Read Pawleys Island-lowcountry 5 for Free Online Page A

for our Miss Abigail to come out of retirement. It’s that simple.”
    I was so relieved, just so relieved. I just nodded my head and thought that one more sherry would be very nice. Huey opened the door and led me back to my chair. Sallie Anne Wood was working her way through the crowd, took Huey’s arm and led him away to Rebecca’s paintings. Her hair was in flames—well, not literally, of course. I strained to make out her words by lip reading from across the room, which was a difficult task as there were people in the way.
    Byron brought me a tiny glass and put it by my side.
    “What’s happening, Byron?”
    “Miss Wood’s a little bit furious, I think. But don’t you worry yourself, Miss Olivia. Huey can handle her.” Byron was a nice man, really. Well, at least he was solicitous. I drained the miserable little thimble of a drink in one sip and looked over at Huey and Sallie Anne. She was waving her arms and carrying on like a banshee and my poor Huey was staring at his shoes, just letting the prima donna rant and rave like she was Monet’s little sister. People nearby were watching them from the corner of their eyes and smiling at her public display of displeasure. She was well within her rights to be provoked with Huey, I will admit that much, but Huey’s lapse in judgment did not excuse her own bad manners. No one, but no one, was going to dress down my boy in public.
    “Give me your arm, Byron, and help me up this instant!”
    “Yes, ma’am!”
    I went right up and stood in between them, putting my hand on Huey’s arm in a show of support.
    “Now, see here!” I said and looked her square in the face. “What’s all this fuss about?”
    “Ooh!” the diva said and started to turn on her heel and flounce away, but I stopped her.
    “I don’t think I can quite believe my eyes,” I said.
    “What?” she said, spinning back to face me.
    “Mother!” Huey said. “I can handle…”
    “Hush! Now, Miss Wood, were you about to turn your back on me and walk away? Is that possible ?”
    “Well, I…”
    She became very flustered, little bits of her spearmint LifeSavers–scented spittle flying in every direction. I imagine little old ladies didn’t take Sallie Ann Wood to the woodshed very often. Wood to the woodshed? Perfect!
    “Sallie Anne’s upset with me, Mother and I don’t…”
    “Huey! Hush, son!” I took a deep breath and looked back to her face for an explanation. “Well, Miss Wood?”
    “I’m sorry. This is supposed to be a one-woman show and it’s not,” she said. “I have never been so humiliated in all my…”
    “Oh, psssh! Settle yourself down and stop huffing and puffing! What is there to be humiliated about? Huey, how many of Sallie Anne’s paintings have you sold?”
    “Eleven! And six more are on hold! I mean, Sallie Anne, don’t you think that’s incredible?”
    “Son, that is incredible! Aren’t you pleased, Miss Wood?”
    “I want another ten percent for this outrage and a feature article in Myrtle Beach Magazine .”
    “Done!” Huey said.
    “Christmas issue!”
    “I’ll try,” Huey said.
    Sallie Anne took a deep breath and smiled as wide as she could, revealing some rather dilapidated dental work. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Valentine!” She walked away, her sense of self-importance fully restored.
    “Ridiculous woman,” I said for Huey’s ears alone.
    “You were wonderful, Mother.”
    “Anytime, son.” Let’s face it, Sallie Anne Wood wasn’t the first bully I’d dealt with on my son’s behalf.
    “Come, let me get you a victory drink.”
    “Well, all right.”
    Huey poured me a healthy portion from his private stash and helped me take my seat again. I drank it all up like a good girl, and I declare, the gallery had become so warm and comfortable that I drifted off to sleep and unfortunately into a terrible dream that a soldier from the north was trying to kidnap me and take me away. He said he wanted to marry me. I