Loralee wondered whether Merritt would ever forgive her for witnessing weakness. She figured that to Merritt, nearly fainting in front of three strangers would be right up there with being caught locked outside naked as the day she was born.
Without saying anything, Gibbes took Merritt’s wrist in one hand, then glanced at his watch on his other arm like he was checking her pulse. That was when Loralee noticed his Mickey Mouse watch and the wrapped tops of three lollipops sticking out of his shirt pocket. Out of habit, left over from her days as an airline attendant, her eyes drifted to the empty ring finger on his left hand. She found herself wishing that she’d known he was coming over, because she would have tried to talk Merritt into a little bit of mascara and maybe a swipe of lipstick. First impressions were the most important. She’d put that one in her journal right after she’d met Robert.
Merritt snatched her hand out of his grasp, and Loralee was relieved to see two spots of red appear on her cheeks. “I’m fine,” Merritt said, but she didn’t try to get out of the chair, probably because she wasn’t sure she could be steady on her feet and didn’t want Gibbes to see. Thankfully, that meant Merritt had at least a bit of vanity, or at least enough for Loralee to work with.
Owen came through the doorway holding a tall aqua aluminum tumbler, an identical match to the ones Loralee’s grandma had once owned, purchased with Green Stamps and used only for company and special occasions. The sides had already begun to sweat when he handed it to his sister.
Merritt took her time drinking, her eyes darting around, and she was looking like a giraffe at a watering hole filled with alligators Loralee had once seen on TV. She and Owen watched a lot of
National Geographic
so she’d know things she hadn’t learned growing up in Gulf Shores, Alabama.
Mr. Williams’s phone rang and he stepped off the porch to answer it, leaving Loralee to fill the silence. That was another thing she was good at, besides serving peanuts in small packets and pouring drinks. “I’m Loralee Connors, and this is my son, Owen.”
Owen stepped forward and put out his hand just like his father had taught him and shot his mother an annoyed glance. “I’m goingby Rocky now. It’s nice to meet you, sir. Mama and I have just moved to Beaufort to live with my sister, Merritt.”
Merritt choked on a sip of water, coughing as she held a delicate hand to her mouth.
Gibbes sent her a worried look, then took Owen’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Rocky. I’m Dr. Heyward.” They shook hands. “You’ve got a nice grip for a ten-year-old. You play baseball?” His voice was slow and Southern, and Loralee felt reassured somehow, as if she were still in familiar territory.
“No, sir. I was in Little League for a while, but I got tired of handing out water bottles, so I thought I’d try to find a sport I was good at.”
“And did you?”
“No, sir. But I’m still looking.” Owen tilted his head like he did when he was hurt or confused. “How did you know I was ten?”
The man smiled, his teeth white and even. “I’m a pediatrician. It goes with the territory.”
With a hard glance at Loralee and a swipe at a small wet spot on her blouse, Merritt placed the tumbler on a wicker table that held a pot with a dead stem and dried-up dirt inside it, then took a deep breath before standing quickly.
Holding out her hand to Gibbes, she said, “I’m Merritt. Cal’s wife. He never told me he had a brother.”
He stared at her hand for a long moment before taking it, his large hand dwarfing hers. The spots of color reappeared on her cheeks and she quickly slid her hand away.
His words were clipped. “I guess that makes us even, then, because Cal never told me he had a wife.”
Merritt tilted her head, just like Owen had. “Did he ever call or write to you?”
Gibbes gave her an odd look. “He wrote a short note to me about once
Without saying anything, Gibbes took Merritt’s wrist in one hand, then glanced at his watch on his other arm like he was checking her pulse. That was when Loralee noticed his Mickey Mouse watch and the wrapped tops of three lollipops sticking out of his shirt pocket. Out of habit, left over from her days as an airline attendant, her eyes drifted to the empty ring finger on his left hand. She found herself wishing that she’d known he was coming over, because she would have tried to talk Merritt into a little bit of mascara and maybe a swipe of lipstick. First impressions were the most important. She’d put that one in her journal right after she’d met Robert.
Merritt snatched her hand out of his grasp, and Loralee was relieved to see two spots of red appear on her cheeks. “I’m fine,” Merritt said, but she didn’t try to get out of the chair, probably because she wasn’t sure she could be steady on her feet and didn’t want Gibbes to see. Thankfully, that meant Merritt had at least a bit of vanity, or at least enough for Loralee to work with.
Owen came through the doorway holding a tall aqua aluminum tumbler, an identical match to the ones Loralee’s grandma had once owned, purchased with Green Stamps and used only for company and special occasions. The sides had already begun to sweat when he handed it to his sister.
Merritt took her time drinking, her eyes darting around, and she was looking like a giraffe at a watering hole filled with alligators Loralee had once seen on TV. She and Owen watched a lot of
National Geographic
so she’d know things she hadn’t learned growing up in Gulf Shores, Alabama.
Mr. Williams’s phone rang and he stepped off the porch to answer it, leaving Loralee to fill the silence. That was another thing she was good at, besides serving peanuts in small packets and pouring drinks. “I’m Loralee Connors, and this is my son, Owen.”
Owen stepped forward and put out his hand just like his father had taught him and shot his mother an annoyed glance. “I’m goingby Rocky now. It’s nice to meet you, sir. Mama and I have just moved to Beaufort to live with my sister, Merritt.”
Merritt choked on a sip of water, coughing as she held a delicate hand to her mouth.
Gibbes sent her a worried look, then took Owen’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Rocky. I’m Dr. Heyward.” They shook hands. “You’ve got a nice grip for a ten-year-old. You play baseball?” His voice was slow and Southern, and Loralee felt reassured somehow, as if she were still in familiar territory.
“No, sir. I was in Little League for a while, but I got tired of handing out water bottles, so I thought I’d try to find a sport I was good at.”
“And did you?”
“No, sir. But I’m still looking.” Owen tilted his head like he did when he was hurt or confused. “How did you know I was ten?”
The man smiled, his teeth white and even. “I’m a pediatrician. It goes with the territory.”
With a hard glance at Loralee and a swipe at a small wet spot on her blouse, Merritt placed the tumbler on a wicker table that held a pot with a dead stem and dried-up dirt inside it, then took a deep breath before standing quickly.
Holding out her hand to Gibbes, she said, “I’m Merritt. Cal’s wife. He never told me he had a brother.”
He stared at her hand for a long moment before taking it, his large hand dwarfing hers. The spots of color reappeared on her cheeks and she quickly slid her hand away.
His words were clipped. “I guess that makes us even, then, because Cal never told me he had a wife.”
Merritt tilted her head, just like Owen had. “Did he ever call or write to you?”
Gibbes gave her an odd look. “He wrote a short note to me about once
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