Welcome back! Byron and Daphne

cleaned up and made the beds for

the children. I can't wait to meet them!

Dinner is at my place at eight. Mother is

making her string beans!

Love, Huey P.S. The painting over the sofa is sold!

"Well, here we are!" I said and opened the door.

Sami went right to the sliding glass door and looked out at the ocean.

"Awesome!" she said. "And look! Evan, come here! There's a pool too!"

"Wow!"

I almost fainted for two reasons. The painting over the sofa was my doll painting and the price tag was twenty-five hundred dollars. Sami turned and saw me and then stood by me and stared at the painting. Of course she saw the price tag and my signature in the lower right hand corner.

"Mom? Did you paint this?"

"Yeah."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

At this point all three of us were gawking at my painting.

"I thought Daddy said your paintings were stupid," Evan said.

"Twenty-five hundred dollars isn't stupid, you moron," Sami said.

"Your daddy said a lot of things."

I felt their little arms slip around my waist, and I put mine around their shoulders.

It wasn't necessary to say anything then. The proof was right in front of them and it was just one more nail in Nat's coffin.

"Well, let's unpack," I said. "Evan, you take the bedroom across from mine, and Sami, you take the other one."

"Okay," they said and left to see what their rooms were like.

I saw that the refrigerator was filled with all the things necessary to make breakfast and that Byron and Daphne had made a trip to Blockbuster. There were a dozen DVDs sitting on top of the entertainment center in front of the row of pictures of Sami and Evan. A pile of new beach towels waited on the dining room table, with a bottle of sunscreen and two new visors that said PI, for Pawleys Island. I almost choked up and then took an oath to never cry again. But I was so moved that all the critical friends I knew at Pawleys took a hand in welcoming me back. Even darling Miss Olivia was making her string bean salad.

The sky had become dark and huge raindrops began to fall, pelting the windows. I looked out through the balcony doors. The wind was picking up and the palmetto trees rustled in the wind. Well, I thought, we sure aren't having dinner on Huey's terrace. Hurricane Gaston. A French hurricane?

I called out to Sami and Evan.

"Turns out it's not a beach day, kids. So what do you want to do?"

We watched movies and ate microwave popcorn until seven, got dressed and drove over to Huey's.

Huey was waiting at the door. I didn't know if he was watching the storm or waiting for us. In any case, his eyes became lit with excitement when he saw my children.

"Come in! Come in! Get these precious children out of this detestable weather!"

"Thanks, Huey!" I handed him our umbrella, which was soaked and dripping. "Sami? Evan? This is Mr. Valentine, my boss and, well, my best friend too."

Huey looked from Sami to Evan and said, "Well, now, we'll have none of that mister business! Call me Uncle Huey! And Sami? From this moment on, you have become Samantha! Why Samantha is a grand name! A glorious name! A name that should be in lights, don't you think?" He took her arm to lead her to the living room, where everyone else was gathered. "Come meet my mother, Miss Olivia! She's the grande dame of the entire plantation and can tell you stories you would not believe!"

Evan, still standing in the hall with me, yanked my sleeve.

"Is that man crazy?" he whispered behind his hand.

"Yes. And everyone should be crazy like Huey Valentine."

TWENTY-SIX.

ABIGAIL'S CLOSING STATEMENT REBECCA'S children were the stars of Friday night, and Huey was beside himself with the sheer delight of their company. I knew he was very fond of Rebecca, and her children were the welcome dividends of his affection for her. Huey had no siblings, no nieces or nephews. He was such a wild-boy personality and more colorful than any rain-forest bird, you could understand why he had never been hauled off to a church to act as godparent. But he was reasonably settled now. In his tiny world that revolved around his mother, business and plantation, there was no place for children, until that moment. Instantly, he became Uncle Huey.

Needless to say, Rebecca's children had never met anyone like Huey in their lives. There was some eye rolling and snickering from the children, to which Huey returned each eye roll and snicker with amplification. A mutual fascination society was born.

He brought Sami to Miss Olivia's side and she sat in the spot that Miss Olivia patted. Even the inquisitive Miss Olivia was rejuvenated by Samantha's youth and wanted to know every little thing on her mind. She had seen her on the Today Show and complimented her on her natural poise. Sami, who had no grandmother, was on her best behavior and giggled when Miss Olivia asked her at what age she intended to marry.

"Get married?" she said. "I guess when my white knight shows up with a big diamond."

"Yes, young lady, you are absolutely correct to wait for a big diamond," Miss Olivia said. "For all the fool nonsense you'll have to endure being a wife and mother, you should have a big piece of bling to show for it."

"Bling, Mother?" Huey said.

"I watch television, you know! I know what the young people call things!" Cough! Cough! "Huey? I am so parched..."

"Let me refill your glass, Mother."

"He's a dear son," she said to Sami. "Now tell me about your plans for your husband. Will he be older or younger? A doctor or a professor? Or maybe a television network executive?"

When Huey saw that Sami was falling under the spell of Miss Olivia's charm, he went back to Evan.

"Dear fellow!" he said. "Would you like to see what's going on in the kitchen? All these old people are so boring, don't you think?"

I knew perfectly well that Huey was going to turn on the kitchen television and let Evan watch whatever he wanted to watch. Byron would give him cookies and chocolate milk. Between them, they would conspire to spoil Evan rotten. But who could resist a young boy with a freckled nose and a little tummy, and who had perfect manners? Not any of us, that was for sure.

All evening, the adults focused on Sami and Evan. And the children reveled in the attention. Rebecca's heart was swollen with pride.

On the way home I said to Julian, "Isn't it remarkable how Huey and Miss Olivia just came to life because of Rebecca's kids?"

"It was like watching dry sponges soak up the Waccamaw. Those kids need someone like Huey and Miss Olivia to love. And vice versa."

"Everybody needs somebody to love."

Julian reached over and squeezed my knee.

Julian and I promised to take Sami and Evan on a tour of the big house on Saturday, and because Huey had keys, we could go in after hours. But Hurricane Gaston was becoming more than a nuisance. It never stopped raining Friday night and by Saturday afternoon it was still pouring. The Weather Channel said we could get up to ten inches, and that amount of water would flood roads everywhere.

Julian and I were at my house, watching the ocean. The tide was abnormally high, and I was concerned about the causeway getting washed out. The whole thing about hurricanes was that other variables came into play-the tide, erosion, the temperature of the water, the direction of the wind and so on.

Over time, meteorologists had distorted our perception of danger, because no one worried anymore about a storm unless it had winds in excess of one hundred fifty miles and hour. But you can take this to the bank-if you don't think it's frightening to drive even a heavy SUV in driving rain and wind of fifty miles an hour, try it sometime. Category one? Category two? It wasn't the number that mattered. By the time they stuck a name on the storm, it was time to plan for another place to sleep in higher elevations. Or make sure you had plenty of nerve, batteries and water.

Julian opened the door to the front porch.

"Julian! Don't go out there!"

"I just want to watch for a minute. The ocean's almost up to the dunes in some places."

"I'll put on a pot of coffee," I said and decided not to watch him be skewered by a flying palmetto frond and die a miserable death on my front steps.

The phone rang. It was Huey.

"Abigail? I know you just ate here last night, but I need you to come for dinner again tonight for two reasons. One, I have a hundred quail in my freezer, and if we lose power, I don't want to lose them. And two, the storm's going to make landfall somewhere between here and McClellanville. They said we're supposed to get terrible amounts of rain, and I don't have the nervous system to worry about you all night stranded on a sandbar. Please pack your things and come. Rebecca's already here with the children. So, stop..."

"Okay."

"What? Did you say okay? Why! I can't believe it! I'll tell Byron to make a cake!"

"Julian loves quail stew, and so do I. See you soon."

I poured two mugs of coffee and turned as I heard Julian's footsteps.

"What's wrong?" I said when I saw the look on his face.

"Abigail? I think I just saw a goddamn ghost!"

"Male?"

"Yes."

"Wearing gray?"

"Yes! How did you know?"

"Did he look at you? Or the house?"

"Both."

"Okay. It's safe to go to Huey's. Honey? You just saw the Gray Man and the house is going to be fine. Screw Gaston. Let's pack."

"Nonsense...it was probably just some damn fool...maybe not."

"When we get to Huey's, I'll tell you all about it."

"Don't you want to batten the hatches first?"

"What's to batten? The only thing here that I couldn't live without is you!"

But that wasn't entirely true. I wanted my pictures of Ashley and John and my mother's Bible. I had a box of things-my passport, car title, insurance papers, etc.-all put together in case of evacuation.

We drove slowly, leaving the island. The drive across the causeway was frightening as the marsh water was already sloshing over the road. Businesses were closed, windows were boarded over and the Lowcountry was hunkered down for its fifth major storm of the season. There was a huge live oak fallen over Highway 17, and what little traffic there was had to drive around it. The gas station on our left had lost its canopy. It had collapsed on the pumps. Branches were down everywhere and the wind tested the endurance of everything around us, blowing from every direction at once. Lights were out, and I knew that if we lost power in one place, we were likely to lose it all over.

"Gaston is not the French ambassador," Julian said.

"You can say that again," I said. "Here's our turn."

"Once again, I'm sure glad you're with me, because I'd sure never find it in this weather."

"Yeah, well, I'm glad I'm with you too."