Dora left her suitcase and came over to join them. “Look at you two, sitting there like two birds on a wire, chirping away the morning.” Dora stepped up onto the porch and into the shade.
Mamaw set her needlepoint aside and gave Dora her full attention, studying her eldest granddaughter’s face. Of all three women, Dora was the one who could best mask her emotions with false cheer. Had always done so, even as a child. On her wedding day, her father, Mamaw’s only child, Parker, had arrived at the church unforgivably drunk. Dora had smiled as she walked down the aisle with her stepfather instead of her biological one. She’d smiled through the whispers behind raised palms, smiled during Parker’s rambling toast, smiled while friends escorted Parker to the hotel to sleep it off.
Mamaw studied that same fixed smile now. She knew too well the sacrifices Dora had made to present the facade of a happy family. This divorce was striking at her very core, shaking her foundation. Yet, even now, it seemed Dora was intent on giving off the impression that she had everything under control.
“You look very . . . respectable,” Mamaw said, choosing her words carefully. “But isn’t it a bit steamy today for that suit and nylons?”
Dora lifted her blond hair from her neck, to allow the offshore breeze to cool the moisture pooling there. “Lord, yes. It’s so hot you could spit on the ground and watch it sizzle. But I’ve got to make the right impression in front of Cal’s lawyers.”
Bless her heart, Mamaw thought. That suit was so tight. Poor Dora looked like a sausage squeezed into its casings.
Dora dropped her hair and her face shifted to a scowl. “Calhoun’s being flat-out unreasonable.”
“We all knew when you married him that his elevator didn’t go all the way to the top.”
“He doesn’t have to be smart, Mamaw. Only his lawyer does. And I hear he’s got himself a real shark.”
“You called the Rosen law firm like I recommended, didn’t you?” Dora nodded. “Good,” Mamaw said. “Robert will catch that shark on his hook, don’t you worry.”
“I’ll try not to,” Dora replied, smoothing out wrinkles in her skirt. “I still want to set a good precedent, though.”
Mamaw reached up to the collar of her dress and unpinned her brooch. It was a favorite of hers. Small pieces of bright coral were embedded in gold to form an exquisite starburst. Her granddaughter needed a bit of starburst in her life right now.
“Come here, precious,” she said to Dora.
When Dora drew near, Mamaw waved her hand to indicate Dora should bend close, then she reached out to pin the large brooch to Dora’s suit collar.
“There,” she said, sitting back and gazing at her handiwork. “A little pop of color does wonders for you, my dear. The brooch was my mother’s. It’s yours now.”
Dora’s eyes widened as her stoic facade momentarily crumbled. She rushed to hug her grandmother with a desperate squeeze. “Oh, Mamaw, thank you. I didn’t expect . . . It means a lot. Especially today. I have to admit, I’m nervous about confronting Cal after all this time. And his lawyers.”
“Consider it ceremonial armor,” Mamaw replied with a smile.
“I will,” Dora replied, standing erect and smoothing out her jacket. “You know, I’m so tickled I can fit back into this suit. Between Carson not letting us have any alcohol in the house and Harper getting us to eat all that health food, I’ve actually lost a few pounds! Who would have thought?”
A genuine smile lit up Dora’s face, and Mamaw suddenly saw a flash of the dazzling young woman who once had enchanted all who met her with the warmth of that smile. Over the past ten years of an unhappy marriage and caring for a child with special needs, Dora had committed the cardinal sin of a Southern wife—she’d let herself go. But worst of all, her sadness had drained the sunlight from inside of her. Mamaw was glad to see a glimmer of it resurface in her eyes this morning.
“Is Nate going with you?” Lucille asked.
Dora shook her head and grimaced. “I’m afraid not. I just came from his room. I begged him to come with me, but you know Nate when he’s got his mind made up. He barely said more than one word—no. I don’t think he likes me very much right now,” Dora added in a softer tone. “It was like”—her voice choked with emotion—“like he couldn’t wait for me to leave.”
“Now, honey, don’t pay him no mind,” Mamaw said in a conciliatory tone. “You know that child’s still hurting from what happened to that dolphin. It was traumatic for him. For all of us,” she added.
“Carson should be calling with news about that dolphin soon,” Lucille said comfortingly.
“And I just know it will be good news,” Mamaw agreed, ever the optimist. “I’m sure Nate will come around then.”
“I hope so . . .” Dora replied, and hastily wiped her eyes, seemingly embarrassed for the tears.
Mamaw slid a glance to Lucille. It wasn’t like Dora to be so emotional. Dora checked her watch and gasped. “Lord, I’ve really got to go or I’ll be late,” she said, all business now. “Are you sure y’all can handle Nate while I’m gone? You know he can get squirrelly when I leave.”
“I feel sure that three grown women can handle one little boy. No matter how testy,” Mamaw said, arching one brow.
Lucille laughed quietly while her fingers worked the basket.
“Yes, of course,” Dora muttered, digging into her purse for car keys. “It’s just he is particularly difficult now, because he’s all upset about that dolphin, and that I’m going to see his father.”
Mamaw waved Dora off. “You go on and don’t worry about anything here. We’ll all be fine. You have enough to contend with getting your house ready for the market.”
Dora’s eyes narrowed at mention of the house. “Those workmen had better be there or I’ll raise holy hell.”
Mamaw and Lucille exchanged a glance. That was the Dora they knew. Pulling out her keys, Dora turned to go.
“Dora?” Mamaw called, stopping Dora as she made to leave. Dora stopped, turned her head, and met Mamaw’s gaze. “Mind you remember who you are. You’re a Muir. The captain of your own ship.” She sniffed and added, “Don’t you take any guff from the likes of Calhoun Tupper, hear?”