The Summer's End

“You look well enough,” Granny James said in way of a verdict.

Harper laughed. “Of course I’m well. In fact, I’m better than I’ve ever been. How are you?”

Granny James dropped her arms and straightened. “As well as can be expected after a hellish journey crammed into a tin box in the air. I flew coach,” she added with distaste. “I couldn’t get first class at such short notice.”

Harper laughed. Same old Granny. Picking up her grandmother’s parcels, Harper moved several feet to where rocking chairs faced the plate-glass windows. It made for a pretty waiting spot with a southern motif.

“I . . . I’m confused”—Harper looked at Granny’s legs—“I expected you to come out in a wheelchair or something.”

“A wheelchair!” Granny James sounded insulted.

“Yes. Your leg . . .”

“What about my leg?”

“Didn’t you break your leg?”

“Whatever are you talking about?”

“Mummy told me at the beginning of summer that you couldn’t come to the Hamptons this year because you’d had a bad fall and broken your leg. She very much wanted me to fly to England to be your nurse.”

The puzzled expression on Granny James’s face shifted to one of resigned understanding. “Your mother told you I broke my leg?” It was more a statement of fact than a question. Granny James shook her head with exasperation. “I did no such thing. I broke my toe! She made a tempest in a teapot. As usual.”

“Your toe . . . ,” Harper repeated slowly as understanding dawned. Her mother had manipulated the truth to get Harper to go to England rather than South Carolina.

Granny James’s face softened with affection. “So you expected to see me pushed in a wheelchair?”

“At the very least hobbling on crutches.”

“Poor dear, you must have been worried.”

“More than worried. I couldn’t imagine why you flew here in such haste.”

“I think, perhaps, you can.”

Harper waited.

“Your mother called me. She was very upset.” Granny James hesitated. “Dear girl, I’m just going to come straight out with it. Are you getting married?”

Harper smiled. “I am. Someday. For now we’re engaged.”

Granny James was taken aback. All pretense fled. “Then it’s true.”

“What else did Mummy tell you?”

“Oh, she was in a state, I can tell you. She said how you’re throwing away your inheritance. Cutting yourself off from the family. All to marry some . . . fisherman? Your mother made it sound like you’ve been trapped by some kind of cult!”

Harper burst out laughing. “A cult?” Then, seeing how upset her grandmother was, Harper realized Granny was exhausted and worried. Harper shouldn’t respond flippantly. “Granny, there is a lot to discuss and you’re tired. Let’s get you to Sea Breeze and we’ll thrash it all out.”

“I’m staying at the Charleston Place hotel. I have my reservation number in my bag.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t dream of you staying at a hotel. You’re to stay at Sea Breeze. It’s all arranged.”

“I wouldn’t dream of the inconvenience.”

“It’s no inconvenience. We’ve got your room all ready for you. Besides, it’s too far to go back and forth from the city way out to Sullivan’s Island.”

“I thought perhaps you could stay at the hotel with me. I reserved you a room as well. Honestly, you’re the only one I’ve come to see. I don’t see much point in mingling with the others.”

“With the natives, you mean?” Harper grinned crookedly. “Meeting Taylor and Mamaw and my sisters is exactly why I want you at Sea Breeze. To form your own opinions. Granny, I want you to see me in my element. I need you on my side.”

“Darling girl, I am already on your side.”

Harper leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “Trust me, you’ll be much happier at Sea Breeze.”

Granny James looked resigned to the idea, if not entirely convinced. “If you insist,” she said through pinched lips.

“I do. Thank you.” Then, trying not to sound worried, Harper asked, “How long are you staying?”

Granny James straightened her shoulders and delivered a no-nonsense look that would have sent her staff scurrying if they’d seen it. “As long as it takes.”

Harper had borrowed Carson’s vintage Cadillac to pick Granny James up from the airport, as it required less of a climb to get in than Harper’s Jeep. Granny’s blue eyes sparkled when she saw the baby-blue convertible with the great fins rising like a phoenix. Harper had cleaned out the empty water bottles, the coating of sand and trash, and given the car an inside-and-out cleaning. Harper was fastidious about such things and, she acknowledged, a little obsessive-compulsive, especially when compared to her sister.

Granny James let her hand graze along the high tail fins. “Vintage. Very nice. This car has style.”

Harper grinned and opened Granny’s door. All Harper’s efforts had been worthwhile.

The sun shone in a cloudless sky as they crossed the wetlands leading to Sullivan’s Island. All chatter ceased as Granny James stared out her window in silence. Harper smiled, understanding full well the awe and wonder Granny was experiencing. Harper felt it every time she crossed on the narrow road. Once on Sullivan’s Island, they turned onto Middle Street. Harper slowed down and drove past the charming restaurants, the art gallery, the park, the fire station. The steeple of Stella Maris Catholic Church rose up in view. The lovely church, a favorite of local artists, was set back from the road amid palm trees and flowers. At nearby Fort Moultrie a few people were milling about. Harper briefly told her grandmother the long history of the fort in the Revolutionary War, the Civil War, and World War II. Granny James took everything in with silence, but Harper knew she was listening from the watchful look in her eyes. At last Harper turned off Middle and headed down small-town roads toward the back of the island. Moments later she was turning past the tall row of hedges into the circular drive of Sea Breeze.

Granny James leaned forward in her seat, eyes sharp and her hands tightening on her purse. Harper circled the great oak tree to park directly in front of the house.

“Here we are!”