Read Online Pawleys Island-lowcountry 5 by Dorothea Benton Frank - Free Book Online Page A

each other was so obviously genuine that anyone would have wanted to be a part of their lives.
    It was the kind of freeze-frame you found in a magazine feature article on old money and how the vastly rich really passed their time. Dressed for the evening and drinks with mother at dusk. The music of water and floral air gently moving the landscape back and forth in a dance of grace. Delicious bits served on silver trays to whet the appetite for the beautiful dinner that was sure to follow.
    Rebecca was excited. Huey spotted us and waved. I couldn’t wait to walk on the Valentine stage and take up my part.
    “This is like a movie,” Rebecca whispered to me as we walked toward them.
    “Yep. It’s Cary Grant and Bette Davis all over again, except that Cary’s a plump old bird.”
    Rebecca giggled and I made a guilty face.
    “Hello, Mr. Valentine! Miss Olivia!” I said. “What a perfect night!”
    “Don’t you look fabulous? As always…” Huey said to me, and then to Rebecca he said, “Miss Rebecca! You shame my rose garden! Look at you! Come join us!”
    Byron had already poured a Perrier for me and offered the goblet from his small cocktail tray. Even the tray had a linen doily with lace edges, starched within an inch of its life.
    “Good evening, Miss Abigail,” he said and arched his eyebrow in familiarity. I was sure he plucked them. They were too perfect.
    “Byron,” I said, nodding my head in greeting. “Thank you.”
    “And what can I get for this lovely young lady?”
    “A glass of white wine would be nice,” Rebecca said.
    “Tonight we’re pouring an extraordinary ninety-six Louis Jadot, Meursault and a three-ninety-nine California char-doe-naay that I wouldn’t serve trailer trash. Does the lady have a preference?” His eyebrows began to undulate as he waited for Rebecca to respond.
    Rebecca didn’t know whether to be horrified or entertained, so I answered for her.
    “I think the Meursault will do the trick. And Byron?”
    “Hmmm? Oh!” He reached in his pocket and handed Rebecca the keys to her car. “Good as new!”
    “Thanks!” Rebecca said.
    “Where on earth did you get the swill?”
    “Miss Olivia bought a case at Sam’s Club the last time she took off and drove herself to Charleston. It would destroy her not to offer it.”
    “Save it for the next opening—we can make sangria,” Rebecca said.
    Before turning, Bryon waved his hand behind his head and then pointed his finger in Rebecca’s direction. “Sangria! Oh, I love it. It’s so eighties ! Isn’t she the clever one?”
    “He’s a little—I mean don’t you think he’s…” Rebecca said.
    “Over the top? Of course he is! But he’s hilarious and I’m just used to him, that’s all. His squeal is a little bit addictive.”
    “What do I do about the bill for my car?”
    “Don’t worry. Huey will twist it out of you.”
    Rebecca smiled and shook her head.
    We sat with Miss Olivia. Huey finally took a chair and we began to talk about everything except Rebecca and how she lost her home and children.
    “We had a tourist nearly drop dead today in the big house,” Miss Olivia said. “Screamed bloody murder and passed out. Some woman from Pennsylvania. They said she looked like a giant halibut, just flopped on the floor! EMS came and everything!”
    “Yet another sighting,” Huey said, as droll as Oscar Wilde.
    “Sighting of who ?” Rebecca said.
    “Alice,” I said, “the ghost of Alice Flagg. She’s always coming around, or so they say. She used to take music lessons here in the big house from Miss Olivia’s great-grand-something or other. I guess she feels at home here.”
    “Who is Alice Flagg?” Rebecca said.
    “Oh, my dear!” Miss Olivia said, as though Rebecca had spent the most of her life on the moon. “You’ve never heard of Alice Flagg? Why, it’s the most romantic story in the world!”
    “Sentimental sop, if you ask me,” Huey said. “I wish she’d find that ring and get her misery