The Summer's End

Harper went to the cottage kitchen, which they’d been using during the painting in the main house. She made herself a cream-cheese, tomato, and sprouts sandwich, then carried it out with a glass of almond milk to the front porch of the cottage. She found Mamaw sitting on one of the rockers, reading.

“There you are. Hungry?”

“I already ate. Thank you,” Mamaw replied distractedly.

“What about Dora and Nate? And Carson? Did they eat?”

Mamaw looked up from her reading and pulled off her glasses. “It’s just us chickens, I’m afraid. Dora’s gone out to visit the new school with Nate, and I don’t know where Carson is. She left without a word.”

Harper looked off to the garage. The door was open and inside it was empty. “So Carson took the Blue Bomber?”

“She did.”

“And Dora took her car?”

“Of course.”

“Rats. I need to pick up the lighting fixture I ordered for the kitchen. I guess I’m stuck here.”

“There’s a bicycle in there somewhere.”

“Oh, Mamaw, I can’t very well pick anything up with that old thing.”

“I suppose not.” Mamaw put her glasses back on and returned to her book.

“I can’t be cooped up at the mercy of whether Dora or Carson are home to let me borrow a car. I should just rent one. Where’s the closest place?”

“Mt. Pleasant, I’m sure.”

“I don’t know why I didn’t do this before. I’ll call a cab to take me to the rental office.”

Mamaw lowered her book. “Won’t renting a car for a month or longer cost a small fortune?”

“What choice do I have if I want wheels?”

Mamaw’s expression turned crafty. “You could buy a car.”

“Buy one? What would I do with a car once I leave? I live in Manhattan. The only people who have cars there are commuters, the very rich, or crazy.”

“I suppose your mother would fit into all three categories,” Mamaw said archly. “Doesn’t Georgiana need a car to go to the Hamptons?”

“Mummy has a driver take her everywhere she goes.”

“Of course she does,” Mamaw remarked snippily.

Harper ignored Mamaw’s tone, not wanting her to go off on a Georgiana rant, which she was apt to do with little prompting. “I had a car when I was in college. To get back and forth. But I sold it when I started working in the city. It was expensive to keep up and traffic in the city is beyond ridiculous. I catch the subway or a cab.”

“Well, you can’t do that here.” Mamaw removed her eyeglasses. “As luck would have it,” she began in a tone that usually meant she had something up her sleeve, “I happen to have a friend who is selling a sweet little car. Very sporty. A Jeep, I believe it’s called. I wonder if you didn’t see it? It’s parked on Middle Street with a FOR SALE sign on the windshield.”

“You mean the one close to the fire station? The cream-colored one?”

“The same.”

“It is cute.” Harper remembered the Jeep Wrangler, which looked in good condition. “But it can’t be cheaper than renting.”

“It might be.”

“How much does she want for it?”

Mamaw rose to her feet, a woman on a mission. “I can call and find out. Follow me.”

They went straight inside the cottage to the phone sitting beside the sofa. The cottage still carried the barely perceptible smell of vanilla.

“Mamaw, we should really tackle the cottage. There’s a lot to sort through,” Harper suggested gently.

“Not yet. We have plenty of other things to do.”

“I know. Like the attic. I was up there getting those knobs for the kitchen, and it’s chock-full of stuff. Mamaw, when did you think you were going to sort through all this?”

Mamaw waved her hand, dismissing the subject as one would a pesty gnat. “Later, dear. Later.”

“Procrastination,” Harper muttered softly as she followed Mamaw. She knew full well that when later came, it’d be tinged with panic.

Mamaw sat by the phone and dialed a number. Her eyes sparkled with excitement when she glanced up at Harper. “Hello, Paula?” Mamaw said with a cheery voice. “It’s Marietta.” They exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes before Mamaw cupped the phone and got down to business. “I’m calling about that sweet little car you’re selling. . . . The Jeep, yes. Is it still for sale? . . . It is?” Mamaw winked at Harper. “Can I ask how much you want for it? . . . Uh-huh.” Mamaw made a face. “That much? You’ve had the car for quite a while, haven’t you?”

Looking for clues, Harper watched Mamaw’s animated eyes as she listened.

“Well, thank you for sharing all that, Paula. My granddaughter Harper is in need of a car, nothing too expensive. This might be just the thing if you have a little wiggle room in the price. . . . Why, yes, I think she could come by and take a look at it right now. . . . What was that? You will?” Mamaw nodded at Harper. “Very good, then. We’ll be right over. It may take a few minutes. We’re walking!” She laughed.

“Mamaw, ask her if I can write a check,” Harper whispered at her side.

“Oh, Paula, one more thing. Harper is visiting for the summer, which is why she doesn’t have a car. If things progress, could she write you a personal check? I will personally guarantee it. . . . Oh, thank you, Paula. You’re a good friend. . . . What’s that?” Mamaw’s eyes widened and she gave Harper a thumbs-up. “Why, that’s very generous of you. . . . Yes, it would be nice to clear it off the grass. . . . Yes, it can be an eyesore.” Mamaw hung up and smiled at Harper.

“Well?”

“Let’s hightail it right over. She bought the Jeep years ago on a whim. Bless her heart, she thought her family might have fun driving it. Thing is, no one ever did, and a Jeep is not the style of car that, shall we say, suits a woman of her age and station. So it’s just been sitting in the garage all this time, collecting dust and taxes. She’s eager to get rid of it. She said if you buy it today and take it off her front lawn, she’ll give you the friends-and-family discount!”

Harper and Mamaw walked the six blocks to where the cream-colored Jeep sat parked on the grass on Middle Street. When they drew near, they stopped talking to walk around the car, peer into the windows, and check it out for bumps or rust.