Page 63 of One Southern Summer

Julene hesitated. “Will you be all right here by yourself?”

“Absolutely.”

“Help yourself to something to drink. There are snacks in the pantry too.” Julene grabbed her keys and sailed out the door.

Julene was sweet and all, picking her up and bringing her out to the house. They’d had a lovely chat in the car. Hopefully the deli would right their wrongs. She had her mouth set for some fried chicken. They always fixed it just the way her mama used to.

She shuffled in a slow circle, one hand braced on the counter. She’d taken to watching church on television these days. All the bother of getting dressed, fixing her hair then getting a ride to church—by the time she got herself in the pew she was too exhausted to pay attention. And forget all that standing up and sitting down for the singing part.

Not to mention that band. Oh, the band. Far too loud for a proper worship service. Who decided to bring a band to church, anyway? Whatever happened to a good old-fashioned piano? Or a regal pipe organ. As much as it pained her to admit, church had become a young people’s game. She was more than happy to stay in her own place and watch that cute fella from Atlanta tell her how to improve her life.

Except this morning her decision to attend church virtually had backfired. She’d been irritable since breakfast and couldn’t concentrate on the sermon. The next thing she knew, her neighbor at Westwood Manor had knocked on the door to alert her that Avery’s photo had been on a television show. Maribelle had been too proud to admit that she’d been resting her eyes in the recliner and didn’t see a stinking thing.

Now she had so many questions.

She’d have to be extra accommodating during lunch if she wanted to get any crucial information out of her granddaughter. Sometimes the girl kept the facts locked down tighter than the gates of Fort Knox.

An ugly familiar sensation roiled inside. She pressed her palm to her abdomen. Probably hunger pangs or maybe all that oatmeal she’d been eating wasn’t agreeing with her. Surely that wasn’t envy slithering in like a copperhead snake and making itself comfortable.

Nonsense.

Her family evidently had big news to share but hadn’t bothered to tell her yet. So what?

A phone hummed nearby. She grew still. The temptation to look at the illuminated screen inches away wrestled with the tiny modicum of good sense she had left. Other people’s text messages weren’t meant for her eyes.

But she was hurt that her family had left her out. Why didn’t Avery tell her that she was going to be on that morning show everybody watched? No, this wouldn’t be her proudest moment, but she was feeling a bit vindictive. So she fumbled for her reading glasses wedged on top of her head, slid them onto her nose then leaned closer and read the text.

Hey, Avery. Hope you’re having a great weekend. This is a friendly reminder that we need to start filming tomorrow at 10:00 a.m. Does that still work for you? Let us know.

Filming?As in the movie? Maribelle gripped the counter with both hands and let out a whoop of delight. If she were a younger woman, she’d do a little victory dance. A slow grin pulled at the corners of her mouth as the recent conversation with her granddaughters replayed in her head.

The napkin. It would make the movie so much better if the producers knew about Cole and Avery’s teenage pledge to marry one another. Who didn’t love a story about two people destined to be together? Now, where was that thing?

A delightful hum of anticipation swept through her as she closed her eyes and tried to recall the details. Maybe being in a mostly empty house was a serendipitous opportunity. She peeked through the window above the sink and made sure Julene was gone. Then she crossed to the screened porch and peeked out toward the lake. The boat wasn’t at the dock. Good. That meant it would take a while for anyone to get back to the house. She had plenty of time to find what she needed.

With her hand trailing along the wall, she walked deliberately down the hall to the room where Avery slept. Now, where would Avery keep her most treasured possessions?

Maribelle paused to study a photograph of Avery with her children in a silver frame on the dresser. So precious. But she wasn’t here to admire scrapbooks or reminisce. No sir. She was a woman on a mission. She opened and closed the top drawer then the second, rummaged through some clothing. Nothing. Her fingers trembled as she fumbled with the lid on the jewelry box. The hinges squeaked. Only a few pairs of earrings, a broach that had once been Maribelle’s and a strand of pearls sat on top of the crushed velvet lining. Not big enough for a napkin. She closed the lid then shuffled toward the nightstand. A stack of folded laundry sat in the middle of the cedar chest at the end of the queen-sized bed. Maribelle eyed the chest. A tried-and-true container for sentimental items, but she’d try the nightstand next.

She eased the nightstand drawer open. A Bible, small notepad and a pacifier sat inside. Maribelle paused, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Any Southern woman worth her monogram hid crucial things between the pages of the Bible. Doubt niggled. Lucille’s warning about provoking family because she’d overstepped echoed in her head. She dismissed that thought faster than a sneeze through a screen door.

“Lucille thinks she’s so wise, spouting her advice,” she whispered.

Cole might get a little irritated if he found out she’d meddled in his personal affairs, but he’d get over it. Avery would be overjoyed when this was all said and done. Those two were precious. But painfully slow.

She rifled through the pages of the Bible and checked inside the front and back covers. Nothing. Pushing the drawer closed, she sighed then turned and surveyed the room. The edge of a notebook sticking out of a tote bag on the floor beside the armoire caught her attention.

That’s right. Avery had that notebook where she kept her important project details. How had she forgotten?

Maribelle didn’t have time for people to be so reluctant and indecisive. Before she left this world she needed to know that Cole and Avery were on their way down the aisle. She could tolerate a little momentary irritation from them if she knew that in the long run they’d be together. Stepping into their happily-ever-after.

Her heart pattered in her chest as she crossed the room and carefully retrieved the notebook. She quickly flipped through the pages of notes, sketches and a few pieces of magazine articles folded and tucked inside. At last she found the napkin sandwiched between the final page and the cover. It slipped out and landed near her freshly pedicured toenails, which she’d had painted in a delightful shade of lavender.

“Bingo.” Maribelle held on to the edge of the dresser and bent down, praying she didn’t keel over. She retrieved the napkin and turned to leave. Wait. What was she thinking? Stealing it was way too obvious. If Avery paid close attention, she might discover its absence before Maribelle had time to put her plan into action. A picture. That’s what she needed.

Sometimes she was so brilliant she could hardly stand herself. Wearing a proud smile, she ambled back out toward the front door where she’d left her pocketbook. Photographic evidence was all she needed to plant some seeds. Give the movie people some ideas of where they could go with this. Oh, they were going to eat this up. Everybody loved a story about love, right?

Maybe they’d even put her name in the credits. Wouldn’t that be something?

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