Read Online Return to Sullivans Island by Dorothea Benton Frank - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dorothea Benton Frank
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plenty of cold beer and sweet tea. Despite the fact that the adults were all counting carbohydrates, watching their cholesterol, blood pressure, and just generally trying to stick to one diet or another, the mountainous platters of food would disappear all the same. People would give themselves special dispensations for the occasion or they would be goaded into tasting, Just a little, it’s so good …
The porch was overflowing with relatives and many of Susan’s lifelong friends and colleagues who had come to wish her well. Timmy was tending the grill, where he and Henry were bickering like twelve-year-old brothers over whether it was better to turn the baby back ribs over and over, basting them each time, or to turn them only once or twice and baste them at the end when they were fully cooked.
“It depends on who’s cleaning the grill,” Beth heard her mother say. “That gooey sauce sticks to the grilling rack like plaque in your arteries.”
“Ew,” Beth said, walking over to them with a platter of pigs in blankets and a dish of mustard. “Anybody want some of America’s favorite hors d’oeuvres? Watch out, they’re really hot.”
“And only marginally fattening,” Susan said with a wink. “Where’s Maggie?”
Beth smiled to herself because her mother wouldn’t fully enjoy bingeing on a handful of carbs and fat in front of her skinny older sister; that much was for sure. In addition, having Sophie there with her hard body gave them all another reason to suck in their abs and correct their posture.
“Don’t worry. Eat all you want. She’s in the kitchen with Cecily cutting ribbons from lemon and lime skins and tying them into bows to garnish a big platter of shrimp.”
Beth said this with a straight face because as absurd as it was, it was the truth. Beth’s Aunt Maggie was a fool for her paring knife and the kit of garnishing tools she bought on the Home Shopping Network. Susan arched her eyebrow at Beth, that famous arch Beth had practiced in the bathroom mirror and had nearly perfected, and jammed a pig in a blanket in her mouth as fast as possible.
“Really,” she said, implying that she agreed with Beth on Maggie’s compulsive nature. “Well, there are worse afflictions than a little OCD in the cooking department. Can I have another one of those?”
“Sure. Uncle Henry? Y’all want one?”
Each of her uncles put four on a napkin, slathered them with mustard, and let them rest on the side of the grill. They said Thanks, kid and went back to their argument.
Timmy said, “Tell you what, bubba. I’ll cook a rack on this side of the grill my way and you smother and suffocate yours over there, destroying their natural integrity—”
“What’s integrity got to do with pork? You’re as crazy as a low-flying loon.”
Susan put her hand on Beth’s elbow to lead her away.
“Numskulls,” she whispered. “Let’s go see what your cousins are doing.”
They spotted Mike, the cousin formerly known as Mickey, over by the bar with some adults and he waved to them. Beth stuck the platter into their circle and the pigs in blankets disappeared as though they had been devoured by a school of piranhas.
“So, Mike? What’s up with you?”
“I’ll go get some more,” Susan said, taking the empty serving dish from Beth. “Be right back.”
“Aunt Susan?” Mike said. “See if they’ve got any of those sausage balls left too? I love those things.”
“You know it! I’ll be back in a flash.”
Susan smiled at all of them and Beth wondered if she would ever look at anyone like her mother did. Susan’s eyes were brimming with maternal affection and it occurred to Beth that those kinds of looks were as natural to her mother as taking a breath. Beth was miles away from that stage of life. She could not even imagine seeing the world through eyes glazed over with happiness, much less happiness born from serving others.
They watched Susan disappear into the crowd and reappear as she
The porch was overflowing with relatives and many of Susan’s lifelong friends and colleagues who had come to wish her well. Timmy was tending the grill, where he and Henry were bickering like twelve-year-old brothers over whether it was better to turn the baby back ribs over and over, basting them each time, or to turn them only once or twice and baste them at the end when they were fully cooked.
“It depends on who’s cleaning the grill,” Beth heard her mother say. “That gooey sauce sticks to the grilling rack like plaque in your arteries.”
“Ew,” Beth said, walking over to them with a platter of pigs in blankets and a dish of mustard. “Anybody want some of America’s favorite hors d’oeuvres? Watch out, they’re really hot.”
“And only marginally fattening,” Susan said with a wink. “Where’s Maggie?”
Beth smiled to herself because her mother wouldn’t fully enjoy bingeing on a handful of carbs and fat in front of her skinny older sister; that much was for sure. In addition, having Sophie there with her hard body gave them all another reason to suck in their abs and correct their posture.
“Don’t worry. Eat all you want. She’s in the kitchen with Cecily cutting ribbons from lemon and lime skins and tying them into bows to garnish a big platter of shrimp.”
Beth said this with a straight face because as absurd as it was, it was the truth. Beth’s Aunt Maggie was a fool for her paring knife and the kit of garnishing tools she bought on the Home Shopping Network. Susan arched her eyebrow at Beth, that famous arch Beth had practiced in the bathroom mirror and had nearly perfected, and jammed a pig in a blanket in her mouth as fast as possible.
“Really,” she said, implying that she agreed with Beth on Maggie’s compulsive nature. “Well, there are worse afflictions than a little OCD in the cooking department. Can I have another one of those?”
“Sure. Uncle Henry? Y’all want one?”
Each of her uncles put four on a napkin, slathered them with mustard, and let them rest on the side of the grill. They said Thanks, kid and went back to their argument.
Timmy said, “Tell you what, bubba. I’ll cook a rack on this side of the grill my way and you smother and suffocate yours over there, destroying their natural integrity—”
“What’s integrity got to do with pork? You’re as crazy as a low-flying loon.”
Susan put her hand on Beth’s elbow to lead her away.
“Numskulls,” she whispered. “Let’s go see what your cousins are doing.”
They spotted Mike, the cousin formerly known as Mickey, over by the bar with some adults and he waved to them. Beth stuck the platter into their circle and the pigs in blankets disappeared as though they had been devoured by a school of piranhas.
“So, Mike? What’s up with you?”
“I’ll go get some more,” Susan said, taking the empty serving dish from Beth. “Be right back.”
“Aunt Susan?” Mike said. “See if they’ve got any of those sausage balls left too? I love those things.”
“You know it! I’ll be back in a flash.”
Susan smiled at all of them and Beth wondered if she would ever look at anyone like her mother did. Susan’s eyes were brimming with maternal affection and it occurred to Beth that those kinds of looks were as natural to her mother as taking a breath. Beth was miles away from that stage of life. She could not even imagine seeing the world through eyes glazed over with happiness, much less happiness born from serving others.
They watched Susan disappear into the crowd and reappear as she
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