Chapter 13
Fifteen Years Earlier
I’d never been so grateful for a campuswide stomach bug, because it was the only reason I was allowed to take my exam online
rather than get a big fat zero. All because my mother strong-armed me into attending the Suffolks’ anniversary party.
“I don’t want any of y’all passing around this bug,” the professor had said. “And to be completely honest, I’ve got my daughter’s wedding this weekend, so I definitely don’t want you passing it to me.”
I couldn’t say I felt the same about the bug; I would’ve readily endured gastrointestinal symptoms if it excused me from a
trip home.
I’d hung my bag neatly on the hooks on my closet door before I settled in to work. I sat crisscross atop my childhood bed
with my laptop open. The bed was layered with sheets and linens and duvets and quilts. All were perfectly creaseless, starched
and ironed no doubt, and even sitting delicately upon it felt like inadvertently toppling a house of cards.
That was how I felt whenever I came back home to Beaufort, like I was disrupting an ecosystem that no longer supported me.
Maybe it was how I’d feel from here on out.
My bed in Charleston had never been made—aside from the days Magnolia had visited, which were unsurprisingly few. It was a nest of mismatched throws and threadbare quilts I’d picked up at an estate sale. I loved it because it felt like me; it was mine.
I was halfway into the multiple-choice section of the exam when my door swung open without a knock.
The Dragon stepped over the threshold. “Are you about done, child? We’ll need to start on hair and makeup within the hour.
Have you picked a dress?” She marched over to my closet, flung it open, and began flipping through the dry-cleaning-bag-wrapped
options. “Nope, nope, nope.” She sighed. “You decided not to shop for something new?”
“Mama, I’m taking an exam for class. I told you I’d need at least an hour.”
“Yes, but I realized we hadn’t gone over your outfit, and you know how I feel about running late.”
It was one of her rules for us: Showing up late is tasteless. In principle I agreed that showing up on time was a good practice,
but as was the case with all of Magnolia’s rigidity, this rule left little room for human error without being slapped with
a permanent label. Tacky , rude , gauche , disrespectful —her favorites.
“Give me thirty minutes, and then we can talk,” I said.
Magnolia looked at her watch. “That won’t do. There won’t be time for a full blowout. You know I’ve scheduled Rita and her
girls to come out.”
She hadn’t mentioned it specifically, but the glam squad was on retainer. Scheduling them didn’t even require a special event for Magnolia. It could be a regular weekday, as little as a trip to the grocery store, or an annual physical at the doctor. She’d even been known to have them come on a day she was under the weather in an attempt to make her feel better. I’d figured they’d be there today, but then again, they came any day my mother felt like she needed a little pick-me-up.
“Fine,” I said, studying the next question. “You pick anything from in there, and I’ll wear it.”
Magnolia pursed her lips. “You don’t want a say?”
“Well, as long as it still fits, I don’t mind.”
Magnolia came over and plopped down beside me on the bed. “I’m glad you mentioned the... size... thing.”
I glanced up and looked her dead in the eye. “Not interested.”
In addition to the glam squad, Magnolia had a long-standing arrangement with a nutritionist with a fad-diet fixation. She
would menu-plan and food-prep each week. I was doing the Atkins diet as young as ten years old alongside my mother, who was
radiating pride. We did Atkins until it didn’t work, like every diet didn’t work, and we moved on to The Zone. Then the Special
K diet, which was so uninspired it shouldn’t have been allowed to be a thing.
Magnolia raised her hands. “Fine, I won’t say any more, but the—”
“If I want to try the latest diet, I’ll let you know,” I said. “What is it now? Carnivore diet? Until next week when everyone
realizes it doesn’t stick and moves on.”
Magnolia muttered something under her breath about health that I didn’t care to hear. “I’ll let you finish your work, I guess, but please , be quick.”
“You’ve got it,” I said.
And finally the door clicked closed behind her.
***
I walked into the Beaufort Yacht Club at Magnolia’s side, and I could feel the tension in my head radiate down my neck to my upper back. I knew deep down my work on the exam wasn’t my best. It couldn’t be with my mother buzzing in my ear about my hair and my waistline. That was what Beaufort did to me—it bound me up into something tight and anxious and proper. Like the real me was covered—better yet, smothered —under its layers of tradition and expectations.
Delta Suffolk swanned over at the sight of us and pulled me into her arms. She smelled like the same sweet perfume she’d worn
for years, and her arms were tanned and soft around me. “Oh, Mack, I hope your mama didn’t have to bend your arm too hard
to get you here. I’m just delighted to see you.” When she pulled back, her blue eyes, the same as Grady’s, sparkled at me.
Her face was framed in the same dark hair as his too.
I smiled. “Of course not. I was itching to come. You and Ned are so important to me.”
“She wouldn’t miss it, Dee,” Magnolia said, taking a turn to hug her friend.
“If you ladies will excuse me,” I said and took off in the direction of the bathroom.
My feet already ached in the heels Magnolia chose for the occasion. Once, I could practically run in heels, I was so used
to wearing them for galas and auctions for a good cause, but since I’d gotten to Charleston and started walking everywhere
in the heat, I’d worn in a pair of flat leather sandals.
I stopped at the sink and ran my hands under the water. In the mirror I looked like the old me: heavily made up into something
I was not and never had been. My skin was flawlessly smooth and my red lips elegant and timeless—thanks only to Rita and her
team.
In Charleston I was freckled and sun-kissed, my hair wild in its naturally curly state—frizz level chosen by whatever brand
of humidity blew in that day.
In Charleston I was me.
A crowd of young debutantes-in-training clip-clopped into the bathroom, giggling about the boys they’d bring as their dates
to the ball. I smiled at them in the reflection and moved to dry my hands. They were another reminder of who I once was—but
more so of how much I’d changed in so little time.
I pushed out of the bathroom and headed to the bar, weaving between well-dressed adults in suits and cocktail dresses. I reached
the counter and picked up a menu. Typically such events served specialty cocktails, and although no one checked IDs, I was
now of legal age.
“Shirley Temple?” a familiar voice asked beside me.
I looked up and saw Grady looking well-groomed and dapper in a navy suit. “I was thinking something stronger.”
“I’m sorry you got dragged into this. My mom said you weren’t sure about coming.”
I gave up on the menu and took a glass of white wine from a passing waiter. “It was mostly that Magnolia sounded a five-alarm
fire and called me out of class to bully me into a commitment.”
“Your sweet old mama?” Grady laughed. “ No way .”
“I know. Typical stunt of hers. She couldn’t care less about school.”
“The way our parents see it, money can buy most of the things we might want in life.”
Grady said it like it was a fact of life, not an absurd advantage offered to the few. I wondered in that moment if he agreed
with them. If I had to wager a bet, I’d guess he did. And I was hit with another pang of sadness when I remembered him as
a younger boy. Not him too was what it felt like.
“Have you seen your dad?” I asked. “I want to wish him a happy anniversary.”
Grady smiled. “Where does he usually hang out at these things?”
“Great, I’ll find the food,” I said.
“Bingo,” Grady replied.
Eventually I made my way through the crowd, stopping briefly for a couple hellos, to the buffet that overflowed with fruits
and vegetables and meats, alongside the hors d’oeuvres passed around by the waitstaff. I took a plate and used the tiny silver
tongs to load it up with grapes and cheese.
“I see you found the real watering hole.”
I knew it was Ned Suffolk before I looked up. I set down my plate and reached up to hug his broad shoulders. His face was
slightly sunburned from what I’d guess was a long round of golf, and his brown hair was thin on top. I’d wondered on my way
into town if things would be different between the Suffolks and me, since their son and I had broken up, but it seemed his
parents’ affections for me weren’t contingent on my being with their son.
Ned squeezed me. “My goodness, is it great to see you back here, sport.”
I grabbed my plate and tossed a grape in my mouth. “I didn’t know how things would be now with Grady and me split.”
“I thought this might be tricky for you,” Ned said. “I told Delta we needed to mention the party to you directly before your
mama got wind of it. Neither of us wanted you to feel forced into it, considering the whole Grady situation.”
I smiled. I did appreciate it, and their warm welcome had put me at ease. “Magnolia is a woman who knows what she wants, and
for this occasion, it was her daughter in attendance.”
Ned laughed. “Tell me about school. Grady’s barely scraping by with Cs at Clemson. I heard you’re a dedicated student.”
“Would you mind telling my mother that?” I laughed. “She seems most concerned with making me into a good match with your son.”
“I think she and Delta would love to have their children marry and make themselves officially family.”
A friend of Ned’s walked in, and he waved at him. “Sorry to leave you, Mack, but I haven’t seen Rick in a decade. Let me go
say hi.”
“No worries at all,” I said.
I took the last few bites off my plate and wandered back out onto the deck, and despite the warmth I felt from the Suffolks
themselves, I couldn’t completely settle. It was like the chemistry deep within me knew I didn’t belong here. Like the parts
of me that had blossomed in Charleston, parts I loved most, couldn’t breathe this type of air.
I couldn’t wait to get back to Charleston.
“Magnolia,” my mother called out to me from inside the French doors. “Stop being a wallflower. Mary from the church has a
hilarious story to tell you about last week’s event.”
I pulled in a breath, mentally wound myself into the daughter she wanted me to be, and spun myself around with a glossy smile.
“I sure love a good story,” I said.
And my heels pinched with every step I took.