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turns her gaze on me. The blue shirt turns her darkly fringed eyes to aquamarine, a lovely contrast to her pale skin. Anyone else who spent so much time on the golf course would be deeply tanned; she freckles instead—arms, legs, and across the bridge of her nose. Her expression’s troubled. “You know how much I adore you, Chris. But you’re a damn fool for agreeing to this reunion. And my brother’s a bigger one for putting you in such a position.”

“He didn’t pressure me, sweetie. I agreed willingly.”

While true, it lacks conviction. If I know one thing about my husband of five years, it’s his power of persuasion. It’s one of the ways he reached the top of his game—and TV ratings—before age thirty and stayed there for twenty years. Now, despite his retirement a few years ago, reruns of his cooking show, Southern Heritage, are still much in demand. As are pleas for him to film a new series. We both know that’s behind this Return to the Lowcountry special the food network has talked him into doing. One reason I agreed to be a part of it—even after hearing the details—was curiosity. When we married, Bram retired from the show, tired of all the traveling involved. Plus he wanted time to write a food memoir, which he’d been hard at work on ever since. Does he want to do the show again, despite his swearing otherwise? If not, then why the enthusiasm for this special? Nellie Bee and I have different answers to that, and she’s here to argue hers.

“Bram didn’t pressure me, either,” Nellie Bee admits, rattling the ice in her glass. We’ve had this discussion before. Nellie Bee and her husband will be part of the special, too, since the show will feature Bram hosting a family get-together. The thing is, it not only includes Bram’s son, wife, and new baby, but also Bram’s ex-wife, whom Nellie Bee detests.

“I was all for it until I heard she’d be here,” she tells me. “Therein lies the problem. The return of the spider woman.”

I lean back on the canvas chair and sigh. The sun’s not unbearably hot yet, early June. Matter of fact, it feels good, warm and nourishing on my face. I’m slathered with sunblock but still shouldn’t be sunbathing, I know. I push my sunglasses up on my head, then squint against the glare. “Well, you know Michael won’t participate unless the mama bear’s included.”

Nellie Bee snorts. “That’s an insult to bears the world over. That woman doesn’t have a mama bone in her body. And Michael’s a fool.” I feel her eyes on me but don’t turn to meet her gaze, knowing what I’ll see. Her tone tells me that she’s more upset than I realized. She goes on with a litany against her nephew that I’ve heard before, though not quite so fiercely. “Michael’s a sweet boy but too easily influenced. Always has been,” his aunt declares. “Especially by the fair sex. First it was his mama and now his prissy wife, the princess. Obviously he inherited his daddy’s taste in women.”

As soon as I let out a hoot of laughter, she realizes what she said. When I tease, “Oh, thanks a lot,” she tries unsuccessfully to suppress a giggle. It’s the opening I’ve been waiting for, and I press on. “Listen, I know you’re just trying to protect me, and I appreciate it. More than that, I love you for it. But the whole thing will only take a few days. And trust me, I intend to avoid the dragon lady while she’s here. Doing this will be good for all of us. It’ll give me a chance to meet the baby and get to know Michael better. Bram needs to spend time with his first grandchild. How can that not be a good thing? Bram’s finally on good terms with his son, and now this chance to solidify their relationship has come up—”

“Or have it blow up in his face.” Nellie Bee snorts. “Which is what I’ve tried to tell Bram. Despite having to tolerate Her Highness, his daughter-in-law, filming the special would be a perfect chance for him to be with Michael and the baby. But once I heard that Jocasta was coming, that soured the whole thing for me. You don’t know that woman like I do.”

“I don’t know her at all.” I’d met Bram’s ex-wife, Jocasta, at Michael and Missy’s wedding in Atlanta, three years ago. Aside from forced pleasantries, Jocasta and I’d had little interaction, but my impression of her lingered like cloying perfume. It wasn’t her stunning blond beauty; I’d seen pictures and expected that. Nor was it the charm; Bram’d told me that his ex could be quite bewitching. What surprised me about Jocasta was the extent of her flattery and fawning, as if she set out to lure everyone she met into her silken web. How could a man as astute as Bram not have seen through such artifice? After her initial curiosity about me, she turned her full attention to captivating Missy’s high-society parents. Every time I caught a glimpse of her, she was either posing for pictures with them or hanging raptly on their every word. They appeared equally enamored with her, but why wouldn’t they be? Jocasta Wainwright’s from the cream of Charleston society, making her their social equal. All of them, cut out of the same gold-threaded cloth.

Nellie Bee peers in her empty cup with a frown. “God, I want another one bad. But, gotta resist. I’m driving home. Matter of fact, I need to get on back now.”

“Why don’t you stay over, have dinner with us? Call Charlie to come out. You know Bram will fix enough to feed half of Fripp Island.”

She’s shaking her head before I finish. “If I do, we’ll just keep fussing about this TV thing. I don’t want to get my brother riled up, and I don’t want to be at odds with you.

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