The Restoration of Celia Fairchild - Marie Bostwick Page 0,54

blinked, as she did now, they were almost purple.

“Are you kidding me? Celia Fairchild?” She laughed when I nodded. “Wow! After all these years? I can’t believe it. Wow. So . . . what brings you to Charleston? Visiting family?”

I shook my head. “Nope, I moved back a couple weeks ago. My aunt passed away and left her house to me.”

Polly’s violet eyes went wide. “Your aunt Calpurnia? The one who—”

“Yes. That one,” I said quickly, cutting Polly off before she could fill in the blank. I didn’t like talking about what had happened back then, especially with the friend whose friendship I’d lost in the aftermath. “The house is a wreck but I’m fixing it up.”

“Great. That’s great.” Polly bobbed her head but her voice was distracted and I could tell she was thinking about something else. “You know, it’s the funniest thing, but I could have sworn I saw you a couple weeks back, standing on the sidewalk across from St. Philip’s.”

“Wait. On Sunday? Right after church let out?” She nodded and I gasped, my face split into a grin. “I thought I saw you too but then you turned around and I thought, no, it couldn’t be. That was you? But . . . what happened to your hair?”

“Oh. I cut it. Just a few days ago.” Polly lifted her hand and touched the red spikes, as if checking to make sure they were still there. “I felt like I needed a change. The nose piercing is new too. But . . . I don’t know.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m still not sure if I like them.”

“No, it looks good,” I said, even though I wasn’t quite sure either. She just looked so different. But maybe I’d get used to it. “You look good.”

“I don’t,” she said. “I’m skinny, I’ve got bags the size of steamer trunks under my eyes, and more wrinkles than a shar-pei pup. I finally gave up smoking—and drinking—four years ago. But,” she sighed, “the damage has been done.”

She did have wrinkles, especially around her lips, as if she’d spent the last twenty years sipping soda through a straw. They weren’t awful but they did make her look older. Maybe that was why I hadn’t recognized her that day outside St. Philip’s. Well, that and the fact that Polly was just about the last person I ever expected to see hanging around outside a church, any church. The attitude hadn’t changed; she was still sassy and cut to the chase as ever. But the lines on Polly’s face and the sadness lurking behind her eyes said she’d been through a lot. I guess we both had. It was strange though . . .

Once upon a very long time ago, Polly and I had been best friends, practically joined at the hip. Now I not only barely recognized her, I knew nothing about her. Who was she now? What had she been up to for the last twenty years? Of course, I hadn’t been invited to the wedding, but I remember hearing she’d married Jimmy Mercer after he joined the navy and that they’d moved away. When had she come back to Charleston? And why? Was she still married?

I had so many questions but kept them to myself. It had just been a coincidence, running into her like this, a chance encounter. It would probably be another twenty years before our paths crossed again, if they ever did at all.

“Celia Fairchild,” Polly murmured, moving her head slowly from side to side. “When was the last time we saw each other? Do you remember?”

I did remember.

“The graduation beach bonfire on Sullivan’s Island.”

“That’s right! The bonfire!” Polly laughed. “Although, the last time I recall seeing you, from the little I can recall about that night, I was seeing two of you. Way too much vodka,” she said, her expression regretful but not entirely so. “Wow. Celia Fairchild. What are the chances? I can’t believe it’s you.”

And I couldn’t believe it was Polly. But there wasn’t a whole lot more to say about that, so I craned my neck, taking in the surroundings, and changed the subject.

“So. This is your shop? It’s really something,” I said, which was definitely more diplomatic than asking why everything was such a crowded mess. “You’ve got a lot of inventory.”

“Too much,” she said. “And not enough space to display it in. And no real room to teach either. But this is the only retail space I could afford so .