The Beach House

“Come out to the island, then. It’s not far.”

“Maybe now that summer’s here and the kids are out of school, we’ll do just that. We’ll come out for a good visit.”

“Mama’d like that.” Then, thinking of Toy, “But it’s a little crowded here now.”

“Hell, I don’t stay in the cottage anymore,” he said, shooing away the suggestion in his blustery voice that sounded so much like her father’s it was eerie. “I’ve got my own place on Sullivan’s Island. Over by the lighthouse. Problem is, it’s rented out so much in the summer we hardly ever get to come down to the water like we want to.”

Cara heard the pride in his voice and thought that business must be pretty good for him to buy a summerhouse on Sullivan’s. Last she’d heard, they were saving to buy a house downtown. Could be they liked living in Mother’s house well enough. Then Cara knew an unsettling feeling as a new thought took root.

“Why don’t y’all come around four o’clock,” he said. “We’ll take a spin on the boat, maybe go up the Intracoastal a ways and come around back to the harbor. I’ll bet you haven’t done that in a long time. We can have ourselves some drinks and watch the sun set like old times. We’ll do it proper.”

“Sounds great, Palmer,” she said, meaning it. “Is there anything I can bring?”

“Well now, since you asked. Remember that shack that sells shrimp over on Shem Creek? Clud’s?”

“No, but I can find it.”

“Now, how can you forget an operation like that? Sure you remember. They’ve got the freshest shrimp, sell it right off the boat. You have to turn off Coleman by the gas station and wind your way round the old neighborhood as far back as you can go. It’s way in there by the dock. If you can get me some of that shrimp, I’ll take care of the bill when I see you. About four pounds ought’a do it. I’d get it myself but I won’t be back from Charlotte until Friday and Julia and the kids are coming along to visit her mother. We’ll all be back on Friday, though. Think I’ll make us some Frogmore Stew.”

She wondered if Palmer remembered that it had been her favorite Lowcountry meal growing up and wanted to prepare it just for her. “I sure can’t say no to an offer like that.”

“Well then, that’s that. Say hello to Mama for me. I’ll see you soon.”

They signed off with the same familiarity as if they’d just talked yesterday. It was like that with family, she thought, staring at the old telephone with a grin on her face. They could be separated for years but in a few words an age-old connection was made that had nothing to do with telephone wires.

She placed the receiver back into its cradle but left her hand resting on it. The house was quiet. She was alone. In for a penny, in for a pound she decided and picked up the phone again. God, it was a clunky thing and it weighed a ton compared to her little cell phone. She dialed her home number and checked her messages.

There were the expected sympathy calls from colleagues, some of whom were also laid off, some of whom she wasn’t sure about. She wrote these numbers down. Richard had called many times, asking why she wasn’t answering her cell phone, each time sounding more worried and pleading that she call.

Richard. She missed him with a sudden urgency, conjuring up his strong features and dark-brown hair just beginning to show dashing strands of gray. They’d shared disasters and triumphs alike. Everyone at the agency knew about their relationship and even tacitly approved of it. After all, when they weren’t working together on a project at the office, they were talking about the project during their personal time together. In fact, they’d often laughed and declared that what they had was better than love.

She heard the panic in his messages and felt guilty for not trying to reach him sooner. She hadn’t even left him a message that she was leaving town. Headache or no, she should have tried to contact him. Was Richard as devastated at being fired? It was a shame that he’d had to leave for New York during the biggest crises of their careers, when they needed each other the most.

She looked at her watch. It was 10:15, an hour earlier in Chicago. He might still be asleep. She yearned to call him but decided to contact Adele Tillwell first. If she didn’t reach her early, she and the headhunter would begin a nagging session of lunchtime phone tag. She went to her room to collect her palm pilot, paper and a pen, then returned to the small wooden hall table and made a makeshift desk, cursing herself again for leaving her cell phone. Pulling up a chair, she dialed the number of the trusted contact at an employment agency she’d dealt with many times before, but always from the hiring side of the desk.

Fortunately, Adele was at her desk. After initial pleasantries, they got swiftly down to business. She talked at length with Adele about her current situation, not the least surprised that she already knew about her layoff. They made a few jokes, laughed a bit, shared a little gossip, then when the chitchat was completed they dove right into what was out there in the market, appraised her résumé and considered what her next move should be.

“I’ll do what I can but the hiring picture is grim,” Adele concluded. “Especially at your level. Thanks to your old alma mater, the streets are flooded with applicants.”

Cara felt panic take root. “But my reputation is solid. I’ve got an impressive list of credits.”

“Yes, you do. You’re a plum, no doubt about it. There’s something out there for you.”

She heard the uncertainty. “Go on….”

“It’s just a matter of waiting it out.”

Cara did a little mental arithmetic, trying to figure out how long she could survive without an income. The separation package was generous, but…“I can’t wait too long or I’ll lose my cushion. Not to mention my condo.”

“I can’t control these things, Cara. It could take months, at the very least.”

“God, I hate not being in control.”

Adele chuckled and Cara felt the tension easing. Adele was good at her job. “It’s not totally out of our control. What I can do is work hard for you. And I will, Cara. You’re now my favorite client. I owe you. You’ve done a lot for me in the past.”

“No, you don’t owe me anything, but thanks, Adele.”

“What you can do is follow up on your own contacts. By the way, is there anyone or anyplace in particular you’d like me to inquire?”

They chatted a few minutes longer about possible firms to pursue.

“Okay then,” Adele concluded. “Just fax me the list.”

“I can’t. I’m in the dark ages here. If you saw the phone I was talking on…”

“E-mail me then.”

“I don’t have a computer.”

“You don’t? Where the hell are you? Siberia?”

“No.” She chuckled. “My mother’s beach house. I left in such a fog I forgot everything that wasn’t attached. Look, it doesn’t matter. I won’t be here that long. I’ll get the list to you. There’s always the U. S. Mail.”

“This will be interesting. When are you coming back to Chicago?”

“Probably next week.”

“I’ll see what I can line up. Oh, I just had an idea. You can always call Richard Selby and see if he can pull a few strings for you.”

Richard? “Uh, fine. Thanks again. Goodbye.”

She slowly put down the receiver. For another minute she sat with her hand resting on the phone trying to make sense of Adele’s parting comment. Clearly the message was that Richard was in a strong position. Was it possible that he was not laid off from the agency after all? Her mind spinning with questions, she immediately dialed Richard’s home number. Ordinarily she wouldn’t expect him to be at home in the morning, but these were not ordinary times.

After the fifth ring, the answering machine clicked on. His voice answered, clear and upbeat, but she hung up without leaving a message. Her heart was pounding in her ears as she thought the impossible. Could he still be at the agency?

Damn. The last thing she wanted to do was call there. She cringed at the thought of the awkward condolences and embarrassing explanations. But it was unlike her to put anything off. She needed to know. Now. Taking a deep breath, she picked up the phone again and dialed Richard’s private number, even while wondering if the number was still valid.

“Good morning. Richard Selby’s office.”

Cara’s breath caught and she took a second to collect herself. “Hello, Trish. This is Cara Rutledge.”

“Well, hello! We’ve been wondering where you’ve been hiding!”

She felt the sting of that comment prickle her cheeks. “I wasn’t aware that I was hiding,” she replied with frost.

“Oh,” the secretary stumbled, her tone becoming more subdued. “It’s just that Mr. Selby tried calling you several times. He’s been worried about you.”

“Has he? There was no need. My mother called and I had to leave town immediately to see her. It was urgent family business.” She wanted the word out that there was an emergency she had to tend to rather than that Cara Rutledge was hiding under some bush.