Page 72 of Leave It to Us
“That’s fine with me,” Tami said. “We can order, and I’ll go pick it up.”
“Works for me. That, coupled with the food Ms.Janie and Mama Jo are constantly sending over here, and we’ll be straight for the next few weeks,” Yvonne said.
“Yeah, just three more weeks and we’ll be finished. Can you imagine how everything is going to look?” Lana asked.
“I think it’s going to be grand and majestic. The big white house at the end of Pinetree Road.” Tami loved the thought of how beautiful the finished houses would look against the backdrop of the Intracoastal Waterway. It would be just like one of those paintings she’d seen online when researching the island.
“I know we haven’t brought this up in a while,” Yvonne said. “Figured we were all trying to wait until the renovations were done to really decide ... but what are your thoughts on selling the place now?”
Tami had been dreading this conversation, because she feared that even with Yvonne falling for Deacon, she would still side with Lana—who Tami figured would certainly still want to sell to have extra money to put aside for the baby now.
None of them had time to answer, as the sound of another golf cart making its way up the driveway caught their attention.
“Who’s that at this hour?” Lana asked, looking over her shoulder so she could see down the driveway.
Yvonne had turned to look as well, while Tami stood from her chair and walked a few steps until she was standing at the top of the stairs. “It looks like Sallie.”
And she was right: Sallie Henderson stepped out of the front seat of the cart and then leaned in to the back seat to pull out a box. She wore a long white dress that looked more like a sack but Tami knew was called a kaftan. While she preferred more formfitting clothes herself, she knew some women liked the comfort of a loose dress. Sallie was apparently one of them.
Chunky gold bangles were on both Sallie’s wrists, a chandelier-type gold necklace around her neck. Her curly hair was left to its usual wild frame around her mocha-hued face. And she frowned. Just like she had each time Tami had seen her since they’d been on the island. Neither she, Lana, nor Yvonne had figured out why the woman had had achange of heart toward them—or if her carrying out Grandma Betty’s will and stocking the house before their arrival had been, as she’d said, her following the directions she was given. And not from any type of personal obligation. Truthfully, Tami knew that she and her sisters had decided that whatever the woman’s issue was, it was hers and not theirs to deal with.
“Good evening,” Sallie said in a crisp tone. “I think it’s time we talk.”
She’d walked up onto the porch by then, holding the box—Tami could now see it was a hatbox—under her left arm. Glancing to her right, Tami saw that Yvonne had pushed away from the railing and was now standing with one hand on her hip. Lana rose from her seat to stand beside Yvonne.
Yvonne spoke next. “Good evening, Sallie. Let’s go inside. I’ll put on some tea.”
Oh shit, this wasn’t gonna be good. Tami could tell by the frost in Sallie’s tone and that cool resignation Yvonne tended to get when she was about to back somebody into a corner with the slick mouth she kept reserved for just these types of circumstances. Yvonne walked toward the door, using her key to enter, and Sallie followed. Tami glanced at Lana, who raised her brows, acknowledging that she’d come to the same conclusion about what was about to go down.
When the four of them were seated in the kitchen, water waiting to boil on the stove, Sallie flattened her palms on top of the hatbox, which she’d set on the table in front of her.
Instead of waiting for her to speak this time, which Sallie clearly looked like she was ready to do, Yvonne went first.
“I suspect you’re here because you have something you want to get off your chest,” Yvonne said, her hands flat on the top of the card table as well. “And that’s fine. We’ll listen while you say your piece, but understand that if you’re here to start some nonsense, you can just turn around and leave. You’ve seemed to have a problem with us since westepped foot on this island, and we haven’t said or done anything to provoke it. I’m not going to let you bring that type of drama into our house.”
“This should’ve been my house,” Sallie rebutted quickly.
Yvonne lifted an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
Tami sat up straighter in her chair, and Lana’s lips thinned as she continued to glare at Sallie.
Sallie tilted her head and gave Yvonne a look that saidYou heard what I said.To that, Yvonne responded with a steady gaze, eyebrow still up as she waited for Sallie to clarify her statement.
“My mama didn’t ever want me to say anything after I found out,” Sallie continued. “She was dying, and she asked me to keep my mouth shut and be grateful for the life I had. And I tried to do what I was told, tried to honor my mama in life and after her death. But I can’t.” She clapped her lips shut and then let out a loud exhale. “I can’t watch the three of you walk around this island like you’re the grand princesses of Daufuskie, coming back to grace us with your presence like you used to do every summer.”
Had they seen Sallie during their summers here? Tami couldn’t recall, most likely because Sallie looked to be closer to Yvonne’s and Lana’s age, not hers. If her older sisters had seen or known Sallie, none of them would’ve noticed Tami much. Whenever Yvonne and Lana went out during their summer visits, they didn’t take Tami with them. Which was fine with Tami because she’d had her father—or even better, those were the times she’d have Grandma Betty all to herself.
But one thing Tami did recall from their summers on the island was how, when her sisters sat out on the front porch, boys and girls their age all seemed to hang around out front. A few of the girls would come up and sit with Yvonne and Lana, but the boys always just lurked, grinning and acting goofy because they were too shy or awkward to come and talk to them. She used to hear Lana and Yvonne talking some nightswhen they’d come into the house about which ones they thought were cute and which ones were just too immature. Never—not once—did she recall her sisters mentioning Sallie.
“But it should’ve been me,” Sallie said. “I should’ve been a Butler. Iama Butler!”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Yvonne asked.
“You wanna know what I’m talking about?” Sallie asked what seemed like a ridiculous question, because of course they all wanted to know what the hell she was ranting about.
In response—since neither Yvonne, Lana, nor Tami replied—Sallie ripped the top from that floral hatbox and dropped it to the floor.
“Oh, wow,” Tami whispered as she looked at what was inside.
