Carson crossed her arms in worry, glancing from Delphine to her family. Mamaw and Nate were bent over a hook, head to head, attaching bait. Dora picked up her rod and began casting out. Even Harper had joined the fray, taking Carson’s rod to Mamaw for bait. They were talking to each other, communicating.
Below them, Delphine was still there, head out of the water, watching them with curiosity. The scarf was gone, no doubt tucked away in some safe spot. Carson didn’t have the heart to argue. After all, who was she to interfere? Wasn’t Delphine free to come and go at will? Maybe Dora was right. What harm could come from offering Delphine one little fish?
CHAPTER NINE
The time for her party had come at last. Mamaw rested in the coolness of her sitting room, the shades drawn against the relentless sun, shuffling a deck of cards. Her hands moved with deft skill, cutting the deck in half, making air whir against her palms as the cards fell into place. One by one, she snapped seven cards onto the small desk to begin yet another game of solitaire. Her hands stilled when she heard a soft knocking on the door.
“Come in!”
“You ready to start dressing?”
Mamaw turned to see Lucille in a blue taffeta dress with a beaded bodice. “Oh my word, Lucille. You look beautiful!”
“Don’t I know it? I love the glitter,” Lucille replied, preening with the compliment. “I thank you for my new dress.”
“It suits you. You look radiant. Royal blue is your color.”
“Now it’s time to put down those cards and get you lookin’ pretty.”
“Are you sure we don’t have time for a quick game of rummy?”
Lucille laughed and drew closer. “I never known anyone who loves to play cards as much as you do.”
“Except perhaps, you?”
“Even me.”
Mamaw sighed dramatically and set the cards on the table. “Did you know these cards were given to my grandfather by Admiral Wood? And he was gifted them by Admiral Perry. This is my prize deck.” She kissed them for luck. “It’s a special day, isn’t it?”
“It surely is. Come on, Miz Marietta. Let me help you up.”
“Very well,” she replied, releasing the playing cards with reluctance. “There is no more delaying the inevitable playing out of cards tonight with my granddaughters.”
“No, ma’am. You’re ready.”
“As ready as I’ll ever be. All that’s left is to see if we can squeeze my largesse into my gown.”
“You should’ve bought something new for yourself, Miz Marietta. It’s your birthday, after all. Instead of buying things for everyone else.”
Mamaw swept open the door to her large walk-in closet. Seeing so many clothes, hats, and shoes almost sickened her. “Oh, Lucille, I don’t need another dress. I don’t want one. Look at all those clothes!” She stared at them dispassionately. “Most of them I haven’t worn in years. I can’t even fit in most of them. I don’t know why I hold on to them.”
“Maybe it’s time to go through and weed out some and give them to charity. Before you move on. You won’t have room for all of them in your new place.”
“Yes, that’s a good idea. I can’t take it all with me.” She smirked. “Going to the retirement community is like a dry run for the final departure, eh? A downsizing? Lord knows I’m ready for it. I’m weary of taking care of this place, worrying about every storm that approaches, closing drapes against the sun, the silver, the china, the furniture. It’s all such a burden now. I long to be free of all that stuff. To have a little fun again.” She put her hand to her cheek as she gazed at the line of gowns in the closet. “But it will be hard to part with my evening gowns. Each one holds a special memory.”
Mamaw sighed, running her hand along the gorgeous silks, taffetas, brocades. In her mind’s eye she wasn’t Mamaw but Marietta Muir, the Charleston socialite known for her glittering parties, her easy repartee, her refined tastes. “Such lovely fabrics and colors. Do you think the girls might want to scrounge through them first and see if there’s something they might like? Carson is about the same size as I once was. And Harper, if they were taken in.” Mamaw thought of Dora and didn’t think she’d fit into any of the dresses. “Dora might like my shoes and bags.”
“Could be . . .”
“There was a time when I bought a new dress for every big occasion,” she said wistfully. “Edward’s eyes lit up when he saw me all fancied up in my best.” She paused, recalling Edward’s face when she’d step out into the living room and do a pirouette for him. “This may come as a surprise to you, but I don’t really care how I look anymore.”
“That’s a switch,” Lucille murmured.
“Do you think that it’s a sign I’m slipping? You know, dementia or something?”
Lucille laughed and shook her head. It sounded to Mamaw like a hen’s cackle. “Mercy no!” Lucille said, waving her hand. “I ’spect you’ve just got more important things on your mind now than frills.”
“Yes,” Mamaw said with conviction, taking heart. “Yes, that’s it.”
“So, which dress do you want me to pull out?”
“That off-white linen gown with the black scrollwork. It should fit, don’t you think?”
“Only one way to find out. Now, hold on to my arm while I fluff it open so’s you can step inside.”
Mamaw held tight to Lucille’s arm, wobbling as she gingerly stepped inside the gown. Lucille struggled with the zipper around the waist.
“Can you suck in any?” Lucille asked.
Mamaw sucked in as tight as she could but her muscles were so atrophied that nothing she did seemed to make a difference. Once she’d had such a flat belly; now it seemed to be the spot where all her calories went. After much effort, Lucille pushed the zipper up its path.
Mamaw released a gasp, feeling the tight waist like a boa constrictor against her belly. “Lord help me, I can hardly breathe! Now I know what my ancestors must’ve felt like in a corset.” With a rustle of fabric she took careful steps to the full-length mirror on her door. She threw back her shoulders and stood tall while she perused her reflection. The ornate black scrolls at the waist distracted the eye from the rounding of her belly, and the A-line cut flowed to the floor, giving her a sleeker silhouette.