Read Online The Hurricane Sisters by Dorothea Benton Frank - Free Book Online

option?”
    “Wait a short while and see if he buys you earrings to match the bracelet. Then you’ll know there’s some funny business going on.”
    “They make a necklace too.”
    “If he shows up with earrings and a necklace, get a lawyer.”
    I knew she intended to be funny but I didn’t smile. Nothing about the topic was funny to me. I just looked at her, realizing then that indeed, my marriage had a fault line right down the middle. Our food arrived.
    “Let’s talk about something else,” I said, cutting a slice of asparagus and eating it. “This is good.”
    “Well, I’m happy. My scallops are wonderful. All right. Tell me about my darling granddaughter. You know, she really is an extraordinary girl.”
    “She’s very thoughtful and sweet,” I said. “But she’d starve without us.”
    “Liz, I don’t think reminding her of that every five minutes is particularly beneficial to anyone.”
    “What should I do? Applaud? Mother, she earns ten dollars an hour. She’s dating no one. How and when she finds time to paint is beyond me but I haven’t seen anything new from her in ages. And a bachelor of fine arts? She may as well have studied indigenous cultures for all the good it’s ever going to do her! I wish you’d encourage her to get her master’s—at least she could teach.”
    “Teach? She’s too introspective for that. She really should be painting all the time, you know. Working for the Turners, nice as they are . . . well, you’re right. It won’t put bread on the table.”
    “She can’t even afford a table . Probably painting supplies either. And anyway, her work seems so amateurish to me.”
    “Who are we to judge? Skipper says even this new pope over in Rome says we shouldn’t judge. Would you pass the salt, please?”
    Skipper was a Roman Catholic. I pushed the saltshaker toward her, biting my tongue about it. If she wanted to send her blood pressure through the roof, it was her prerogative.
    “Miss Maisie? We’re Protestant. We don’t take direction from the Vatican. You don’t think I should stand in judgment of my children? Like you never judge me?”
    She harrumphed and said, “You listen to your mother, Elizabeth Pringle Waters, before you get on your high horse over there. Your husband is a horse’s patootie, and it doesn’t matter if he’s having a fling. It seems like half the men in this country can’t keep their pants on. I don’t know everything but I know this much. If you want to, you can put a stop to it. He loves you, and, plus, he’d die if he had to give up half his assets. And by the way, missy, I saw you having lunch the other day at Sermet’s and it looked like monkey business to me.”
    “ What? I was with a potential donor for the shelter, Mother. I don’t like your tone.”
    “My big fat foot. You were drinking a glass of wine. Sitting right there at a window table for all of Charleston to see! It wasn’t even one o’clock in the afternoon. Would you like a scallop?”
    “No, thank you. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “Take up gardening. Then at least you’ll have something wholesome to brag about. You’ve got too much time on your hands.”
    “I do not!”
    “And don’t worry about pushing Ashley. She has a very special talent.”
    “Like Juliet had?” Oh brother, I thought. Here we go again.
    “Yes, like Juliet.”
    “So, because Juliet died before she could fulfill her artistic ambitions, you think we should just let Ashley live her life without a solid career path and see what happens? I just find it odd, given your parents and the Depression and all that . . .”
    “What? What in the world does the Depression have to do with this?”
    “Self-reliance!” I knew I was speaking too loudly. “It was the most important thing you taught me! And it’s odd that you don’t think Ashley needs a more-well defined career path. She’s got to start paying her bills at some point! Or do you want to keep throwing