Quite Precarious

  Quite Precarious (A Lowcountry Novella)

  Chapter One

  Beau

  The chilly, wet breeze blowing through the French doors leading to the back deck doesn’t work to cool me off. Nothing can make me feel better about the way I’ve handled the events of the past two days, events that culminated in a confrontation that cost me the most beautiful, intriguing, maddening woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.

  The drink in my hand is empty, like the three before it. Even though I want another, or maybe to kill the entire two hundred-dollar bottle of whiskey in the kitchen, it’s time to stop. Disastrous day with Graciela Harper aside, there are people in my town who need me to be alert in the coming days. Melanie Gayle, Leo Boone—their freedom is on the line. They deserve a mayor with a clear head and eyes, even if his heart is more than a little battered. Nothing I can do about that, but it doesn’t have to cost others what it’s costing me.

  A knock on the front door tightens my chest; hope blooms in its wake. The thought that it could be Gracie coming to apologize. and wanting to work all of this out, propels me through the living room and into the foyer.

  When the door swings in without my opening it and my sister Birdie’s pinched

  expression pops through the crack, all of that fragile hope—silly as it was--crashes to a halt. The result causes a sharp pain in my chest. I take some deep breaths as all of that hope turns inside out, imploding like a black hole, and manage to stay upright.

  My obvious distress does nothing to dissuade the concern etched around my sister’s eyes, which study me with a mixture of pity and worry. “Are you drunk? I mean, I wouldn’t blame you. I’m just asking.”

  Birdie pushes past me without waiting for an answer, the scent of her shampoo

  mingling with the fresh smell of the rain blowing around in her wake. I take a deep breath and shut the door, trying to mentally prepare for a conversation with another person who isn’t Gracie.

  It’s not over, Beau. It’s a break. You need time to wrap your head around all of this curse stuff. She needs time to come to terms with her life now. It can’t be over for good.

  The silent pep talk helps to raise my head, straighten my shoulders, and follow my uninvited sister into the kitchen. She’s standing with her back to me as she fills an electric tea kettle and turns it on to boil, then grabs two mugs out of the cabinet before turning around to face me.

  It takes everything in me not to squint and block my eyes. She’s too bright, too invasive. I’m not ready for this new, dented version of me to be seen.

  “It’s cold outside, and that storm is gearing up to be killer.” Birdie shudders as shiver zips right down her spine. “Like actually cold. I hate this time of year.”

  “I know,” I mumble, glad the conversation is about her. They usually are. Silly me, to think that tonight would be any different.

  She frowns, as though she’s read my mind. “Are you okay? I mean, I don’t know

  exactly what happened but Brick called and said Graciela is a hot mess. Which isn’t all that strange, now that I think about it, but I figured I’d better—”

  “Birdie…”

  “Sorry.” The kettle clicks off and she grabs two bags of tea from the drawer, dumps them into the cups, pours water, then slides one mug across the island toward me. “What happened? Did you break up?”

  I can’t tell Birdie what happened because she can’t know about the curse. For one thing, she’ll think I’ve gone completely daft; and if, by some miracle, she believed that part, she would have one more reason to be against my relationship with Graciela.

  If there’s one thing I’ve learned in nearly thirty years of life, it’s not to trash the person you’re dating to family and friends. If or when things get better, it makes life awkward as hell.

  That said, if I have to talk to someone about what’s going on—and I might go stark raving mad if I don’t—Birdie is really my only choice. My law school friends are spread out, and we haven’t kept in touch all that regularly. They’re remnants of the life of privilege and nepotism I’ve tried to leave behind. The other members of my family, particularly Brick with his odd behavior and penchant for hanging around Amelia these days, are out of the question.

  Birdie—the picture of privilege and nepotism—raises her perfectly waxed eyebrows, still waiting for a reply. If there’s one thing a good lawyer learns, it’s when not to interrupt. And my sister, for all of her faults, is a very good lawyer.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know if you broke up? That’s a new one.”

  “We’re just…we had a fight. We’re taking a break.”

  “What did you fight about?”

  “Secrets. Trust.” I sink down onto the barstool and wrap my hands around the mug, feeling too hot under my skin to need the warmth. It gives me an odd sort of comfort, anyway. “Lucy.”

  She grimaces at the last part, the brief twist of pain on her face a reminder of how much she loved my ex-girlfriend. At least as much as I had, which was no small amount.

  Since Birdie had been in on the deception, she’d lost her friend, too.

  “Yes, it seems Graciela heard about Lucy from you. ” My voice is too gruff, placing blame where we both know it doesn’t belong.

  “Beau, I swear, I didn’t say anything to her. I wouldn’t do that.”

  “She overheard you giving me the business for not telling her myself when I was in the hospital with that snakebite.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Yes, you sound like you really mean it, too.”

  Birdie shrugs off my sarcasm, squeezing her teabag and tossing it into the trash. “You should have told her earlier, Beau. Secrets are killers. No one knows that better than we do.”

  As hard as I try, I can’t remember the last time my sister had a date, never mind a serious boyfriend. Whatever damage growing up the son of Brand and Cordelia Drayton had done to me, growing up their daughter hadn’t been any easier. My siblings and I should be pictured under the term Intimacy Issues in the dictionary.

  “I should have, but that’s kind of a moot point now that she knows.”

  “And you’re taking a break. Her decision?”

  I swallow, trying to wet my throat. The tea, a refreshing peppermint, helps cool me a bit. “Mine.”

  “But you said she found out about Lucy.” The confusion on Birdie’s face is real. She’s not digging because she’s curious—she really wants to understand.

  The realization tries to break through my last reserves of strength. But Birdie hasn’t picked up on the fact that I’m barely holding it together, and bursting into man-sobs isn’t something I do in front of my family. Or anyone.

  I close my eyes and suck in a deep breath. Hold it, count to ten, breathe it out. Open my eyes, feel the pieces that were blown apart earlier today knit back together with crude stitches. They’ll have to be strong enough to hold until I can get rid of her.

  “There was something else, something Gracie has been keeping from me, that set the damn fuse.”

  “I can see you don’t want to tell me what it was, but I swear to God, Beauregard, if that woman was cheating on you with that, that…wandering Heron Creek minstrel, I will lose my shit right here in your kitchen.”

  Her description of Leo Boone earns her a snort, which in turn earns me a smile. “No, nothing like that. It’s just…personal, for her. Not mine to share.”

  “Fair enough.” Birdie nods, accepting the explanation. Privacy is my sister’s religion.

  “Anyway, when I pushed her about being open and honest, she reminded me that she’s been through a lot in the past several months and possibly hasn’t taken the time to heal from her previous relationship, which ended in a pretty
rough betrayal.” I swallow more tea in an attempt to do something, anything, to distract myself from bawling like an over-tired toddler. “And she threw the fact that I hadn’t been totally honest, either, in keeping Lucy from her, in my face.” Rightly so. I can see that, now.

  “You know how I hate saying I told you so, dear brother.”

  “That’s abundantly clear, as always, sweet sister.” My lips twist in a wry smile that surprises me as much as it seems to startle Birdie. It drops away as fast as it stole in. “It’s become clear that, while having issues in a relationship is normal, hers and mine clash in a particularly unsavory way.”

  She thinks about that for a moment, sipping from her own mug. “Meaning she has trust issues and you have issues with someone not trusting you.”

  I nod, not able to meet her eyes. “That’s about the size of it.”

  “Sounds like a pretty big impasse to me,” is her only comment.

  “We’ve already navigated more than a few. And most of them share my last name.”

  “That’s not entirely fair. It’s really just Mother, and to be honest, I think she’s harboring a grudging respect for the girl underneath all of her bluster. You know how she admires people who have the gumption to stand up to her.”

  Could it be true that my mother might come around as far as Gracie’s suitability is concerned? I shake my head, knowing that’s not going to solve anything. Not now.

  “Fair or not, things have been shaky between us for weeks. This is just…” I run a hand through my hair, feeling how badly it needs a wash. The overwhelming urge to stand in the shower, to truly be alone with everything that’s happened and let go, tries to drown me. “It’s just how it is right now. We need to take some time.”

  My sister gives me a look like she knows exactly how things will turn out, and how taking time off, or breaks, really means it’s over. Instead of voicing any of those thoughts—thank God—she grabs my empty mug and puts it with hers in the sink.

  “For what it’s worth, it’s best that everything is out in the open. You know that.” She comes around the island and sits next to me on a second barstool. “If things are going to work out between the two of you, there can’t be any secrets. She has to be able to trust you with anything; you have to be able to side with her against Mother. Both of those are pretty tall orders.”

  “I know. I just…I’m crazy about her.” Tears sting my eyes and I look down at my hands, blinking until they go away. “I’ve never walked away from someone I love, Birdie. It doesn’t make sense to my heart, even though my head agrees with the decision.”

  Birdie doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing to say, of course. No way to make it better, and no one knows the value of silence better than my sister. She learned it from my father, who she favors in far more things than my mother. We can all thank the heavens for that, since one Cordelia Drayton is more than enough for any planet to handle, never mind a family.

  “What’s new with you?” I ask, trying to end the conversation gracefully, and without losing it. We haven’t talked about anything other than my relationship, my health, or what’s going on with Graciela’s many legal issues in too long.

  “With me? Not a whole lot.” She frowns. “I have to meet with the Middletons in a while.”

  “Tonight?” I glance at my watch. It’s after five. “Little late, isn’t it?”

  She flashes a rueful smile. “You’ve been out of the practice for too long, big brother.

  Besides, Brick really shit the bed on their custody case, so some ass-kissing is in order.”

  “That sounds delightful. I really miss working at the firm.”

  “No, you don’t.” She pauses. “Do you know what’s going on with Brick? I mean, with the information Phoebe had on the Middletons, they would have caved anyway, but Brick really seemed pleased about it. They’re right to be upset. I would be.”

  I waver, unsure how much to tell her. Then again, it’s not like secrets are easy to keep in our family, or in this town. “I’m not sure. He’s been spending quite a bit of time with Amelia lately, which is…odd.”

  She sits up straighter, her chin jerking toward her spine in surprise. “He’s been what?

  Why?”

  “I haven’t the slightest idea.” I stop, rethinking that statement in light of everything that’s happened since Graciela came back to Heron Creek. “You know what, maybe I do.

  Don’t you think Brick’s been…I don’t know, different lately?”

  Birdie doesn’t know that Gracie confronted him about the death of Nanette Robbins at Drayton Hall. Doesn’t know my girlfriend saw the ghost of the girl who died while my brother lay unconscious, the girl my brother—perhaps rightly—has always believed he murdered.

  He has been different since Gracie met that ghost, since the dead girl indicated that she doesn’t blame my brother. That she’s happy and has moved on, and maybe thinks he should, too.

  “Maybe? I know Mother’s head spun off into another dimension when he put up that damned plaque for that girl on the tree out front.”

  “Yeah. I think he’s finally come to terms with that whole situation. That he’s healing, and not using booze and God knows what else to fake it anymore.” I shrug. “Amelia’s been struggling with severe depression. I think maybe he’s paying it forward.”

  “I’d say that’s wonderful, if a little surprising, but that he needs to keep his lawyer self separate from his new, in-touch-with-his-feelings self. It’s great that he’s getting past that horror show, finally, but he’s making my life harder in the process.”

  “That’s what Brick does. Some things never change.”

  “I almost wouldn’t love him if he wasn’t a pain in my ass.”

  “We are so fucked up.”

  Her hand covers mine in a rare show of affection. “Everyone is. But we’re going to be okay.”

  I know she’s saying I’m going to be okay, no matter what happens with Gracie. No matter whether I’m a lawyer or a mayor or a senator or something else entirely—I’m going to be okay.

  It’s weird, but hearing someone who loves me say that aloud makes it seem possible.

  But it still doesn’t feel real. My soul is empty, my heart struggles to beat, and sitting here breathing, never mind talking, feels like jabbing hot needles under my skin, but it’s nice to have family, even if they are the Draytons.

  We’re not so bad, maybe, in the grand scheme of things.

  Birdie reaches into her bag and pulls out a deck of cards, dumping them into her palms and flipping them into a shuffle. I start to shake my head, wanting nothing more than that shower alone, but she ignores me and starts dealing.

  “I know you think you want to be alone, but you don’t. Not until you’re so tired you can’t help but fall asleep. In fact, pour us both a glass of that expensive whiskey you’re hiding.” She finishes. “In the meantime, let’s play some gin.”

  “I thought you had to get to the office.”

  “Eh, Brick can sweat it alone for a while longer.”

  As I follow her orders on autopilot, too broken to argue, I stop for a moment to wonder how my little sister knows anything at all about handling heartbreak.

  Chapter Two

  Brick

  My craving for a drink is nothing short of monumental. The Middletons are waiting in the conference room, but I’m hiding in my office like a scared kid who broke his father’s favorite golf clubs and is awaiting punishment when he gets home from work.

  That said, I’m sweating from the alcohol withdrawal and my sister hasn’t shown up yet. Given that she ordered me in no uncertain terms not to go near our clients—any of them—without her present, I can pass this off as following instructions.

  The Middletons already suspect my disgust over their rabid defense of their deplorable son, not to mention how they’re trying to steal their grandchild so they can fuck him up, too. Going in to face them with pit stains can only make things worse.

  Instead of
lying on the floor and praying for death, which is my backup plan if this whole AA thing doesn’t work out, I phone my sponsor. The man is a minimum-wage truck driver who thinks it’s acceptable for men to wear tank tops in public and the best holiday of the year is the start of deer hunting season—in short, not the type of person I’ve ever held an actual conversation with before joining the group—but he’s fifteen years sober and a surprisingly calming influence in moments like this.

  “Brick? How ya doin’, buddy?”

  He also calls me buddy, which I’ve almost learned to tolerate without wanting to stab my own eardrums with a letter opener.

  “Not so good, Marv. Shaking like an old building without earthquake spikes.” It’s nice to have someone to be honest with, especially about my drinking. The people in my family would pretend I’m making a big deal out of nothing, that kicking a habit is easy, or roll their eyes at the idea that drinking to get through the day is anything other than normal.

  It hurts like a bitch, both physically and emotionally, but it’s also nice to be fully awake to the world again. The agony will be worth it in the end. Marv’s here to help me face the demons. Kick them in the proverbial balls.

  “Well, that’s known ta happen. Want to tell me about it?” His twang, along with the sound of the highway screaming past in the background, relaxes my shoulders the way only a double shot of whiskey could have done two weeks ago.

  “I lost a court case today.”

  Not technically true, since they settled and still have visitation rights, which is more than the Middletons deserve. But they would certainly call it a loss. So would I, a month ago.

  “That’s rough.”

  “Yeah, well, the bad part is I’m sort of glad, because they’re assholes.” I swallow a gulp of lemonade that does nothing. “And my sister is pretty pissed.”

  “Well, did ya do your best? Because that’s all that matters,” he tells me in a voice most people reserve for their first graders the first time they fail a spelling test.

  “I’m not sure I did.”

  “Why’s that, now?” Marv doesn’t sound distracted, despite the fact that he’s working.