Page 72 of The Guests on South Battery
I hid my smile. “I’m just asking you to pick up your room, Nola.”
“...stack hay in the barn, fix the tractor...” she continued until we heard her door shut upstairs.
I thought about telling Jack about my conversation with Michael, but then thought better of it. His expression was drawn and thoughtful, a look I recognized when the writing wasn’t going well. I knew at least one way to make him feel better.
I tugged on Jack’s hands. “You ready to go upstairs?”
“Actually, it’s weird, but ever since you came down the stairs after settling Jayne, I’m feeling a little rush of creativity. I haven’t written at night in a long time, but with my daylight writing sort of dwindling, I think tonight’s a good time to resurrect it.” As if anticipating my protests, he put his finger to my lips. “Only temporarily—until I get a good idea where I’m heading with this book. Don’t forget, you’ll have General Lee if your feet get cold. And there’s always the morning.” He looked at me suggestively.
“All right,” I said, already missing him upstairs in our bed, trying to focus on how General Lee was a much better foot warmer anyway. “Why do you think you’re getting this little shot of adrenaline now?”
“I have no idea. Maybe it’s the pictures and the saltshaker—maybe I just needed visuals. Which is why I’m now convinced that I need to go to Alabama for a few days. See if I can talk to anybody who remembers Lake Jasper and who might know if May thirtieth, 1984, is significant. I’m probably grasping at straws, but there are so many different loose ends and I’m convinced that there’s a real story here somewhere.”
I threaded my fingers through his hair. “I’ll miss you. I’d go with you if my schedule weren’t jam-packed at work—which is a really good thing. We could use the money.” I hadn’t yet mentioned the wood-boring beetles Sophie had discovered in the dining room floor, and thought I’d save that for later, too.
“It’s just for a few nights. And then hopefully I’ll get some new material to inspire me and that might actually make a book.”
My gaze fell to the hall table. “What’s this doing here?” I asked, walking over to pick up the frame that had been on Button’s nightstand, the one of her and Sumter at a party. I stared at their smiling faces, barely noticing the anonymous woman neatly clipped from the photo.
Jack came over and took it from me. “I have no idea. It was on mydesk last time I looked. Nola must have moved it. Remind me to ask her in the morning.”
I looked closely at the photo, noticing for the first time the date in tiny, faded ink on the bottom right of the photo. “March seventeenth, 1984. Must have been a St. Patrick’s Day party—that’s why her dress is green and he’s wearing a green-striped tie.”
“Probably,” Jack agreed, taking the frame from me.
We kissed good night and then he retired to his study, bringing the frame with him. I slowly climbed the stairs, thinking about my conversation with Michael, and the photo of Sumter and Button on my hallway table. I was halfway up before the grandfather clock struck the hour, four long chimes that echoed in the sleeping house.
CHAPTER 25
Istared out at the spidery cables holding up the Ravenel Bridge from my spot at the beginning of the footpath that ran parallel to the traffic bridge as it crossed the Cooper River. A large semi thundered by, making me take a step back, and then look again at Sophie.
“You want to do what?” I asked, the sun already baking the back of my neck with no hint of shade in sight. She’d driven me to what she referred to as simply “a new place for us to exercise.” I hadn’t suspected that she was actually trying to kill me.
“I thought we could do the bridge run. It’s only ten K—six-point-two miles for those of you who didn’t learn metric—and you only have to go one way. It’s on April second, so we’re too late for this year, but if we start conditioning now we can run it next year.”
I stared at her for a few moments, then began walking away. “I’ll wait for you in the car. I’ve got some calls I need to make.”
Sophie ran after me and grabbed my elbow. “I’m not suggesting that we run six miles today. I’m saying we do a little bit every week, and build up slowly. It’s like restoring a house—you can’t do it in just a day.”
She smiled brightly, and I wanted to shake her. With my hands on my hips, I stared up at the bridge again. “I don’t know, Sophie....”
“Jayne said that she’s already registered to run it this year.”
That captured my attention. “Is she?” I looked at the various groups of walkers and runners moving on and off the bridge. They appeared to be of all ages and genders, some with well-muscled calves and toned hips in their running gear, and a whole lot of others that, well, looked more like me.
“The great thing about running,” Sophie said as almost an afterthought, “is that it burns enough calories that you can splurge on a doughnut once in a while and it won’t make the scale tip.”
I frowned at her, but when I didn’t start running for the car, she went in for the kill. “We can start by walking. I’ll set my phone for fifteen minutes and when it beeps we’ll head back. No fuss, no muss.”
I wasn’t sure whether it was the thought of Jayne’s running 6.2 miles or my eating a doughnut without censure, but I dropped my arms and walked past Sophie. “Come on, then, let’s get this over with. But we’re only walking today. I don’t think I could handle running up this incline right now.”
“Deal,” she said, catching up to me and beginning to pump her arms.
Half an hour later we’d returned to our starting spot. Sophie had barely broken a sweat, whereas I was panting like a dog that had just finished the Iditarod and was soaked with enough sweat that an unsuspecting passerby might assume that I’d just swum across the river. Once I was back in Sophie’s Prius and had the air-conditioning blasting on me, I felt a modicum of pride that I had managedsomething.
Sophie turned the key in the ignition. “Before I take you home, do you have a few minutes to drop by the Pinckney house? I found a stack of photo albums in Button’s room. I thought we could box them up and you can bring them to Jayne to go through and figure out what she wants to do with them. I’m afraid they’ll get damaged if we leave them in the house during the renovation.”
I checked my phone and then my watch before checking the clock in the car just to make sure. “I’ve got a closing at eleven, but I think I can spare about an hour before I have to get ready. Do you think we could get it done by then?”
