The High Tide Club

“I reckon Josephine is sleeping late this morning,” Varina said, chuckling. “We sure did have a late night.” She reached over and patted Lizzie’s hand. “How did you sleep last night, honey, after that long plane ride all the way from California?”

Lizzie yawned. “Not that great. The sun was shining right in my eyes. Plus, that mattress in my room felt like it was stuffed with corncobs or something.”

“Sorry about that,” Brooke said. She cleared her throat nervously, looking down the table at Gabe, who’d just joined the group in the dining room.

“Is something wrong?” Marie asked, studying her daughter’s face.

Brooke hesitated. Marie knew her all too well. She’d never been able to hide anything from her mother’s all-seeing gaze.

“I’m afraid so.”

Every pair of eyes in the room turned toward her, coffee cups suspended in midair.

“There’s no easy way to tell you this, so I’m just going to say it. Josephine is gone.”

“You mean she’s dead?” Felicia looked from Brooke to Gabe and then back at Brooke again.

“Yes.”

“Lord Jesus!” Varina exclaimed.

“How?” Lizzie frowned. “I know she was old and sick, but she seemed fine last night.”

“The Lord took her,” Varina said, tears streaming down her face. She clasped her hands over her chest.

“Exactly how did Josephine die? And when?” Felicia asked.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Lizzie echoed.

Marie said nothing, watching her daughter over the rim of her bone china coffee cup. The swinging door from the kitchen opened again, and Louette placed their breakfast on the table, a platter of scrambled eggs, bacon and sausages, a bowl of steaming grits, and a basket of biscuits, covered with a checked napkin. Through the open door, Brooke spied C. D. hunched over a plate of food at the kitchen table. He gave her a solemn nod, then kept eating.

But all eyes in the dining room were riveted on Brooke.

“We can’t be sure, but from the looks of it, Josephine got up sometime in the night to go to the bathroom, and she tripped, maybe over one of the dogs, and fell and hit her head,” Brooke said. “Louette found her there this morning, and that’s when she came and woke me up.”

“I thought she was just tired from being up so late last night,” Louette said, wiping the palms of her hands on the skirt of her polyester uniform. “But then I heard the dogs scratching at the door wanting to get out. So I went in to take them outside, and that’s when I found her…” She bit her lip and looked away, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Oh, Louette,” Marie said. “That must have been so upsetting for you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Louette said. “I ain’t gonna forget that sight. Not ever.” She turned and quickly left the room.

Lizzie shrugged and reached for the food, sliding bacon and eggs onto her plate. She looked askance at the steaming bowl of grits with a melting pat of butter in the middle. “What’s this? Mashed potatoes? For breakfast?”

“It’s grits,” Felicia said, rolling her eyes. “Your first time in the South?” She took a biscuit from the basket, sliced it, paused, then reached for the butter dish. “So that’s it? Josephine is gone?” She glanced at her great-aunt. “I’m sorry, Auntie Vee.”

“She was my oldest friend in the world,” Varina said, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue plucked from the sleeve of her blouse. She looked out the open dining room window, past the thick green screen of overgrown azalea branches. “Josephine, she was the last of the line. All the Bettendorfs, all of them, Miss Elsie, Mr. Samuel, Mr. Gardiner, and now, Josephine. All gone. I can’t believe it. And what’s going to happen to this house now? To Talisa?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Lizzie said, gesturing with her fork at Gabe. “Mr. Wynant? Can you enlighten us?”

“Surely that can wait,” Marie demurred. “This is hardly the time.”

“Why not?” Felicia said. “Josephine invited all of us here to discuss leaving her estate to us. She told us last night, told all of us, that she wanted to make amends. And it’s my understanding she intended for us to be her beneficiaries. Isn’t that right, Brooke?”

“That was her intent,” Brooke admitted.

“Then let’s get down to brass tacks,” Lizzie said. “No disrespect or anything, but I just met the old girl for the first time last night. So it would be totally insincere of me to pretend I’m grief-stricken. She was ninety-nine years old, and she was dying. But the rest of us are alive, and I think I can speak for all of us when I say, what’s next? When do we inherit?”

“Leave it to a Yankee,” Felicia muttered, shaking her head.

“I’m not a Yankee. I’m a Californian, although technically, Ruth, Josephine, and Millie were all Yankees.” Lizzie grabbed a biscuit from the basket and dipped it into the bowl of grits. She took a bite, chewed, and nodded. “Hmm. Not bad.” She added, “Are you saying you don’t care what happens to Josephine’s estate, Felicia?”

“Nooo,” Felicia said cautiously. “I mean, yes, I do care, but for God’s sake, have some tact. The woman’s body is barely even cold.”

Varina sniffed loudly.

“What about funeral plans, Brooke?” Marie asked. “Do we know anything about arrangements yet?”

“No. I’ve notified the sheriff’s office, and he and the coroner should be on the way over by now,” Brooke began.

“Coroner!” Lizzie and Felicia said in unison.

“It’s strictly procedural,” Gabe said. “Especially in a case like this, when the, uh, deceased has met with an accident.”

“So after that?” Lizzie crossed her arms over her chest.

“Assuming everything is, uh, as it should be, Mrs. Warrick will be taken to the funeral home in St. Ann’s, and a death certificate will be issued.”

“And then we start probate, or however you do things in Georgia, correct?” Lizzie asked. She jerked her head in Felicia’s direction. “I only ask because at some point, Dweezil and I need to get back to California. I’ve got stories to write and deadlines to meet. It would be good if we could get all the paperwork wrapped up ASAP.”

Gabe frowned and nodded meaningfully at Brooke.

“We have a problem,” Brooke said.

“What kind of problem?” Felicia demanded.

“It’s about the will,” Brooke said slowly.

“Oh, shit. Here we go,” Felicia said. “What? She changed her mind?”

“This is all my fault, so I think I’d better be the one to tell you,” Gabe said. “Mrs. Warrick had every intention of leaving her estate to be put into a trust and divided among you five women—Brooke, Marie, Lizzie, Varina, and Felicia. I drafted the will as she dictated it last week, and as you know, I brought it back here yesterday for her to review and approve. Which she did.”

“Thank God for that,” Felicia said.

“Unfortunately…”

“Oh, shit,” Lizzie said.

“Unfortunately, for the will to be legally binding, it had to be signed by Mrs. Warrick in the presence of two witnesses. And that, I regret to tell you, did not happen. I had every intention of sending for two witnesses first thing this morning, but as you now know, it would have been too late.”