Pawleys Island-lowcountry 5

We return to hear the waves rolling onto the beach one after the other connecting us like blood.

We were listening long before we came here, remembering wind spinning salt through interrupted sunlight.

This is a place where dreams return as fish bones tangled in seaweed.

Whatever sorrows come are folded into the sea, rinsed clean and kept—unbearable secrets.

—MARJORY HEATH WENTWORTH

South Carolina Poet Laureate

There are so many people to thank whose patience, good ideas and expert advice made this novel possible. First and foremost, I’d like to extend my gratitude and love to all the wonderful people of Pawleys Island and the surrounding area. You live in one of the most charming and magical spots the Lowcountry has to offer, and I thank you for allowing, encouraging and helping me to place this story in your backyard. I have tried to include some local folklore here for the amusement and edification of my readers, and if those details are incorrect or fall short of expectation, it is entirely at my feet.

I owe the largest debt to Tom Warner and Vicki Crafton of Litchfield Books. They loaned me volumes of historical reference material, took me all over Pawleys Island to feel its unique character, squired me around plantations, answered my questions with patience and grace and tried to give me local color not found in other printed material. Most important, they honored me with their friendship and fed me some extremely fabulous meals. I adore you both. But you know that. Thank you, Tom and Vicki, from the bottom of my pea-picking heart.

Special thanks to Lee Brockington and the late Eugene B. Chase Jr. for their excellent edition of
Stories from the Porch,
and for his fine book
Pawleys Island Historically Speaking
and to the Pawleys Island Civic Association. They were very useful and inspiring and contain wonderful information and stories for anyone interested in the true history of the area.

To Frances Graham MacIlwinen, whose generosity and graciousness know no peer, please accept my warmest thanks.

Marjory Heath Wentworth, South Carolina’s Poet Laureate, has done it again! Everyone should know that Marjory wrote her fabulous poem “Tangled” just for this book, and here’s the kicker: She did it without ever having read a manuscript of
Pawleys Island
. If you have the patience to slug your way through my story, go back and read her poem again if you want a crisp example of Jung’s whole concept of collective unconscious. Or maybe it’s just that old spooky Lowcountry magic raising her mysterious head, grinning at us. Whatever the case may be, Marjory’s poetry is the perfect reflection of my storytelling, and Marge? Girl? You blow me away! I thank you for your friendship and the tremendous generosity of your beautiful, creative mind. And folks, she makes a wicked good (Marjory is originally from Maine, after all) chocolate pecan pie! I think that recipe came from one of Nathalie Dupree’s amazing cookbooks, and if you don’t own Nathalie’s
Comfortable Entertaining
:
At Home with Ease & Grace,
you should go buy it right now. Hey, Nathalie! Anyway, Marjory and Nathalie are two of the greatest women I know, and I am forever grateful for being allowed into their lives.

And speaking of gratitude for being in someone’s life even in the slightest way, I thank the following: Roger Pinckney for his fabulous spirit, Antoinette Kuritz and John Hamilton Lewis, Ann Ipock, Bill Doar and most especially the wonderful Nancy Rhyne, whose stories about Alice Flagg and the Gray Man fascinate and inform.

Always and forever Pat Conroy, Cassandra King and Anne Rivers Siddons. Special hugs to Ronda Rich, Josephine Humphrey, and my hurricane girlfriend, Mary Kay Andrews.

Love to my wonderful writer friends of Montclair, New Jersey, Pam Satran, Debbie Galant, Deborah Davis and Benilde Little. I owe y’all the fine southern delicacy of ice-cold Cokes in bottles with a little bag of Planters peanuts thrown in—better than a MoonPie and an RC Cola any day! I’m just so glad I know you.

Next there are the legal minds. Robert and Susan Rosen, Claudia Kelly, Sabrina Grogan, Larry Dodds and the great Judge Bobbie Mallard—I owe the Judge a Coke with a scoop of ice cream! Thank you all for your wisdom and advice and for trying to make this knucklehead understand what life is like in a court of law. Okay, folks, I didn’t go to law school like Grisham. And divorce laws are different in almost every state by one little detail or another. In writing class, the first thing they tell you is to write what you know. I have butchered that rule in this novel, and I apologize to the entire legal profession of the world for any glaring mistakes. I’m sure there are more than a few. To them I offer this small consolation: in this story the attorneys wear white hats.

How can I ever thank Ted and Alice Harrelson? All the stories you told me soak these pages with visions of life on the Waccamaw River. And the beautiful afternoons we spent together, walking the breathtaking grounds of Arcadia are emblazoned in my heart. The egrets! Great heavens, the egrets! Thank you so much.

I owe huge thanks and cold Coca-Colas to many others such as Betsy Altman of Pawleys Island Real Estate for her guidance and advice. Betsy, you cannot imagine what a difference our brief meeting made to this story. And also to my cousin Charles “Comar” Blanchard Jr., who did twenty-eight million favors for me and my family all year so I could make this deadline and still have a normal life—well,
normal
such as it is defined by the Franks. But, hey, Comar? You are the best thing that ever swam our gene pool, bubba, and all the Franks love you, especially this one.

Thanks to Richard H. Moore of Coastal Carolina University for his help in identifying the double-breasted cormorant. Thanks to Chris Skodras from Sam’s Corner at Pawleys Island for continuing to sell Cokes in little bottles and sausage biscuits. And huge thanks to Louis Osteen, the gracious and esteemed proprietor of Louis’s Fish Camp for sharing your fine taste and your tasty finery with all of us—I wish you all good things. Don’t even think about a visit to Pawleys Island without a reservation for lunch or dinner there.

To my great friends, who appear as characters in this story, please tell everyone that this is pure fiction and the use of your name is intended merely to tickle your funny bone: Adrian Shelby, Mary Ann O’Brien, Everett Presson, Anice Geddis Carr, Frank Del Mastro, Karen Tedesco and Frances DuBose. Thanks and I love y’all!

To Amy Berkower and my first mentor, even though he never knew it at the time, Al Zuckerman, what can I say? I love y’all to death! And Sandi Mendelson? Isn’t it time to go to the Lowcountry so I can show it to you? Thanks y’all for everything!

To the team at Berkley Publishing, starting with Leslie Gelbman, the epitome of what a publisher should be. Leslie? I am so grateful to you and always will be. Here’s our fifth Lowcountry Tale (which, by the way, is borderline Lowcountry territory, depending on who you ask!) and I still can’t believe how many wonderful things have happened to me since you came into my life! Kissing your footprints, still! And I always will! Seriously.

And then there’s Gail. That’s Ms. Fortune, my editor extraordinaire, with the eye of a wizard and the heart of a saint. There’s nothing I can say to express my appreciation and gratitude to you. Five books! Five! Here’s to five more! We rise together, honeychile!

And always to Norman Lidofsky, Ernie Petrillo, Sharon Gamboa, Don Rieck, Patrick Nolan, Trish Weyenberg, Don Redpath, Rich Adamonis, Joe Crockford and Ken Kaye—y’all could teach the world of sales a thing or two! Always, thanks to Joni Friedman and Rich Hasselberger for the fantastic cover for this book! And of course, a most dramatic curtsy to my dear and precious friend of extraordinary talent, Jack Alterman, the artistic jewel of Charleston, who, with the soul of a true southern gentleman, arrested the quintessential photograph for this cover—wow! I want to crawl in that hammock and read! Man, I love you! But extremely! (In the most correct way, of course.) And Liz Perl and Heather Connor! My knees are calloused from praying for your good health and everything else! Love you, love you!

Oh, gosh, golly, gee whiz! I love this part of my life when a book is finished and I get to thank people! (Even though no one probably reads this except…I don’t know. Oprah? Yeah, sure.)

Okay, still carrying on here. Can we talk about the booksellers for a moment? Last summer, when I was on tour in August for
Shem Creek
we had five hurricanes. Not one, not three—five. They were horrible. I wasn’t worried about my book sales as much as I was about book readers and those
soldiers in the army of the written word
who braved the elements to open their stores so the customers could swim in. It was intense. I just want to say thank you in the most serious way to all of you. You know why, and I regret all the many inconveniences caused by the weather and my inability to whip it into submission. Talk about a rough tour? Thank God, I’m a May book this time! And believe me, I will come to every store I can and sign books for you until I can’t sign any more. More than anyone, I owe you all the most, and I know I can never repay you for your support except with my respect and admiration. And you have that for sure. Hugely.

Especially Patti and Avery and all the team at Barnes & Noble in Towne Centre in Mount Pleasant, South Carolina. I still miss Buzzy, but he’s alive and well in Queens! Hooray! And the amazing team at the Waldenbooks in Charleston. And all the grand folks at Bay Street Traders in Beaufort and I could go on and on to the High Point Literary League and the Hilton Head Women’s Club, and SEBA, and all the Friends of the Library organizations who asked me to come and run my mouth. Are you kidding me? These people are better than family when it comes to support!

Speaking of family, I’ve got a big and gorgeous one to thank. First the obvious cast—my sister and brothers. Huge thanks to Ted and Joanne Benton of Winchester, Massachusetts, Mike and Jennifer Benton of Irving, Texas, Bill and Pat Benton of Mount Pleasant, South Carolina—thank you for loving me and asking your friends to read my work. To my only sister, the unbelievable Lynn, and her truly incredible husband, Scott Bagnal, of Edisto Beach, South Carolina, you know how I feel about you and how deep this river runs. But most of all to Peter, Victoria and William, who truly are the lights of my days and nights—never doubt that I love you with my whole heart.

Victoria? She’s away at college. Honey? Are you wearing a sweater? Let me tell the world this: there’s no one like Victoria Frank. She is beautiful, passionate, brilliant, talented and fall-down funny. And she supports me like crazy when the going gets tough.

William? He’s finally a little taller than his father, smarter than anyone in the house and the kind of superbly intelligent young man who can become anything he wants. I don’t know a teenage boy with a bigger or more beautiful and loyal heart.

And before closing, another word on loyalty. Debbie Zammit, who came blasting from my past to help me write a book each year, is the best kind of friend a girl could have. Some know that Debbie and I once thought we ruled the world of acrylic sweaters in the garment business in New York. Without nitpicking, talk about lofty aspirations? Um, that’s a yarn joke. Ah, well, point is, this book never would have made it to print this year without her. So, Debbie? I owe you and I thank you profusely for everything.

So shoot me. I’m sentimental and don’t care who knows it.