The Summer's End

“There’s no good looking for someone or something to blame. Life is not that simple.”

“My parents left me with a tidy sum and Edward’s parents did as well. They gave us Sea Breeze. What am I leaving my girls? Nothing. Nothing to help them get a start in life.” Her voice trembled. “My summer girls. Winter is coming and I’ve let my girls down.”

“You have to be gentler on yourself,” he said consolingly. “You and I, we’ve reached what they call the golden age.”

Mamaw huffed. “My gold seems a bit tarnished.”

“Nonsense. You’re well prepared for the next step, despite your worry. You’ve made arrangements, you’re selling your house. You aren’t a burden to your granddaughters. You should be proud of that fact.”

Mamaw didn’t reply.

“The fact is, at our age, it isn’t wise to live alone. Marietta, this is the time in our lives when we have to take stock of our strengths and accept our limitations.”

“You’re not selling.”

“Not yet. Though I admit, I’m wrestling with the same chestnut you are.” He let his gaze roam his property. “What am I going to do with this place? It’s a lot to take care of. My children rarely visit anymore. And I confess, I’ve been lonely.” He patted her hand. “I might very well join you at that retirement community.”

Marietta straightened. “Really?”

He smiled and nudged her knee with his. “We could be quite the item.”

She laughed and coyly slapped his hand.

Later that afternoon the ladies were all restless as they waited around Sea Breeze in agonized suspense after the showing.

They didn’t have to wait long.

A long, black BMW pulled into Sea Breeze. It circled the great oak and came to a stop.

“That’s Devlin,” Harper said to Mamaw, peering out the front window.

Harper watched anxiously as Mamaw set aside her needlepoint with studied calm and slowly rose from the upholstered chair. She smoothed out her coral-colored tunic top and brought her hand to her hair to push back a few stray wisps.

She opened the front door and Devlin walked in. He looked polished in his work clothes—pressed khaki pants and an ironed yellow polo shirt almost the same color as his hair. He was carrying a slim black leather briefcase.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Muir.” He flashed her his megawatt smile that made his blue eyes shine against his dark tan.

Harper cocked her head. Devlin usually called Mamaw Miss Marietta now that his relationship with Dora was cemented. Not Mamaw yet, but certainly no longer Mrs. Muir. That he was calling her by her formal name now implied this was not a personal call.

“Harper,” he said, acknowledging her. “Good to see you.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No, stay,” Mamaw replied. “I have no secrets. Devlin, please take a seat.”

“Thank you.” Devlin followed Mamaw back into the living room and took the designated chair. Mamaw resumed her seat. He put the briefcase on the small table between them and laid his hand over it and leaned forward to Mamaw. “I’ve got good news.”

“Oh?” More concern than joy was in Mamaw’s voice.

“I’ve an offer on the house.”

“Already?” Harper exclaimed.

“I told you it would go fast.” Devlin opened the briefcase and pulled out a thick folder. He handed Mamaw the contract.

Mamaw reached for her reading glasses and, after slipping them in place, took the contract and began reading. Looking up, she said, “It’s not near a full-price offer.”

Devlin replied levelly, “That’s to be expected. It’s a reasonable offer and they fully expect a counter. What makes it interesting is that it’s all cash. They flew in this weekend just to see the house and made an offer the same day they saw it. This is an eager prospect.”

Mamaw searched the papers again. “What about my other stipulations?”

“They’ve agreed to all of them. You can set the move-out date.”

Mamaw leaned back in her chair and removed her glasses. She looked at Harper for support, but Harper shook her head and threw up her hands in a helpless gesture, unable to offer any. She was on tenterhooks.

Mamaw looked again at Devlin. “What do you advise?”

“As your Realtor or as your friend?”

“Both.”

“As your Realtor, I’d say make a counteroffer. This couple wants the house. They’ve been looking for a historic house like this for years. We could go back and forth and close on this deal quickly.”

Harper tightened her lips as her heart sank.

“As your friend, I’d tell you to wait for a full offer. I haven’t heard from some of the other parties I’ve contacted yet. Miss Marietta, there isn’t another property like yours on the market. Places with the location, charm, and the history of Sea Breeze are as rare as hen’s teeth. I swear, it’s my favorite house on the island. And you’re not in any hurry.” He leaned back in his chair and rocked. “You have three days to respond to this offer. Take them. It will buy you time.”

Harper excused herself as Mamaw and Devlin began to talk strategy. She walked at a studied pace out of the living room. Once she closed the door, she began calling her sisters in a loud, panicked voice. Nate came running from the kitchen, a peanut-butter sandwich in his hands.

“What’s the matter?” he said, eyes wide.

“Nothing, baby,” Harper hurried to reassure him. “Where’s your mama?”

“Out on the dock. With Aunt Carson.”

Harper took off on a sprint through the kitchen, out the back door across the porch, past the pool and the mastlike flagpole to the dock. The late-afternoon sun was peeking out from dark clouds that were racing to the sea. Her feet pounded on the wood dock as she raced to its end. She found her sisters sitting in the shade of the covered dock, legs stretched out on the wood benches and drinking iced tea. Carson was dressed in her ubiquitous bikini, Dora in a more modest one-piece swimsuit and cover-up. They had stopped talking and were watching with expectant expressions as Harper ran toward them.

As she drew near, Dora called out, “Where’s the fire?”

Harper could feel her face flaming from the run. She put her hand to her heart as she caught her breath.