“Consider it done!” Mamaw exclaimed.

“There won’t be a drop when you get back from work tomorrow,” Lucille said, her dark eyes gleaming like she was a woman on a mission. She glared at Mamaw. “Not anywhere. I’ll see to that.”

Mamaw narrowed her eyes, catching her meaning. Carson could see Mamaw working out in her mind if she could give up her nip of rum in the evenings.

“Who’s winning?” Carson asked in an upbeat voice, changing the subject.

Mamaw fluffed herself up like a queen and, with a smug smile, began shuffling the deck of cards. “I am, of course.”

“Today,” Lucille grumbled.

Carson was impressed. Mamaw dealt as smoothly as any croupier.

“How’s your job coming along?” Mamaw asked Carson as she dealt the cards.

“It’s fine,” Carson replied. “The tourists have arrived in force so my tips are good. It should be a good summer.”

“That’s nice,” Mamaw said in a distracted manner as she picked up her cards. Her fingers moved quickly, sorting her hand.

Carson took a breath, then began to play out the game of finesse that was in her mind. “Mamaw, speaking of summer . . . Do you know what would make my summer really great?”

“I don’t really know,” Mamaw replied in a distracted manner. “Something to do with the water, I suppose?”

Carson took a breath. “No. It’s kind of out there, so hear me through, okay?”

Lucille kept her eyes on her cards, but under her breath she muttered loud enough for all to hear, “Here comes the windup.”

“Well . . .” Carson began, ignoring Lucille’s tease. She leaned forward in the manner of a salesman. “My car, the Beast, died today. On my way home from the beach. It’s been resurrected more times than I can count over the years, but this time it’s a goner. I think the cross-country trip done her in. At least it died here and not somewhere in the middle of the country.” Carson strove for levity.

“I hope you’ll remove that piece of junk from my driveway,” Mamaw said, looking over the rim of her glasses. “I don’t want Sea Breeze to become one of those white-trash places overrun with cars and kudzu.”

“I have someone coming by later this week to tow it away,” Carson assured her. “I got a hundred dollars for the carcass.”

“That’s good,” Mamaw said, her attention returning to the cards.

“So I was thinking . . .” Carson said, her toes curling beneath the table. “Would you consider . . . well . . . how about letting me have the Blue Bomber?”

Mamaw stopped arranging her cards and looked up, suddenly alert. “What was that?”

“I need a car, Mamaw, so I wondered, since the Cadillac is just sitting in the garage . . .”

Mamaw put down her cards and studied Carson’s face, her eyes narrowing shrewdly. “You want me to give you my car?”

“Not give,” Carson rushed to answer. “Unless you’re inclined to let me put it on my wish list?”

“I am not.”

“Oh.” Carson released a disappointed puff of air.

Lucille said under her breath, “Strike one.”

“You’re not helping,” Carson said to Lucille.

“I just calls ’em as I sees ’em,” Lucille replied with a slight shrug of her shoulders, still chuckling.

Carson looked at Mamaw pleadingly. “Would you let me buy it?”

“You have the money for it?”

“Not yet,” Carson replied, squirming in her seat.

“Strike two,” Lucille muttered.

Carson glared at her. “I’ve got a job and I’m making good tips,” she told Mamaw. “I’ll get the money.”

“When?”

“By the end of summer. Sooner, if a job from L.A. comes up.”

“So you do expect me to give it to you?”

Carson exhaled heavily with frustration. Yes, she was hoping her grandmother would give her the car immediately and let her work out the payment later. The car was just sitting in the garage most of the time anyway. She wouldn’t even miss it.

“What if I gave you a down payment now?” Carson cringed. It was embarrassing to not have any money, to have to borrow and beg at her age. “Say, a hundred dollars . . .”

“That will barely fill a tank of gas in that big ol’ car,” Mamaw replied. “Sugar, even if I let you buy it, you wouldn’t be able to afford the gas.”

“I won’t need a lot of gas,” Carson argued. “I only need the car to drive back and forth from Dunleavy’s. And I really love that old car. You know I do.”

Mamaw picked up her cards and began sorting them. She took her time, flicking the edges of her cards as she moved them. “I have a better idea,” Mamaw said at length. “Since you’ll be here all summer and only need transportation to and from Dunleavy’s, you don’t need a car, either.” She discarded a two of clubs. “You can ride my bicycle. In fact, you can have it. Just think of all the money you’ll save on gas. And all the exercise.”

“A bike?” Carson exclaimed with disappointment.

“Strike three,” Lucille said as she picked up the card and discarded a jack of diamonds.

“What if it rains?” asked Carson, growing desperate as she watched the two old women calmly playing cards. “I can’t show up to work wet.”

“That’s true,” Mamaw said thoughtfully. She picked up Lucille’s card and re-sorted her hand. “I know!” she said, discarding a ten of diamonds. She looked back at Carson with eyes bright. “You can use the golf cart! It probably needs a new battery. And a good scrubbing. It’s been sitting in the garage unused for years, but it should still be good.”

Carson frowned and remained silent.

“Carson,” Mamaw said, sitting back in her chair, looking at her now with her complete attention. “I love you more than anyone or thing in the world. You know that, don’t you? As I loved your dad. But I made mistakes with him. I see that now. I made life too easy for him. I was always there to smooth his path. I should’ve made him ride a bike to work. Mercy, I should have made him get a job!”

“Amen,” muttered Lucille.

Mamaw reached out and cupped her palm around Carson’s cheek. Her eyes pulsed with devotion that couldn’t be denied. “My darling girl, I won’t make that same mistake with you.”