1 Lowcountry Boil by Susan M. Boyer Read Free Book Online

right here at Devlin’s Point.”
    A volcano erupted in my neck and spewed lava into my brain. “Are you insane? That goes against everything—you’ll never get that past the town council.”
    “I’m speaking to the council tonight. I’ve talked to several members informally. Not Daddy, of course—you can’t talk to him about building anything on this island without listening to a lecture about wildlife habitats and beach erosion. I’m pretty sure I have enough votes to get it passed.”
    With a vise grip on the phone, I took slow, deep breaths. The one thing Gram would never have stood for was building a high-rise, state-of-the-art anything on Stella Maris. There were a hundred reasons why oceanfront development was a bad idea. Merry had always been as passionate about protecting the island as the rest of us. I’d never in my life heard her speak derisively about protecting wildlife habitats. Apparently, the only thing she was more passionate about was habitats for hoodlums.
    “Over my burnt and scattered ashes you will.” I pressed ‘end’ to disconnect the call. Hopping mad, I flew into the yellow-tiled shower in the adjoining bath. I emerged moments later and stormed the walk-in closet, grabbing a pair of khaki capris and a lime green polo shirt.
    I picked Mamma’s number out of my favorites list, then put my iPhone on speaker and set it on the skirted dressing table. I sat on the chair and reached for my moisturizer. Had Merry been talking to Michael “informally,” by chance?
    All my life I’ve had dreams that, when examined later, seemed to have been a foreshadowing. Many times things are connected, but twisted. Just before Marci the Schemer tricked Michael into a sham marriage, I dreamed the flying monkeys from The Wizard of Oz carried him off to the Wicked Witch’s castle.
    But Colleen had never made an appearance in my dreams before. Somehow her presence gave this one more weight. Colleen had been trying to tell me something about Merry, which made me wonder what last night’s dream could mean. Merry was capable of a great many things in the name of one of her causes. Fornication with My True Love, Michael, was not one of them.
    Mamma answered on the fifth ring.
    “Just exactly who does she think she is?” I asked.
    “Good morning, to you, too, sweetheart,” Mamma gushed in a tone sugary enough to induce a diabetic coma. “Why, some mothers complain they never hear from their children at all, and mine…well, they have been on my telephone line all morning. I am truly blessed. Just think, had you and your sister not intervened, I would be sitting here with nothing to do except finish the last hundred dozen cookies for ‘The Most Fabulous Spring Bazaar Ever,’ for which I am, as you may recall, the chairperson for the fifth year in a row. It will commence Thursday morning at eight a.m. sharp, family melodramas notwithstanding.”
    I knew right off I should have cooled down before calling my mamma. “I know you’re awfully busy, what with ‘The Most Fabulous Spring Bazaar Ever’ and all, it’s just that…” I searched for some reasonable-sounding way to put it and found none. “Merry has lost her mind. I would think that the long-term health and safety of every man, woman, and child on this island would merit a moment of your time.”
    “Liz, darlin’, you really should reconsider your choice of vocation. Your flair for the dramatic far surpasses your skill at photographing fornicators.”
    “Do you know what she’s up to?”
    “She mentioned something about a fellowship hall for teenagers.”
    “Ohhh! I cannot believe her. Of course she’s going to sell that sack of manure wrapped up in a lace doily with lavender sachets.” Classic Merry. She’d spin this project as something Mamma would support.
    Something tickled the back of my brain, and I wondered for a split second why Merry told me the truth. She had to know how strongly I’d oppose her plans, and she wasn’t above