“I never ran like that when I was young!” Mamaw said.

“Me, neither. Who had the time?”

“No time, and certainly not dressed like that. What these girls parade around in today. That outfit left little to the imagination.”

“Oh, I bet the young men can imagine plenty,” Lucille said, chuckling again.

Mamaw huffed. “What young men? I simply cannot understand why she’s not getting any calls. I’ve seen to it that she was invited to a few parties in town where other young people would be present. There was that nice boating party at Sissy’s yacht club . . . Several eligible young men were invited.” Mamaw shook her head. “Harper is such a pretty girl, with good breeding.” She paused. “Even if her mother is English.” Mamaw picked up her needlepoint and added archly, “Her father is from Charleston, after all.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say she hasn’t been asked out . . .” Lucille said, feeding more grass into the basket.

Mamaw narrowed her eyes with suspicion. “You wouldn’t?”

Lucille’s eyes sparkled with knowledge. “I happen to know that since she’s been here, several young men have called our Miss Harper.”

“Really?” Mamaw fumed silently, wondering why she hadn’t been made aware of this. She didn’t like being the last to know things, certainly not about her own granddaughters. She reached for the Island Eye newspaper and used it to fan the air. “You’d think someone might’ve told me.”

Lucille shrugged.

Mamaw lowered the paper. “Well . . . why hasn’t she had any dates? Is she being shy?”

“Our Harper might be a quiet little thing, but she ain’t shy. That girl’s got a spine of steel. Just look at the way she won’t touch meat, or white bread, or anything I cook with bacon grease.”

Mamaw’s lips curved, recalling the row at the dinner table Harper’s first night at Sea Breeze. Dora was nearly driven to distraction by Harper’s strict diet.

“She’s only just been here a month,” Lucille continued. “And she’s only staying another two. She don’t have her light on, is all. And who can wonder? With all she got on her mind, I reckon dating a young man is low on her list.”

Mamaw rocked in silence. All Lucille had said was true enough. It seemed everyone had a lot on their minds this summer at Sea Breeze—she certainly did. The summer was flying by, and if she couldn’t find a way to forge bonds between her granddaughters, Mamaw knew that come September, Sea Breeze would be sold, the girls would scatter again, and she’d be sitting on the dock howling at the harvest moon.

The previous May, Mamaw had invited her three granddaughters—Dora, Carson, and Harper—to celebrate her eightieth birthday at Sea Breeze. She’d had, however, an ulterior motive. In the fall, Marietta was putting Sea Breeze on the market and moving into an assisted living facility. With the demands of an island house, she simply couldn’t keep up living alone any longer, not even with Lucille’s help. Her hope was that, once here, all three women would agree to stay for the entire summer. She wanted them to be her summer girls again—as they had been as children—for this final summer before Sea Breeze was sold.

Countless previous invitations of hers had been rebuffed by all the girls over the years, with just as many excuses—I’d love to but I’m so busy, I have work, I’ll be out of town—each sent with gushes of regret and replete with exclamation marks.

So this time, Mamaw had trusted that her granddaughters had inherited some of her ancestral pirate blood, and she’d lured the girls south with promises of loot from the house. And the little darlings had come, if only for the weekend party. Desperate to keep them on the island, Mamaw had resorted to a bit of manipulation when she’d threatened to cut them out of the will if they did not stay for the entire summer. She chortled out a laugh just remembering their shocked faces.

Carson had just lost her job and was pleased as punch to spend the summer rent-free on the island. Dora, in the midst of a divorce, was easily persuaded to stay at Sea Breeze with Nate while repairs were done on her house in Summerville. Harper, however, had thrown a hissy fit. She’d called it blackmail.

Mamaw shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Blackmail, really. Harper could be so dramatic, she thought as she rolled her eyes. Surely there was a more refined, gentler term for the actions of a concerned and loving grandmother set on bringing her granddaughters together? A smile of satisfaction played at her lips. And they’d all agreed to stay the summer, hadn’t they?

But now, only midsummer, and Carson had already left—though she promised to swiftly return—while Dora had one foot out the door.

Mamaw closed her eyes, welcoming another soothing ocean breeze. She couldn’t fail in her mission. Eighty years was a long time of living. She’d survived the loss of a husband and her only child. All she had left that mattered were these three precious jewels, her granddaughters. Mamaw’s hands tightened to fists. And come hell or high water—or hissy fits—she was going to give them this one perfect summer. Her most private fear was that when Sea Breeze was sold and she’d moved on to a retirement home, the fragile bond between the sisters would break and they’d scatter to the four winds like these bits of sweetgrass that fell loose from Lucille’s basket.

“Here comes another one,” Lucille said in a low voice, indicating with her chin the sight of Dora rounding the corner of the house.

Mamaw’s gaze swept over her eldest granddaughter with a critical eye. Dora was dressed in a khaki suit and a blouse the same pale yellow color as her hair. As Dora drew closer, Mamaw noted that she was wearing nylon stockings and pumps. In this heat! She could see pearls of perspiration already dripping down Dora’s face as she dragged a suitcase behind her through the gravel toward the silver Lexus parked in the driveway.

“Dora! Are you off?” Mamaw called out.

Dora stopped abruptly at hearing her name and turned her head toward the guesthouse.

“Hey, ladies,” she called out with a wave, upon seeing the two women sitting side by side on the front porch. “Yes,” she replied, pasting on a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. “I’ve got to dash if I’m going to get to my lawyer’s appointment on time. It’s going to be a long morning.”