“Mum’s the word,” Esta says, nodding. “The Cadix Club. That was it. Very posh. Miami could really use a place like that.”
“A palace for a princess. How cliché.” Anna sneers.
“You got Edith all wrong, Anna. There’s a core of iron in her that has kept her standing when many would fold. Don’t sell her short,” Mae says.
“Well, maybe Mickey should have bought her a nice little dress shop, like other rich husbands do.”
“Sometimes you’re so mean, Anna. That’s a rotten thing to say,” Esta says.
“Sometimes the truth hurts, Esta. And why’s she talking to Lola? I can’t see Edith barefoot in a house dress. Ha,” Anna says.
“I think Edith would look good in whatever she was wearing, so there,” Esta says, chin raised.
“And isn’t she a bit long in the tooth to start over? When a woman gets to a certain age, she should live quietly, modestly.” Anna frowns.
Mae stands. “You know, Anna, it’s not like a woman just gives up and dies when she gets to be a certain age. Life is for living regardless of how old you are. Now, I’ll see if I can find Edith and we’ll head back.”
* * * *
“There you are. You’ve been gone so long I thought you’d gotten lost,” Mae says as she comes around a corner.
“On an island, Mae?” Lola says laughing. “We were just commiserating and enjoying the view. Make sure you come back soon, Mrs. Duffy. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
Edith begs off chauffeur duty for the trip back to Miami, too much on her mind to pay attention to the road.
“Edith, Mae says you’re thinking of starting up a club. I think that’s so exciting,” Esta says, bouncing into the back seat.
“Sorry, Edith. It slipped out,” Mae says, getting behind the wheel.
“Thanks, Esta. I’m pretty excited by it, too. Cap’s Place has given me plenty to think about,” Edith says, climbing in beside Esta in the back.
“You could pour a lot of money down the drain. Just look at Donny. Poor schmuck’s broke,” Anna says, climbing into the front seat.
“There is that,” says Edith.
“And what about the rough stuff? Meyer has all kinds of stories of what it takes to keep the doors open. You probably never saw what really went on behind the scenes at that fancy club in Philly.”
“I have a pretty realistic idea. I know how to shoot a gun if I have to. Although I hope it won’t come to that.”
“You can shoot? Wow, that’s crazy. I’ve asked and asked Bugsy to show me how, but he says guns aren’t for gals.”
“I’ve found they can come in quite handy. Anna’s right, sometimes settling things may need more persuasion than talking.”
The passengers in the car are quiet, each lost in their thoughts. Miles roll by with Esta’s gentle snores breaking the silence.
Edith glances at the back of Anna’s nodding head. She meets Mae’s eyes in the rear-view mirror.
“She’s been asleep for a while now,” Mae says quietly so as not to disturb the snoozers.
Edith lowers her voice. “Tell me more about Cap’s Place.”
“Eugene and Lola Knight are good people. And they’ve got a great little gold mine there, especially with all the tourists flocking down to Florida.”
“I bet it was a ton of work setting it up.”
“Al and I have been going there since they opened a few years ago. At the start, they only had the restaurant. They’ve slowly added the rest. The rum running makes them lots of money of course, but even after Prohibition ends, they’ll still do all right. They have a unique idea and a solid reputation.”
“Mae, this is going to sound crazy, but I’ve fallen in love with Cap’s Place,” Edith says, whispering into the back of Mae’s head. “It’s a hidden jewel, tucked away from prying eyes. It’s like a fabulous secret.”
Mae chuckles quietly. “Okay, but a business that’s secret isn’t maybe the best idea, sweetie.”
“And the location. The ocean. The palm trees. I could spend the rest of my life listening to those waves crashing on the beach. Watching the sunsets. Oh, the purple and golds. Did you see those herons? Like they owned the place.”
Mae catches Edith’s eye in the mirror. “Earth to Edith. You’re right, I do think it’s a crazy idea. Cap’s is a one and only. But maybe a little place sort of like it? Not too far from town… I think I know a spot that might fit the bill. The fella who owned it died. His kids are in California and are anxious to get rid of it. You’d get it for a good price.”
Edith grips the back of the front seat, whispering. “Mae, it sounds perfect. When can we go look at it?”
“Hold your horses, Edith. I don’t want you to get your hopes up. From what I’ve heard, ‘Gator Joe’s is pretty rustic. It’s outside of a little town called Coconut Grove—not far down the road from Miami. It’s been empty for a few months and it’s bound to need some work.”
“Ha, don’t we all. ‘Gator Joe’s, eh? I like the sounds of that. Let’s see if it has any potential. Just a look-see, Mae. I promise I won’t jump into anything.”
“Okay, I’ll make the call.” Mae looks at Edith in the mirror. “Here’s to second chances, Edith. And proving that it’s never too late to begin again.”
* * * *
Hours after returning from Cap’s, Edith is in bed but too excited to sleep. Her window is open to the ocean. Soon I could be listening to that crash and roar in my own little place, all snug and safe. A place to call my own. ‘Gator Joe’s. What a great name.
And I deserve a second chance as much as anybody. For me, for Mickey’s memory. Second chances are not given to make things right. Second chances are given to prove we can make things right even after we fall. And Lordy, have I fallen. ‘Gator Joe’s could be my chance to pick myself up and start living again. I haven’t even seen it yet and I’m over-the-moon.
Ha, I bet that’s what Donny thought before he bought Tobacco Road. Sure, I’ve got the cash, especially if I sell the house, but it will only be enough to stake one idea. If I get it wrong, I could be in a tough spot.
Closing her eyes, Edith sees the little ferry boat, and the rough, exotic, chaotic collection of buildings. She imagines the Prince of Wales and Chaplin, even presidents, lunching in the dining room. My dining room. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. Slow down. Don’t jump at the first thing. Wait and see. Although if Cap’s Place were mine, I’d definitely wear shoes.
Chapter 13
“I t’s a heck of a deal,” says Mae.
“The road to bankruptcy is paved with good deals,” Edith snaps back.
Mae tries again. “It’s a waste of time to go look if you’re not interested.”
“I’ve got nothing but time to waste.”
They are on their way to Gator Joes. Part of Edith wants to leap out of Mae’s car and run ahead to get there faster. But there are moments, when Mae is navigating potholes and curves, that she imagines she is capable of physically turning the car around and pointing it back to Miami where it’s safe.
Last night, after she and Mae had made plans to view the property and defunct business, she’d wavered and, for a bit of the evening, she’d decided not to look at Gator Joe’s. To wait. That was the smart thing to do. There was probably something more realistic and practical in Miami.
Each time she had flip-flopped, Edith would scold herself. This could be her big chance she’d lecture—a dumb thing not to go and view the property. It could be the best moment of her life, or the worst. Or maybe nothing at all.
Now, in a circular way, she and Mae swap sides. Repeating each other’s arguments and anxieties dictate Edith’s responses moment by moment.
“It’s a heck of a deal,” Edith says.
“The road to bankruptcy is paved with good deals,” Mae says.
“Nothing but time to waste,’ they say in unison and laugh.
“It’s out in the middle of nowhere. Who will your customers be?” Mae says, dodging a
nother rut in the gravel road.
“We drove out to Cap’s Place. My customers will be like us. And the locals,” says Edith.
Mae glances at the stubborn set of Edith’s face and continues driving.
After another deep sigh from Edith, Mae tries again. “You shouldn’t jump at the first thing dangled. You could be setting yourself up for disappointment.”
“You’re only disappointed by the things you didn’t do. Give it a chance, Mae.”
“This stubbornness is one of your best qualities, Edith, and you’re going to need all of it to build a business from the ground up.”
“Maybe Anna’s right and this is just a pipe dream. A rich woman’s indulgence.”
“You know, I’ve never liked Anna. She lives in this dark, miserable little world, and you know what they say: misery loves company, but you don’t have to accept the invitation,” Mae says as she slows the car. “Here’s the corner for Coconut Grove.”
They drive through the small village, taking in the sights. “Coconut Grove is part of Miami now. The city annexed it a few years back for future expansion during all that craziness over land development.” Mae the tour guide waves her hand. “After we look at Gator Joe’s, why don’t we stop back here for a coffee before heading back to Miami. You’d get a chance to check out those locals you want beating a path to your door.”
Edith rubbernecks out the window.
“Looks like a nice enough place, Mae. Cute little stores.”
Mae nods toward the bank. “Oh, Edith, you’ve got stars in your eyes. A mule tied up to a tree? A horse and wagon pulled up next to a beat-up pickup truck? Yup, tons of charm. I’m not so sure I see you with a big straw hat, baking pies for church socials.”
“Why would I be baking pies?”
“That’s what they do in small towns. That and gossip. If you want privacy, moving to a small town isn’t the way to get it.”
“I’m sure they’re lovely people. Folks in small towns are supposed to be friendly and neighborly. Aren’t they?” Edith asks.
Mae looks at Edith’s white linen suit, her chocolate-brown silk blouse, brown and white spectator pumps, the double strand of pearls. “They are going to eat you for breakfast, doll.”
“This looks like the place.” She pulls down a gravel drive.
“We’re close enough to that small town, I could walk,” Edith says, craning forward to catch the first glimpse of Gator Joe’s.
Trees dripping with wispy gray strands of Spanish moss crowd the road. Through the trees, Edith can just make out a single-story wooden structure that reminds her of the main building of some kind of tourist camp. It’s not in the best of shape: the roof clearly missing a few cedar shingles, a crazy tilt to a chimney.
The car bounces over the ruts and, eventually, Mae stops and pulls the brake.
“This is as close as I dare go. Edith, are you sure?”
Edith, grinning, flings open the car door and strides toward the building.
“Wait, hon. I have a key,” Mae calls after her.
Picking their way down the slight incline through the scrub grass and stones, Edith and Mae approach Gator Joe’s. A long, low building built of pine boards fronted by a wide covered veranda. “Perfect for sitting and gazing at the sea,” Edith says with a sigh.
Like many coastal structures, it’s set a few feet off the ground. “I bet snakes and spiders are living under there. Watch that rotten board, Edith.” Mae frowns.
Edith goes to peer through dirty windows while Mae tries to get the door unlocked. “It’s stuck. Won’t budge.”
Edith tries the doorknob, and it opens with a groan. “Wasn’t locked. They must have known we were coming,” she says, sailing through.
They find themselves in a large room that runs across the whole front of the building. Windows, some with missing glass, let the light in on three sides. Wooden tables stacked with rough wooden chairs are pushed to the edge of the room. Cobwebs drape bottles scattered on the shelves behind a dusty, wooden bar at the back.
One-two-three sharp sneezes from Mae. “Sorry, allergies. Dust and wool.”
Their eyes travel upward, above the shelves along the back wall where, in all its stuffed glory, is an alligator, mouth open, teeth prominent.
“Must be Gator Joe’s mascot,” Mae says, sneezing again.
“It is a bit rough.” Edith’s pulse is racing, and her stomach is riding a roller coaster. “But nothing some elbow grease won’t cure.”
Mae glances at Edith’s carefully manicured nails and shakes her head. She tries the light switch. Nothing.
“Maybe they’ve turned off the power?” Edith asks.
“No, it’ll run off a generator. We’ll need to see about getting it started.”
“What’s behind the bar?” Edith moves off in that direction, Mae following.
“A whole lot of nothing from the looks of it. At least I hope there’s nothing back here.” With a disgusted look, Mae grimaces at the animal tracks in the thick layer of dirt on the shelves below the counter.
Edith rests her hands on the countertop, imagining the place full of thirsty patrons. She’ll smile and joke with them, pour them some good bootleg liquor. There’ll be music, maybe a pool table. Heck, maybe a few slot machines.
Mae shakes her head. “Shouldn’t there be a refrigerator or a cooler or something? How did they keep the beer cold? And ice for the drinks?”
“Maybe the owners took them out when they closed up?” Edith says over her shoulder as she moves off toward a dark hallway beside the bar.
Dusting off her hands, Mae follows. “Maybe. Or maybe the rats carried them off so that the cheese stays chilled.”
On one side of the hallway is the doorway to a kitchen; the doorway on the other side leads to a bedroom. At the end of the corridor are empty, open shelves.
“Let’s check out the bedroom first,” Edith says.
Mae looks around the room and grimaces at the rusted metal bed. “You’ll need to replace that mattress. There’s mold growing on it.” A kerosene lamp sits on a small table. A door hangs askew on a wooden wardrobe.
“Mae, that bed’s just like one my grandma had. She was something. After grandpa died, she kept the family together by selling eggs. She and her hens made as much money from that as the whole rest of the farm brought in. Yes, it’s just like Grandma’s. I’ll paint it white or maybe blue to match a quilt I’ll find in town at one of those cute stores.”
Edith moves to the window, heart swelling, looking out at the beach and the crashing waves. Lining the white sand are stately palm trees, their clacking leaves accompanying the surf. Happiness washes over her. “Let’s go check out the kitchen,” Edith says, heading across the hall.
The kitchen is twice the size of the bedroom and features wooden counters, and some metal cupboards decorated with rust. A table in the middle of the room is piled with boxes of staples: salt, flour, sugar. Mae shudders, sure she can see things moving within the powdery contents. “I think that’s the grand tour, unless you want to check out the barn. And that generator.”
Edith looks around and nods. “It’s going to take a bit of work to get it ready for customers.”
Mae points to the wood cook stove next to the back door. “Customers? You’d be living here, too, don’t forget. Have you ever tried to cook on one of those monsters? I have. And in this heat, it will be unbearable.”
“I have. You forget that I wasn’t always married to Mickey and his money. I had to cook for myself growing up and I’m perfectly capable of doing it again.” Edith turns away from Mae to run her hand over the cast-iron stovetop, grimacing at the dirt that comes away on her fingers. “I’ll probably be a bit rusty, though,” she mutters to herself.
Mae hands her a handkerchief. “Not as rusty as these cupboards, I’ll bet.”
Edith pushes the kitchen screen door that opens to a small porch. Behind the main building is the large barn with a wooden lean-to. “Looks like we’ve got lots of room fo
r storage.”
“I’m not so sure about the facilities, though.” Mae nods toward the outhouse next to the generator’s shed.
“We can fix that.”
Mae shakes her head and wanders into the overgrown back yard.
“I thought I saw the roof was missing a few shingles,” Edith says, glancing up.
She follows Mae around the corner of the building, taking a long look at the view. “Mae, there’s a dock at the water. Come see.”
Waves lap against the dock. Standing on it, Edith surveys her possible kingdom. Closer, the palms Edith had seen before seem twice as tall. Up and over, willowy cypress trees with long gray strands of moss create a soft thick wall along the edge of a mangrove thicket. Down and deep, through the azure water, a starfish lies motionless on the white, sandy bottom. A school of tiny fish dart from under the shade of the dock—a flash of silver and gone.
Edith pulls her way from the hypnotic water, only to be brought back to it; off to one side of the main building, a stream flows into the sea. And she’s looking up again at a small flock of white ibis and snowy egrets who are settling into a treetop rookery; brilliant white splashes against the dark mangroves behind.
Mae shakes her head. “I’m sorry, sweetie. This is a bit more rustic and rural than I thought.”
“It’s perfect, Mae. Just like Cap’s Place. Gator Joe’s is exactly what I am looking for.”
Mae shakes her head. “What are you trying to prove, sweetie? This place is a wreck. What you want is some smart, upscale club in Miami, not this out-of-the way run down shack. Why not find something in the city that doesn’t need so much work?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mae. Can’t you see the potential?” Edith throws her arms wide and grins. “At least there’s a building here. Cap’s Place was just a barge when he floated it onto that sandbar. What do you think Lola said the first time she saw it?”
“The same thing I’m saying right now. How will you ever make money out of this place? It’s crumbling. There’s no electricity. There’s no plumbing. I didn’t even see a bathroom inside. Where will you bathe?”
Gathering Storm Page 8
