A Lowcountry Wedding (21 page)

“I’m freezing,” Nate announced, slipping his hands under his arms.

“Me, too,” agreed Carson. “Come on, Thor. Back home,” she ordered with a hand gesture.

The dog shot off and ran, nose to the ground, blazing the trail. They followed him down the dock toward the house, their footsteps echoing on the wood.

“Now let’s get inside and warm up. Your aunt Harper’s going
to boil over if I don’t go shopping with her this afternoon.” Carson rolled her eyes at Blake. “More wedding stuff.”

“That reminds me. My mother wants to schedule a time for you to see the Legare Waring House.”

This was the historic plantation home of his ancestors. Held in family hands for generations, in recent years it had been sold, and now, with the stately house, the impressive line of live oaks and lush gardens and its long Charleston history, the plantation was used for events, such as weddings. Blake’s family members had been married there for generations. This beautiful location was where Carson and Blake would be married.

“I’ll call her today,” Carson promised.

Blake wrapped her in his arms and looked down into her eyes. His own were shining. “We’re getting married,” he said, and stooped to kiss her, quick and sweet and proper.

Granny James arrived with the spring weather. The long stretch of gray skies and rain ended at last. The day opened with a glorious sunrise of surreal pinks and blues that chased away the doldrums. Frowns turned upward as people raised their faces to the warm sunlight, removed windbreakers, and headed out of doors.

The birds came out as well. In the trees winter-resident mockingbirds, thrashers, and cardinals tweeted out territorial tunes while woodpeckers drummed, heralding breeding season. Higher in the sky the ospreys were already busy repairing their large nests. Small ruby-throated hummingbirds were brilliant flashes in the garden, and on the beach assorted gulls were returning from Florida. Love songs were in the air.

Harper was a whirling dervish in preparations for Granny James’s arrival. She wanted the house to look its best. She’d raked every inch of the property, planted her spring garden, and refilled the hanging baskets of ferns along the front porch. Inside the house the aromas of oil soap on the floors and lemon-scented furniture polish competed with the sweetness of the fresh flowers arranged in vases in every room. Even Thor had a good scrubbing and was not allowed to roll around in the pluff mud.

Taylor’s horn honked lightly as he pulled into the circular driveway of Sea Breeze. Harper stood at the front window and knew a moment of panic. This was her grandmother’s first visit since last September when she had helped Harper purchase the house. Harper felt her responsibilities keenly. She was considered by her family to be efficient, organized, and tasteful. She wanted everything to be perfect for her first family gathering as mistress of Sea Breeze. Yes, Mamaw and her sisters had helped, but she was the hostess. Her emotions were running high; she was pregnant, after all. Taylor kept telling her to relax but wasn’t that just like a man? What did he understand? When someone saw a well-organized home they complimented the wife. When the house was a mess, well, they pitied the husband. And who would be more critical than Granny James? Her grandmother excelled at running a large estate. Even if she did have a staff that carried most of the weight. Harper wrung her hands and stared out the window at the car. She saw Taylor coming around the car to open Granny’s door. Oh God, she wasn’t ready.

Mamaw floated through the living room in a cloud of perfume. She was wearing a pale blue dress with a brilliantly colored
Ferragamo scarf around her neck that lent a vibrancy to her appearance. She had dressed carefully for Imogene’s arrival, like any queen would a foreign dignitary. For all their friendliness post Harper and Taylor’s engagement, there was still the whiff of competition between the two ladies.

“Come, darlin’, they’re here!” Mamaw exclaimed, waving her fingers to hurry Harper along.

Harper placed a practiced smile on her face and followed Mamaw to the front door. When they opened it they saw Taylor helping Granny James down the high truck step.

Granny James was dressed for travel. Her tan Burberry trench coat, dark slacks, and sensible shoes were simple but smart. Harper noted that her hair was shorter, a blunt cut tucked around the ears. Younger in style, she thought, though Granny looked pale with fatigue. Granny James appeared a bit disconcerted from the effort of getting out of the truck. She adjusted the belt of her coat with crisp movements as she looked around to get her bearings. Harper knew a pang of guilt since she didn’t go with Taylor to pick her up, but she had fallen behind in dinner preparations. She could only imagine Granny James’s reaction when she saw Taylor pull up with his pickup truck.

Harper rushed down the stairs. “Granny James!”

The moment Granny James spotted Harper her face blossomed with a wide smile of adoration. “There she is! Come here, my darling bride!” Granny James exclaimed. “I’ve traveled a long way for this moment.”

Harper ran the distance into her grandmother’s arms. Catching her scent, joy blanketed Harper and her earlier worries dissipated. She felt enveloped in her grandmother’s love. “Oh, Granny, I’m so glad you’re here.”

When they separated there were the usual polite questions and complaints about the trip, enough for each of them to catch their breaths and regain composure. Granny James looked around the compound, her eyes bright. She sighed with pleasure when her gaze rested on the cottage.

“Welcome, Imogene!” Mamaw called from the front porch, where she’d waited to give the two a moment alone.

“Marietta!”

Mamaw began her trek down the stairs to greet her. “Come in and put your feet up! I have a pot of tea waiting especially for you. You must be exhausted after that long flight.” She came walking across the gravel, arms extended in welcome. Granny James stepped forward to receive a warm hug of welcome and a kiss on the cheek.

“It’s so good to be back,” Granny James said. “You don’t know how many times I’ve thought of Sea Breeze in the past months.” A flutter of sadness shadowed her eyes. “But I’m here now.”

“As we thought of you,” Mamaw replied. “Lord, we have so much to catch up on. And plan. And celebrate. I hear wedding bells!”

“Isn’t it all too exciting?” Granny James replied, though her tone was weary. “I simply must get out of these travel clothes first.” She turned to Taylor. “Thank you for hoisting all my luggage. It’s at moments like these I’m delighted my granddaughter is marrying such a strapping young man.”

Peering into the rear, Harper saw a steamer trunk and two large suitcases.

“Good Lord, Granny, what did you bring?”

“Only the necessities, dear. We’re having a wedding, after
all. Parties and dinners. One can’t be too prepared.” She lifted a white leather bag with a heavy, locked clasp. “I carry my jewels in my hands, of course. One can’t be too careful.” She sniffed and said as an aside, “My other things will come along at a later date.”

“Other things?”

“Why yes, dear. We’ll talk about that later,” she said in a hushed voice before turning to Marietta with a beaming smile.

Taylor headed toward the front stairs with the two suitcases.

“Oh no, dear,” Imogene called after him. “I’m staying in the cottage.” She turned to Harper. “Isn’t that right, dear?”

Harper froze like a deer in the headlights. “Uh, no. I’ve put you in the main house. Closer to me.”

“Oh.” Granny James’s smile fell. “But I do love my little cottage.”

Harper exchanged a quick glance with Mamaw.

Mamaw spoke up. “Actually, Imogene, I’ve moved into the cottage. To give the young ones space of their own.”

“You’ve moved into
my
cottage?” Imogene asked with no doubt of her displeasure.

“I wasn’t aware that it was your cottage,” Marietta replied, taken aback.

“But of course. It was understood. I said I’d be back.”

“And so you are,” Marietta replied evenly. “And you have a lovely room for your visit.”

Harper watched the exchange, felt the sudden chill, and worse, saw the old competition between the Grande Dames spark again.

“My darling grandmothers,” Harper intervened. “We are all here, together. That is what matters. Not where one sleeps.”

Pink blotches appeared on Granny James’s cheeks as she pinched her lips tight.

“Let’s not spoil your homecoming with arguments of where you’re going to sleep. It’s only for a short while. And besides,” Harper added, slipping her hand under Granny James’s arm with a gentle squeeze. “I want you close to me, Granny. So we can have lots and lots of chats about the wedding.”

Granny James smiled weakly and patted her granddaughter’s hand. She really had no choice but to appease the bride after such a tender declaration.

Harper guided Granny James to the front stairs. “You’ll love the room I’ve prepared for you. And it’s closer to the pool. I heated it already. Extravagant, perhaps, but if I know you, you’ll be swimming every day.”

Imogene cast a lingering glimpse at the cottage, but her final gaze rested on Marietta—and her eyes narrowed.

Men get caught up in the wedding whoopla, too. We women tend to forget that. They don’t talk much about it, pretend they don’t notice, but they do. They’re like little children—big ears that don’t miss a word.

W
ell, here we are,” Dora said, pushing open the door.

Atticus followed Dora into the three-bedroom condominium on Isle of Palms she was showing to him for rent. He’d decided to extend his stay and asked Dora to help him find a convenient place for short-term rental. He’d had enough of hotel living. Dora was thrilled to help, calling him one of her very first clients.

He stepped onto the tile of the condo into the great, wide-open room with the veranda beyond it. Two halls went from left to right but he was struck immediately by the wall of windows overlooking the ocean. The brilliant blue became its
own glittering world and called to him. Ignoring the rest of the condo, he went directly to the sliding doors and pushed them open.

Atticus stretched his arms out to rest on the iron railing of the veranda. Before him the Atlantic Ocean filled the horizon as tender a blue as the sky. He breathed deep the cool, crisp air. “Now this is more like it.”

“Nothing like oceanfront.” Dora joined him on the veranda. “It’s pricey, but we’re moving into spring season. By summer, whew.” She lifted her hand for emphasis. “The rents go sky-high. You’re also getting a good deal,” she told him sotto voce. “This happens to be my first listing. The owner wants to sell so he only wants short-term rentals.”

Atticus watched the waves roll in, soft and gentle, to the delight of the two lone male swimmers standing knee-deep in the chilly water. Atticus had to laugh. “Look at them. It is so damn cold out there, but those two young bucks are hell-bent to get their money’s worth and go surfing.” Behind them, two girls, shivering in bikinis, egged them on. “They’re probably trying to impress the ladies.”

“Coming from the North, it feels warm to them.”

Atticus noted a volleyball net farther up the beach with more young guys battling in a game and more girls shivering in bikinis watching. He wondered if the volleyball net was open to the public.

“We call this area Front Beach. Everything you need is here. Shops, restaurants. And you’re close to Sea Breeze.”

Clusters of people were on the beach, some in swimsuits, some in jackets. He pointed to a young family walking along the shoreline gathering shells. They looked like a family of
ducks, Mama carrying the bucket and leading the three little ones, Dad bringing up the rear. “Families come, too?”

“Oh, Lord, yes. We’re a family beach.” Dora turned to look at Atticus. “Are you close to your family?”

The truth that she was his family lay at the tip of his tongue. It would be so easy to tell her the truth now, he thought. So natural. But he’d promised Marietta he would wait. “Both my parents are dead.”

“Oh, no! I’m so sorry.”

“I was close to my mother. But to be fair, both my parents provided me with a safe home, a great education, and supported my ambitions.” He smiled and, crossing his arms akimbo, leaned against the railing. “Even if neither understood my love of sports. They were more academic,” he explained, remembering their efforts to show up and cheer at his games. “My mother didn’t speak sports. I’m pretty sure she didn’t know the difference between a basketball net and a hockey net.” He shrugged. “And then they were gone.”