Writing: NaNoWriMo 2022
Duke of Charleston
American Kingdom: Day 7
Previous Chapter:
The Marina Variety Store is a favorite of mine. Good Charleston food, nothing too fancy, fresh, tasty and plenty of it. You get a view out over the river, the sailboats and the gin palaces, the pluff mud and the green water.
The Fleet Landing is closer to home, but way bigger, popular with tour groups and noisy parties. The Marina is not quite a local secret but it should be.
Besides, it’s excellent value for money and if I was facing unemployment and possibly homelessness, that counted for a lot.
We met our local guest at the door. Tall, salt and pepper, silvered moustache, seersucker suit, piercing blue eyes.
“Lady Marion,” he said, bowing to her. “Sir Brian, and…”
“Just plain Molly,” I said, wondering about the titles.
“A friend of mine,” Marion said. “Good to see you again, Duke.”
“Your Grace.” Brian all but tugged his forelock.
We ladies got the seats with the view, the lords sat facing the door.
Starters and drinks. They do some excellent local brews here but I opted for a glass of New Zealand wine I knew went well with seafood.
Francis, who evidently knew the place well, didn’t bother with the menu but ordered for himself and suggested dishes for Brian and Marion. I knew what I wanted, but goodness, wasn’t I supposed to be hosting this lunch?
Oh well, relax, enjoy, maybe get some help for the next chapter in my life.
Francis was looking at me. He wagged his finger. “I remember you now! You were leading a pack of Aryan stormtroopers on bicycles, refighting the last war and coming out on top, singing Erika at the top of their lungs. You were urging them on, waving your shirt in the air.”
Not quite how I remembered it. I’d been trying hard to keep the drunks from causing damage to themselves, let alone the speedy citizens of Charleston diving for cover. But perhaps if one had been one of those running into a doorway for protection from the blitzkrieg, accurate memories may have taken a back seat to self-preservation.
Oh well, so much for pro bono legal representation. This guy would double the fee.
“Oh no! I was trying to calm them down! Those guys were nuts. Ah, fun, though.”
“Terrorists. They should have been locked up and sent to Guantanamo.”
But he was smiling.
“Or possibly recruited as mercenaries. They were certainly effective.”
“Most of my customers,” I assured him, “are wonderful. They listen attentively, they ride safely and carefully, they take pictures of our beautiful city, and they go home and tell their friends.
“These two, for example.” I indicated Marion and Brian. “Perfect in every way.”
“I’d expect nothing less,” he said.
“Just helping out a damsel in distress,” Brian said. “Molly has had a setback in her business life.”
And my personal life, I thought, reflecting on a raw incision on my heart.
Thankfully, the conversation turned to Charleston, how Brian and Marion had enjoyed it, what they had seen, the history and so on.
I could certainly keep up my end of the talk. I won’t say I knew every story about Charleston and its people but I knew more than most and I’d dug around in the archives to find the most interesting way to tell the tales.
My notes could probably make a decent book with a bit of effort. Maybe I could polish them up while I was unemployed, add some photographs, find a publisher…
Our meals arrived and I took another glass of wine. Bear Island shrimp and grits with fried green tomatoes on the side. Oh my, so good!
Francis had had a wine to begin with but switched to iced tea. Marion and Brian were busily tasting each other's meals and sipping each other's drinks. And finishing each other's sentences. I looked on wistfully at a long and strong relationship in action.
The plates were getting empty by the time Marion served me up.
“We had a look at Molly’s church this morning. A sweet little place, nothing much on the outside but beauty and treasure within. A lovely rose garden.”
“Is that John Adams’ church?” Francis asked. “Has a quote from Matthew above the door?”
I nodded. “A good shepherd. He doesn’t mind if we don’t attend every service but he cares for us all. Sees that we are part of the community, doing our piece. It’s a way for me to give back a little of God’s love and help.”
“Pastor Adams is big on good works,” Brian said.
“Molly, honey,” Marion said, “Would you be able to tell us your story about how you came to God?”
No boozy catharsis after a scare with a gun, but with two glasses of wine aboard and the support of two who already knew the tale, I went through it all again, tracing out the Y incision from shoulders down.
“It’s true,” Brian said. “Molly came back from the dead.”
“You’ve seen her scar?” Francis asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“At the point of a gun,” I blurted out.
“Sir Brian, we really need to chat about your charm and seduction techniques,” Francis murmured.
He paused a beat, perfect timing. “Perhaps you could give me a few pointers.”
Marion laughed. “No, it wasn’t like that at all. Molly and I were having a heart-to-heart while she had a bubble bath. She stood up unexpectedly and I gave out a bit of a yelp. Brian thought I was being murdered by a Special Ops kill squad and came bursting in to protect me. We, ah, role-play this scenario frequently.”
Francis held his hands up in surrender. “We’ll leave it there, my Lady. Please, Molly, do go on.”
I was rattled but I told the story of how I had realised, once I left the military, that I needed a purpose to validate the life I had been given, otherwise I was just wasting my time, and what was the point of all the pain and effort if it came down to merely watching the days go by until my own sun finally set?
Francis looked closely at me. “That’s more than most people think about the big questions. Now I have a big question.”
“Yes?”
“Correct answer.” He smiled. “But how did you come to be in Lady Marion’s bathtub drinking wine while her dutiful husband guarded the door?”
I didn’t think I had mentioned wine but to be fair of all the time I’d known him ninety-five per cent of it had been with a wineglass in my hand. Reasonable assumption, I guess.
So I told him that story. No smiles in my voice now.
“You must be hurting,” he said when I had dropped the robe and slid into the suds.
Hurting in every way, all over.
I nodded.
“I may be able to help with that partnership contract; see that you get your fair share. I’ve got a few interns would love to handle this in return for a smile from me.”
He smiled. “One last thing. May I see the photograph you took?”
I colored up a little.
“It’s okay, Molly,” Marion said. “He’s a lawyer.”
Well, that was okay then.
I found the photo and handed my phone over.
He studied it closely.
“Hmmmm. It’s probably not that useful for us. The main thing, I think, is that you know in your heart what you saw and no amount of gaslighting will change this.”
He tapped the phone.
“You’re done with him for good?”
“Yes. He was on borrowed time already. And now I realise that this wasn’t going anywhere. Just spinning our wheels, really.”
He handed me back my phone. It had somehow slipped back down the photostream. Maybe I needed to edit or archive some of my happy snaps.
“How about we take a short walk?” Francis asked. “I have a proposition to put to you.”
Well, that stirred my curiosity. If it involved a job filing papers or running errands while I looked for a place to stay, that could be handy.
I signalled a waiter for the check. He shook his head.
“All taken care of, my dear.” Francis said. “I couldn’t possibly have lunch with visiting friends in my home town and not pick up the tab. Word would get around. My gift to you for a story well told. And your service to the city and the nation.”
“That’s very kind of you, Sir,” I said. “Thank you.”
“Not at all. Thank you for all you’ve done. It is a great pleasure to break bread with such delightful guests.”
He rose, and we all followed suit.
Daily notes: Here the portal to a new world opens up. Not quite ready to step through, but that’s coming. We get a glimpse, we begin to see the dangers and the possibilities.
Ah, don’t think this means that I’ve got anything much mapped out. A few sentences in my mind. Things could go wildly astray. In fact I hope they do!
Having a bit of fun with the dialogue in this. Duke Francis may turn out to be a bit of a snake but he has a sense of humour.
And if I’m having fun, I’m sure my readers will as well.
Part of the reason for falling behind, apart from washing dinner down with a big glass of Shiner Bock two nights in a row, was that I put some work into community-building. Some I followed because they were good, interesting writers, some because I needed the numbers.
I’m solidly above the hundred follower mark now and have joined the partner program. From now on each read will bring me a half-cent or whatever it is. Not working for free now! Professional writer here!
Molly
