Cara raised a brow. “I didn’t think John was still in the beau category.”
“He’s not,” Linnea said firmly. “At least not in my mind. But I haven’t seen Gordon since he returned to England, what…” Linnea did a quick count on her fingers. “Over six months ago. That’s a long time to be apart. I don’t want my ex hanging around when he finally gets here.”
“You and Gordon are still together, right?”
Linnea nodded.
“Then it’s only a problem if you still care about John.”
Linnea felt a prick of uneasiness. “Right.”
Cara looked at her watch. “Really must go. Thanks so much for being Hope’s nanny. It’s only temporary.”
“I’m her aunt. ’Nuff said.”
Cara smiled and climbed into the car.
Linnea waved, then stepped back from the Range Rover as it backed out of the driveway. Then, because she couldn’t stop herself, she glanced up at the large arched window of the carriage house. In the light of midday, she saw John clearly. His dark auburn hair caught the light but his face was shadowed. In her mind’s eye, she could see him smiling his crooked smile.
John lifted his hand in a wave.
Linnea reluctantly raised her hand and gave a halfhearted wiggle of her fingers. Then she turned heel, rolling her eyes, and walked resolutely to the rear deck. Once out of his sight she grabbed her phone and texted her friend Annabelle. She was on the staff of the sea turtle hospital and was also a victim of this morning’s layoffs at the aquarium.
Can you come over? Must commiserate. I have wine.
She went indoors to pull out two wineglasses. As she set them on the counter, her phone pinged with a return text.
On my way.
* * *
LINNEA SETTLED BACK into the wicker chair, tucked her feet up, and crossed her arms. The large wood deck extended seaward from the house over the wild dunes of the Rutledge property. Most of the yards on Ocean Boulevard had been manicured with grass and plantings to resemble mainland lawns. Her grandmother had adamantly refused to alter the natural landscape so their property was a riotous collection of wild grasses, plants, and flowers. Across the road, a large lot was held in conservation, allowing the sand dunes to roll on unimpeded to the beach. It was a rare view on the developed island.
Looking at the sea, Linnea realized how grateful she was for the friends in her life. She remembered what her Grandmother Lovie had told her: In life you’ll have many acquaintances. But consider yourself lucky to have one or two true friends.
Linnea had always been popular in school. She’d had a dozen girls she’d called friends. But none of them had gone in the same direction she had after graduation. Some were married with children; some had moved elsewhere. Linnea had been part of the latter group. When she’d returned home from California last year, she found she had less in common with her old friends. It had been hard to realize how friendships shifted over the years. She’d made new friends—Pandora James and Annabelle Chalmers. No two women could be more different. They were like oil and water and didn’t get along. Still, a tenuous, new friendship had developed.
Pandora was high style, gorgeous, fun, and flamboyant. She was in graduate school for engineering in England and, Covid permitting, planned to fly back to her grandmother’s beach house on Sullivan’s Island for the summer.
Annabelle was a local girl. She and Linnea had attended the same private high school in Charleston but had never been friends. Linnea was part of the South of Broad elite society of old Charleston. She and her friends had hung in the same circles since the nursery and seemed destined to continue throughout their lifetimes. In contrast, Anna was a scholarship student who lived with her mother in a poorer part of the city. She’d never blended in with the popular group at Porter-Gaud. Though she and Linnea had had a rocky start last summer, over the past year working together at the aquarium they’d experienced a tidal shift in their relationship. Annabelle’s habitual resentment of Linnea’s privilege had ebbed, and in turn, Linnea’s ability to open up, as a true friend must do, began to flow.
Linnea heard the crunch of Annabelle’s car pulling up in the driveway. She got up to go greet her but hesitated at the edge of the deck. She sighed with annoyance. She didn’t want to get tangled up with John again. Once burned/twice shy and all that. Instead of walking out on the driveway where John could see her from his window, Linnea crossed her arms as she waited for her friend to arrive. This could make for an annoying few weeks, she thought. When was John to hightail it back to his beloved California?
“Just go,” she muttered. Then lifted her frown to a smile as Annabelle’s face appeared from around the corner.
“I come bearing wine!” Annabelle called out as she climbed the deck stairs, a bottle of red in one hand, a bottle of white in the other. Her long red hair hung straight past her shoulders and on her ears she wore large gold loop earrings. She was dressed, as usual, in jeans and a black T-shirt that read Save the Seabirds.
“Bless your heart!” Linnea called back, grinning. They walked together into the house in search of wineglasses and a corkscrew.
“Red or white?” Annabelle asked, corkscrew in hand.
“Today we’re going to need both.”
Annabelle chuckled in her low-throated fashion. “I hear you.”
Linnea watched with awe as Annabelle twisted off the capsule around the neck of the bottle. She made it look so easy.
“How do you do that?” Linnea asked. “I’m pitiful trying to scrape that wrapper off.”
“Comes with practice,” Annabelle replied smugly. “Perks of being a bartender. Interesting fact: the original capsule was wax. Each bottle had to be dipped in wax to seal the end to prevent mold growth. The next innovation was lead. No surprise, that didn’t work out, for obvious reasons, but it took them till the 1980s to switch to these polylam ones.”
“So, if you collect old wines…” she said, thinking of her father.
“Yep. They still have those lead capsules.”
“That explains a lot,” Linnea said with a laugh. She gratefully took the offered glass of white wine. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to be tacky and add ice cubes. I can’t drink warm chardonnay.”
Annabelle shuddered. “I’ll put this bottle in the fridge—and pour myself a Malbec.” She worked on opening the new bottle as Linnea plopped ice cubes in her wineglass. “So, let me guess—you got laid off too?”
Linnea said with a groan, “Again. I can’t believe I’m back here.”
“At least we weren’t fired.”
“We’re not getting paid.…”
Annabelle frowned while pouring out her wine. “Jeez, I hope it’s not for too long.”
“No one knows. That’s the scariest part. It could be a while.” Linnea brought her glass to her lips. “If the aquarium gets in trouble, people will have to be let go permanently.”
Annabelle’s finely arched brows narrowed deeper and she took a long sip of wine.
“Let’s sit outside,” Linnea suggested, hoping the fresh air would lift the sudden drop in mood.
Annabelle grabbed the bottle of wine and followed her. “How are you holding up?”