Page 16 of That Last Carolina Summer

She pushed her glasses up on her nose then opened the door wider.

“Mama is still sleeping, and I don’t know where Aunt Phoebe is.

But Mimi is awake.” She closed her mouth, pressing her lips together, but I could see them beginning to quiver.

“She says she has to get to her bridge club meeting but can’t find her car keys.

She keeps yelling at me, but I don’t know where they are, and Mama says I’m not supposed to wake her up.

” The sound of something heavy being dropped came from the back of the house along with a string of curse words no child should hear.

I wrapped her in my arms, noticing her dress was on inside out and had a large grass stain on the back. Her stringy hair was matted on one side, and she’d pulled it back with a pink bow hair tie. I patted her back and murmured soothing words, a drop in the bucket to what this child needed.

When Ophelia had stopped crying, I held her by the shoulders. “My great-grandson, Will, is here in the yard with Annie. Why don’t you go say hello to both of them, and I’ll go inside to see if I can help. Just stay in the yard, all right?”

Ophelia nodded, then wiped her eyes and nose with the backs of her hands. Another crashing sound came from the back of the house, and Ophelia looked up at me with worried eyes. “That’s Mimi looking for her keys.”

“It’s all right. I’ll take care of it.” I gave her a smile of encouragement, then waited until she’d reached the bottom of the porch steps before I stepped inside.

Leaving the door open, I followed the sounds toward the back of the house, vaguely aware of the elegance of the furniture and the graceful turn on the mahogany banister as I passed the stairs toward the back hallway.

I found my way to the kitchen, narrowly avoiding being hit by a rubber spatula that clattered on the floor behind me.

I turned to see a woman grab the handle of a kitchen drawer and pull it all the way out before upending the contents on the floor.

She dropped down to her hands and knees and began rummaging through the pile.

“Elizabeth?” I said softly.

Her limp hair fell over her face as she stared at me with vacant eyes. Her eyes were a stunning light blue, but they lacked focus as if all her memories were locked inside, her vision turned inward. “I can’t find my keys.”

I knelt on the floor beside her. “We can look together. Let’s put everything back in the drawer first, okay? It will help us find them.”

She sat on the floor watching me while I replaced the items in the drawer, stealing glances at her while I worked. She was still a beautiful woman, although her clothes hung on her as if she’d lost weight and her makeup had been applied with a heavy hand.

“Who are you?” Her brow furrowed. “Does Charles know you’re here? He doesn’t like it when strangers show up at the door.”

“I’m Celeste,” I said. “I’m a friend of Phoebe’s.”

“Phoebe?”

“Your youngest daughter.”

She smiled softly. “My baby.” Her bright pink lips tilted up. “She was such a sweet thing. Such a good baby—always so happy. Not like the other one.” Elizabeth gave me a conspiratorial smile.

“Addie,” I said. “Your oldest daughter.”

“Addie,” she repeated. “She was so needy. But not my Phoebe.” She paused, looked down at her chipped fingernail polish. “She didn’t need me at all.”

“Hello?” Phoebe’s voice rang out from the front of the house. “Is someone here?”

“We’re in the kitchen, Phoebe.” I pulled myself up then reached out a hand to help Elizabeth.

She tucked her hands into her lap. “Who are you?”

“I’m Celeste. I’m a friend of Phoebe’s.” I smiled, trying to be as nonthreatening as possible.

Phoebe entered the room looking as if she’d slept in her clothes.

Her face was crisscrossed with pressure marks from whatever she’d fallen asleep on top of.

She stopped short when she saw me. “Celeste. I didn’t know you were here.

” Her gaze fell past me to her mother on the floor. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes. Everything is fine,” I said calmly. “Your mother and I were just looking for the car keys.”

“Are they lost?” She quickly crossed the room and helped her mother stand.

A panicked expression crossed her face. “I’m taking Mother to her doctor’s appointment this morning before Addie needs the car for work.

” She ran her hands through her tangled hair.

“I don’t know what happened—I fell asleep in my dad’s office going through the mail.

” She squeezed her head between her palms. “Mother, I need you to get your checkbook.”

“Now might not be—” I started to say.

But Phoebe’s eyes were tightly closed, and I knew she was only listening to the panic sirens inside her head. “I found a lot of overdue bills, and if we don’t pay them now, the gas, electricity, and water will all be shut off. We also need to find your health insurance card.”

Elizabeth’s lips pressed together as if she’d just tasted something bitter. I wanted to step between them, to tell Phoebe to wait, and to stop the words percolating in Elizabeth’s mouth like bile, words like darts that couldn’t be recalled once they’d been thrown.

“Where’s Addie?” Her eyes narrowed as she regarded Phoebe. “Why are you here?” Elizabeth said, growing agitated.

“To take you to your doctor’s appointment, remember? I told you last night before you went to bed.”

“Liar!” Elizabeth began twisting her hands, drawing her attention to her fingers. “My rings! Where are my rings? Did you take them?”

Phoebe pulled back. “Of course not. I don’t remember you having them on yesterday, so they’re probably upstairs in your room.”

Elizabeth’s hands clenched with rage. “You lying bitch!”

Phoebe sucked in her breath. I doubted that Elizabeth Manigault was in the habit of using that word. I put my hand on Phoebe’s arm to encourage restraint, knowing from experience that anything she said would be like pouring oil on a fire.

She straightened, pulling her shoulders back to regain her composure. With a controlled voice, Phoebe said, “Mother, let’s go upstairs and get you dressed, and then I’ll drive you to your doctor’s appointment.” She reached out and took hold of her mother’s elbow.

Elizabeth yanked back her arm, her enraged face nearly unrecognizable. “I wish I’d miscarried you!”

Phoebe froze. Tears pooled in her eyes, her expression revolving around hurt and anger. My own heart felt the blow, and it ached for both of these women. This battle was only just beginning, and neither one of them would emerge unscathed.

Stepping in between them, I turned to Phoebe.

“Your car has two flat tires. My own car keys are in my purse I left in the foyer. My car’s sitting in my driveway.

It’s a bit of a jog, but my car’s not being used, and you’re welcome to borrow it.

I’ll get your mother dressed and watch the children until you return. ”

Phoebe nodded then gave her face a swipe with the backs of her hands as if embarrassed to have anyone see her cry. I gave her my address, and she took off without a backward glance.

Elizabeth sat down at the kitchen table, her agitation gone. She folded her hands in her lap, and she sat with a straightened back and her ankles crossed beneath her nightgown.

“Are you hungry?” I asked.

“Yes.” She smiled up at me. “I’ll have the chicken pot pie, please. And make sure it’s hot. Last week it was served to me ice-cold.”

“Of course.” I opened the door to what I assumed was the pantry, scanning the pitiful contents for something resembling real food, and pulled out a box of Lucky Charms. I opened the correct cabinet containing china plates and bowls on my first attempt.

After pouring the cereal, I found a quart of milk that hadn’t expired and added some to the bowl.

I placed it and a spoon I’d found in a drawer in front of her. “Thank you,” she said before meeting my gaze. “Who are you?”

“I’m Celeste. A friend of Phoebe’s.”

She smiled serenely at the mention of her daughter’s name, and I wished Phoebe was still there to see it and to help her understand that her mother’s words and emotions had been taken over by an illness that was as hard to understand as it was to find a cure.

“Phoebe is a teacher,” she said. “A very good one. Probably the best.”

“Probably.”

I joined her at the table, watching as she picked up her spoon and began to eat, moving the spoon away from her just like they taught at etiquette school.

After three bites, she put down her spoon and scowled at her bowl.

“This is taking too long.” She picked up the bowl and held it to her mouth, drinking it like a young child might before they’d learned how to hold a utensil.

I let her finish, then used a napkin to gently wipe up the drops of milk on her mouth and chin. “Let’s go upstairs and get you dressed.”

“Where am I going?”

“To play bridge.”

She nodded slowly, her eyes on my face. “Who are you?”

“I’m Celeste. I’m here to help Phoebe.”

“Phoebe?”

“Your youngest daughter.”

She scowled. “I know my daughter’s name. But Phoebe doesn’t need any help. She’s too...” She struggled to find the word.

“Self-sufficient?” I prompted.

“Yes. Something like that.” Her eyes focused on me again. “She almost died once. When she was a little girl.”

“Yet she survived.”

Her face softened. “Because she’s fierce.” She stopped, her gaze turned inward. “I named her after a bird.”

“Mother?”

We both turned toward the doorway where a young woman stood.

She was stunning despite no makeup, her blond hair rumpled by sleep and dark circles under her eyes.

Her T-shirt barely hid her long, lean body or her voluptuous chest. Her self-assurance that she was the most beautiful woman in the room reminded me of Liam’s ex-wife. I tried not to hold it against her.

“Addie,” Elizabeth said, “are we late?”

“For what?” Addie walked into the kitchen and planted a kiss on her mother’s cheek.

Elizabeth turned to me for an answer.