Meet Me at the Starlight

Chapter 28

HARLOW

The cool May morning pushed her to run a little farther, a little faster. She’d have to measure the distance with her car, but she figured two and a quarter miles.

She worked the afternoon and evening shifts at the rink, so she used her morning for chores. She balanced her bank account, tossed in a load of laundry, unloaded the dishwasher, manhandled the trash can out to the street just as the garbage truck went by, and watered the plants she’d potted in the kitchen and living room. And framed what personal photos she could find before leaving Buckhead.

One of her at a friend’s birthday party. She was probably ten. It was blurry, but she loved it.

One of Dad working the batter machine at Hayes Cookie Co.

One of Harlow reading through her lines on the set of Talk to Me Sweetly.

One of Mom’s modeling headshots.

She almost called Matt to dish about her Mom discovery, but she’d made it clear they were done. It didn’t seem fair to stir things up.

With her Nikon, Harlow explored Sea Blue Beach, finding all the quaint corners and old buildings for her creative lens. One roll was entirely of sunsets, sunrises, and the Starlight. She had three rolls at Alderman’s Pharmacy for development and planned to frame the best of the best. More and more, 321 Sea Blue Way became Harlow Hayes’s—no, it became her home.

Tucking her keys and some money in her pocket, she headed out the door. First stop Alderman’s to see if her photos were back, then to the library to pick up a stack of business books, then the Blue Plate for lunch. During her run, she’d used her mental energy to psych herself up for a big garden salad with grilled shrimp. But lettuce and tomato never measured up to the breakfast platter of eggs, bacon, fried potatoes, and pancakes. During the whole two-plus miles, she feared she’d cave. The struggle was real.

A couple of teen girls across the street hollered at her. “Harlow, we’re coming to skate tonight.” Another woman stopped her in the middle of the sidewalk with a gentle tap on her arm. “Any word on the signature verification? I got my whole family to sign the petition.”

“Still waiting.” She started to say Tuesday was anxiously waiting, but now that she thought about it, the older woman seemed remarkably calm.

The rest of the town buzzed with anxiety, though. Would there be a Starlight or a Murdock monstrosity this time next year? Tension mounted as dissenting opinions debated in the public square.

The photos weren’t back yet at Alderman’s. So she headed to the Blue Plate’s back deck by way of the Beachwalk.

“Harlow, hello.” Xander popped out of nowhere and stood in front of her.

“Xander!” She jumped back, taking him in. Dressed in a blue pullover and pressed khakis with Top-Siders, his thick black hair lightly touched with silver and tousled by the wind, he seemed larger than life. And so oddly out of place.

“Sorry, did I scare you?” He laughed low.

Since she left Buckhead, he’d called her a half dozen times and sent a box of her clothes and shoes Davina had stuffed in the back of a closet. All perfect for the life she used to lead. Not for Sea Blue Beach.

Their conversations were a complicated two-step of his “Give me a second chance” and her “I don’t know.”

During one call, she asked if he was aware his Uncle Devier knew her mother in another life. He did not. Well, hadn’t until Talk to Me Sweetly filming started.

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“Sorry, didn’t think it was important.”

Was anything important enough for him to tell her? I’m dining with my ex-wife? My uncle knew your mother when she was a model? I’m breaking up with you?

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Come on, Harlow. You know why I’m here. You.” He tipped his head toward the yacht moored offshore. “I had to see you. So I gathered the crew and sailed down. Arrived last night. I went to your place, but you weren’t there. The kid mowing the lawn said you might be at the diner.”

“I was about to grab a late breakfast,” she said, thinking again of the platter she’d dreamed about on her run.

“I was just about to have breakfast on the yacht. My new chef, Baptiste, makes wicked scrambled egg whites with spinach and mushrooms.”

Egg whites. A diet plate. On the SS Spirit of Fortune.

“I have to work in a couple of hours.”

“I’ll have you back in time, I promise. Please.”

Being on time wasn’t her concern. It was more that she’d be an emotional mess. But she was hungry, and he did sail all this way to see her.

At the end of the dock, a crew member waited with a tender to drive them out to the Fortune. A steward led them to the Portuguese deck, where a table was set with a linen cloth, bone china, and crystal glasses. The morning sun glinted off the pitcher of mimosas.

It was lovely. And classic Xander. Harlow sat with some trepidation as he filled her glass.

“I remembered these are your favorite.”

“Yes, but they have a lot of calories.”

“Cheers.” Xander tapped her glass with his. “And who cares about calories?”

“Me.” She’d come to the conclusion food must not rule her one way or the other.

“So,” he said after a moment, “are you at least thinking about coming home? What about us?”

“There is no us, Xander. And I am home. I like it here. I’m not sure I want to leave.”

“Okay, okay, I think I can accommodate that, Harlow. Work something out.” He sipped from his glass and gazed toward the water. “But if we both want children—”

She unrolled the linen napkin ring and lined up the cutlery by her plate. “Is that what this is about? Children? You know I want a family, so you’re using it against me? Or you’re feeling your own biological clock ticking? You want an heir? It will take too long if you go after some other long-legged model or actress.”

He glared at her. “Is that what you think? That I’m executing some master manipulation?”

“You are goal oriented, aren’t you? And children was the first thing out of your mouth, Xander.”

“No, the first thing out of my mouth was ‘I love you.’ I mention children because it’s what we both want, Harlow. Give me a break here. I know, I was a jerk to you. I hurt you, and I’m sorry. I just want to get back to who we were before.”

“Who were we before? I was moony-eyed for you and completely unaware Davina had returned to your life.” Harlow had been thinking about this a lot lately. “I’m not some business deal to renegotiate. I’m flesh and blood.” She raised her arm and pinched the skin. “How could you block me like a common criminal from our home? How could you in good conscious ignore my calls?” She swigged her mimosa, fired up. “In fact, how dare you treat me that way? I was your fiancée.”

“Yes, and again, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not about being sorry, Xander. It’s about the man inside.” She stretched to poke his chest. “A good man, an honorable man, would’ve talked to me, given me a chance to fight for us. He would’ve made provision for me, especially after his financial recommendation emptied my accounts.”

“I told you, Davina—”

“No, Xander, stop blaming her. You allowed yourself to be duped. You. All you.”

“Fine, it was all me. I was stupid and blind—”

“Excuses.”

Xander launched out of his chair. “What do you want me to say? That I’m a selfish, evil man who didn’t care if I hurt you?”

“That’s what it felt like to me.”

“I thought . . .” He sighed and faced away. “I thought if we cut it cleanly without a bunch of drama, we could both move on.” He knelt beside her chair. “But I was wrong, darling. Very, very wrong.”

“Once upon a time, I thought hearing that would make me feel better, but it doesn’t.”

“Now you’re just punishing me. How long are you going to make me pay? Another year? You’ll be thirty going on thirty-one. I’ll be forty-five in two months. I’d like to have children while I have the energy.”

The conversation quieted as a steward carried out their breakfast.

“I’m not punishing you, Xander,” she said when they were alone again. “But you can’t come in here, crook your finger, and expect me to come running.” She stirred her eggs with her fork but didn’t take a bite. “My whole life has been one big manipulation.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” She took a forkful of eggs. They were creamy and cheesy. Very good.

“I promise that is not what I’m doing. I just want the woman I love to come home.”

“Xander, do you really love me? Or am I just filling the hole left by Davina?” That felt good. “I walked straight from Mom’s world into yours. I loved you, but I see life differently now. I’m not that Harlow Hayes. I love Sea Blue Beach. I love working at the Starlight. I’m reading business books.”

“You want to start a business?” He raised his glass to her. “I have it on good authority, I’m a brilliant businessman. So you’re not going to take the CCW job?”

“I’d be crazy to pass it up. Jinx said the money is amazing. But I have to lose the weight.” She shoved her mimosa aside. “Otherwise, I can do that job in my sleep.”

“No doubt. You’re the Harlow Hayes, Most Beautiful Woman in the World.”

“I’m starting to resent that title.”

Xander regarded her for a moment. “How’s the diet going?”

“It’s going.”

“Since we’re being honest, Harlow . . .” He sighed and glanced toward the Starlight sign. “I may have been the reason you turned to food for comfort two years ago, but now you’re just stonewalling yourself.”

“Yet you served me orange juice and champagne.” Harlow leaned toward him. “Do you want me or the beauty? Am I okay like this, Xander? When I gain weight with each pregnancy, will you still want me? I can’t live under that false standard anymore. Maybe I am being rebellious because I was always the Harlow Hayes and never plain ol’ me. I grew up on rabbit food and powdered drinks, diet soda and bread that tasted like cardboard.”

“I’m not saying what the industry demands is fair, but I am saying if you want to go on with it, you have to fit the mold. The same will apply to your business. I don’t hire an engineer to be my accountant.”

“But you hired a crook to be mine.”

“I was as surprised as you.” He took a bite of his omelet. “And yes, I will love you no matter what. But, Harlow, even you can’t fight how extraordinarily beautiful you are. Even now, you captivate everyone around you. I mean, when they were deciding on the Most Beau—” He stopped suddenly. “Oh, hey, did I tell you I finally closed on the new plant in China?”

“Don’t change the subject. When they were deciding on what? Finish the sentence.”

“Harlow, it’s not...” He glanced away. “Nothing.”

“You know your eyes twitch when you lie, Xander.” Sounds from the shore drew Harlow’s attention to the tourists on the beach and a couple of buff dudes hustling to the water with surfboards under their arms.

Suddenly, she saw Matt in her mind’s eye, lacing on a pair of skates so she could pass out flyers, telling her she could do it, then shoving her down the Beachwalk while he chatted up the pilots on the beach.

Boldness welled up inside of her. “Xander, finish your sentence. What were they deciding? Don’t tell me it was about a plant in China or some financial portfolio because you said it on the heels of me somehow being extraordinarily beautiful.”

“You know how the world works, Harlow. Figure it out.” Xander moved to the edge of the deck with his mimosa in hand.

The first time he took her out on the Fortune, Harlow leapt from the deck without hesitation. While she hated the sensation of falling, falling, falling, then hitting the water and sinking down without restraint, she loved kicking to the surface and inhaling the first glorious gulp of air. Once upon a time, she loved doing things that scared her a little.

“Why don’t you tell me how the world works, Xander?” She moved next to him.

“Networking. Relationships. Favors. You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.”

“Is that how I got the part in the movie?”

“No,” he said sharply. “I had nothing to do with the movie. Though I think Anne had been in touch with Devier. But you earned the part. Those five auditions weren’t fake.”

“Then what? What were you deciding about my extraordinary ...” A white fluffy cloud drifted past the sun and shaded the yacht. “Xander, you manipulated the Most Beautiful Woman title. Oh my gosh, how is that even possible?”

“I didn’t manipulate. But they called—”

“Who called?”

“People, Harlow. The ones deciding. Influencing.”

“The ones deciding?”

“How do you not know this?” He sighed. “Yes, there’s a final consensus. People talk. Your name was in the top five, and a few influential people called, asked if I’d like to get you to number one.”

“You bribed them?”

“Not a bribe exactly, but I contributed to a couple of things. Maybe helped with some jobs.”

“You bought me the title? I really wasn’t the most beautiful. I had to be helped to the top?” She was a fraud. Everything about her was orchestrated by someone else. “I thought I’d earned that one. On my own. A reward for all the magazine covers, the runway shows, the early days of go-sees, and going from one photo shoot to another. For the hours I spent strutting in front of mirrors, practicing my expressions, starving myself half to death so I could do the job well. But I didn’t earn that title. Your money bought it.”

“I’m not denying your hard work, but being named the most beautiful is, well, subjective. Sometimes the decision makers need a little shove.”

“Then the title is yours, not mine.”

“Darling, come on. Be reasonable. You did earn it. I just nudged. Geez, I’m sorry I opened my mouth.”

“It’s a condition men get when I’m around. They say things they don’t mean. But you know what I think? You’ve been dying to tell me the truth. That somehow it makes me beholden to you.”

“You’re not so na?ve as to think the world is fair. We were—we are—the Billionaire and the Beauty. I merely added the exclamation point. And why would I want you beholden to me? That’s ridiculous.” Xander sipped his drink. “There were a lot of beautiful women in the running that year, Harlow.”

“Well, then, why don’t you marry one of them?”

She walked to the edge of the yacht, secured her keys in her hand, and jumped. Falling, falling, falling, and she had never felt so free.

TUESDAY

JUNE 1944

“I can’t shake it, Harriet. The fear.” Tuesday finished her iced tea and set it on Harriet’s counter. “I lost LJ. Who’s next? Dup? Lee?” Tuesday slipped on her gloves. She always felt like dressing up a bit when Harriet invited her over. She was a lady’s lady. “What do you hear from Abel?”

“Same as you. He’s on the USS Mason now. He doesn’t say much other than the chow ain’t nothing to write home about.” Harriet laughed. “Then he goes on for another page about breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He got to see Morris when they docked last month. Didn’t I tell you? They went out on the town. Morris said Twain was right: ‘The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco.’ He says California is fine, but loading bombs on ships is hard work. He’s made a good friend, though. A Jimmy Fausnaugh from Columbus, Ohio. Says we’re going to visit them when the war is over.”

“I suppose that will be the case for a lot of us when it’s all said and done. Now, why don’t you come to me for dinner? I’ve not cooked for you in ages. I’m not working the Starlight tomorrow night.”

“My dear friend, I love you like a sister but you’re an average cook at best, and in your hot kitchen, I’d roast right along with the meat. Stick a fork in me, I’m done. No, you come here, where everything is electric.” Harriet laughed and walked her to the door. “Surely you can buy a new stove by now.”

The Nickle place at 321 Sea Blue Way was bright and airy, even cool on a June day with all the windows open and the ceiling fans turning.

“You’re right. But I’ve gotten a bit sentimental about the old thing. I love the smell of the wood in that potbelly, and nothing beats the way it cooks the food. And I can heat up a can of beans with the best of them, Harriet Nickle, so mind yourself.”

Harriet pulled Tuesday into a hug. “Our men will come home. I’ve been talking to Immanuel, asking Him to look over them.”

“He can’t do anything less.”

They set a time for dinner tomorrow, and Tuesday walked home. She wanted to change into slacks before heading to the rink. So many women wore them these days.

As she neared her place, an old man in a civil uniform rode up on a bicycle. Ransom, from the telegraph office.

“Mrs. Knight. I’m so terribly sorry.” He stretched the yellow telegram envelope toward her.

Tuesday kept walking toward her porch. “I don’t want it, Ransom. You just take that and go on. It’s not for me.”

“Mrs. Knight, I...” He dropped his bicycle and ran after her. “My condolences.”

“Get away from me.” When he tried to press it into her hand, she tossed her purse at him. “I said I don’t want it!” She thought Doc was the only bearer of bad news until he came along.

“I understand.” There was a sadness in his voice. Of course everyone in town despised the man who brought telegrams of death. “The Scotts over on Calhoun Street done lost three sons. But, Mrs. Knight, wounded telegrams don’t look no different than killed. Read it first.”

She yanked it from his hand. Maybe Dupree was merely wounded. Or missing. Getting wounded wasn’t Leroy’s style. He was all or nothing. Her fingers trembled as she tore away the flap. A thin Western Union note slipped out as Ransom rode off.

The Secretary of War sends his deepest regret that your husband, Master Sergeant Leroy Knight, was killed in action on June 6, 1944, on the beaches of Normandy. Letter to follow. Sincerely, the Adjutant General.

She collapsed to the gravel, her body swollen with a cry she could not release. Crumpling forward until the gravel pierced her cheek, she curled her fingers into the rocks and dug into the dust. Voices sounded around her. A car door slammed. Shouts volleyed over her. This was her end. She could give no more.

Immanuel! Where are you? How could He allow it? Hadn’t she been through enough? Abandoned enough? Had she failed in her devotion in minding the Starlight?

She woke fitfully when thunder rumbled through her room and a gust of wind rattled the cottage. Heavy blackout curtains cut off the light of the heavens and stifled the air.

Still in her dress from tea with Harriet, Tuesday peeled off her torn stockings and lit the candle she kept on the nightstand for when blackouts were called. Down the hall, she paused by Dupree’s room. Harriet slept, curled up in her tea dress.

Down the narrow stairs to the kitchen, she found Doc sitting at the table, nursing a cup of coffee, his thick gray hair bearing the ring of his hat. He looked tired in the cold kitchen light. Tuesday tugged the blackout curtains on the kitchen window closed.

“The warden will come by if we let light out.” She cut off the overhead light and set the candle on the table. “So you know?”

“Ransom called. I told him to if you got a telegram. You know Lee asked me to look out for you.”

“I didn’t know you were in any one place long enough for a phone call.”

“I’ve been staying over in Fort Walton. Volunteering where I can.” He nodded toward his cup of coffee and gave Tuesday a half smile. “It’s cold. But I’m starting to like it.”

Tuesday pushed past the creaking screen door to the porch. An inky sky hung over the dark town. Even the Starlight was subjected to blackout regulations. But God’s lightning didn’t care about man’s rules and lit up the whole sky with long, zigzagging electricity. Tuesday liked to think it was just for her because today her world changed forever. She was a war widow.

The screen door creaked again, and Doc stood beside her. “Normandy was a victory for the Allied forces.”

“Is that your version of a pep talk? That I should be glad my husband gave his life for freedom?”

“You know that’s what he’d want. If his number was up, Leroy Knight wanted to go out fighting.”

A single tear ran down her cheek. “How I hate that you are right.”

“If you need me to do anything, Tuesday, just tell me.”

She stepped off the porch without a word and started toward the Starlight, which stood tall against the strobes of lightning.

Only when she arrived at the rink did she realize it was locked up tight. She fell against the wall and slid down to the walkway. Thirty yards away, waves rolled against the shore.

She was void and numb, like one of those cartoon robots at the movies. She screamed, wanting to cry, but her eyes were dry. When a figure emerged from the blackness, swinging a lantern, she knew it was Immanuel. She’d had this dream before. When Granny abandoned her.

He set the lantern by her feet and joined her on the ground. Tuesday slowly slumped sideways and rested her head on his shoulder. “Why does everyone leave me?”

“I’ll never leave you.”

Breathing in the fragrance of the holy man, she whispered, “Watch over Dupree. Please.”

When she woke up again, she was in her room, the blackout curtains pushed aside so the morning light and sea breeze gushed through the open window.

One floor below, someone fried up some bacon and eggs, and the aroma of toast and coffee rose through the floorboards. Tuesday hustled from bed, peeled off her sticky clothes, and stepped into the shower. Then she tied her hair with a ribbon and slipped into Leroy’s favorite dress.

“Harriet, you stayed all night?” The table was set for two. “Is Doc here?”

“He shoved off this morning. He waited to say good-bye, but you were still sleeping. Doc was terrified you’d died of a broken heart.”

Tuesday gazed toward the Starlight. She’d had the dream again. Of running to the rink, of seeing Immanuel.

“I won’t die or give up. I’m not leaving Dupree. It’s the two of us against the world now. Who’s running the rink?”

“No one. We’re all in mourning, Tooz.”

“All the more reason we need to open.”

Burt was too old for military service, but Dear Dirk tried several times to join up. His eyesight and a few missing teeth earned him a solid 4F.

“Now come on, sit down. You need some sustenance.” Harriet brought a skillet of fried eggs over to the table. “I owe you an apology, Tooz. This wood-burning stove is marvelous. Still makes the house hot as blazes, but I declare the food tastes delicious and the house smells like hickory.”

“What would I do without you?”

“Friends don’t ask that question. You’d do the same for me. Don’t got no animals to tend these days. Just as easy for me to sleep here.” She retrieved the bacon and toast. “Coffee?”

“Please.” Tuesday took a mug from the counter. “I dreamed about Immanuel. The same dream when Granny left me. I was here, in the house, saw you and Doc as plain as I see you now. I ran to the Starlight but it was locked, so I slumped down by the door. Immanuel appeared out of darkness, swinging a lantern.”

“You’re making me jealous. Let’s bless this here food.” Harriet offered a short prayer, then took up her fork. “What’d Immanuel say?”

“That He’d never leave me. Harriet, there was so much peace. I put my head on His shoulder and drifted away. But it was just a dream.” Tuesday cut into her eggs and reached for the butter.

“You think so?” Harriet stepped onto the porch and returned with a lantern. “Doc found you by the Starlight, all curled up, with this by your side.”

“The lantern?” She looked up at Harriet. “Immanuel carried this in the dream.”

“You still think it was a dream, Tooz?” Harried said. “I’d say you saw God and He left you a piece of heaven.”