“As Maggy would say, ‘get in the now.’ Lots of the private schools, including hers, start in early August, because they let out in May.”
“Sending kids back to school before Labor Day is un-American,” he said. They’d arrived at the village, and he pulled his golf cart alongside hers.
Riley glanced around the lot, which was almost empty because the fireworks had ended nearly an hour earlier. Nate was kissing her, even before she could give him the “all clear” signal.
“You know what I wish?” he said, when she reluctantly started to get out of the cart.
“What?”
“I’m headed out on the first ferry tomorrow. Every summer, I’ve watched guys like your dad, and Wendell, and Ed Godchaux head back to work after the weekend, and for years I’ve watched wives and girlfriends sending them off and then picking them up the following Friday. Just once, I wish there was somebody waiting for me on Friday when the ferry docks.”
52
Scott was sitting on the chair opposite the sofa when Billy opened one bleary eye on Monday morning. He was dressed for travel, and his overnight bag stood by the door.
“Oh, God,” Billy moaned, jumping off the sofa and heading for the bathroom. “I overslept. What time is it? Don’t worry. I can take you to the ferry. Is there any coffee?”
“It’s seven. Riley is going to take me to the ferry. And there’s coffee in the kitchen.”
Scott stood outside the bathroom door, waiting.
“See?” Billy said, drying his hands and face with a towel. “I’m all set.”
“Too late,” Scott said. “But we need to talk before I leave.”
“Again?” Billy lurched toward the kitchen and the coffeepot.
“Your drinking is out of control. I think you need to go back to AA,” Scott said.
“No, I need to go back to work,” Billy said. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot, since, well, Wendell. I can’t just hang around the island all summer being Evelyn’s glorified houseboy. I’ve got a gig this week. That’s a good start, right?”
Scott walked over to the counter, to the half-empty jug of Stoli, and dumped its contents into the sink. “This is a good start, Billy. Spending one entire day sober. That’s a good start. When was the last time you went twenty-four hours without a drink? Do you even know?”
Billy glugged down half a mug of black coffee, then poured a refill. “You make it sound like I’m a big lush,” he protested. “Okay, yes, I like a cocktail most days. Who does that hurt? You’re gone all week. I get bored.”
“I was here this weekend. I got off the ferry Friday night, and you met me with a cocktail in your hand. You were wasted both Friday and Saturday night, and both mornings you made yourself a Bloody Mary before I’d even gotten up.”
Scott pointed at the now-empty vodka bottle. “That was a new bottle on Saturday. Face it, Billy, you’ve gone off the rails. You need help.”
Billy took the coffee into the living room and sat down at the piano, flexing his fingers before starting to do scales.
“What I need is a job and a source of income,” he said. He looked up at Scott. “Can we not fight about this anymore? It’s giving me a headache.”
They heard the firehouse’s front door open. Riley poked her head around the corner. “Scotty? Are you ready?”
Scott sat down beside Billy on the piano bench and put his hand over his partner’s on the keyboard. “No more fighting. I’ve got to go. Will you think about what I just said? Please?”
Billy sighed deeply. “I’ll try.”
* * *
Scott set his suitcase on the back of the cart beside Evelyn’s pink-and-white golf bag, then joined Riley on the front seat.
“Did you talk to him?” she asked.
Scott nodded. “I tried. He seems to think that if he goes back to work, that will be some kind of magic cure. He does have a paying gig this week. I forget where. I told him he needs to go back to AA, but he’s still in denial.”
“What will you do if he doesn’t get sober?” Riley asked. “Have you thought about that?”
“Look at these wrinkles on my face. Look at my new bald spot,” Scott said, turning to his sister-in-law. “I don’t think about anything else. But I don’t know what to do. I’d threaten to leave, but if I do, what happens to him?”
“Maybe he figures out how to be a responsible adult?” Riley suggested.
“Or maybe he just locks himself up in that damn firehouse and drinks himself to death,” Scott said.
Riley looked stricken. “Please don’t talk like that.”
She pulled the cart into the ferry lot.
“You don’t have to wait,” Scott said. “You can just pull up to the front and I’ll jump out.”
“That’s okay,” Riley said awkwardly. “There’s, um, somebody here I want to see for a minute.”
“Is it the same somebody you were with last night?” Scott asked.
“How do you know about that?”
“Relax. Nobody else saw you. We left the club late after the fireworks, but I had to go back, because your brother left his phone in the bar. I was passing by, and I happened to catch a glimpse of you two in a clinch.”
“Oh, God,” Riley moaned, covering her face with both hands.
“I won’t say anything,” Scott assured her. “He’s a good guy. I’m happy for both of you.”
Riley gave him a grateful smile. “You’re a good guy too, Scotty. The best other brother a girl could ask for.”
“He’s standing right over there, in case you were wondering.” Scott pointed toward the porch of the Mercantile. “Damn! He looks fine in a suit.”
* * *
Nate’s face lit up like a Christmas tree when he saw her climbing the front steps of the Mercantile. He had on a well-cut charcoal summer-weight business suit and dress shirt, with an unknotted tie looped around his collar.
“You came!” He grasped both her hands in his.
“I can only stay for a minute,” Riley said. “But I’m glad I got to see you dressed in a suit. As Scott said, you look mighty fine.”
“For the bankers,” Nate said. “Take a good look, because it’s the only one I own, and it’s the same one I used to wear in California when I had to meet with the venture-capital investors.” He glanced down at his well-polished wingtips. “These shoes are already killing me.”
“Very nice, but I think I prefer you in shorts and a T-shirt,” Riley said.
“Or nothing at all?”
“That, too,” she said.
They heard the Carolina Queen’s horn blast from across the parking lot.
“I better go,” Riley said. She leaned in and tried to give him a quick peck on the cheek, but Nate pulled her to him, wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed her deeply. “Thank you,” he said. “See you in a couple of weeks?”
“Call me,” she said. Her cheeks were cherry pink as she jogged back to the parking lot.
53
Riley stared at her own reflection in the bathroom mirror. The old silvering was peeling away, leaving moody, discolored freckling on the glass, which did her own moody, discolored skin no favors.