The early-afternoon sun was warm and there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. As I approached Trip’s property I could already hear the voices of the kids from beyond the trees. What passed for music these days was blaring and I could smell the burgers on the grill. As they all came into view I was reassured again that we had all done the right thing to throw this shindig. The vibe in the air was happy.
Mr. Jenkins and Trip were cooking together and Millie was helping Rusty organize the buffet table. And there in their midst were Miss Sweetie and Miss Nancy stacking a tower of chocolate-covered strawberries, gossiping and laughing as they worked.
Cars were parked all over the lawn and kids were everywhere, coming in and out of the house, slamming the screen door, laughing and high-fiving each other, throwing each other into the pool. The girls shrieked as they hit the water and the boys chased their next victim. I stood and watched for a moment, sort of mesmerized by their energy. They were fully absorbed in their youthful rhapsody and even I was getting caught up in all the excitement.
Not much had changed since I was their age, except that what was considered decent for a girl’s bathing suit seemed to have shrunk to next to nothing, leaving zero to the imagination. And these young men, not all but many of them, probably jocks, appeared to have muscles, rock-hard abs, and biceps with definition. I mean, it’s certainly more than improper for me to remark on the virility of a male more than half my age, but between us? Truly, they were impossible not to notice. I wondered where their daddies were? I know, I know. Mea culpa.
Just as my thoughts were turning from borderline evil to full-blown fantasy for the second time that day, I spotted Matthew with three grinning young men in swimsuits, T-shirts, and sunglasses who I correctly assumed were our lifeguards for the afternoon. I worked my way toward them. No wedding rings on any of them. They seemed like they were in their early thirties. What were they saving themselves for? Matthew was wearing shorts and a knit shirt, looking pretty delectable himself.
“Hey, darlin’!” I gave him a hug. “Thanks for coming!” I said as he introduced me to each one of the guys.
“Tough duty,” one of them said. “Glad we could help.”
“Yeah, it was either young girls in skimpy bikinis or man the speed trap in Jacksonboro. Difficult decision for us,” said another, grinning like the proverbial canary-swallowing cat.
“Yes, ma’am, the safety of our young people is our first priority.” The third one said this with a straight face and then burst out laughing.
These three stooges were elbowing each other, pointing to various girls, and not the least bit concerned about their silly attitudes or the fact that in some cultures they were old enough to be the fathers of any of them.
“You think those things are real?” Moe said, remarking on a particularly well-endowed young woman. “I mean, whoa, momma!”
“Please tell me they’re over twenty-one,” Larry said.
“Sixteen is the age of consent,” said Curly.
“All right, guys. That’s enough,” Matthew said, and then shook his head. “Men are dogs. I told them to just keep an eye on the kids, not to use X-ray vision.”
“Like they need it? Come on. Let’s see if we can help Rusty and Trip and say hello to Miss Sweetie and Miss Nancy. Can I get you something?”
“A glass of tea would be great,” he said, and we navigated our way toward the buffet table.
“How about y’all?” I said, calling back to Matthew’s guys.
They said they were fine, that they would help themselves when they got hungry or thirsty, not to worry about them.
“Look at these gorgeous strawberries! Wow! Thanks for bringing them!” I hugged Miss Sweetie and popped one in my mouth. “Tho good!”
“Wow! Did you make these?” Matthew asked, and helped himself to one.
“Not only did she make them,
mon cher,
she grew them!” Miss Nancy said, and wiggled her eyebrows at him like a flirty chanteuse. “I’m leaving for France tonight. Three glorious weeks! Anybody want to come along?”
“Miss Nancy is a big flirt,” I said, and she smiled, not caring a bit. “Three weeks? Fabulous! Y’all know my friend Matthew Strickland, don’t you?”
“Yes, yes! How are you?”
We chatted for a while and it was pretty clear that Mother’s oldest and dearest friends were trying to decide if Matthew was a romantic interest or just an old classmate. Wasn’t I my mother’s daughter? Shouldn’t they have known? Their pointed questions made me laugh.
“And so tell me, Matthew, how long have you and Caroline been, um,
friends
?”
“Not long enough,” he said, thoroughly confusing them.
They liked him very much and said as we were leaving them, “He’s darling, isn’t he? Just darling!”
Belle’s party seemed to be progressing just as I hoped it would. Belle was surrounded by a group of girls, whispering to each other, laughing, and then whispering again. It did me a lot of good to see her so happy. At that moment the mood all seemed so normal to me. I liked normal. Sometimes.
“Matthew? I want to go in the house to put Belle’s gift someplace safe. Want to come with me?”
“Nah, I’m thinking about a burger, to tell you the truth. When I got here I wasn’t even hungry, but you know how it is, you smell food and the next thing you know, you’re starving. Can I get you one?”
“Sure, why not? No cheese! I’ll be right back.”
“Got it!”
I hurried up the back steps and crossed the back porch into the kitchen, looking around for a spot. There were some other gifts on the table, so I put our gift bag there with the others, sort of tucked away, in case there was a hooligan in the crowd with sticky fingers. You could never be too sure. And wouldn’t you know it, just then a nice-looking young man came in through the back door. His bathing suit was dry, so I didn’t have to give the “don’t drip on the floor” lecture. I assumed he was looking for the bathroom, so I pointed in its direction.
“Down the hall on the left?”
“Right! Thanks!”
I watched his back and just then a girl came out of the powder room and he handed her a little sack that zipped to close, the kind of thing a woman might throw in a big purse to hold her powder and lipsticks. Well, if that’s what they were used for, what was he doing with it? I smelled something fishy. Maybe it didn’t have lipsticks and powder in it? I decided to follow the girl but to keep my distance. She was oblivious anyway. She sailed right past me and out the door, across the lawn, and down toward the dock. I left the house quickly in search of Matthew.
“Come with me,” I said when I found him. “I think there’s some nonsense going on.”
I was right. As we made our way toward the dock, where six or seven kids were huddled, we hid behind one live-oak tree and then darted to another. One kid left and then two followed. I was sure that if anyone was watching us we looked as ridiculous as Inspector Clouseau in an old
Pink Panther
movie, on a mission to solve a crime. But one thing was for sure—we smelled weed.
When we were about thirty feet away, Matthew decided to take a good look and see who was left down there.
“You’re not gonna like this,” he whispered after taking a risky gander at the scene.
“What now?”
“Your little niece Linnie is down there blowing a doobie.”
“Um, I don’t think they say ‘doobie’ anymore. But let’s go kick some butt anyway.”
We walked toward their cloud of smoke and laughter and they never even saw us coming.
“Holy shit,” one kid said when he saw us.
“Let’s have the drugs, son,” Matthew said.
Everything happened so fast. The kid with the joint threw it in the river and he was just about to toss the sack when Matthew caught his arm in midair and took it.
“I said, I’ll take that,” he said.
“He’s a fucking cop,” Linnie said. “Thanks to my lovely aunt, we’re busted.”
“Police brutality!” the same kid yelled.
“Thanks to
me
?” I said. “Did you get drugs from me? I don’t
think
so, Linnie.”
Matthew continued to hold the boy’s arm in the air. “You don’t know shit about brutality, you little asshole, so why don’t you just shut the hell up while I decide whether or not to take y’all down to the station.”
“Matthew!” I said, mildly shocked by his language. I pulled out my cell phone and called Trip.
The remaining kids tried to slip around us but Matthew blocked their way. “Stay right where you are,” he warned, holding another guy by the arm.
“Take your hands off me, dude,” a young man with a ponytail said. “I know my rights.”
“Dude?” Matthew said. “Really? Dude?”
“I wouldn’t call him dude if I were you.” I waited for Trip to answer his cell.
“Who do you think you’re calling?” Linnie said to me, very angry.
Who did
I
think I was calling? Did she really say that? To
me
?
“Like it’s any of your business? I think the better question is, just
who
do you think you
are
?” I gave her the quadruple flaming eyeball and the Greenwich, Connecticut, jaw of steel. Trip answered right away. “Trip? Dockside, right now. Yep.”
“Like what I do is any business of yours?” she replied.
That was when the reasonable Aunt Caroline became the living embodiment of the cumulative fury of every Wimbley who had so much as a drop of our blood in their veins. I was smoldering, white-hot mad, wildly furious in a way I had not been in years. My insides were quaking and I knew I was about to completely lose my temper on behalf of generations.
Trip appeared then, running down the hill, hell-bent for leather, probably thinking that one of the kids had jumped off the dock and cracked his head wide open. Rusty was right behind him.
“What’s all this?” Trip demanded, out of breath. “Linnie? What’s going on?”
Matthew held up the evidence—a baggie of pot and some rolling papers from the confines of a lady’s cosmetic bag.
“Oh, Linnie!” Rusty said, so much more nicely than I would have. “How could you? Today of all days?”
“How could I? How could I? What! Are you kidding me? Did it bother you to ruin my family? You fucking whore!”
Trip lunged for her and I stepped in, giving Linnie that so-overdue and so-well-deserved slap right across her face. In that split second I knew Trip would have strangled Linnie and right in the moment I decided it would be better if I took care of her. My hand stung as though I had laid it across a hot burner on my stove.
“Ow!” She burst into tears. “Daddy! How can you stand by and let her—”
“Save your tears, Linnie,” Trip said, still furious.
“What should we do here?” Matthew asked him. “Trip? This is your property. What do you want to do with these young reprobates? Should we throw them in the river and feed ’em to the gators? Not much meat on ’em, though.”
“No. As attractive as that sounds, just guessing we’d probably never hear the end of it. So why don’t you all go on home and never come back? How’s that? Now. And, Linnie? Go to your room. I’ll deal with you later.”
The kids scattered like a handful of marbles tossed on a granite floor, all except Linnie.
“I really, really, really hate my life,” she said, tears streaming down her face.
“Move it,” Trip said.
“Well! You didn’t set much of an example here today, did you?” I said.
“Wha-ev-vah!” she said, and stomped off the dock. “Honest to God!”
Linnie continued to curse loud enough for us to hear her until she reached the house. Rusty, Trip, Matthew, and I just stood there in a kind of stunned disbelief.
“Millie’s not going to like this,” I said. “Is there no end to Linnie’s defiance?”
“She’ll only know if you tell her,” Matthew said.
“Pal? Millie Smoak knows all and sees all,” Trip said. “Don’t ask me how.”
“I thought pot was supposed to mellow you out and make you think everything was funny,” Rusty said.
“Linnie has issues,” Trip said. “Her sense of humor is greatly impaired.”
“Well, I think it’s disgraceful,” I said. “I would no more have smoked pot on my mother’s dock than I would have jumped off the Cooper River Bridge.”
Matthew was strangely silent.
“What are you thinking?” I said to him.
“Ah, honey. I think pot, while it’s still illegal . . . well, it isn’t the worst thing in the world. I see kids doing meth and much worse stuff than this. Heroin. You have no idea.”
“Are you serious? This is no big deal?” I was shocked.
“May I say something?” Rusty said.
“Of course,” Trip said.
“Number one, I really think her defiance is a cry for attention. It’s so over-the-top that it’s ridiculous, isn’t it? And number two, she’s probably very jealous of her sister today and was trying to look like a big shot with the older kids. I mean, the pot wasn’t hers, right? Anyway, I wouldn’t be so hard on her.”