Mr. Write (Sweetwater) (10 page)

“You don’t have to do that,” Allie said. 

“Oh yes, I do,” Rainey countered with feeling.  “I’m afraid to go back in the kitchen.  Josie might take another strip off me for breaking the handle off that teacup.  I’m sorry.”  She looked contrite.  “She told me the china was your grandmama’s.”

“Oh.  It’s
not a big deal.  Really.”  Sarah had wanted china for special occasions, like book signings or the tea party package she’d come up with for young girls’ birthday parties and so on, so Allie volunteered Grandmother Hawbaker’s Spode. After all, it had been sitting in boxes in the attic.

“Boo Hags and Broomsticks:
Tales of Hoodoo in the South Carolina Lowcountry,”
Rainey read the title of a glossy paperback, bringing Allie’s attention back to the task at hand.  “What the heck is a boo hag?”

Allie blinked.  “You’ve never heard of a boo hag?”

“No. Should I have?”

“
Um…” Allie tried to hide her surprise.  “I just assumed, since you grew up here…”

Rainey’s smile turned wry.  “I guess hoodoo wasn’t a real hot topic of conversation among the
cheerleaders and the football crowd.  So tell me,” she said, as she put the book back on the display stand. “What is a boo hag?”

Allie sat back on her heels.  “Well
. A boo hag is an old, ugly woman with the power to shed her skin after nightfall.  Certain hags are available for hire in the business of revenge. The hag is capable of smothering unsuspecting victims by sitting on their chests and swallowing their screams.”

Rainey looked appalled.  And fascinated. 
“I think I’d scream, too, if I woke up to a hunk of raw old lady meat sitting on my chest.”

Allie chuckled.  “A broom,” she gestured toward the title of the book “placed near the door will prevent the hag from entering because she’ll be compelled to count each straw of the broom.  Or newspaper pasted on the wall.  Same thing.  She’ll be unable to resist reading each word.”

“So the hags are literate and OCD.”  Rainey looked toward the window and scrunched her brow.  “You know, I think I do remember something about the blue paint on the casings and the porch ceiling – that’s supposed to keep the, what do you call them…”

“Haints.”

“That’s it.”  Rainey snapped her fingers.  “That’s supposed to keep the evil haints away.”

“
Haints are generally considered to be the spirit of someone improperly buried, which is why you see things like jars of rice and lanterns and even bed frames on Gullah graves.  The living want to make sure to placate the dead by giving them everything they need to be comfortable in the afterlife.”

“You know, I once saw a half-full bottle of whiskey on this grave in the cemetery when a bunch of us were…”  she trailed off, wincing, and Allie figured she’d just remembered that she was talking to the sister of the
current Chief of Police.

“Distributing floral tributes?” Allie suggested.
  Of course, she had no doubt that they’d probably been daring each other to break into the old mausoleum.  Attempts were made with some regularity.    

“Um, right.
  Anyway, one of the boys with us wanted to take it, but my friend Nell convinced him not to.  Said it was some kind of ritual thing.” 

“
Supposedly, if you collect dirt from a grave, and leave a penny or a bottle of whiskey, you can… hire the spirit, I guess.”

“Do you actually believe this stuff?”

Allie sat back on her heels, considered.  And shrugged.  “I don’t necessarily believe it, but I don’t necessarily
not
believe it either.  And regardless, most of the folklore is just so
cool. 
Like the blue bottle trees and the… I’m sorry.”  Allie rolled her eyes when she noticed Rainey grinning.  “I’m going on and on.  Just read that, if you’re really interested.”

“But it’s so much more interesting listening to you.
”  Rainey piled some more books on the table.  “How do you know this stuff?”

“Oh.
Well.”  Embarrassed, Allie fussed with aligning the edges of the stack.  “You know that Josie is Gullah. I used to bug her to tell me stories as a kid.”  When she’d been so starved for adult interaction.  “Local lore and legends, ghost stories.  I guess I got to be something of a history buff.”

“You should totally do one of those tours.”

“Tours?”

“You know, like the ghost walks they do in Charleston and Savannah.  You could talk about the boo hags and haunted houses and stuff.
  Like that weird light that shows up where the old library burned down?  You
have
to know about that.   It’s practically a rite of passage to go out there and park.”

Allie hadn’t
exactly done much parking in high school.  Being a teetotaler hadn’t exactly made her a lot of friends in what Rainey referred to as the “football crowd.”

“I’ve heard of the light, yes.”  About
thirty years ago, the library, which sat on a beautiful piece of ground overlooking the river, burned to the ground, taking the life of its custodian with it.  Legend had it the old man’s spirit remained, appearing to visitors as a glowing orb.

But what had Allie reeling was Rainey’s casual suggestion.  “I can’t imagine anyone would be interested in hearing me talk about that stuff.”

“Are you kidding?  My whole family went on one of those tours in Asheville several years ago, and I’m telling you, it was
fun. 
Even my brothers liked it, and they usually don’t get excited about anything unless it has an engine or breasts.”  

Allie coughed.  “I don’t know…”

“It would help sell these books.”  She gestured toward the once again neatly arranged table. 
“And
get people into the store, if you departed the tour from here.”

“That’s…
actually a really great idea.”

“What can I say?”  She flicked the
blunt ends of her dark hair over her shoulder.  “I’m good.  

“Allie?”

They both looked up to see a man filling the doorway.  Deeply tanned, his chestnut hair windblown, he made quite a picture with the grinning blond dog at his side.

“Speaking of good,” Rainey murmured, and Allie s
hot her a look.

“Hey, I’m nineteen,” the girl said in her defense.  “Also, I’m not blind.”

“Hi, Noah.”  She greeted Sarah’s younger brother.  “And you too, Bark.”

“You named your dog Bark?” Rainey gaped at Noah.

“No, I asked him what his name was when I found him wandering around by the docks.  That’s what he said.”

They were
treated to one of Noah’s rare grins, and beside her, Rainey sighed.  Noah wasn’t handsome, exactly, but he had a supremely masculine quality that tended to stir women’s hormones. 

“I have those tables that Sarah asked me to pick up,” Noah told her.  “They’re in my truck.”

“Ooh.  Let me see.”  She and Rainey followed Noah
and Bark outside.  Sensing there was work to be done, Bark immediately yawned and laid down in a shady patch on the sidewalk, while Noah hopped into the truck bed.

“Where do you want these?”

“Um…” The trash heap?  Allie studied the rusted, Pepto-Bismol pink wrought iron with horror.  Not what she’d envisioned when Sarah told her she’d found the perfect tables for the garden.

“Those things are uglier than Carolann Frye’s second husband,” Rainey declared.

“Is that the one she married for his condo in Florida or his motor home?” Allie tried to recall.

“Motor home,”
Rainey said.  “It was one of those silver ones, looked like a canned ham?  All custom.  I heard the ex cried when she sold it.”

“Probably tears of relief
at getting rid of Carolann,” a new voice chimed in, and Sarah strolled around from the back, where she’d been applying nonskid strips to their porch ramp.  Her hair was bundled messily on top of her head, fair skin glistening from the heat, and Allie was envious of her friend’s ability to look so casually… sexy.  Whenever she worked outside in this weather, Allie just looked like she’d been run through a carwash.

“I thought I heard you pull up
,” Sarah said.  “Hey Bark.  Hey boy.” She bent down to quickly ruffle the dog’s fur before peering into the truck.  “Wow.  These are great, Noah.  Aren’t they great?”

Allie could only blink.

Rainey said “Were you, maybe,
high,
when you bought them?”

Sarah
shook her head.  “They have no imagination,” she told her brother as he hefted one off the truck.  “And besides,” she patted the ugly table affectionately. “I didn’t buy them.  Totally free, courtesy of the Pink Lady.”

The Pink…
“You got these from a
strip
joint
?”

“
Gentleman’s Club,” Sarah corrected. “And don’t look so appalled.  The guy that owns it is a fishing buddy of Noah’s.  These tables were outside, on some little patio.  I don’t know why he bothered, though, since the scenery the patrons are interested in is
inside
the establishment.  Right, Noah?”

Noah turned his attention toward the other tables.  “I’m sure I have no idea.”

“Uh-huh.”
Smirking, Sarah caught the legs of the next table and helped Noah ease it to the ground.  Then she turned back to Allie.  “Trust me, after I get these babies painted, they’ll be good as new.”

“If you say so.”

“So that’s what that box of black spray paint is for,” Rainey said.

“Yep.
  After we move these around back, I’ll start… shoot.  I forgot to get a wire brush.”

Allie had
only a vague idea what a wire brush was, and no idea why Sarah needed one, but apparently it was important.  And she felt a stab of guilt for acting like a snob.  After all, Sarah was saving them money.  “Do you want me to run down to the hardware store for you?”    

Sarah considered, then shook her head.  “No, that’s okay.  I’ve been hunched over that ramp for the past hour.  The walk will do me good.”

“You mind taking Bark?”  Noah said.  “I’ve got to run a couple errands after this, and he could use the exercise.”

They all glanced over, and Allie could swear the dog sighed.

“Suck it up, Bark,” Sarah told him. “You should know by now that if you aren’t the lead dog, the scenery never changes.”

TUCKER
easily found a parking space in front of the library. He then turned to stare at his passenger, who was leaning directly over the AC vent, eyes closed in ecstasy as the cold air hit his face.

Tucker killed the
engine.

“Cruel bastard,” Mason muttered.  He turned his head to the side, golden brows dipped low in a scowl.  “Please tell me that building is climate controlled.”

“If I said
no,
would you wait here?”

“Why…. Oh for God’s sake, Pettig
rew.”  He sat up and rolled his eyes.  “It’s a
library. 
Would you stop acting like I’m a naughty schoolboy who needs to be chaperoned at all times lest he poke someone with a stick.”

“Figuratively speaking.”

“Look, I’ve been here for an entire week.  I’ve carted your furniture around and scraped God knows how many layers of paint and eaten most of my meals from either the microwave or paper sacks, all while practically melting in this heat.  And I haven’t
poked
anything, have I?”  

Tucker should probably feel guilty.  Mason
had
worked his ass off.  But Tucker knew Mason probably better than he knew himself.

“
I found a dirty plate in the sink.”

“
So?”

“So
let’s just say it wasn’t my china pattern.”

“You sound like a suspicious wife.”

Tucker just stared.

“Oh,
fine.”
  His friend huffed out a frustrated breath. “I went next door and begged some more biscuits.  That’s all.  And that’s hardly a crime.”

There was annoyance and just enough hurt in his tone to make the denial totally believable. 

Unless, of course, you knew you were dealing with an actor.  A superb actor, who could call up annoyance and hurt at his whim.  “Is it the leggy brunette I’ve seen hanging around there?  Because they have laws in this state.”

Mason looked honestly appalled.  “I don’t
boff teenagers.  Not for the past several years, anyway.”

He watched a muscle jump in Mason’s cheek and determined he was sincere.  “Okay.” He pulled the keys from the ignition. 
Then figured, since he’d brought out the cards, he might as well play his hand.  “Allison Hawbaker seems like a sweet woman.  And I get the feeling she’s had a rough go of it recently.”

“So now I’m not only a cad, but a brute?”