Her pile of hair wobbled as she shook her head. “That’s a damn shame.”
“Agreed,” Leala added.
Leala was forever harping about my lifestyle and would love for me to find a nice guy to settle down with, preferably here in Sugarberry Cove near her, in a house with a picket fence, a couple of pets, and, of course, babies. Lots of babies. She was worse than any overbearing mama out there.
“You’ll have to settle for details from Leala,” I said.
The light didn’t quite reach Leala’s eyes as she smiled. “I’m a boring old married lady now.”
Leala wouldn’t have told, no matter what. She wasn’t a kiss-and-tell kind of person. But as she spoke, I noticed tightness in her tone again, and it made me look at her more closely. Sadness lurked in her eyes, and suddenly I was worried that she might be dealing with trouble at home. I wanted to ask but knew she would brush off any questions. She’d always tried to hide her pain, even when we were little. She was forever having her tender heart broken—mostly by Mama—so over the years she’d built a high wall around her heart to protect it, but those walls didn’t seem to be helping her now. I wished it were easier to talk to her, or for her to open up. We’d been close once, but then she went off to college, met Connor, and forgot I existed until the night I drowned.
Teddy laughed, a joyous, throaty sound. “The grass is always greener, ain’t it? I wouldn’t mind being married—I’m just sayin’.” She walked back to the reception desk and pulled a credit card from a slim billfold. “You need to catch me up on A Southern Hankerin’, Sadie. You know I’m a big fan. That video you did on the young woman from Atlanta and AuntMama’s scrambled egg recipe? Oh my heart! I cried for hours.”
Leala’s eyebrows dipped low, and there was a hint of disapproval on a pinched face as she placed the credit card on an old-fashioned imprinter and slid the bar across carbon paper. “AuntMama? Is that really someone’s name?”
Teddy nodded. “It’s all explained in the video. I don’t know how you missed it, but you must go back and watch it. You won’t be sorry you did.”
Leala passed the carbon paper across the counter for Teddy to sign. “Hmm, yes. I’ll do that.”
She said it in a way that told me she wasn’t going to do anything of the kind, and I tried not to be offended. She didn’t understand my career, since my job wasn’t remotely close to traditional nine-to-five work. Leala, who used to be a healthcare accountant before she had Tucker, was as by the book as people came. Numbers made sense to her—creativity did not. To her, I was wasting my time, whiling away life making fun little videos. And while I had to admit mine wasn’t the most conventional of careers, it was a career. One tougher than it looked. I worked hard to make sure the stories I shared were memorable, heartfelt, and comforting.
Teddy signed and pushed the paper back toward Leala. “Not that I don’t love seeing you both, because I do, Lord knows I do, but what’re you both doing here? And … what’re all these flowers for? Oh good heavens, did someone die? Please tell me no one died.”
“No one died,” Leala said in a slightly less bitter tone than she’d used with Mama a few moments ago. Metal clanked together as she grabbed two keys from a drawer in the desk. “Mother’s a bit under the weather, and Sadie and I are here to make sure she rests this weekend.”
Teddy gasped. “Under the weather? It must be serious for you both to be here.”
She emphasized the word both, and I knew she meant me. My presence. Guilt swelled, making me suddenly question the choice I’d made to stay away.
Leala said, “Mother’s been dealing with a cardiac situation these past couple of days.”
“Situation?” Teddy pressed a hand to her chest. “What does that mean precisely?”
Since Leala was insistent on downplaying the matter, I spoke up. “Mama’s fine, just fine, but she had a minor heart attack on Wednesday. She came home from the hospital today. She’s upstairs, napping.”
“Oh my word! Susannah? A heart attack? It doesn’t seem possible. This is shocking. I’m shocked. Is she taking visitors?”
Leala glanced upward with a look of resignation. “I’m not sure we could stop her—you know how she is. But the doctor wants her to rest as much as possible.”
“Of course. And I’ll do whatever I can to help out around here,” Teddy said. “Just say the word.”
“That’s real kind of you,” Leala said, “but you’re on vacation. It’s your time to rest and relax. Uncle Camp, Sadie, and I can handle everything until Mama’s on her feet again, which you know won’t be long.”
It had been kind of Teddy to offer, especially since she saved her pennies all year to be able to afford this vacation—and loved being catered to, rather than being the one doing the catering. But the offer hadn’t been surprising. That was Teddy’s nature—to jump in and lend a hand when need be.
Voices carried in as Uncle Camp and Teddy’s grandniece strolled up the ramp on the side of the front porch, talking about the kayaks, canoes, and stand-up paddleboards the cottage had available.
Teddy whispered, “Here comes Bree. She’s from up in Indiana, the granddaughter of my sister, Bernice, God rest her soul. Bree’s been staying with me this summer but heads back north in just two weeks. She’s terribly shy until she gets to know you, so be forewarned. She just turned eighteen last month and has already known so much tragedy. Only last year her m—” She abruptly cut herself off. “Bree! Come meet Sadie Way and Leala Clare. Ladies, this is Bree Bynum, my grandniece.”
The small brown-and-cream dog raced through the door ahead of the young woman, who approached slowly, her small steps so light her footfalls didn’t make a sound on the pine floorboards. As Teddy finished the introductions, Bree kept her head down, her brown hair hanging nearly to her waist. She didn’t offer to shake hands and only murmured her hellos.
Teddy gave a small, sad smile as she watched Bree and then redirected her attention to the dog. “And this furry little imp is Nigel. Don’t be fooled by his prim-and-proper name. He’s a scamp.”
As he sniffed my shoes, I bent to pat his head. His coloring oddly reminded me of a snickerdoodle, blondish with a touch of cinnamon. “Nigel is adorable.”
Leala bent down, too, and Nigel licked her chin. She laughed, and a small spark of happiness zipped through me at the sound. Leala had been so serious lately—more serious than normal, and it was nice to see a genuine moment of joy.
When I stood up again, I noticed that Bree’s gaze lifted along with me, her eyes focused on my hair. For once I was grateful for the attention, because she hadn’t seen the shock in my eyes when I saw the thin scars that zigged, then zagged across her left cheek. They looked to be fairly recent wounds, glowing slightly red against her fair skin. There was another smaller scar on her forehead that looked to be about the same age as the others.
Swallowing hard, I tried not to stare … or wonder at how the scars had come to be. Tragedy, Teddy had said, and my heart suddenly hurt for her.
Uncle Camp gave a gentle cough and scratched the snow-white beard that covered a deep dimple in his chin. Unruly salt-and-pepper eyebrows slid upward, and his forehead wrinkled as he said, “Are Miss Teddy, Miss Bree, and the little imp staying in rooms four and five?”
Uncle Camp’s genial smile hid any questions he had of the scars as well, but he was exceedingly good at keeping his thoughts to himself and always had been. It was part of his kind, levelheaded nature.
Leala was pale as she looked away from Bree, nodded, and handed him the keys. “I can help with the bags, Uncle Camp.”
“I’ve got them just fine; don’t you worry none, darlin’.” Gray-blue eyes twinkled, and he wiped his bald head with a red bandana before picking up two of the suitcases.
Nigel tried to follow him up the stairs, but his leash stretched only so far, so he circled back and sat at Bree’s feet, his tiny pink tongue lolling. Bree still hadn’t torn her gaze from my head, and I tried not to fidget under the scrutiny. Now
that the shock of seeing her scars had waned, I noticed she had the same green-colored eyes as Teddy, but that was where their similarity ended. Bree had wide-set eyes, thick eyebrows, a long thin nose, high cheekbones dotted with pale freckles, and full lips. She wasn’t wearing a lick of makeup other than some lip balm, and there was a depth of sadness hovering in the shadows of her eyes.
Finally, she said to me, “Your hair. It’s awesome. Is that glitter?”
Teddy smiled as she, too, turned her attention on me. “That’s not glitter. It’s lake magic.”
Bree’s dark eyebrows dipped together as she frowned. “But seriously.”
Leala said, “Our mother says it’s starlight. Whatever it is, I think it’s gorgeous.”
There was no snark in the comment, which made me look her way. She was staring at me with a pensive look on her face.
Bree looked like she wanted to touch my ponytail. “It’s just so different. How do you get it that way?”
Heat climbed my throat. “I can’t take any credit for it. It’s unnaturally natural.”
Bree shifted her attention from my hair to my face. “I don’t know what that means.”
I let out a weary sigh. “It’s a long story.”
She seemed to recognize that I didn’t want to talk about it. “Well, it’s the prettiest hair I’ve ever seen.”
“Thanks.” My cheeks burned with embarrassment.
Leala finally took mercy on me and said to our guests, “Let me show you to your rooms, get you settled. Do you need help with reservations for dinner in town?”
Teddy adjusted the strap of her backpack purse. “Leala, if you can get us into Anna Ruth’s, I’ll love you forever. Forever and ever. Bree, Anna Ruth’s has some of the best mac and cheese you’ve ever tasted, besides your mama’s, but nothing compares to that. You have to try it.”
Bree shifted on her feet. “All right, but can we get it to go?”
Teddy shook her head. “Nope. It has to be fresh from the oven, piping hot. You’ve got to trust me on this. That mac and cheese is heaven on earth.”
Bree didn’t look swayed, and my heart hurt for her. I knew what it was like to have people stare at my hair in restaurants. Openly. Rudely. I could only imagine the rubbernecking when it came to her scars, never mind the questions that she probably faced day in and day out.
As her head dropped again, Bree’s hair fell forward, hiding her face. “You know, I’m not really hungry after all. Maybe we can do mac and cheese another day. I’m … tired.” Nigel rose up to put his paws on her leg.
Teddy sighed softly, sympathetically, apparently realizing this conversation wasn’t about hunger at all.
Unable to tolerate the ballooning emotions, I quickly said, “I was going to make homemade pizza for dinner tonight.” A lie, but no one needed to know that. “There will be plenty for everyone if you just want to stay here at the cottage and rest up. Travel days can be exhausting. What do you say?”
Surprisingly, it was Leala who chimed in first. “I think it’s a great idea. We can even eat outside, if you want. It looks like it’s going to be a gorgeous night, and there’s a great lake view from the patio.”
Bree’s chin came up a notch. “I like pizza.”
Teddy threw her hands in the air and laughed. “I know when I’m outnumbered. Pizza it is.” She put an arm around Bree and glanced at Leala. “I don’t suppose Susannah’s overcome her Luddite tendencies and installed Wi-Fi since the last time I was here?”
“I’m sorry.” Leala shook her head. “No Wi-Fi. No internet at all. We have good cell coverage if you have a generous data plan, and the library has free Wi-Fi, as do a few of the shops in town.”
At this news, I stifled a groan. I had planned to upload a Southern Hankerin’ video this weekend after I finished its editing, and Mama not having internet was going to throw off my schedule. She’d always shied away from technology, preferring a simpler way of life.
“I can hear Susannah now,” Teddy said, and mimicked, “‘Unplugging is good for the soul. Turn off to tune in.’”
Leala looked strangely pained at the spot-on imitation as she guided them toward the stairs. “She’s certainly set in her ways.”
As Teddy, Bree, and Nigel headed up the steps, Leala lingered behind a moment and pulled the list she’d written earlier in Mama’s room out of her pocket and held it out to me. “While I get Teddy and Bree settled, can you run to Lockhart’s real quick? The store’s open till nine, but the pharmacy closes at five.”
I did not want to go into town and most definitely did not want to go to Lockhart’s. Not now, not ever again. “How about I get them settled and you run to Lockhart’s?”
“Sadie.”
“Leala.”
As she stared me down, I took a long look into her eyes and saw tears gathering along the lashes. I snatched the list and curled it in my fist. “Fine.”
Her shoulders slumped with relief. “Thank you. And could you get me a pint of ice cream while you’re there? Something chocolatey with extra chocolate.”
“Everything okay with you, Leala?” I asked, hoping she’d open up.
“Just stressed. With Mother, you know.”
“Only Mother? Not, by any chance, Connor?”
She stiffened and wouldn’t look me in the eye. “We’re fine.”
So her marriage was in trouble. Dang. Hindsight had greatly softened the hard feelings I’d once had toward Connor, and I was now truly embarrassed by the way I’d treated him when I was a teenager. Through the years, whenever we were all together, it was easy to see the love he and Leala shared, so I wondered now what was causing her heartache and wished again that she was easier to talk to.
I ran a finger over a hole in the list, where earlier her pen had gouged the paper. “You never were a very good liar.”
“The pharmacy closes in twenty minutes.” Spinning around, she started up the steps, rushing to catch up to Teddy and Bree, who’d already disappeared down the second-floor hallway.
I called after her. “It was vanilla ice cream you wanted, right?”
She paused for a moment, then slowly turned around with a flash of a genuine smile on her face before continuing on her way.
I watched her climb and decided I’d go to every store in town if I had to in order to find triple-fudge ice cream. Because suddenly I wanted nothing more than to see Leala smile. Or maybe even hear her laugh again.
* * *
A master of disguise I wasn’t, but I thought I’d done a fair job of hiding my hair beneath one of Mama’s floppy sun hats. Between that and an oversized pair of sunglasses, I was as anonymous as I could be in my old hometown.
Late afternoon sun blazed like fire onto a dark ribbon of asphalt, lifting iridescent waves into the thick air as I biked into town, borrowing one of the Schwinns Mama kept on hand for the guests. The bike was brilliant blue with a fraying, dingy white wicker basket, and I’d had to fill flat tires with air before I left. As I steered toward the shops, I couldn’t ignore the thought that something was terribly wrong at the cottage. Yes, the décor was out of date and shabby, but it wasn’t like Mama and Uncle Camp to ignore small jobs like filling bike tires and keeping windows clean. It was obvious the cottage’s upkeep had become too much for them.
Because of Mama’s heart attack, it seemed like a good time to hire on more help, though I knew any conversation about the cottage would have to be broached carefully. Mama was fiercely independent, hated asking for help, refused handouts, and was committed to doing as much as she could with as little help as possible.
I kept to the boundaries of the bike lane and used the crosswalks at the traffic circle, catching a glimpse of the shimmery lake on my left, down a narrow lane that led to the public beach and marina. I glanced quickly away from the water before I made a detour for an up-close-and-personal look and continued along on Hawker Street, named for the vendors who hawked wares to visiting beachgoers before the town had been built up.
The cov
e along this shoreline had long been a vacation spot, with its picturesque location, clear water, and sandy beach, but it wasn’t until the 1960s that people had started building here, putting up small summer cottages and camps. Later, most of those places were either remodeled or knocked down and spacious lake homes went up. The town was born. A business district rose up around the cove and fully embraced its lakeside location. Brick facades had been painted beachy soft blues, creams, and light greens, but they’d been sandblasted for a rustic, cozy effect.
Shops and restaurants lined both sides of the street, most with wide pastel awnings shading window displays and doors. Despite the heat, the Landing was chock-full of tourists who meandered from shop to shop, all slightly pink in the cheeks and their arms full of bags. It was easy to spot the people who weren’t originally from the South, the ones wilting in the heat like drooping sunflowers. Cars rolled slowly past, and bits of music floated from open windows. Every slanted parking spot was full and the town hummed with an undercurrent of happiness. Sugarberry Cove had a lived-in, loved look about it, welcoming and comfortable.
I rolled to a stop in front of Lockhart’s and parked the bike in a rack on the left side of double wooden doors propped open with small doorstops in the shape of a loon. Coolness and the sweet scent of waffle cones invited me inside. I picked up a wooden hand basket and hurried toward the pharmacy counter at the back of the shop before it closed up for the day, praying the whole way that no Lockhart was on duty. Especially Will.
Will Lockhart and I had known each other our whole lives, being the same age and in the same schools, but we really hadn’t become friends until tenth-grade chemistry class when we were paired as lab partners. On the first day of class, I’d tripped over my feet as I walked toward our lab bench, and Will had reached out to catch me. Our fingers had entwined, his dark, mine light, and our hands had fit together perfectly, two puzzle pieces finally joined together. “A Will and a Way,” our chem teacher had joked when she took attendance, and it had suddenly felt as though we had been destined to be paired together. We were virtually inseparable after that, becoming best friends—and I’d been desperately in need of one after Leala all but abandoned me when she went to college. Then, a few years later, not long after a night at a lake surrounded by water lanterns, Will abandoned me, too, leaving me confused and heartbroken.
The Lights of Sugarberry Cove Page 4
