I took a deep breath and exhaled. Tension slipped away and in its place was peaceful relaxation mixed with a surprising amount of anticipation.
“Me too.”
We drove until we reached the mouth of Sweet Bay where it flowed into Mobile Bay. Turning south, we continued until Crawford pulled down a hidden driveway, much like the one at The Hideaway. At the foot of the drive, a tin-roofed, plank-walled restaurant appeared before us. Crawford pulled into a parkin
g place up front just as a dog nosed its way out of the front porch screen door.
“Don’t worry, it’s better than it looks,” Crawford said.
Inside, the hostess grabbed two menus and wound us through the tight quarters of the dining room and out onto the spacious deck in the back. Settled at our table, I leaned back in my chair. The bay was bathed in the bright pinks and deep purples of the late evening sunset.
“I’ve missed this,” I said.
“Missed what?”
I looked out to the bay. “The water, the sunset, all of it.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but there is water in New Orleans, right?”
I laughed. “Yes, of course there’s water. The Mississippi River swims right through the city, but I spend most of my time at my shop or at home in the Quarter. I can easily go days, or even weeks, without seeing the water at all.”
“That’s a shame. Seems like a girl born near the water would want to stick close to it.”
I smiled. “Sometimes on slow days at the shop, I’ll close up for lunch and head for the levee near the park. I just sit and watch the barges go up and down the river.”
“That’s more like it.”
“It sounds strange, but I usually end up closing my eyes and pretending I’m back on the dock at The Hideaway, the sun dancing on the water. No sound except the wind in the trees and the water lapping up against the dock. But then I’ll hear a tugboat horn or smell someone’s crawfish boil and I’m back in New Orleans.”
I’d never told anyone about my Hideaway daydreams—especially not Allyn. He’d work his own brand of psychoanalysis on me, and I had no time for that.
It took me a second to realize Crawford was studying me, smiling.
“What?” I lifted my hand to check my face and hair.
“Nothing. You just look exceptionally relaxed. And beautiful. Like a picture in a magazine.”
The Hideaway Page 13
