On Folly Beach (25 page)

She studied Emmy closely, making Emmy wonder if Abigail knew about her dead brothers and what the loss had done to her own mother. Maybe being so far from home, Paige had no one to conjure; no one to talk with when the night was at its darkest.

“I know Heath had radiation. If you don’t mind me asking, what was it for?”

Matter-of-factly, Abigail said, “He had a brain tumor. By sheer accident, we found it very early. Heath was riding his bike—without a helmet, of course, because that’s what fool boys do—and fell off and hit his head. He said he felt fine, but I insisted that he go see his doctor, and the doctor ordered a CAT scan of his head. And that’s how they found it. No bigger than a peanut, but there it was.”

“And it was malignant?”

“That it was. They were able to get all of it, but he had to go through radiation to make sure. That was almost two years ago, and to see him now, it’s hard to believe. Except he gained a scar and lost a fiancée.”

Emmy pictured her mother rolling her eyes at what Emmy liked to think was her intellectual inquisitiveness but what Paige had always referred to as just plain nosiness. Pushing away the image of her mother, Emmy asked, “So Heath broke off the engagement when he found out he was ill?”

Abigail shook her head and pursed her lips. “No. Jolene can’t handle serious illness. Her mother died of breast cancer when she was twelve, which is why Lulu says she couldn’t handle Heath being so sick. But sometimes I can’t help but think that it was because Jolene couldn’t take the fact that her very perfect life had reached a bump in the road. Some people are like that, you know: they just fall apart at the first hurdle instead of looking for ways to go around it.”

Come back to me. The note in the bottle was beginning to make a lot more sense to her now. “But he still wants her back?”

Abigail shook her head. “Not anymore. Heath has never been the kind of person who can live with the broken pieces. Even if it’s all glued back together, he’d still see the cracks. I’m not saying that he’s still not just a little bit in love with her, since there has to be a reason why he hasn’t asked for the ring back. It belonged to Maggie, and should stay in the family.” She began absently straightening the racks on the counter, her gaze taking in the package from Emmy’s mother. “Jolene stayed in Atlanta until recently, but has been driving up here just about every other weekend for the last few months to see if Heath will change his mind. It’s exhausting for all of us.”

“Because of her drinking?” Emmy bit her tongue, too late to pull the words back.

“Among other things.” Abigail slid the package closer and lifted the bikini out of the tissue paper. With a lifted eyebrow, she said, “I was going to suggest you buy some new clothes that would keep you cooler, but I never expected this.”

Embarrassed, Emmy explained, “My mother sent it—although I can’t imagine why. I don’t even own a bathing suit, and if I did, it wouldn’t look like that. But she sent this, too.” She pulled out the yellow sundress and held it up. It even appeared to be the right size.

“They’re both nice, Emmy. Don’t say no to the bikini so quickly.” Abigail winked. “You’ve got the figure for it, although it’s hard to tell with all that fabric you’re usually wearing.” Coming behind the counter, Abigail placed her purse in a drawer. “So, what’s on the agenda today?”

Emmy smiled at the older woman, relieved that the subject of Abigail’s retirement hadn’t come up since Emmy had purchased the store. It was the proverbial pink elephant in the room, but neither one of them seemed in a rush to address it and the situation seemed to work out for both. Every other week, Emmy processed the payroll checks, and Abigail smiled and thanked her, and that was all. It was as if they each needed Folly’s Finds for different reasons, and they accepted the status quo for the time being.

Emmy stepped around the counter. “Glad you asked. I’ve been separating our sales into categories, analyzing which areas produce the most volume and which ones don’t. This huge wall here is dedicated to travel and maps. I agree that it’s one of my favorite sections in the store, but it just doesn’t sell enough to dedicate the square footage that we’re giving to it. I would like to pare it down considerably, maybe to the bottom three shelves where we keep the classics, and use the space to introduce an out-of-print book section and maybe even a local interest or local author section, too. We could also use some of the space to increase our children’s area and put in a bigger reading corner for weekly story hours. What do you think?” She held her breath, surprised at how important Abigail’s nod of approval was to her.

Abigail stepped closer to the shelves, her hands on her hips, as she studied the space, her eyes narrowed as if picturing Emmy’s changes in her head. After a long moment, she turned back to Emmy.

“I completely agree. I think the reason why I’ve kept this section so big for so long is because of Maggie. It was her favorite, and I suppose I just kept it because of that. But I was thinking, too. . . .” She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped a finger against her chin. “I’ve got a box of Maggie’s travel books and her favorites somewhere. She wanted to keep them with her when we were packing up before Hugo, and only agreed to let Lulu take them at the last minute, which is why they were separate from the other books. And I’d totally forgotten about them until now.” She was silent for a moment as she contemplated the shelves. “But if I could locate them, we could incorporate them into the new out-of-print section. It could be quite a collection because they’re so old.”

Emmy’s eyes brightened. “And I’ve been thinking about starting a Web site, moving the rare-books portion of the business completely online—maybe even highlighting the old travel books. I’m sure there are collectors who browse the Web looking for that exact thing.” She took a breath. “But first we’ve got to get rid of that cash register and move into the twenty-first century with a computerized system.”

The creases around Abigail’s eyes deepened. “Well, then, looks like we’ve got some work to do. And if it’s all right with you, I’d like to ask Lulu if she wouldn’t mind helping with the design of the children’s corner. She’s got a really good eye for that kind of thing.”

“Hrumph.”

Both women turned toward the back door, where Lulu had apparently been standing for some time. Abigail placed her hand over her heart. “You scared me, Lulu. I didn’t hear you come in.” She turned to Emmy. “Lulu once told me that when she was a young girl, she liked to pretend that she was Nancy Drew, girl detective, and would practice sneaking around undetected.”

Lulu pretended not to hear and stepped forward, her hair in braids and wearing the same shorts and shirt Emmy had seen her wearing the first time they’d met. “Maggie wouldn’t want you to sell her favorite books.”

Abigail tilted her head to the side. “You know, I thought just the opposite. She loved sharing those books when she was alive, loved talking about different places with other people. Don’t you think that making the books available to other readers would be a way of honoring her?”

Emmy moved to stand next to Abigail. “And we wouldn’t have to make them all available for purchase. I’d be more than happy to let you go through them and pick out which ones you’d like to keep. But I agree with Abigail: sharing Maggie’s books would be the best way to honor her memory.”

Lulu’s only answer was a snort. Ignoring Abigail and Emmy, she walked past them to the spot where Emmy had wanted to put the children’s corner. “A story hour would be nice. Maggie had one during the war to keep the children’s minds off of their daddies, who were off fighting. Watching me didn’t leave a lot of time for her to contribute to the war effort, so she did what she could. Gave them books, too, which she couldn’t really afford to do, but that was her way. Still, I don’t think you should go selling her books.”

Abigail said, “This whole argument might be moot if I can’t find that box of books. You had them last, Lulu, but I don’t remember evacuating with them. Do you have any idea what happened to her box of favorites?”

Lulu shrugged and shook her head, her eyes considering the space where Emmy wanted the story hour.

Abigail continued. “Well, I haven’t run across it in twenty years, which makes me think that it might be lost forever.”

Lulu crossed her arms over her chest, her hair and her stature making her look like an old Indian chief, and stuck out her chin. “I suppose I could decorate the children’s corner for you. But it won’t come cheap.”

Emmy frowned. “Of course I would pay you for your work.”

The corner of Lulu’s mouth lifted in what Emmy guessed was a wide grin for her. “I heard what you were saying about the Web site. I’d like you to hire Jolene to do it, and I want a page on there for my bottle trees.”

Emmy blinked several times, not sure she’d heard correctly. “Jolene? As in Heath’s ex-fiancée?”

Abigail put a hand on her arm. “She’s an interior designer in Atlanta, but she’s developed an award-winning interactive Web site for her business. It’s pretty innovative, which you young people think is the best way to be. You can build floor plans and place actual to-scale pieces of furniture that you find on her site to make sure it all fits.”

Emmy forced a smile. “That sounds great and all, but . . . Jolene?”

Lulu stuck her chin out again. “Don’t like her ’cause she’s so pretty, right?”

Crossing her arms tightly, Emmy explained, “It’s not that I like her or don’t like her. I’ve only met her once, and she was drunk. Not a good first impression for a prospective employee.”

“Maybe not,” Lulu continued, “but it seems to me like you need a new project. Folly’s Finds will get along just fine without being messed with, but you won’t.”

“Excuse me?” Emmy frowned at the older woman, half wanting her not to explain herself.

Abigail stepped in. “And Jolene can do the work in Atlanta, too. It might give her something else to focus on besides Heath.”

Emmy looked from Lulu to Abigail, then back again; their matching expressions of hopeful anticipation would have been almost comical if the women weren’t both so serious.

Unable to give them a flat-out no, Emmy stalled for time. “Okay. Fine. I’ll talk to her. I’m not promising anything, though. And if she’s too expensive, it’s a definite no.” She eyed Lulu, who was standing with a decidedly smug expression on her face. “And on one condition.”

Lulu looked wary.

“I want you to be the one to read to the children. You’re about the same height, so they shouldn’t be intimidated.”

Lulu’s expression went from relief to amusement, surprising Emily and making her wonder what Lulu thought she might ask instead. “One more thing, Lulu.” She reached under the counter where she’d stored the copy of The Great Gatsby she’d found in the turret. When her fingers touched the cover, the familiar electric pulse coursed up her arm, surprising her because she hadn’t felt it before. Hesitating only a brief moment, she held the book out to Lulu. “This book is dedicated to Margaret, from Peter. Do you know who Margaret was?”

Lulu took the book and held it for a moment before opening the front cover, then slowly turning to the title page. She smiled softly as she read the inscription, her face softening like clouds after a storm. “Peter was the only one who called her that. She was known to everyone else as Maggie.”

Emmy rubbed her arm, the memory of the static shock still fresh. “And who was Peter? He signed your book, too.”

Lulu began to turn the pages slowly, keeping her head down. “He was Maggie’s friend. He traveled a lot and always brought us gifts—mostly books since we all shared a passion for reading.”

“Was he a soldier?”

“No.” Lulu shook her head. “A civilian. He had asthma and couldn’t do active service. But his father owned a factory out west, so Peter was sent out as a salesperson and to determine wartime needs of both the military and civilians.”

Emmy watched Lulu closely, her years of scrutinizing small scraps of text and searching for relevance piquing her curiosity. “What happened to him?”

Lulu shrugged without looking up. “He . . . left. He was here one day, and gone the next. We never heard from him again. It was the middle of the war. We always assumed he must have been called into active service despite his asthma, or he was working on secret military contracts and couldn’t let us know where he was.”

Emmy lifted her hair off of her neck again, the store suddenly suffocating. “But what about after the war—still no word?”

Lulu slowly shook her head and closed the book before holding it against her ample chest. “No word. I figure he just got on with his life and forgot about us here on Folly.”

Emmy continued to watch Lulu, convinced there was more to the story but just as sure that the other woman was not going to reveal it. She indicated the book. “You can keep that, if you like.”

“Thank you,” Lulu said, her words clipped.

The bell rang as the door opened again, allowing a blast of hot, humid air to invade the store. Emmy turned to see a tall, attractive, and very pregnant woman enter the store. Her hair was a sun-tinted light brown and her eyes only a shade darker, and she looked vaguely familiar. Abigail rushed toward her and enveloped her in a hug. “Lizzie sweetheart, what are you doing out in this heat?”

Grabbing the woman’s arm, Abigail led her toward Emmy. “Emmy, this is my daughter, Elizabeth—yes, after Elizabeth Bennet in Pride and Prejudice. I know you’re probably tired of hearing me talking about her, so here she is in person.”

Lizzie appeared to be about Emmy’s age, and as they shook hands, Emmy couldn’t help but notice how much she resembled her brother, Heath.

As if reading Emmy’s mind, Lizzie said, “Yes, we’re twins. And I’m expecting a girl and boy twins, too, which is why I’m here today.”

She seemed to notice Lulu for the first time, and gave her a huge hug and kiss on the cheek before turning back to Abigail. “Dr. Clemmens said she’s going to induce me on Monday because I’m getting too big, and my ankles are now thicker than my waist. So I decided to come out to Folly and get everybody for dinner at Taco Boy to celebrate my last free Friday night without diapers and spit-up.” She put her arm around Emmy’s shoulders. “Mama’s told me so much about you that I feel as if we’re practically best friends. So please tell me you’ll come, too.”