Twice in a Lifetime. Marta Perry

he was wrong to take her away from everything that was familiar to her, just for the sake of his career.”

      Miz Callie turned to look at her in the dim light. “Georgia Lee, you don’t know a thing about it, so don’t you go judging him.”

      When Miz Callie spoke in that tone, an apology was in order. “No, ma’am. I’m sorry.”

      Her grandmother’s expression eased. “I suspect he felt it was time for a fresh start. Sometimes that happens.”

      “Sometimes a fresh start is forced on you.” What was she going to do after this interlude? Go back to Atlanta and try to find another job?

      “And sometimes you just know it’s the right time.”

      Something in her grandmother’s tone caught her attention. “Is that why you want to move to Sullivan’s Island permanently? Because you want a fresh start?”

      Miz Callie waved her arm. “Who wouldn’t want to live here, simply, instead of being enslaved to a lot of things?” She said the word with emphasis.

      “So that’s why you’ve been giving stuff away at the Charleston house.” A frightening thought struck her. “Miz Callie, you’re not dying, are you?”

      For a moment her grandmother stared at her. Then her laugh rang out. She chuckled for several moments, shaking her head. “Oh, child, how you do think. We’re all of us dying, some of us sooner than later, but no, there’s nothing wrong with me.”

      “Then why…”

      Her grandmother sighed, apparently at Georgia’s persistence. “Do you remember Mary Lyn Daniels?”

      Georgia’s mind scrambled among her grandmother’s friends and came up with an image. “Yes, I think so. She’s the one you always say has been your friend since the cradle, isn’t she?”

      “Was,” Miz Callie said. “She passed away this winter.”

      “I’m sorry.” She clasped her grandmother’s hand, aware of the fragility of fine bones covered thinly by soft skin. She should have known about that. She would have, if she’d come back more often. “Did Mary Lyn’s death—is that what has you thinking of making so many changes?”

      Her grandmother smiled faintly. “This isn’t just about grieving my friend, darlin’. At my age, I’ve learned how to do that. I know I’m going to see them again.”

      “What then?” She leaned toward her, intent on getting answers. “There must be some reason why you feel such a need to change things.”

      Miz Callie stared out at the waves. “I’d go and sit with Mary Lyn, most afternoons. Seemed like all she wanted to do was talk about the old days, when we were children here on the island. Her memory of those times was clearer than what happened yesterday.”

      “I’m sorry you had to go through that.” She choked up at the thought of Miz Callie sitting day after day with her dying friend. Small wonder if it made her reflect on her own mortality.

      “It was good to sit there with her and remember those years.” Miz Callie’s tone was soft, far away. “But sometimes she’d start in on things she regretted. Old hurts never mended. Relationships lost.” She shook her head slowly. “I don’t want to be like that at the end. And I’m thinking maybe God used Mary Lyn to show me it’s time to right old wrongs and make my peace with life.”

      “Miz Callie, I don’t believe you ever did anything that needs righting.” She hadn’t been ready for a conversation about life and death tonight, and she was swimming out of her depth. “If that’s why you want to move here to the island full-time, I can understand, but I know there’s more. That doesn’t explain you hiring an attorney nobody knows to handle business no one knows about.”

      Miz Callie sighed, suddenly looking her age and more. Then she leaned over to put her hand on Georgia’s.

      Georgia clung to that grip: the hand she’d always held, the one that had reassured her as a child. Now it felt cool and delicate in hers.

      “All right, Georgia Lee. I know you’re worrying about me. Tomorrow.”

      “Tomorrow what?” she asked, confused.

      “Matt is comin’ tomorrow to meet with me. You can sit in with us. I’ll explain everything then.”

      “But, Miz Callie…” She didn’t want to wait. And she certainly didn’t want to hear about it—whatever it was—in front of Matt.

      “Tomorrow.” Her grandmother’s voice was tired but firm. “I’m not goin’ over it twice, sugar, and that’s that. You’ll hear all about it then.”

      Georgia clamped her lips shut on an argument. Tomorrow. She’d have to be content with that.

      Chapter Three

      Georgia sat in line for the drawbridge leading back onto Sullivan’s Island, glancing at her watch as if that would help. She’d be late for the meeting with Matt if she didn’t get moving, and she didn’t want Miz Callie to say anything to him that she wasn’t there to hear.

      It was a good thing Miz Callie had reminded her to bring the cooler for the groceries. The closest supermarket was in Mount Pleasant, across the Cooper River from Charleston proper, across the Intracoastal Waterway from Sullivan’s Island. Not far, but not just around the corner, either, so islanders tended to stock up when they went.

      At least once she got to the house, the secrecy would be over. Miz Callie would come clean with her so that she could resolve this situation, whatever it was, and get back to her own life, whatever was left of it.

      A tall sailboat moved serenely past, and the bridge lowered into place. With a sigh of relief, she rumbled across the bridge and back onto the island. Right, then left, then left again, and she pulled up to the house.

      She went up the stairs slowly, laden down by the many bags of groceries she was attempting to take in one trip. She fumbled with the door, staggered in and found that Matt was already there.

      He rose, coming quickly to help her with the bags, his dress shirt and dark tie reinforcing the fact that this was a business visit and not a neighborly call.

      “Where do you want these?” He followed her into the kitchen.

      She nodded toward the counter. “Let me put things in the refrigerator, and then I’ll join you.” She waited for an argument from him, but none came.

      “Good. I think you should be in on this.”

      He sounded sincere enough. Or maybe he was just accepting what he couldn’t change. She slid the milk and a bag of perishables onto the shelves and closed the fridge. Then she followed Matt into the living room.

      Papers were spread across the round table where she and her girl cousins used to play with their paper dolls. She sat down in the wicker chair opposite Miz Callie.

      Now that the moment had come, she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to find out what this was all about. She glanced at Matt, but he wore his stolid lawyer’s expression that didn’t give anything away.

      Miz Callie sat very straight in her rocker, hands folded in her lap. “I’ve made a decision about the Jones Island property. I’m afraid it won’t be popular with the family, but my mind is made up, and there’s no point in arguing about it.”

      “I’m not going to argue, Miz Callie.” The piece of property on the uninhabited small barrier island had come down to Miz Callie through her side of the family. It was hers to do what she liked with. Surely she realized nobody would contest that.

      “Good.” Her grandmother gave a short nod. She sounded very much in control, but Georgia could see her hands were clasped tightly to keep them from trembling. “Matthew is going to turn the Jones Island land into a nature preserve to protect it from ever being developed.”