“It’s at 9:10. We’ve got forty minutes.” She glanced at Marie. “Are you in?”
Marie’s smile was impish. “You know, I’m seventy-six years old, and I’ve never done it in my life.”
“No way,” Felicia said.
“It’s true,” Marie insisted. “Let’s do it.”
“But we can’t just leave with all these people here,” Brooke said. At least a dozen stragglers seemed to have made themselves at home, lounging on the sofas, leaning in corners, chatting with old friends.
“I’ll ask Louette to put away all the food. That’ll clear stragglers out,” Marie said. “I’ve got a couple bottles of good white wine in the fridge. I’ll pack them up and sneak them out to the car.”
“And I’ll run upstairs and get some beach towels and a quilt out of the linen closet,” Lizzie volunteered. “Felicia, will Varina come with us? Do you think she can manage?”
“I’ll help her manage. Going out to Mermaid Beach tonight is just what she needs. I think it’s what we all need, after the past few days.”
80
Marie eased the Packard off the pavement and as far as she dared drive down the sandy beach overlook before stopping and setting the hand brake.
The ocean spread out before them with the full moon a glowing white orb, spilling silver onto the surface of the deep blue sea.
“Look at all those stars,” Marie marveled.
Brooke and the others scrambled out of the backseat, and Felicia hurried around to her great-aunt’s side, taking her arm and guiding her carefully through the soft sand.
“This looks like a good spot.” Brooke pointed toward a flat stretch of beach just above the high tide line. Lizzie spread the quilt onto the hard-packed sand and unfolded the beach chair she’d brought for Varina.
“Perfect,” Marie agreed. She set down the basket she’d brought from the house and slipped out of her shoes, easing herself down onto the quilt beside Brooke, Lizzie, and Felicia.
Brooke uncorked the wine, pouring it into plastic cups that she handed around to the others.
“Auntie Vee?” Felicia held out a cup.
“Oh, no, honey,” Varina said.
“Just a sip? To toast the full moon?” Felicia teased.
“All right, a sip.”
When everyone had been served, Brooke raised her cup. “Let’s drink to Josephine.”
Felicia frowned and looked away, muttering something unintelligible.
“Felicia Shaddix, don’t you go acting ugly,” Varina chided.
“Well, I don’t mind toasting Josephine,” Lizzie said. “She’s the one who brought us all together here on this island. She helped me understand a little about my grandmother Ruth and, indirectly, my messed-up, dysfunctional family.” She looked at the other women. “Did I tell you I got my ex to go through the boxes of my grandmother’s stuff I’ve had in storage? He’s sending me the rest of her letters and scrapbooks so I can look for more of Ruth’s correspondence with Josephine and Millie.”
“You’ve got an ex-husband?” Felicia asked.
“Josephine’s not the only one with secrets,” Lizzie said with a touch of sadness. “We were together for nine years but never actually married, which might have been our problem.”
“Sorry,” Felicia said. “I know what that’s like.”
“Not to mention Josephine seems to have reignited my stagnant writing career,” Lizzie said, brightening. “I’ve never been as productive as I’ve been since I came to Talisa. I’ve sold my piece about the High Tide Club ladies toVanity Fair, and I’ve even started fiddling around with a screenplay. So here’s to Josephine.”
Brooke tapped her cup against Lizzie’s. “She made me take a closer look at my family too. I’ve gained a new appreciation for my amazing mom, and I’m suddenly on speaking terms again with my dad. More importantly, I’ve reconnected with my own son’s father.”
“Does that mean you and Pete…?” Marie asked.
