The Summer's End

Harper’s heart swelled. “And I am proud that I’m like him.”

“Yes”—Mamaw sighed—“except, my dear”—she kissed Harper’s head again—“you have a gift that was missing in your father. Determination.”

Mamaw fanned her face as she sat in her favorite place in the shade under the black-and-white awning of her back porch. It was late afternoon, yet waves of shimmering heat still hovered over the water. Lord, she wasn’t complaining, she thought. It was September and the weather in the tropics was calm without a threat in sight. She’d take the heat any day over a storm front. Still, she thought, reaching for her glass of iced tea, this summer was ranking as one of the South’s ten hottest on record, all those just since 1998. That, and the increasing number of manatees she was seeing in the Cove, convinced her the earth’s climate was changing.

“Lord, Lord, Lord, it’s hot,” she said again, then took a sip of tea, smacking her lips. That was good, she thought. Setting the glass on the table, she surveyed the playing cards laid out before her in a game of solitaire. Despite the heat, she was most comfortable out here in the shade where the occasional breeze brought relief. She couldn’t bear to be cooped up indoors like a hen in a henhouse.

“Halloo! Marietta!”

She turned her head to see a woman walking around the side of the house. She squinted to be sure she was seeing straight. Yes, it was Imogene, but for a moment she thought it might be one of the girls. Imogene was wearing gray jogging pants with a racing stripe down the sides and a thin running shirt, the kind that Harper wore. Under her floppy hat, her black sunglasses were large and her face was pink. That woman looked rode hard and put up wet.

“It’s beastly hot today,” Imogene exclaimed as she drew near.

Marietta removed her sunglasses and asked with veiled criticism, “You were running? In this weather?”

“No.” Imogene’s tone implied she was not that silly. “Walking.” She was breathing heavily from exertion. “I’ve been walking for hours. I just love the beach,” she said with vigor. “And,” she begrudgingly acknowledged, “this is a particularly lovely stretch of sand. Crikey! I almost fainted when a cargo ship passed.”

Marietta reached for a fresh glass on the tray and poured tea from the thermos she kept nearby. She handed it to Imogene. “You look parched.”

“What is it?”

“Iced tea.”

“Oh, perfect. Thank you.” Imogene took a big swallow and scrunched her face. “It’s so sweet!”

“Of course it is. It’s sweet tea. That’s how we drink it here.”

“Do you have any unsweetened tea?”

“No. Not made. Would you care for some water instead?”

“Don’t trouble yourself.” Imogene sighed with resignation, then took another swallow. She licked her lips and looked at the glass with curiosity. “What’s in this? It’s actually rather good.”

Marietta smiled and reached for her own glass. “I made it myself from an old family recipe. It’s as sweet as a baby’s kiss.”

Imogene set the glass down on the table along with her beach bag. Marietta watched with shock as Imogene began stripping off her damp shirt and pants. Underneath, she was wearing a swimsuit. The modest navy one-piece suit nonetheless revealed her slim figure. She was small boned, like Harper, and fit for a woman her age. Imogene was fit for a woman of any age, she thought with chagrin. Marietta smoothed her tunic self-consciously, glad Girard wasn’t here to witness the spectacle.

“I’m going for a quick dip to cool off.” Imogene strolled down the steps to the lower deck. She stood at the edge of the pool, arched her arms over her head, and with a buoyant spring dove into the water. Marietta knew a moment of envy watching Imogene stroke across the length of the pool with vigor. Back and forth she swam, kicking her legs, clearly enjoying herself. When she was done, she emerged from the pool as sleek as a seal.

“Bless her heart,” Marietta murmured, and took another long swallow of tea.

“That’s much better,” Imogene exclaimed when she returned to the shade of the upper deck. She slicked back her auburn hair from her face, then grabbed a beach towel from her bag. After shaking off the sand from it, she rubbed her body vigorously. Wrapping the towel around her shoulders, she took a seat beside Marietta.

“May I?” Imogene lifted the thermos.

“Help yourself.” With a smile playing at her lips Marietta watched her pour another glass of tea. “Swim much, do you?”

“Every day. In the season, that is. I try to get to Georgiana’s house in the Hamptons in the spring when it’s still nasty in England. The water there is still nippy, but I grew up spending summers at my family’s summer house in Cornwall, so I’m accustomed to a bracing dip in icy water.” Imogene looked to the pool. “Your pool water feels rather like a bathtub. Not very refreshing.”

That woman could start an argument in an empty room, Marietta thought. She answered cordially, “Here, the sun is a natural pool heater. I like it warm.”

“Hmmm.” Imogene settled into her chair. “Where is everyone?”

“Out.”

“Harper, too?” She sipped her tea.

Marietta’s sunglasses hid her roll of the eyes. “Yes, Harper, too. She went with Dora to help hang curtains in her new house. She’ll be moving in next week. The first to go.” She gave a long sigh. “And Carson is taking water samples from the Cove in preparation for Delphine’s release.”

“Delphine, that’s the dolphin she befriended. The one that was injured?”

“Glad to see you’re getting your stories straight.”

“Well, there are so many.” Imogene sipped her tea.

“We are nothing if not interesting. And we’re all aflutter for the dolphin’s release, coming up any day now. Maybe you’ll still be here to witness it with us.”

“Perhaps.” Then, as if a veil were removed, Imogene’s face drooped. She shook her head slowly. “I don’t know how much longer I dare stay. I’m afraid I must leave soon. Jeffrey doesn’t do well when I am gone.”

Mamaw was alert to the change in tone. “Is your husband ill?”

“Not in the usual sense. He has Alzheimer’s.”