One Summer (11 page)

“What are—” She stopped when she saw him smiling.

She muttered, “Shut up.”

They reached Channing and climbed out of the truck. Jack had on jeans and a white T-shirt and sneakers. Mikki was dressed in knee-length cotton shorts and a black T-shirt. Her skin was pale, and her hair was now partially green and purple. His daughter’s supply of hair colors seemed endless.

Mikki looked around as Jack checked his list of supplies.

“Looks like something right out of Nick at Nite,” she said. “Pretty old-fashioned place.”

Jack looked around and had to admit, it was a little like stepping back in time. The streets were wide and clean and the storefronts well maintained. The shops were mostly mom-and-pops. No big-box retailers here, it seemed. A bank, grocery, large hardware store, barber’s shop with a striped pole, restaurants, an ice cream parlor, and a sheriff’s station with one police cruiser parked in front were all in his line of sight. They also saw a public library with a sign out front that advertised free Wi-Fi service inside.

Mikki said, “Well, at least we can get online here.”

People walked by in shorts and sandals; some of the older ladies had scarves around their heads. One elderly gent had on seersucker shorts, white socks, and white sandals. Others rode bikes with wicker baskets attached to the fronts. A few people had dogs on leashes, and some kids ran up and down the street. Everyone was very tanned. There was also a sense of prosperity here. Most of the cars parked along the street were late-model luxury sedans or high-dollar convertibles. Some had out-of-state license plates, but most were from South Carolina. But then Jack noted dented and dirty pickup trucks and old Fords and Dodges rolling down the street. The people in those vehicles looked more like he did, Jack thought. Working stiffs.

They passed a shabby-looking building with a marquee out front that read,
CHANNING PLAY HOUSE
. An old man was sweeping the pavement in front of the double-door entrance. Next to the entrance was a glass ticket window. The man stopped sweeping and greeted them.

“What’s the Channing Play House?” Jack asked.

“Back in its day it was one of the finest regional theater houses in the low country,” said the man, who introduced himself as Ned Parker.

“Regional theater?” said Jack.

Parker nodded. “We had shows come all the way down from New York City to perform. Singers, dancers, actors; we had it all.”

“And now?” Jack said.

“Well, we still have the occasional performance, but it’s nowhere near what it used to be. Too many video games and big-budget movies.” He pointed at Mikki. “From your generation, missy.”

Mikki pointed to the marquee, which read,
CHANNING TALENT COMPETITION
. “What’s that?”

“Hold it every year in August. Folks compete. Any age and any act. Baton, dancing, fiddling, singing. Lot of fun. It’s a hundred-dollar prize and your picture in the
Channing Gazette
.”

They continued on, and Jack and Mikki went to the local, well-stocked hardware store and purchased what they needed. A young man who worked at the store helped Jack load the items. Jack noticed that the boy was giving Mikki far more attention than he was Jack. He stepped between the young man and his daughter. “Some of this stuff won’t fit in my truck bed,” Jack pointed out.

Before the helper could answer, a stocky man in his seventies with snow-white hair strolled out. He was dressed in pleated khaki pants and a dark blue polo shirt with the hardware store’s name and logo on it.

He said, “That’s no problem; we deliver. Can have it out there today. You’re in the Pinckney place, right?”

Jack studied him. “That’s right; how’d you know?”

He put out his hand and smiled. “You beat me to it. I was coming out to see you later today and formally introduce myself. I’m Charles Pinckney, Cecilia’s ‘little’ brother.” He turned to Mikki and extended his hand. “And this must be the celebrated Mikki. Cee wrote me often about you. Let me see, she said you could play a guitar better than anyone she’d ever heard and were as pretty as your mother. I haven’t heard you play, but Cee was spot-on with her assessment of your beauty.”

In spite of herself, Mikki blushed. “Thanks,” she mumbled.

Pinckney looked at the young helper. “Billy, take the rest of these materials and set it up for delivery.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Pinckney.” He hurried off.

Jack said, “Now I remember. You were at the funeral, but we didn’t get a chance to talk.”

Pinckney nodded slowly. “I’m the only one left now. Thought for sure Cee would outlive me, even though she was a lot older.”

“There were ten kids? At least that’s what Lizzie told me.”

“That’s right. Mother and Dad certainly did their duty. I was the closest with Cee. We talked just about every day. Feel like I lost my best friend.”

“She was a fine lady. Really helped me out.”

“She was one of a kind,” agreed Pinckney. “She was duly proud of her heritage. Not many ladies of her generation kept their maiden name, but it wasn’t a question for her. In fact, she told her husband he could change his surname to Pinckney if he wanted, but she wasn’t switching.” He chuckled at the memory.

“Sounds like Cecilia.”

“She thought a lot of you. I suppose that’s why she left you the Palace. She loved that place. Wouldn’t have left it to just anyone.”

“I appreciate that. But it came as a total shock. I knew about the place and all, but I’d never been here.”

“Cee actually talked to me about it. I know she wanted you to have it, and I was all for it. Especially after Lizzie died. She loved the place too, maybe more even than Cee.”

Mikki, who’d been listening closely, added, “If she loved the place so much, why did they move to Cleveland?”

Pinckney said, “I think it had to do with Fred’s work.”

“People don’t buy cars down here?”

“Mikki, knock it off,” said her father.

“So why do you call it the Palace?” asked Mikki.

Pinckney grinned. “It was our mother’s doing. Her mother and father, my grandparents, were quite the Bible thumpers, but she wasn’t. Naming it the Palace made it seem like it was a casino or a saloon or something. It worked. Her parents never visited there, far as I know,” he added with a smile.

“Sounds like my kind of woman,” Mikki said tartly.

Pinckney looked at the materials in Jack’s truck. “So, fixing the place up?”

“Yeah.”

“Cee said you were great with your hands.”

“If you hear of anyone who needs work done, let me know. I’m not in a position where I can just take the summer off. I’ve got a lot of mouths to feed.”

“I’ll put the word out. Good luck with the Palace. Love to see the old place like it used to be.”

“Thanks,” Jack said. “It has great bones, just needs some TLC.”

“Don’t we all,” said Pinckney. “Don’t we all.”

“Friendly people,” remarked Mikki grudgingly as they continued down the street.

“Southern hospitality, they call it. Hey, how about some lunch before we head back?”

“Dad, you don’t have to—”

“It’s just lunch, Mik. Work with me here, will you?”

“Fine,” she said dully.

As they rounded the corner, the Mercedes sports car that had almost caused them to wreck earlier flew around the same corner. The girl’s head was swaying to the music blasting from the car’s radio. The same young man was in the front seat next to her.

Mikki yelled, “Hey!”

“Mik,” said her dad warningly.

But she was already in the street flagging the car down. The girl hit her brakes and snapped, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“First, turn off that crap you think is music,” said Mikki.
The girl made an ugly face, but the guy hit the button and the sounds died.

“
You
cut us off earlier and almost made my dad roll his truck.”

The girl laughed. “Is your hair naturally that color, or did someone throw up on it?”

The guy grimaced. “Tiff, knock it off.”

The girl gave Mikki a condescending look and then laughed derisively. “Okay, whatever. Hey, sweetie-pie, now, why don’t you go on off and play somewhere.” She hit the gas, and they sped off.

“Creeps,” Mikki screamed after them. She glared over at her dad. “Wow. So much for Southern hospitality.”

When she saw the sign a few moments later, her face brightened. “Okay,
that
is the place for lunch.”

Jack looked where she was pointing.

“Little Bit of Love Bar and Grill?” Jack read. “Why is that the place?”

“Come on, Dad, I have to see if this is what I think it is.”

She hurried inside, and Jack followed. There were twenty retro tables with red vinyl covers on them and chairs with yellow vinyl covers. The floor was a crazy pattern of black-and-white square tiles. The walls were covered with posters of famous rock-and-roll bands. Behind the bar, which took up one entire wall, were acoustic, bass, and electric guitars along with various costumes actually worn by band members, all behind Plexiglas. Stenciled on another wall were lyrics from famous rock songs.

Mikki looked like she’d just discovered gold in a tiny coastal town in South Carolina. “I knew it. So cool.”

Most of the tables were occupied, and the bar was doing a brisk business. Waiters and waitresses dressed in jeans and T-shirts were moving trays of food and drink from the kitchen to the patrons. Along another wall were old-fashioned pinball machines, all with a musical theme.

A woman about Jack’s age headed toward them.

“Two for lunch?” the woman said.

Jack caught himself staring at her. She was tall and slim and had dark hair that curved around her long neck. Her eyes were a light blue, and when she smiled Jack felt his own mouth tug upward in response.

“Um, yeah,” said Jack quickly. “Thanks.”

They followed her to a table, and she handed them menus.

“I can take your drink order.”

They told her what they wanted. She wrote it down and said, “Haven’t seen you before.”

Jack introduced himself and Mikki.

“I’m Jenna Fontaine,” she said. “I own this pile of bricks.”

“As soon as I saw the name, I just knew,” said Mikki.

Jack looked at her. “What do you mean?”

Jenna and Mikki exchanged smiles. Mikki said, “Def Leppard, am I right?”

“You know your rock-and-roll lyrics.” When Jack still looked puzzled, Jenna said, “ ‘Little Bit of Love’ is a Def Leppard song.”

“So you’re into music?” said Jack.

“Yes, but not nearly as much as that guy.”

She pointed to a tall, lanky teenager with long black hair who was setting plates full of food down at the next table.

“That’s Liam, my son. Now, he’s the musical madman in
the family. When I decided to chuck the life of a big-city lawyer and move here and open a restaurant, the theme and décor were his idea.”

Mikki eyed Liam and then turned back to her. “Does he play?”

“Just about any instrument there is. But drums are his specialty.”

Mikki’s eyes glittered with excitement for the first time since stepping foot in South Carolina.

“I take it you’re into music too,” said Jenna.

“You could say that,” said Mikki modestly.

“So where y’all staying?”

“My great-grandma left us a house.”

“Wow. That’s pretty impressive. Well, enjoy your lunch.”

She walked off, and Jack looked down at the menu but wasn’t really seeing it.

Mikki finally touched his hand, and he jumped.

“Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“She’s really pretty.”

“Is she? I didn’t notice.”

“Dad, it’s—”

“Mik, let’s just get something to eat and get back, okay? I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

After Mikki took refuge behind her menu, Jack snatched a glance at Jenna as she seated another party. Then he looked away.

It took several days of backbreaking work to thoroughly clean the house, and all the kids pitched in, although Mikki did so grudgingly and with a good deal of complaining. “Is this how the summer’s going to go?” she said to her dad as she scrubbed down the kitchen sinks. “Me being a slave laborer?”

“If you think this is tough, join the army. There you clean the floor with a toothbrush, and it only takes about twelve hours, until they tell you to do it again,” Jack told her. She glared at him darkly as he walked off with a load of trash.

They next attacked the outside, cleaning out flower beds, pruning bushes, clearing away dead plants, and power washing the decks and the outdoor furniture. The rest of the acreage was beyond their capability—and Jack’s wallet.

With much tugging and cursing, Jack and Sammy were finally able to get the door to the lighthouse open. As Jack stepped into the small foyer, dust and disturbed spiderwebs floated through the air. He coughed and looked around.

The rickety steps looked in jeopardy of falling down. He
looked through some of the boxes stacked against the wall. There was mostly junk in them, though he did find a pair of tiny pink sneakers that had the name “Lizzie” written on the sides in faded Magic Marker. He held them reverently and imagined his wife as a little girl prancing around in them on the beach. He looked through some other boxes and found a few things of interest. He carried them up to his bedroom.

They all trooped down to the beach that afternoon and ate lunch, letting the sun and wind wash over them. After the meal was over, Jack looked at Mikki, grinned, and said, “Let me show you something.”

“What?”

“Stand up.”

She did so.

“Okay, grab me.”

“What?”

“Just come at me and grab me.”

Mikki looked around, embarrassed, at the others. “Dad, what are you doing?”

“Just grab me.”

“Fine.” She rushed forward and grabbed him, or tried to. The next instant she was facedown on the sand.

She lay there for a second, stunned, then rolled over and scowled up at him. “Gee, Dad, thanks. That was really a great closer after a picnic on the beach.”

He helped her up. “Let’s do it again, and I’ll show you exactly what I did.”

“Why?” she asked. “Is this like National Kick Your Daughter’s Butt Day and nobody told me?”