“It’s a different world. We have to support them.” She lowered her voice. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t cheat once in a while and have our little treats, does it?”
“No ma’am,” Lucille agreed with gusto. “Maybe I’ll start cookin’ more in my cottage.”
Mamaw’s eyes gleamed. “Yes! I’ll stop by there for our tête-à-tête. Often.”
Lucille chuckled, eyes on the road. “Uh-huh.”
“But back at the main house, we must remain vigilant,” Mamaw said. “Heart-healthy diet only!”
“Doctor said it weren’t no heart attack. What they call it?”
“Stress cardiomyopathy.”
“Mm-mmm.” Lucille ruefully shook her head. “Imagine that. Now them doctors have this fancy name for something we all knew happened all along. Broken heart syndrome,” she said with a firm nod of her head. “That’s the right name for it. My grandparents were sweet on each other from the moment they met. Married more than sixty years when my grandmother Etta passed. My grandfather died only a few months after. No matter what the doctors said, we all knew Daddy Earl died of a broken heart.”
“I had an aunt who had the same thing happen. She just up and died after her husband did.” Mamaw sighed. “We should never underestimate how important our loved ones are to us. Or how powerful one’s grief can be.”
She turned to look at the woman beside her. Lucille’s lips were a thin, clenched line of concentration; she was barely able to see over the wheel. Today she wore a plain, light blue cotton shirt-dress; this had been her favorite dress style for as long as she’d worked for the Muir family. Mamaw had seen the waistband expand over the past fifty years, same as hers. Now Lucille’s hair was more salt than pepper and she wore wire-rim glasses when she drove. But her skin was still as smooth as a baby’s butt. It irked Mamaw no end that Lucille steadfastly refused to give her the recipe of the face lotion she’d concocted. It was a long-standing feud between them.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life,” Mamaw said suddenly, overcome with a wave of affection.
Lucille swung her head, surprised. “Oh, you’re just being silly. You’d get along fine without me.”
“Why, Lucille,” Mamaw said, a bit hurt at having her sentiment brushed off. “You know how much you mean to me. You’re my dearest friend. Of course I wouldn’t be just fine if you left.”
Lucille frowned but kept her gaze on the road ahead. “Yes’m, we are good friends, that’s for true. But you wouldn’t pine away if I should die, now, would you?”
“The things you say. No, I probably wouldn’t. After all, I didn’t pine away after my husband died. Though, I think I might depend on you more than I ever did Edward.”
“That’s just nonsense talking.”
“It isn’t. We’re like salt and pepper, the two of us.”
Lucille kept her eyes on the road.
“Do you realize this will be the last holiday we’ll celebrate at Sea Breeze?” Mamaw said in a wistful tone, as they continued along Coleman Boulevard.
“I reckon that’s true.” Then she added with a grunt, “If the house sells.”
“It’ll sell,” Mamaw said conclusively. “There’s already a list of people who’d like to get their hands on my property.” She sighed again. “I truly wish I could leave it to the girls, so that they could continue to come here in the summers, to see one another, their children. But, it just might not be meant to be.”
“You might get more than you think for it,” Lucille said.
“I hope I do, of course. But the house is so heavily mortgaged, and the cost of the retirement home so high, after they do all the subtractions, there’ll be much less than you think left over. There hasn’t been an income in this family for a very long time.” She sighed. “I’ve been advised to prepare for ever-increasing medical costs, living expenses . . .”
Mamaw paused to glance at Lucille. “You know, of course, that you will be taken care of. Mr. Edward had the arrangements made before he passed. You’ll have the money from the sale of the cottage, free and clear.”
“Yes’m. I know.”
Mamaw sighed. “I’m resigned to it. The house must be sold, and the sooner the better.”
Lucille didn’t respond, but a heavy pall slipped over them.
“Let’s not be gloomy,” Mamaw said in a cheerful tone. “Let’s make this Fourth of July a real firecracker! The best party ever. All the girls will be at Sea Breeze again and we’ll gather a few rosebuds while we may.”
Lucille glanced quickly her way. “What’s that about rosebuds?”
Mamaw laughed at her frivolity. “It’s from an old poem I once memorized as a schoolgirl.” She brought to mind the stanza she could recall. “ ‘Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, / Old Time is still a-flying: / And this same flower that smiles to-day / To-morrow will be dying.’ There’s more, but I don’t remember it. I’m pretty pleased I remembered that much.”
“Don’t seem too cheerful,” Lucille said. “All that talk of dying.”
“It’s about enjoying the present. And that’s exactly what I intend to do. We’ve had a few bumps in our summer plans, what with the Delphine debacle and Dora’s health. But we still have the rest of the summer, right? Let’s gather our sweet rosebuds—Dora, Harper, and Carson—at Sea Breeze and be happy. No more bad news!”
“No more bad news,” Lucille agreed, and laughed under her breath. “Just rosebuds.”
Later that afternoon, as she sat in the rear of Lucille’s car on the drive home from the hospital, Dora thought Sullivan’s Island had never looked more beautiful. American flags hung from every street lamp, houses—and even the golf carts—were festooned with red, white, and blue. Everywhere she looked people were on foot, most with a beach bag and folding chair underarm, heading to and from the beach.
She’d been so ready to leave the hospital. The two days felt like two years, what with nurses waking her up at all hours of the night to draw blood or conduct a test of some sort. And the food . . . Dora couldn’t wait to bite into some of Lucille’s home cooking. But these complaints were trivial compared to the constant barrage of cajoling and urging from both her mother and Cal to change her mind about returning to Sea Breeze. It was silly, really. Aside from the fact that Dora wanted to be at Sea Breeze with her sisters, Nate was the best he’d ever been after just a month on the island. Imagine how much he’d improve after an entire summer in the sunshine.