The Guests on South Battery (Tradd Street #5)(107)

“We can’t leave things the way they are, Mellie. Jayne won’t know what to do.”

“Well, then, she can ask Jack for help, can’t she?”

My mother’s cell phone rang out, her ring tone of Puccini’s “Nessun dorma” appropriate but not as wonderful as my ABBA one. She glanced at the screen, then up at me. “It’s Jack. Please let me take this.”

“Do what you think best, Mother. Just let him know that you aren’t interested in talking to him. And if he asks about me, tell him I died. Or moved to Siberia.” My eyes settled on Sarah, looking up at me with Jack’s eyes, and my heart squeezed. “If he wants to see the children, tell him to send Nola over with the dogs and she can bring the children back with her for an afternoon. As long as Jayne’s not there.”

She sighed, letting the phone go to voice mail. “I’ll just text him. He’s very insistent on talking with me, and it’s hard to tell him no.”

“Welcome to my world,” I muttered. I nestled the bag handles into the crook of my elbow. “I won’t be long.” I glanced at the still-sleeping JJ, then kissed Sarah’s cheek as I left the room, the bag bumping against my leg as I ran down the stairs, each brush and clattering noise a recriminating nudge, reminding me that despite promises to change, I was still the old Melanie—uncertain, fragile, and pathetic.





CHAPTER 31


Islowly jogged down Broad Street the following morning, paying more attention to the uneven sidewalks than to who or what was in front of me. I had enough going on in my life that I didn’t need a twisted ankle, too. I preferred to run down the small side streets south of Broad, but I’d had to change my running route to avoid South Battery and any chance of seeing Jayne or her house.

Sophie ran next to me, her breathing easy and her gait just a little faster than mine to keep me motivated. Not that I needed the motivation. I eagerly approached our little runs with enthusiasm now, if only because my struggle for a deep breath took all my concentration so that for at least half an hour I didn’t have to think what a mess my life was in.

We passed Henderson House Realty, and I was glad for the darkened front reception room. I still went in to the office each day, but usually very early in the morning or very late at night when nobody else was there. I didn’t want to take the chance of Jack stopping by and catching me. I’d do some paperwork, take anything I’d need to work from my mother’s house, and go through the pink message slips Jolly left on my desk. Most of them were from Jack and Suzy Dorf, with a few from Rebecca. I didn’t read any of them, taking unusual pleasure in the sound of their being crumpled in my fist before I dropped them in the wastebasket.

We were almost at East Bay when Sophie slowed her pace. I glanced over at her to see what was wrong, then followed her gaze toward the next block as she stopped completely. Rebecca, in a different pink jogging suit than I’d seen before, was approaching us, Pucci in her pouch on her chest, pink bows in her ears. It was hard to judge which one of them looked more idiotic.

I began to turn around but Sophie grabbed my elbow. “She wants to talk to you.”

I tried to pull away, but she held tight. “Am I being ambushed?”

“I’m sorry, Melanie, but I can’t stand to see you so unhappy. Ignoring people will not make your problems go away. Rebecca called me yesterday and told me she’d been trying to reach you but couldn’t get past your mother or father or the receptionist where you work. She’s desperate to talk with you, so I said I’d help.”

“Oh, great. So you’re the missing link.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I think you mean ‘weakest link,’ but yeah, that would be right.”

Rebecca drew closer and Sophie’s grip tightened. “You’re going to leave a bruise if you don’t let go.”

Sophie narrowed her eyes at me. “Only if you promise not to bolt.”

“Fine. But I won’t promise I’ll actually speak with her.” She let go and I folded my arms over my chest, prepared for battle.

“Good morning,” Rebecca said. She at least had the decency to look chagrined.

“It was,” I said, staring pointedly at her.

“I guess I deserve that. And I don’t blame you for being angry. That’s why I needed to talk to you. Not only to apologize, but also to help you.”

“How can you possibly help me?”

“I’ve been having more dreams. More specific dreams, and I know they have something to do with Jayne’s house.”

I started to back away. “I have no further connection with the Pinckney mansion, so you might want to save your breath and go find Jayne to let her know.”

“They involve your mother.”

I stopped and looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“The girl in the white nightgown keeps showing me a staircase with no door, and when she gets to the bottom step, she pulls up a board and pulls something out.”

“Like what?” I asked.

“I don’t know. She won’t show me.”

“But what does that have to do with my mother?”

“I hope this means more to you than it does to me, but she keeps saying that Button did the right thing, and that your mother should forgive her.”