Free The Girls of August by Anne Rivers Siddons Page A

happy
     family, that made me feel at home. As I ran my hand along the stovetop’s shining
     surface, I thought, Maybe Mac and I should have adopted . I imagined myself in my kitchen with a little towheaded girl, sprinkling sugar
     over star-shaped cookies. I closed my eyes and pushed away the image. We both had
     decided that maybe fate or God or the universe or whatever might be out there had
     deemed that it should just be the two of us. And that was how it was going to be.
    “Spilled milk,” I murmured. “No use fretting.”
    I flung open the fridge door and began gathering what I needed. I’d made the cold
     cucumber soup ahead of time, knowing that on our first night we’d be bushed. I found
     my fresh dill and sweet onions—garnish for the soup—in the crisper and set them on
     the counter. The bacon, lettuce, tomato, and Havarti on toast would be done in a
     flash.
    As I went about the business of prepping these simple ingredients, a calm quiet
     took hold. Cooking always does that for me, unless the pressure is on because I am
     catering an affair such as, say, a large corporate party. But here, in this good kitchen,
     fixing food for my friends, I was at ease.
    I reached for the knife that I would use to dice the onions.
    “It’s going to be a good August gathering, Melinda,” I whispered. I peeled away an
     onion’s skin.
    “But we sure do miss you.”
    *  *  *
    I made Barbara go down and get Baby. Rachel and I watched from the front porch.
     It appeared from the gesturing and Barbara’s stunned expression that Barbara had
     to convince Baby to put her clothes back on. Barbara held open a beach towel, kept
     her head turned north, and did not watch as Baby spun herself into the towel.
    “It’s going to be a long two weeks,” Rachel said.
    “No. We’re just going to have to ignore her when we can’t take any more.”
    “Damn Teddy Patterson straight to hell.”
    “Let’s eat upstairs, like I said. From there, we can throw her off the porch.”
    Rachel and I ferried the soup, which I’d put in a big Blue Willow tureen, and the
     sandwiches, which I’d tucked into a picnic basket I’d discovered in the pantry. As
     Barbara and Baby hit the door, I called over my shoulder, “Y’all bring the wine and
     napkins.”
    Baby was fussing. Something about having sand up her boopie because she’d had to put
     her shorts on.
    I heard Barbara gently tell her, “Well go wash the poor thing out.”
    “Oh my God,” I said and started laughing.
    Rachel sighed and set her lips in a thin, grim line.
    As I unpacked the basket, Baby wiggle-walked out onto the porch, set down a chilled
     bottle of sauvignon blanc, and said, “Ouch, ouch, ouch,” before fleeing into her
     room.
    “Drama queen,” Barbara said as the screen door bounced on its hinges.
    We gathered around the table we’d pulled over from the other side of the porch and
     heard the shower go on.
    “Scrub that thang, girlie, scrub it!” Rachel said.
    “What was going on out there?” I asked Barbara.
    She poured herself a glass of wine and said, “She said it’s a tradition she and
     Teddy started. Their first night on the island, they always go skinny-dipping.”
    “Did you tell her that Teddy isn’t here and we don’t want to see her bare bottom?”
     Rachel asked, reaching for a toasted BLT and cheese.
    “ La soupe est délicieuse. En vérité divine .” Barbara smacked her lips and even though I didn’t speak French, I caught her drift.
    “Thank you, Babs. And you, I must say, are looking good. You’ve lost weight since
     last we saw you. And your hair is gorgeous.”
    “Yeah. You look hot. What’s going on? You cheating on Hughy?”
    “Far from it,” she said. “But thank you. I feel younger with that fifteen pounds gone.”
    “Should we wait to eat until she’s out here?” I asked.
    “Does it look like I’m waiting?” Rachel said with her mouth full.
    I glanced over at Barbara, thinking she’d be laughing,