Chapter 6
Fifteen Years Earlier
I slid into a plastic auditorium chair and flipped down the side desk. I had my coffee in hand and a glossy spiral notebook
at the ready. Even if it was almost the end of the semester, I’d never lost that first-day enthusiasm. It was Historic Preservation
252, a class that counted for my major and a place I was happy to be after languishing in prerequisites for far too many semesters
before.
The volume in the lecture hall grew as students filled the seats and called across the room to buddies. Soon the professor
took her position, clicker in hand, and everyone fell quiet. She began telling the story of a prolific Charleston wrought
iron designer and craftsman, Philip Simmons, clicking the slides to display a collection of his gate sketches on the screen.
Ten minutes later I was immersed in the story when my phone buzzed loudly on my tabletop. I startled and scrambled to mute
the call from Magnolia. Two minutes later the phone erupted again—Magnolia again —and I muted it. The professor shot me a look.
When the phone predictably sprang to life once more, I mouthed “Sorry” as I climbed over the other students in my row and left the classroom. I continued through the echoing lobby and out the main entrance.
When the doors closed behind me, I walked over to stand under the cover of the live oaks beside the famous Cistern Yard. Right
where no one would hear me. I called my mother.
“Magnolia,” my mother said.
“Are you ok, Mama?” I asked. “You called three times in a row. I had to walk out of a class.”
“Oh, it’s no emergency. Heavens, I wouldn’t be calling you for assistance in case of an emergency. You’re at least an hour
and a half away, not to mention, Victor would be handling my calls if I were indisposed.”
I bit back my simmering anger. “Why did you call so many times?”
“Well, yes, I needed to talk to you immediately about the Suffolk party.”
I physically covered my mouth to prevent the groan from slipping out. I slapped on a perky voice. “Now is not a great time
to discuss it. I have class.”
And it wasn’t any old class; it was one I enjoyed and hoped to put to good use eventually. Not to mention, I shouldn’t have
to be on call for my emotionally checked-out mother. As she said, I’d be of little use to her in an emergency—and I suspected
for more reasons than simple geography.
“I need a commitment from you, child,” Magnolia said. “I’m sitting here with Delta, planning the party. We need a seating
chart put together, and you’ve yet to RSVP.”
Ned and Delta Suffolk were having an anniversary party to celebrate thirty years of marriage. I was happy for them, of course—they’d played a big part in my life when I was growing up, but I would rather drink creek water than attend their party. Because their son and my ex-boyfriend, Grady, would be in attendance, and the last thing I wanted was to spend an unnecessary evening with him. Especially when our mothers were still bound and determined to put us back together.
“Oh, tell Delta I say hi,” I said.
I really did love Delta. She’d always been like an aunt to me, taking me to prepare the lavish Easter flowers every year at
their church, begging Magnolia to let her take me homecoming dress shopping. She seemed to revel in me in ways Magnolia was
incapable of doing, as if she truly liked me. She was the hardest part of breaking up with her son.
“Of course, but the nicest thing you could do for her is attend what will be a stunning party in her honor.”
The strings of guilt twanged.
Delta twittered in the background, probably saying something reasonable and far more flexible than my mother.
“I need to look at my class schedules. That’s close to exams, and if I come home for a weekend, I’ll lose a ton of study time.”
“Pshaw,” Magnolia tutted. “School is fine, but it’ll just be a matter of time before you and Grady are back together and you’re
right here beside me and Delta planning parties and fundraisers and enjoying the pleasures of life.”
It wasn’t the time or place to have the same argument with her. She didn’t want to understand—perhaps couldn’t understand—why I wanted a career when I could live off family money. I’d tried every way I could think of to explain it to
her, but Magnolia was nothing if not convinced that her opinions on life were fact and truth.
I pushed down all the words I wanted to say, pulled in a breath, and said, “Thank you, Mama. I’d love to attend. Please extend
my thanks to Delta and my apologies for the late response.”
“Wonderful, as I expected,” Magnolia said. “Now I’ll let you get back to your studies. Even if you won’t ever need it.”
I ended the call and slumped onto a bench. Little bits fell from the Spanish moss above me, strung up like fairy lights across
the oaks.
I couldn’t go back in now. I would look like a flaky student, stepping out for a personal call, and in precisely the class
that mattered most. Magnolia had ruined it for me, backing me into a corner to accept the invitation to a place I didn’t want
to go.
Sure, I was grateful for the Suffolks. Ned took me to every father-daughter dance during my elementary school years, sparing
me the agony of being left out. Heaven knows Magnolia wouldn’t have stepped in, seeing as she would’ve been the only lady in attendance—a mortification unbearable for her to endure. I took my Father’s Day crafts to Ned as well, and he even tacked
them up on the fridge beside Grady’s creations. He filled in as best he could, but at heart, Ned had a clear sense of how things should be —particularly when it came to raising his son—and the older I got and the more I made up my own mind, I wasn’t sure I agreed.
I think I loved Grady most the younger we were, before he got too molded by the type of life that raised us both. He was an
only child, and his parents raised him on a steady diet of sports, business-first mentality, and red meat—“boy” things. For
a while it didn’t stop Grady from believing he could be whoever he wanted to be, reading books about knights and asking the
family’s contractor to teach him the basics of woodworking. Grady had promised me in whispers that we’d be our real selves
once we got away, once we made a life for ourselves, but the more I watched him walk the Suffolk walk, the more I doubted
I could believe him. I knew the force of the pull to stay in step.
Ned and Delta Suffolk had been there for me in ways Magnolia never could have brought herself to be. So I would go to their party, and I would play nice. Like I always did, I would ignore the nagging voice in my head telling me to leave, and I’d get through it.
I looked up at the sound of the auditorium doors popping open, and a swarm of students flooded out and dispersed.
A guy I recognized from class walked up to me and stopped. He had sandy hair, parted neatly on one side, and wore thick, fashionable
glasses. His clothes looked expensively tailored and were pressed to perfection. “Let me guess. Family crisis? Lord knows
I’ve lived enough of them—and enough false alarms—to know one unraveling in front of me.”
I couldn’t help but smile, and I stood and stuck out a hand. “I’m Mack. Magnolia on the class roster online, but don’t call
me that unless you wish bodily harm upon yourself.”
He cracked a laugh. “Magnus, but you can call me Fitz. Similar feelings—bodily harm and such—regarding my given name. Send
me an email if you want to copy my notes.”
I squeezed a tight smile as I looked him up and down, assessing.
“ Oh ”—Fitz raised his hand and shook it— “this is absolutely not me hitting on you.” He cackled at the audacity of the thought.
My shoulders dropped in relief. “Sounds like we’re on the same page, my friend.”
“ Friends— now that is something I could get behind.” Fitz waved goodbye and began to walk away. “Let me know about the notes,” he called
over his shoulder.
The rush of students from the academic building in front of me was over, so I walked back inside. A few students cluttered
the entryway, chatting or setting study dates. I made my way to the front of the auditorium and waited for the professor to
see me.
She glanced at me over her tortoiseshell reading glasses. “Mack, is everything ok?”
See? She, too, assumed there must’ve been an emergency. Maybe I was the normal one after all.
I sighed. “Yes, fortunately. It’s my mother. She’s a tad... melodramatic. And usually about all the wrong things.”
This was another perk of being away in Charleston: being able to speak honestly and freely without fear of repercussions due
to the Beaufort rumor mill.
My professor smiled warmly. “We all have at least one relative who’s off their rocker.”
“I’d confidently call myself an expert on melodramatic relatives by now.”
She chuckled. “Are you enjoying the class?”
“ Yes . I’ve been wading through general education requirements, and I’m so glad I finally made it here.”
“It shows,” she said. “You’ve got a lot of potential. Your past two essays have been top material. I can hear your enthusiasm
in the writing.”
I grinned.
“Just don’t let family nonsense get in the way,” she said.
“Thank you. It won’t happen again.”
The professor nodded. “Make sure to get today’s notes from a classmate.”
I decided I would email Fitz, my new acquaintance from outside.
I felt like I could fly on the professor’s compliment for weeks, and I walked home smiling to myself the whole way. My mother
may not appreciate me much, but my professor’s assessment was proof that I could certainly make it in this field. Well, perhaps
definite success was a bridge too far, but at least she’d given me hope that the thing I picked for myself might work out
ok in the end.