22. Becks Wholly Irreplaceable
TUESDAY, AUGUST 24, 1976
Tip: In parties, in life—in everything, really—never shout when you can whisper. A gentle prod is almost always more effective than a forceful hand. In the same way, a delicate, well-planned event is almost always more memorable and enjoyable than a large, splashy affair. Your job is to entertain your guests, not impress them.
The Old Homes Tour had been a rousing success. Becks was so pleased that she had gathered Ellen, Patricia, Laura, and Sarah to celebrate over a round of bridge at the Coral Bay Club. Over the bridge in Atlantic Beach, the club was perfect for those days when one needed an ocean view and a lovely saltwater breeze.
Between rounds, as a server refilled their champagne coupes, Becks shared a look with Patricia. They had been hatching a plan all morning, and it was time to enact it.
“Ladies,” she said, raising her glass, “cheers to the most successful fundraiser Beaufort has ever seen.”
They all clinked glasses, and Becks said, casually, “We raised so much that Patricia and I were thinking that maybe we could hire someone part-time to be in charge of these events in the future. We’ve spoken with the rest of the board and they agree. It’s really too much for a volunteer position.”
“You can say that again,” Ellen said, lighting a cigarette. “I think we ran all the board members into the ground to the point they were begging for an employee.”
“The only problem is,” Patricia started, coyly, “it’s going to be nearly impossible to find someone who knows Beaufort and all the homeowners well enough and who has the good taste to put these events together.” She sighed dejectedly.
“Yes,” Becks chimed in. “Who do we know who even has the social skills to take it on?”
Patricia and Becks had discussed many times over the past few months that Sarah and her husband, Tim, seemed to be having a hard time. It started with whispers around St. Paul’s that their tithe had dropped. (Anyone who had believed the donations to actually be kept secret was sorely disappointed.) Then their house desperately needed painting but nothing had been done about it. The bank where Tim served as president had suffered when the larger chains came to town, but Patricia and Becks thought perhaps it had suffered a little more than they let on.
“Sarah, darling,” Becks started. “Your kids are out of the house now…”
“And no one is a better party planner than you!” Patricia enthused.
Ellen, who wasn’t even a part of this plan, brought it home: “Sarah! You should take the job. It’s just part-time. It’d be the perfect fit.”
Sarah sipped her champagne, but Becks could see she was trying to contain her enthusiasm. “Well, I don’t know if Tim would approve of a working wife.”
Becks had, obviously, expected to have to convince Sarah. Sarah wouldn’t be able to seem eager for this job, of course. It would be below her station to do so.
“But it would take so little of your time, and I think we could pull together a fairly nice salary,” Patricia said. “Not that that would even factor into your consideration process.” She and Becks shared a knowing look.
“No one would be better, Sarah. We all know that,” Becks said.
Sarah sipped her champagne again and then smiled. “Well, why not. It’s 1976, for goodness’ sake. A woman’s place is no longer in the home. It’s out in the world!”
“Cheers to that!” Ellen said, raising her glass again.
Sarah clapped her hands together. “My darling Suzanne and her husband, Wade, are moving back to town in a few months. I couldn’t wait to tell you, but this makes it even better.” She put her hand to her heart. “My daughter and I can be on the committee together.”
Laura smiled. “Oh my goodness. What if all our daughters are on the committee one day?”
“Can you imagine,” Sarah said, “if Suzanne, Betty, Arlene, and Virginia all took up the mantle?”
Becks’s eyes unwittingly filled with tears. Oh, how she hoped that would be the case. Oh, how she wished she would live to see it.
But she composed herself because she had met her goal. The Old Homes Tour would have a future, meaning the Historic Site would have the income it needed to survive. That was one thing checked off Becks’s list. Soon, she would be able to die a happy woman, knowing she had left everything and everyone in her life in the best possible hands. Well, the second-best, anyway. Because anyone who knew Rebecca Saint James knew no one would ever be able to replace a woman so wholly irreplacable.