Pawleys Island-lowcountry 5 by Dorothea Benton Frank Page A

several since it’s so hot,” I said.
    “Bless you, angel!”
    He took the bag, disappeared into his office, where he kept a small refrigerator. I went to the framing area, where I thought I would be spending most of my day, unwrapped my sausage biscuit and took a bite. It seemed like a normal moment until I looked up. Abigail and Huey were staring at me.
    “What?” I said. “Is something wrong?”
    They looked at each other, unsure of where to start.
    “Spit it out, Huey,” Abigail said.
    “Okay, okay.” He took a drink, draining his first Coke of the morning.
    “Want another one? I’ll get it for you…”
    He shook his head. “Listen, Rebecca, sweetheart. My mother told me that you have a Ph.D. in psychology and that you have a husband and children in Charleston. And that your husband was given custody and the house. Are you in some kind of trouble? I mean, is there something we can do?”
    I was stunned. But Pawleys Island was no different than Charleston. People talked. I couldn’t even respond to him. I didn’t want to talk about it.
    “Listen to me, Rebecca. Byron is coming to pick up your car and take it to the garage where I get mine fixed. They’re very fair and do excellent work. I want you to come for dinner tonight. Come out, spend the evening with us and we will try to help you straighten this mess all out.”
    I was furious. My disaster was my disaster, no one else’s.
    “Rebecca?” Abigail said.
    “What?” My face was red hot.
    “You aren’t the first woman who ever had this happen to her. I’ll make you a bet.”
    “What?” I said again.
    “I’ll bet you my Rolex that your husband has a girlfriend and that’s why he wanted you out—so he could move her in. I’ll bet you my diamond studs that he did this to avoid paying alimony and child support. And I have never met your husband, but I’ll guarantee you that he’s more arrogant than Donald Trump.”
    A girlfriend? Avoid alimony and child support at the expense of my relationship with my children? Would Nat do that? Would he? I had never thought of Nat as scheming or diabolical until that moment. Since I’d left, I had driven myself nearly insane trying to figure out why he didn’t love me anymore. But then maybe he did love someone else and I’d been too blind to see it.
    “What time is dinner?” I said.
    “Always at eight,” Huey said.
    “I’ll pick you up,” Abigail said.
    “Fine,” I said and I felt all the blood drain out of my face. “Thank you.”
    All kinds of things were spinning around in my head. I had come here to avoid gossip and now my problems were scheduled as the main topic of conversation for the night. Part of me was very angry—I didn’t want to relive the battles simply because they felt a need to know about them. I thought introspection was futile.
    They were meddling. I didn’t want to be the cause célèbre for a little group of people who had too much time on their hands. I just wanted to work, support myself and be left alone to paint. Was that too much to ask? Did a paycheck entitle Huey and then Abigail to the lurid details of my marriage? I never should have opened my big mouth.

F OUR
ABIGAIL SAYS, NOTHING COULD BE FINER
    W HY I consented to play nine holes when the heat index was somewhere in the stratosphere was anybody’s guess. Maybe some optimistic sliver of my postmenopausal brain still thought I was a young girl and that a good sweaty round of golf in the blazing sun would be rejuvenating. But to tell the truth, the heat left me dizzy and slightly nauseous. The day had been hot and sticky like you cannot believe.
    Rebecca was on my mind as the hours ticked by. I knew she was smoldering from our prodding and I understood why. She thought her personal business was hers alone, and technically she was right. However, and this is the big however, she didn’t know us .
    There is so much to be said about power and its correct usage that it’s all but impossible to choose a