Beach House Memories (11 page)

“Oh, sure. So far,” Lovie replied with a chuckle.

“They’d better. I told Emmi I’d tan her hide if she stepped one foot out of your house. When those girls get together, mischief isn’t far away. Bless their hearts.”

“Oh, look. There’s Flo waiting for us by the door.” She raised her voice and called, “Flo!”

Flo stood at the double doors, talking with animation to Lois McLeod. She looked long and lean in her white pedal pushers and gingham blouse. Lois stood erect, her brown hair straight to her shoulders, her arms crossed, and a serious expression on her face. They’d called her “Beanpole” as a girl, and she’d never filled
out. Her owlish eyeglass frames accentuated her pointed features. When Flo heard her name called, she turned her head, smiled, and waved them over.

These were Lovie’s best friends on the island, women she’d known for years and the only ones who, when they could, offered to help her patrol the beach in the morning in search of turtle tracks.

“What took you so long?” Flo asked Lovie. “I thought
you’d
be the first one here.”

“I was at the library. I did some research on this Dr. Bennett.”

Flo stepped closer, alert. “What did you learn?”

“He’s a bona fide biologist and researcher, and a teacher at the University of Florida. So much for your theory, Flo. In fact, he’s authored or coauthored an impressive number of papers, and I was surprised that I’d actually read some of them.” She looked at Flo. “He’s no flunky, that’s for sure.”

“We don’t know his personal life,” Flo argued. “I can’t imagine an assistant professor makes a big salary.”

“Come on, Flo.” Sometimes Flo wouldn’t give up on an idea, like a terrier with a bone. “I don’t know that a corporation
can
hire someone biased for a study like this,” Lovie continued. “I mean, otherwise the study would be biased.”

Flo rolled her eyes. “Don’t be naïve. This is the seventies. Watergate, Nixon, corruption of judges, the CIA activities in Chile. Want more examples?”

Lovie glanced at her watch. “We’re all here. Why don’t we just listen to what he has to say?”

The meeting room was one large open space, like an auditorium. Simple but functional with linoleum floors, a bar on one side, and a fireplace on the other. Windows were open on this humid afternoon, tall floor fans were whirring, and already a cluster of eight women stood around a folding table that held a
large crystal bowl of punch. Lovie recognized them all and felt a stiffening of her spine to see them here. Over the years she’d called each of them to ask her to join the turtle project, but all had been too busy or too disinterested to get involved. But here they were, suddenly interested when a biologist from the University of Florida—a man—summoned. Lovie couldn’t help but feel the insult personally.

The front door opened, and George Clarke, the mayor of the island, rushed in, flustered and red faced. George was a portly man with thick gray hair and a rounded belly that spoke of his love for Southern fried food and beer. As he walked their way, he paused to wipe his brow with his handkerchief and adjust the narrow dark tie in the collar of his short-sleeved white shirt. His hands free, he clapped them together and came before them like a man relishing the sight of them.

“Well, well, ladies! Don’t you all look lovely today? I’m assuming you’re all here to talk turtles this afternoon?”

“Of course that’s why we’re here,” Flo muttered to Lovie with a twinge of disgust. She couldn’t abide being patronized.

“Ah, Lovie,” the mayor said, reaching out to clasp her hand in greeting. “I’m especially glad you’re here. We couldn’t have a meeting without our resident Turtle Lady, could we? How are the turtles this year?”

“It’s early yet, but we’ve got four nests that I know of. A good start.”

“Splendid,” he replied, patting her hand as his gaze searched the room. He nodded in acknowledgment of a wave.

Lovie’s lips tightened in annoyance at his disinterest, and she slipped her hand back.

“Is Dr. Bennett coming?” Lois asked.

The mayor was quick to dispel any worry. “Dr. Bennett will be here in just a few more minutes. He flew in today all the way from Virginia, but the storm caused delays. He flies his own
plane, you know. He took me up in it last week to fly over the island. I tell you, it gave me a whole new perspective to tour the island from the sky. Yes, sir, a whole new way of looking at things. This development is going to be such a boon.”

Lois leaned in. “The rumors have been flying, but nobody knows anything for sure.
Is
there going to be a golf club?”

“Nothing is finalized, of course,” Mayor Clarke began with caution. But his enthusiasm caught up with him. “But I think I can safely say that there are hopes for a golf club. And a tennis club.”

Flo perked up and jabbed Lovie in the side.

A murmur of excitement followed, with someone saying, “A golf club, right here on Isle of Palms!”

“That will bring in the right kind of people,” one of the women added. “The kind that will build nice houses.”

“Exactly. And that will bring in a good, strong tax base,” concluded the mayor. “We’ll be able to build more roads, a better fire department, and increase our police force. Yes, ma’am, it will mean great things for our island.” He clasped his hands together.

“It will also mean the destruction of the maritime forest,” Lovie added soberly. “I, for one, am sorry to see it go. Once it’s gone, it’s gone forever.”

“There’s always a price to pay for progress, my dear,” Mayor Clarke said in a sage tone.

There followed several minutes of discussion on the flaws and merits of the potential country club and golf course. Lovie refrained from speaking, choosing to listen to the opinions, most of which, to her surprise, seemed to favor the construction of the country club. Was she the only one sorry that a park wasn’t going in? Frustration bloomed in her chest and she glanced at her watch. It was two twenty. How much longer did Dr. Bennett expect them to wait?

Minutes later the door opened and two men stepped into the
room. They both appeared to be somewhere in their early forties and were dressed in khaki pants and the kind of pale brown, multipocketed shirt that was ubiquitous among men involved in wildlife. Theirs bore the emblem of the University of Florida. The first man to enter was shorter, wiry, with neatly trimmed brown hair. His arms were burdened with papers and what looked like a poster. The second, taller man walked past him and proceeded directly to the group. The mayor strode toward him with his hand outstretched and a broad smile on his face. They met in the center of the room, shaking hands and exchanging a few words.

Lovie studied the man who clearly was Dr. Russell Bennett. He was over six feet tall with the rangy, athletic fitness of a man who spent most of his time out of doors. Echoing this, his skin was darkly tanned and his blond hair was so bleached by the sun it looked almost white. He had a long, angular face, but his eyes were hidden behind dark Ray-Bans. Despite his common, uniformlike clothing there was an elegance about him. He moved with the restraint that she recognized as breeding and privilege.

Eager to begin, Mayor Clarke asked everyone to take a seat. A few dozen folding chairs had been set up, and Lovie wondered if Dr. Bennett was disappointed at the low turnout. She, frankly, was surprised that eight showed up.

She took a seat between Flo and Kate in the front row and clasped her hands over her pocketbook in her lap. Looking up again, she saw Dr. Bennett standing behind the table while, behind him, the other man was setting up a color poster that showed the basic anatomy of the loggerhead sea turtle. Dr. Bennett removed his sunglasses and surveyed the crowd. Lovie was surprised by the brilliant blue of his eyes. What made them truly remarkable, she decided, was the sharp contrast of the whites of his eyes against his dark tan. It made the blue all the more astonishing.

Lovie shifted her gaze back to her lap, thinking it had been a long while since she’d been so struck by a man’s appearance. Certainly not the response a married woman should have for another man.

Kate leaned over to whisper, “Now I know why so many women showed up.”

Lovie responded with a wry grin, as much at her own ridiculousness as the others’. The front door opened and two women she didn’t recognize walked in.

“Take a seat, ladies,” the mayor told them, obviously pleased to see two more join the group. “We’re just about to begin.”

They hurried to find seats, bringing the number of women to an even dozen.

The humidity was rising and the room was stuffy. Outside, the storm was about to let loose. Mayor Clarke wiped his brow, cleared his throat, and began.

“I guess we’re all here. We best get a move on. Don’t want to get caught in the storm, do we? Thank you all for coming. I know you’re here to listen to Dr. Bennett, not me, so I’ll make my introduction short. As you all know, the city, the Beach Company, and the Sea Pines Company are conducting environmental and engineering studies of the northern end of Isle of Palms for the purpose of providing vital information to determine just what that land might be used for and how the environment would be impacted by the development. After an exhaustive search, we were fortunate to find the very best man for the job.”

Clarke turned and offered a polite bow of acknowledgment to Russell Bennett. He then lifted a sheet of paper, cleared his throat, and began to read his prepared statement.

“Dr. Bennett is a leading expert on sea turtles. He has a degree from Harvard University and did his graduate work at the University of Florida. Dr. Bennett’s studied sea turtles all over the world. He’s traveled to the Caribbean, South America,
Central America, Mexico, and Costa Rica, and of course did exhaustive work with the sea turtles in Florida.” He looked up from his papers and smiled. “Now he’s right here on the Isle of Palms and we’re mighty pleased to have him head up this important study. So without further ado, I present to y’all Dr. Russell Bennett.”

There followed a polite applause. Lovie watched as he calmly looked out at the audience. Then he smiled, and it transformed his scholarly, even diffident expression into one of surprising warmth.

“Thank you for taking time out of your busy lives to come here on this humid day to listen to me speak about the research project I am about to begin for the Isle of Palms,” he began.

He had a melodious voice, pleasant to the ear with its gentle Virginian accent. “The purpose of the study is to determine what impact a development the size and scope of the proposed resort would have on the local wildlife, in particular nesting loggerhead sea turtles. On this island, as in most of South Carolina, loggerheads are the only species of sea turtles that nest regularly. Not the green or Kemp’s, and certainly not the leatherback. Still, the loggerheads are a species on the decline, so every nest is critical.”

Lovie glanced around the room to see puzzled expressions on the women’s faces. He was talking over their heads. No one else in this room beside herself and Flo even knew the difference among the sea turtles.

He took a breath and began pacing, using his hands as he spoke. “I see several components to the project: management, monitoring, research. We’ll form teams to walk the island to locate nests and accumulate data crucial in monitoring populations, formulating protective regulations, and help support those making management decisions, and maximizing reproduction for recovery.”

Strike one
, Lovie thought. Even she was having a hard time following.

A hand went up and he paused. “Yes? Do you have a question?”

It was Debbie Underwood, a part-timer from Ohio. “Uh, you say we got loggerheads. How many kinds of turtles are there?”

A faint smile crossed Dr. Bennett’s face, a dawning of understanding. He bent his head in thought, then leaned back against the table in the manner of someone about to begin a long story.

“I should begin with a little background information first,” he said with a smile.

Lovie hid her smile in her palm.
Strike two
. Dr. Bennett had just realized that he wasn’t speaking to a group of graduate students but to a handful of housewives, most of whom knew little about sea turtles. She waited, curious to see how he’d handle the situation. Or if he even could.

To her surprise, Dr. Bennett had the gift of a natural storyteller. He launched into a fascinating history of the sea turtles, beginning with mythology, including her favorite that Earth was borne by three elephants carried on the back of a turtle. He then moved on to a brief lesson in anatomy, blending dry statistics with amusing anecdotes. He seamlessly led into why sea turtles needed our protection. Lovie knew all these basics, but she enjoyed hearing someone talk so comfortably and with such authority on a topic she held close to her heart. His love for the turtles was obvious, as was his passion to preserve and protect them. Kate and Flo exchanged a look of astonishment with Lovie when he spoke of his studies with Archie Carr, the father of sea turtle study and conservation. For sea turtle enthusiasts, whether lay or professional, an association with Carr was the gold standard.

The hour flew by as Dr. Bennett outlined a basic sea turtle monitoring project. To Lovie’s surprise, it was not significantly
different from what she’d been doing for ten years on her own. They were to form teams that divided up the beach into smaller sections. Every morning they were to walk the beach in search of turtle tracks. If they found tracks, they were expected to report to Dr. Bennett so that he could go to the site and confirm the nest. As the season progressed, they would also monitor the hatching of the nests.

In the end, Dr. Bennett hit a home run. A dozen volunteers clustered around the table to sign up for the project and shake his hand.

“Look at them,” Flo said with resigned humor. “This project is no different than what you’ve been doing for years, and now they can’t wait to sign on the dotted line.”

“I know,” was all she could say, but in her mind she felt further diminished. She wanted to leave as soon as she’d signed her name to the list. “Flo, let’s duck out before we get caught by the rain. I need to get back to the girls.”