Page 21 of Dreams of Falling
As they approached the circular drive, admiring the fountain and the expensive cars parked around it, Ceecee was glad she wasn’t alone. She’d never find the courage to go inside such a place. But Margaret’s self-assuredness and Bitty’s unconcerned attitude gave her the confidence she needed to smile at the gray-and-burgundy-uniformed bellman as he opened their car doors at the main entrance.
Ceecee had to remember to keep her mouth closed at the extravagance of the interior, the gold trim, the rich mahogany, the Persian carpets. She pushed back all the words that came to her, words that her parents would have been saying, about how there were starving people in the world and a rich man had as much chance of getting into heaven as a camel did getting through the eye of a needle. For tonight, at least, Ceecee was going to block out their voices and enjoy herself. She doubted she’d have another chance once Margaret and Bitty departed for college and she would be left alone to rebuke the advances of the eager Will Harris. At least until she gave in from sheer boredom and lack of options, she’d find herself living the sedate married life her parents had always expected.
But this night—these two weeks—was her graduation gift toherself. Not as practical as the quilt her mother and grandmother had made, but more memorable. For the first time in her eighteen years, Ceecee didn’t care. It wasn’t that she dreamed of living a life where exquisite furnishings and shiny patinas were commonplace, where everyone she knew wore silks and furs, because she didn’t. She’d been raised to be far more practical than that. But for a short time, she wanted to be like Margaret, exuding confidence, able to appreciate and enjoy lovely things without feeling any accompanying guilt. She wanted to feel beautiful and to walk across the room and pretend that every man was watching her.
Margaret led the way as if she were a queen and Bitty and Ceecee her ladies-in-waiting, her hair glowing in the light of the large crystal chandeliers that hung above them, the marble floors and columns almost fading into the background as if acknowledging her superior beauty. Her dress, in yellow moiré, made her glow like moonlight, casting everyone else in her shadow. The maître d’ in the dining room seemed suitably impressed when she gave her name, and found them a table by the large windows that looked out on the ocean. Although it was nearly eight o’clock, the sun hadn’t yet slipped behind the horizon, its rays just beginning to bathe the dining room and its inhabitants in a buttery glow.
Before Ceecee could reflect on the beautiful view, the maître d’ appeared at their table with a complimentary bottle of champagne and poured three glasses. Margaret thanked him graciously before leaning in to Ceecee and Bitty. “Rumor has it that there’s gambling on the upper floors and my uncle is a frequent participant. Whether that’s true or not, I’m happy to use his name to get the best table. It’s all about attitude, Ceecee. Remember that.”
She winked at Ceecee and took a sip of champagne, and Ceecee felt the sharp prick of anger needle the base of her neck. It was so easy for Margaret to talk about attitude. She already had everything else. Attitude was the frosting on an already perfect cake.
The thing with Margaret, Ceecee thought, was that she insisted on believing they were the same, that all Ceecee needed was a little change to her mind-set. She would never understand that Ceeceedidn’t have the foundation to support such a thing. It would be like Ceecee wearing Margaret’s debutante gown, with her lackluster hair and bad shoes. She wouldn’t fool anyone.
Their bottle of champagne was followed by a bottle of wine, compliments of the maître d’, and then another, which they all enjoyed with their dinner. Dessert and cocktails followed before they moved out to the Marine Patio, where the orchestra had already begun to play.
It was all so decadent. Ceecee knew she could never tell her parents. But her anger at Margaret had mellowed to a dull throb as she listened to her friend telling stories. She was a good storyteller, always able to keep her audience interested and hold their attention until she revealed the twist. Ceecee couldn’t stay angry with her. After all, she was at the Ocean Forest Hotel because of her friend. She wore Margaret’s dress and shoes and carried her pocketbook.
Now Ceecee smiled through hazy, grateful eyes as Margaret launched into the story of the ghost of Theodosia Burr Alston, which reputedly haunted Brookgreen Gardens. Ceecee wanted to tell her to stop, that she’d have nightmares, but she didn’t want Bitty to call her a scared little girl. That’s how it went with the three of them—Margaret suggesting something outrageous, Ceecee cautioning against it, and Bitty goading them all into doing it anyway.
“Excuse me.”
The three of them looked up at the young man standing by their table, dressed in a dinner jacket, his hands held respectfully behind his back. He was tall, with auburn hair, and was the kind of handsome that made it seem okay to stop and stare. His hair was neatly combed back from his forehead, but an errant wave sprang forth at his left temple, giving him a boyish look and making him approachable. Ceecee liked him immediately because of that curl, because of that infraction against perfection.
He smiled, and his eyes sparkled. “I hope I’m not intruding. My name is Reginald Madsen, and I’m going to be president of the United States one day.”
He said it so matter-of-factly and sincerely that it was impossible todoubt him. He certainly looked the part. Ceecee could sense Margaret straightening in her chair, recognizing a kindred spirit, her attention focused on the young man.
Reginald continued. “I’m visiting Myrtle Beach for a few days with my brother. We’re here because we were told that the most beautiful women in the world come to Myrtle Beach, and I can see the rumors are true.” His accent was warm and familiar, letting them know he was from the same part of the world they were.
Bitty frowned up at him, as if she might already be guessing his next words. And she’d probably be right. But Ceecee had already made up her mind. She liked this Reginald Madsen, with his outspoken ambition and imperfect hair, and she was already getting ready to stand at his open invitation to dance when he turned to Margaret.
“Yellow is my favorite color, so I’m thinking it’s some sort of sign that you’re wearing that dress tonight.” He held out his hand to her. “May I have the honor of a dance?”
Margaret smiled prettily. “I would love to. Thank you.” She placed her hand in his. With a quick glance and smile at Ceecee and Bitty, she left their table for the dance floor.
Bitty put her elbows on the table and leaned toward Ceecee. “I’m glad that’s over. Now maybe someone will notice us.”
Ceecee wanted to say they probably wouldn’t, but Bitty would call her out for the lie. It wasn’t that she and Bitty were unattractive. It was just that standing next to Margaret was like comparing daisies to a rose. Not that there was anything wrong with daisies, as Bitty always reminded her. It was just that most people preferred roses.
Ceecee was about to suggest they take a short stroll on the beach, when she felt a presence at her side.
“I was hoping that was you.”
She looked up to see a familiar face—the young man she’d met at the Esso. He was dressed in a dinner jacket and tie, and his dark hair was combed back. But she recognized his blue-green eyes, the way they turned down slightly at the corners as if they were used to smiling.
“When my little brother, Reggie, approached your table, I wasafraid he was going to ask you for a dance before I could find the courage.” He smiled tentatively. “I’m Boyd, remember? Boyd Madsen. We met at the gas station. But you didn’t tell me your name.”
“It’s Sessalee Purnell,” Bitty said from across the table. She held out her hand to shake just like her parents had taught her to do, even though she was a woman. “I’m Bitty Williams, and if you’re looking for a dance, I know Sessalee would love to dance with you.”
He threw back his head and laughed. It was such a nice sound that Ceecee forgot her embarrassment and managed to smile. Boyd held out his hand to her, and she took it. His fingers closed over hers as he led her to the dance floor. When he drew her into his arms for a waltz, she remembered the ribbon she’d placed in the tree and what she’d written on it, and for the first time in her life, Ceecee Purnell began to believe in dreams and possibilities.
nine
Larkin
2010
After successfully avoiding a conversation with my father at the hospital and dropping off Bitty and Ceecee at home, I headed south on Highway 17. I’d told Ceecee only that I needed to run a few errands and make a call to work to extend my leave. I hadn’t mentioned that one of my errands was to visit Carrowmore.
