One Summer

23

The next day, while Sammy stayed with the other kids, Jack and Mikki drove in the pickup truck to the hardware store in downtown Channing, about three miles from the beach house. Along the way, they reached a stretch of oceanfront that was lined with magnificent homes, estates really, thought Jack. There was serious money down here. If he could catch some work from some of these wealthy folks, it might really be good.

Mikki said, “Are those like condo buildings?”

“They’re mansions. This is prime beachfront property here. Those places are worth millions each.”

“What a waste. I mean, who needs that much room?” she said derisively.

He glanced at her. “Are you feeling better about things?”

“No.”

As they passed one house that was even larger than the others, a teenage girl came out into the cobblestone driveway dressed in a bikini top and tiny shorts with the words HUG ’EM printed on the backside. She was blond and tanned and had the elegant bone structure of a model. She climbed into a Mercedes convertible about the same time a tall, lean, tousled-haired young man came hustling up the drive. He had on wakeboard shorts and a tank top. He hopped in the passenger seat, and the car roared off, pulling in front of their old truck and causing Jack to nearly run off the road.

Mikki rolled down the window and yelled, “Jerks!”

The girl made an obscene gesture.

“Catch up to them, Dad; I want to kick her butt.”

“Since when did you develop such anger issues, my little miss sunshine?”

“What are—” She stopped when she saw him smiling.

She muttered, “Shut up.”

They reached Channing and climbed out of the truck. Jack had on jeans and a white T-shirt and sneakers. Mikki was dressed in knee-length cotton shorts and a black T-shirt. Her skin was pale, and her hair was now partially green and purple. His daughter’s supply of hair colors seemed endless.

Mikki looked around as Jack checked his list of supplies.

“Looks like something right out of Nick at Nite,” she said. “Pretty old-fashioned place.”

Jack looked around and had to admit, it was a little like stepping back in time. The streets were wide and clean and the storefronts well maintained. The shops were mostly mom-and-pops. No big-box retailers here, it seemed. A bank, grocery, large hardware store, barber’s shop with a striped pole, restaurants, an ice cream parlor, and a sheriff’s station with one police cruiser parked in front were all in his line of sight. They also saw a public library with a sign out front that advertised free Wi-Fi service inside.

Mikki said, “Well, at least we can get online here.”

People walked by in shorts and sandals; some of the older ladies had scarves around their heads. One elderly gent had on seersucker shorts, white socks, and white sandals. Others rode bikes with wicker baskets attached to the fronts. A few people had dogs on leashes, and some kids ran up and down the street. Everyone was very tanned. There was also a sense of prosperity here. Most of the cars parked along the street were late-model luxury sedans or high-dollar convertibles. Some had out-of-state license plates, but most were from South Carolina. But then Jack noted dented and dirty pickup trucks and old Fords and Dodges rolling down the street. The people in those vehicles looked more like he did, Jack thought. Working stiffs.

They passed a shabby-looking building with a marquee out front that read, CHANNING PLAY HOUSE. An old man was sweeping the pavement in front of the double-door entrance. Next to the entrance was a glass ticket window. The man stopped sweeping and greeted them.

“What’s the Channing Play House?” Jack asked.

“Back in its day it was one of the finest regional theater houses in the low country,” said the man, who introduced himself as Ned Parker.

“Regional theater?” said Jack.

Parker nodded. “We had shows come all the way down from New York City to perform. Singers, dancers, actors; we had it all.”

“And now?” Jack said.

“Well, we still have the occasional performance, but it’s nowhere near what it used to be. Too many video games and big-budget movies.” He pointed at Mikki. “From your generation, missy.”

Mikki pointed to the marquee, which read, CHANNING TALENT COMPETITION. “What’s that?”

“Hold it every year in August. Folks compete. Any age and any act. Baton, dancing, fiddling, singing. Lot of fun. It’s a hundred-dollar prize and your picture in the Channing Gazette.”

They continued on, and Jack and Mikki went to the local, well-stocked hardware store and purchased what they needed. A young man who worked at the store helped Jack load the items. Jack noticed that the boy was giving Mikki far more attention than he was Jack. He stepped between the young man and his daughter. “Some of this stuff won’t fit in my truck bed,” Jack pointed out.

Before the helper could answer, a stocky man in his seventies with snow-white hair strolled out. He was dressed in pleated khaki pants and a dark blue polo shirt with the hardware store’s name and logo on it.

He said, “That’s no problem; we deliver. Can have it out there today. You’re in the Pinckney place, right?”

Jack studied him. “That’s right; how’d you know?”

He put out his hand and smiled. “You beat me to it. I was coming out to see you later today and formally introduce myself. I’m Charles Pinckney, Cecilia’s ‘little’ brother.” He turned to Mikki and extended his hand. “And this must be the celebrated Mikki. Cee wrote me often about you. Let me see, she said you could play a guitar better than anyone she’d ever heard and were as pretty as your mother. I haven’t heard you play, but Cee was spot-on with her assessment of your beauty.”

In spite of herself, Mikki blushed. “Thanks,” she mumbled.

Pinckney looked at the young helper. “Billy, take the rest of these materials and set it up for delivery.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Pinckney.” He hurried off.

Jack said, “Now I remember. You were at the funeral, but we didn’t get a chance to talk.”

Pinckney nodded slowly. “I’m the only one left now. Thought for sure Cee would outlive me, even though she was a lot older.”

“There were ten kids? At least that’s what Lizzie told me.”

“That’s right. Mother and Dad certainly did their duty. I was the closest with Cee. We talked just about every day. Feel like I lost my best friend.”

“She was a fine lady. Really helped me out.”

“She was one of a kind,” agreed Pinckney. “She was duly proud of her heritage. Not many ladies of her generation kept their maiden name, but it wasn’t a question for her. In fact, she told her husband he could change his surname to Pinckney if he wanted, but she wasn’t switching.” He chuckled at the memory.

“Sounds like Cecilia.”

“She thought a lot of you. I suppose that’s why she left you the Palace. She loved that place. Wouldn’t have left it to just anyone.”

“I appreciate that. But it came as a total shock. I knew about the place and all, but I’d never been here.”

“Cee actually talked to me about it. I know she wanted you to have it, and I was all for it. Especially after Lizzie died. She loved the place too, maybe more even than Cee.”

Mikki, who’d been listening closely, added, “If she loved the place so much, why did they move to Cleveland?”

Pinckney said, “I think it had to do with Fred’s work.”

“People don’t buy cars down here?”

“Mikki, knock it off,” said her father.

“So why do you call it the Palace?” asked Mikki.

Pinckney grinned. “It was our mother’s doing. Her mother and father, my grandparents, were quite the Bible thumpers, but she wasn’t. Naming it the Palace made it seem like it was a casino or a saloon or something. It worked. Her parents never visited there, far as I know,” he added with a smile.

“Sounds like my kind of woman,” Mikki said tartly.

Pinckney looked at the materials in Jack’s truck. “So, fixing the place up?”

“Yeah.”

“Cee said you were great with your hands.”

“If you hear of anyone who needs work done, let me know. I’m not in a position where I can just take the summer off. I’ve got a lot of mouths to feed.”

“I’ll put the word out. Good luck with the Palace. Love to see the old place like it used to be.”

“Thanks,” Jack said. “It has great bones, just needs some TLC.”

“Don’t we all,” said Pinckney. “Don’t we all.”