The High Tide Club

“You’re the one who wants to see her old friend. Who, by the way, is in her nineties and suffering from diabetes herself, but whose first concern is praying for your health.”

“Preacher’s kid,” Josephine said dismissively.

Brooke threw up both hands in mock surrender. “I give up. Do you like anybody? Trust anybody? You asked me to find these women. I found them, and now you’re looking for reasons to turn them away.”

“Just being realistic,” Josephine said. “Did you talk to your mother? Tell her I’m dying?”

“Yes. She’s actually at my house right now, helping with Henry.”

“And what did she say? When you told her about my intentions?”

“She doesn’t understand why you feel so strongly about leaving the island to her and the others.” Brooke paused. “You didn’t even go to my grandmother’s funeral. You didn’t so much as send a card.”

Josephine looked away. “Things changed. I’ve changed. Did she say she’d come?”

“She’ll come.”

21

Josephine dozed off on the way back to Shellhaven. Her face was pale again, and her breathing sounded a little labored, or maybe Brooke was just feeling particularly anxious about her client. After several fits and starts, now that she’d taken on this oddball case, she realized that she really wanted to see it through to its conclusion.

Brooke touched the old woman’s shoulder lightly after she’d pulled the truck around to the front of the house. “Josephine?”

No reaction. Brooke touched the side of her face and was relieved to feel that it was warm and her client was still breathing.

“Josephine, we’re home.”

The old woman’s eyes opened slowly. She sat up and looked around. “So we are.”

“Do you feel okay?”

“Tired,” Josephine said. “What time is it?”

“It’s after three. I need to get home to my little boy. Shall I get Shug to carry you into the house?”

“No!” she said sharply. “I can walk. Just give me your arm and I’ll be fine.”

The front door opened, and Louette came out and opened the passenger-side door. She must have been watching and waiting for the truck’s return.

Brooke took one arm and Louette took the other, and they easily lifted Josephine out of the seat and into the house. The two Chihuahuas met them at the door, eagerly barking and jumping at their mistress’s leg.

“Silly girls,” Josephine said, but she reached into the pocket of her slacks and tossed each of them a biscuit.

After they’d gotten the dogs calmed down and the old lady settled back in her recliner, Brooke sat down and rested her briefcase across her knees. “Do you feel like signing this letter to your Atlanta lawyers?”

“I’m fine,” Josephine said. “Stop fussing over me.”

Brooke produced the papers, which Josephine signed.

“What else?”

“We talked about your making phone calls and writing letters to the governor and any other politicians you think might help stop the condemnation effort.”

“Not today,” Josephine said. “What day is it anyway?”

“Monday.”

“Come back Wednesday. We’ll do it then. Bring your lawyer colleague too. I’ve wasted enough time on this already. I want to get this done. And I want to see those women.”

“Lizzie Quinlan won’t come unless you pay for her expenses,” Brooke reminded her. “And she lives all the way out in California. So this could take some time.”

“Time is what I don’t have. So yes, I’ll pay her way.”

“Shall I make the arrangements?”

“I certainly can’t, so yes, you’ll have to do it.”

“And how will I pay for it?”

“Don’t you have a credit card?”

“Don’t you?”

“It’s in my pocketbook, which is somewhere around here,” Josephine said vaguely. She waved in the general direction of the room. “I’m not paying for first class,” she warned. “You tell her that. I never took a first-class plane ride in my life, and she won’t be taking one on my dime.”

* * *

C. D. rode up to the dock on a small black motorbike just as Shug was dropping Brooke off. He leaned the bike against a tree, then motioned Brooke to follow him to the boat. He jumped easily onto the boat and started the motor before extending a hand to help her aboard.

“Thanks,” she said, sinking down onto the fiberglass seat.

“You ready?” the boatman asked, and without waiting for her reply, he cast off the stern line and backed away from the Talisa dock.

Brooke clasped her briefcase to her chest and tried to steel herself for another jaw-rattling ride across the river to the mainland.

Instead, C. D. was content to putter across at a leisurely pace.

Brooke tilted her head back to look at the sky. She was running through the list of chores she needed to complete before her return to the island.

“How’s your client doing today, Miss Lawyer?” C. D. blurted. “I saw y’all riding around the island in the truck earlier. That’s good, right? I mean, last time I took her over to the mainland to see the docs down at Jacksonville, she looked like one good breeze might knock her down. She don’t hardly go out of the house at all since she got sick.”

“What?” Brooke was startled by his sudden concern for his employer. “Um, yes, she did seem better today. I think the new medicine is helping.”

He nodded, chewing the plastic filter of his unlit cigarillo.

C. D. was an odd-looking creature, Brooke mused, with his sun-seared skin, bowlegs, and ever-present cigarillo, plus the braided gray ponytail that hung down almost to his waist.

“Hear tell she’s fixing to give Oyster Bluff back to Shug and Louette and the rest of them Geechees living up there,” he said. His aviators shaded his eyes, so she couldn’t tell from his expression whether or not he approved of Josephine’s largesse.

“Where did you hear that?” Brooke asked, careful to neither confirm nor deny.

“Around,” C. D. said. “Next thing you know, she’ll be giving us all raises and insurance.”

“Maybe so,” Brooke said. She stared off into the distance.

“Wait ’til she hears I run off another set of assholes from the state.” He chuckled. “She’ll for sure give me a raise for doin’ that.”

“You saw some people from the state? On Talisa? When was that?”

“Early this morning, right after sunup. Caught a couple of ’em tied up at the dock with a mess of what looked like surveying instruments. One of ’em tried to show me some piece of paper claiming they had a right to be there. Something about an appraisal they needed to do on account of the state making the old lady sell up. I told ’em unless they had the sheriff with ’em, they needed to stay the hell off this island.”

“I certainly hope you didn’t threaten them,” Brooke said.

He patted the holstered revolver on his bony hip and chuckled again. “Hell, I didn’t even draw down on ’em. They saw I was carrying, and that was the end of that conversation.”

“You took a risk, running those surveyors off. It might not have been the wisest thing to do, but I’m sure Josephine would appreciate your loyalty.”