Carson pushed open the back door and stepped into the kitchen. Even with the air-conditioning, the room was steamy. Mamaw used to think air-conditioning an island house was not only ridiculous but an appalling waste of money. Carson and the girls would open the windows wide and sleep on the porch under mosquito nets. When Mamaw reached menopause, however, the hot, humid weather became so unbearable she caved under pressure and installed central air-conditioning during the renovations. Still, Mamaw couldn’t abide a cold house and kept it only cool enough not to perspire. When Lucille cooked in the summer, the system couldn’t keep up.
Lucille stood at the stove, one hand on her hip and the other stirring a large bubbling pot. Her back had grown as crooked as a politician. Another woman with a substantial girth stood beside the wooden kitchen table, and it took a moment for Carson to realize that it was Dora. She was so much heavier than when Carson had last seen her, and so washed out. Her thin blond hair, once always so neatly coiffed, was slipping sloppily from a black elastic. Drops of perspiration formed on her neck and forehead. And who picked out that navy polka-dot dress? Carson wondered. It made her look older than Mamaw, who’d never have been caught in a garment like that.
Dora was fanning herself with a napkin and speaking with intensity to Lucille. She glanced up when Carson entered; her fanning stopped and her eyes widened slightly with recognition.
“Carson!”
“Hey, Dora,” she called back with forced cheer, closing the door behind her to salvage whatever air-conditioning competed with the steam. “You’re here!” She moved toward her sister and leaned far forward to deliver a kiss. Dora’s cheek was moist from sweat. “It’s great to see you again.”
“It’s been too long.” Then Dora’s smile froze as her gaze swept Carson in her bikini. “Well, don’t you look cool.”
Carson felt the abrupt chill stiffen her spine. She suddenly felt like she was buck naked. “I went to the ocean. You should take a dip tomorrow. It’s going to be a hot one.”
Dora heaved a dramatically heavy sigh. “Maybe . . . I’m a mother. I don’t have the free time you do. I guess you’re accustomed to swimming and going to the beach whenever you want to.” She smirked. “The lifestyle of the rich and famous, right?”
Carson looked at her askance. “I’m neither rich nor famous, but I do like to swim.”
Dora smoothed a hair off her face. “Why, aren’t you the early bird, already here in time for a swim. When did you arrive?”
“A while ago,” Carson answered evasively, leaning over to set her bag and towel on the floor. She stepped close to Lucille, who was stirring gumbo on the enormous Viking stove, to kiss her cheek. “Smells good.”
Lucille smiled broadly with pleasure.
“Oh?” Dora asked. “When?”
Carson turned to face her. “At the beginning of the month.”
“You’ve been here for three weeks already?” Dora said, surprise mingling with a hint of disapproval. “Why didn’t you call?”
“I had a lot to do when I landed and you know how fast time flies once you get here. Besides, I knew you were coming for the party and that I’d see you then. And here you are!” She looked squarely into her sister’s eyes and smiled even brighter, determined to be upbeat and ignore Dora’s increasingly rapid fanning.
Carson prowled the kitchen table, checking out the hot sauce, the spices, the bits of sausage and shrimp. She spied a plate of cut okra and reached for it.
“You leave my okra alone,” Lucille called out from the stove.
Carson withdrew her hand guiltily. “I swear, you’ve got eyes in the back of your head.”
“I need that okra for my gumbo. If you’re hungry, take some of the crackers and cheese I laid out for you.” She jerked a shoulder toward the sideboard. “Lawd, child, I can’t make a meal without you raiding my supplies. It’s always been like that.” She stopped and turned abruptly, frowning and shaking her spoon at Carson. “I opened the pantry today expecting to find a nice fig cookie to eat with my coffee and all that was left was a bunch of crumbs!”
“I was so hungry last night . . .” Carson replied, embarrassed.
“You ate the whole bag!”
Carson laughed sheepishly. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll replace it.”
“Don’t bother,” Lucille replied, mollified, as she returned to the stove. “Just next time, mind there are other people in this house who might want some.” Lucille shook her head, mumbling. “I can’t understand how you can eat like a man and still look like that.” She pointed her spoon toward Carson’s body.
Carson just laughed but glancing over, she saw Dora’s eyes narrow as she looked at Carson’s taut, flat stomach, so flagrantly displayed in the kitchen. Carson sighed inwardly. She often received jealous looks like this, from thin and heavy women alike, especially when they watched her eating hamburgers or indulging in sweets. Envy burned in their eyes, as though they were cursing God that she could eat like that when they dieted every day and still couldn’t lose weight. Carson couldn’t stop and tell each one of them that it might have been the only food she’d eaten that day, or that she’d just run six miles or surfed in chilly ocean water for the past two hours.
She moved to the sideboard, where Lucille had left a plate of Brie and crackers, and helped herself to a thick chunk of cheese. “Want one?” she asked Dora.
Dora looked pained as she stared at the cheese, but with seeming restraint, she shook her head no. “I’ll wait for dinner. Maybe a drink. It’s almost five, isn’t it? Is there wine in the fridge?” she asked, but didn’t wait for a reply. She opened the fridge and found it stocked to the brim with groceries Lucille had been laying in for the party weekend. An open bottle of white wine was waiting in the door. She stood a moment in front of the fridge, enjoying the coolness, then reluctantly closed the door. She took out three wineglasses from the shelf and filled one for herself, then, looking up with a questioning glance, got a shake of the head from Lucille and an enthusiastic nod from Carson.
“What made you decide to come so early?” Dora asked, handing Carson a glass.
Carson took a long drink of her wine. She needed it to soothe Dora’s cool greeting.