Chapter One chapter one Beware the Ides of March. William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar March 2020 HOW COULD THIS happen to her? Again? Linnea Rutledge drove her vintage gold VW bug across the vast expanse of marshlands on the arching roadway known as the Connector. It was the main route from the mainland to the small island she called home. Below, the tide was low, revealing marsh grass that was just beginning to green at the bottom--one of the lowcountry''s first signs of spring. When Linnea reached the apex of the roadway, she caught her first glimpse of the Atlantic Ocean. Today she didn''t feel her usual euphoria. Rather, she felt numb. She crossed onto Isle of Palms and drove the short distance seaward to Ocean Boulevard.
Less than a mile more until she reached the quaint house she called home. Primrose Cottage was one of the few remaining 1930s houses on the island. It sat now dwarfed by the luxury mansions that dominated the boulevard. Pulling into the gravel driveway, hearing the crunch of stone under tires, Linnea climbed from her car and walked swiftly to the front door, struggling with tumultuous thoughts of the injustices of fate. She didn''t take in the first signs of wildflowers dotting the dunes or stop to enjoy the heady scent of honeysuckle along the fence. Linnea climbed the stairs with savage purpose, seeking safety. She pushed open the door, then closed it behind her and leaned against it, as one holding back a storm. Closing her eyes, she panted, mouth open.
She''d held herself together by sheer force of will while she gathered her personal photographs and belongings and carried them out in a cardboard box from her cubicle office at the South Carolina Aquarium. Her face muscles ached from hoisting a smile and bidding teary farewells to her fellows. It was a mass exodus of nonessential personnel. The aquarium was closing its doors to the public because of the pandemic. She collected her breath and opened her eyes. Looking around the dimly lit house, Linnea felt the quiet familiarity embrace her. This was her aunt Cara''s beach house, left to Cara by her mother, Linnea''s beloved grandmother, Lovie. Linnea had grown up visiting here, becoming part of the group of women who loved the beach, sea turtles, and each other with an abiding devotion.
This little beach house had been their sanctuary from whatever buffeted them outside the clapboard walls. It was her house now, albeit by rental from Aunt Cara. She let her eyes glide across the creamy-white and ocean-blue walls of the small rooms, along the fireplace mantel where sat silver-framed photographs of the Rutledge family that went back generations in Charleston, across the shabby-chic white slipcovered furniture. Linnea feared she wouldn''t be able to stay here any longer. She dug through her purse and pulled her phone to her ear. Within moments, the familiar voice of Cara answered. "Hello, Sweet-tea. You''re home early today.
" Linnea loved the nickname her aunt had called her since she was little. "I, uh. was let off early. Can you come over? I have to talk to you." A pause. Then in a more cautious tone, "Of course. I have to get Hope gathered. She has a doctor''s appointment.
I''ll be there in ten." Linnea tucked her phone away and strode directly to her bedroom. Sunlight poured in across the pine floors and oriental rugs. Her gaze swept the view of the ocean beyond; seeing it, she felt an immediate connection. Bolstered, she unzipped her pencil skirt and laid it on the mahogany four-poster bed that dominated the small bedroom. A simple skirt and crisp blouse constituted her uniform at the South Carolina Aquarium where she worked as the conservation education director. It was a style adopted from Cara. Linnea had been Cara''s assistant at the aquarium.
After Cara resigned, the position as education director was offered to her. It was her dream job. Linnea loved teaching and inspiring others, as she had been taught and inspired by the women in her life. Though Linnea emulated Cara''s sleek dress at work, at home she changed into her favored vintage look. She went to the bathroom and, with efficient movements, washed the makeup from her face, then unpinned her blond hair, letting it fall to her shoulders. Scratching her head vigorously, she tried to shake off the tension that had held her taut since the news. Feeling a bit better, she put on cuffed jeans and a worn pink sweater, finally stepping into blush Capezio ballet slippers, a favorite since she''d taken ballet lessons as a girl. Feeling more comfortable, she went out onto the porch from her bedroom and took in the view of sea and sky.
The power of the vista had a calming effect. Then, hearing the crunch of tires on the driveway, Linnea hurried down the deck stairs and rounded the house to the driveway to see Cara''s car parked there. "Thank you for coming!" Linnea called out. Cara''s long legs, encased in black jeans, slid out from the car. She offered a quick wave. "I can only stay a moment. I was on my way out for Hope''s physical." Linnea waited while Cara removed her precocious six-year-old from her car seat.
Hope''s dark hair was tied in two braids and she wore a blue-gingham smocked dress. "You look like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz ," Linnea said, placing a kiss on Hope''s cheek. "Who''s that?" asked Hope. Linnea looked at Cara with mock indignity. "She doesn''t know The Wizard of Oz ?" Cara lifted her shoulders. "She''s only six. Those evil trees and monkeys. I think Baum had older children in mind.
" "Oh, please. Let me read it to her. It''s a classic." Linnea lowered to meet Hope''s eyes. "You''re not afraid of witches or scary trees, are you?" Hope''s eyes were round, but she shook her head. "No," she said with a hint of doubt. Cara laughed. "If she wakes up in the middle of the night, it''s on you.
" "Oh, she won''t," Linnea said, then turned to Hope. "It has a happy ending. Let''s read it." Then looking back at Cara, she added, "Even if the Wicked Witch of the West tells me not to." "Who''s that?" asked Hope. "Later," Linnea answered with a wink. Straightening, she asked Cara, "Want to go to the deck? I have wine? Coffee? Water?" "Nothing. Thanks.
I have to leave in a few minutes." As they began walking to the oceanside deck, Cara''s dark eyes focused on Linnea. "So, tell me, what''s up?" Linnea gestured to the patio chairs under the pergola. They sat while Hope hurried through the porch doors into the house to the toy bin that was filled with Hope''s playthings. Linnea pulled her hair back into her hands, then let it go with an exhale. "The aquarium is closed until further notice. I''m furloughed." Cara''s face reflected her shock.
"My God. But of course they had to. The coronavirus is shutting down everything. They can''t allow people to gather. Still, it''s sobering." Always practical, she asked, "How are you fixed financially?" Linnea shook her head. "You know what my salary is. I''m in trouble.
" "Savings?" "None to speak of. Even with you helping with rent, I''m not sure how long I can keep afloat." Cara waved her hand. "Forget the rent for now." Linnea was awash with relief. "Seriously? Are you sure?" "Don''t be silly. These are hard times." She put her hands on Linnea''s shoulders.
"Back when I was in financial"--she lifted her shoulders and her lips in an ironic smile--"and emotional trouble, my mother welcomed me into this little house, knowing I''d find my way. And I did. And now, it is my turn to offer the same to you. This is what we Rutledge women do. We take care of each other. And other women as well. It''s a tough world out there for women, as you''ve just experienced." She let her hands drop.
"So, darling girl, no thanks necessary. This is your legacy. And the purpose of this dear house. With so many blessings, we pay it forward." Linnea felt the responsibility of her aunt''s mandate profoundly. This was a passing of the torch. There were no words, so she remained silent. Cara said, "Frankly, I''m more worried about the aquarium.
How long will they be able to survive with their doors closed? They still have all those animals to feed and house." "They''ve kept on a skeleton crew. I know it was a hard decision for Kevin to furlough us." "He had no choice. Bosses have to make the tough decisions and do what''s best for the institution." She sighed then shook her head and said wryly, "Beware the Ides of March." Linnea looked at her aunt sitting across from her. Always cool and practical, she had a long history in management.
She''d left Chicago almost two decades ago to settle in the lowcountry, but even on the island, she maintained her city chic. In jeans and a crisp chambray shirt, she looked elegant. Her hair was cropped short again and framed her face in a style that flattered her cheekbones and dark eyes. Cara had the dark Rutledge looks of her father, Stratton. Linnea, like her father--Cara''s older brother, Palmer--had the softer, petite, blond genes from Grandmother Lovie. As always, Linnea was taken by the way her aunt casually waved her hand in the air as she spoke or raised her fingers to tuck a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. Linnea studied the subtle and refined gestures, wanting to emulate this woman she admired. Cara was not merely elegant or in possession of a razor-sharp intellect, she was generous.
Fami.