A Weekend on Allyson Island by Susannah B. Lewis: Excerpt
They’ve come for a birthday celebration . . . but they’ll leave celebrating themselves.
Moira Allyson is going all out for her 50th birthday. The planning part is easy–in her big, beautiful mansion set on Savannah’s waterfront, perfect parties practically plan themselves. She’ll serve the region’s finest cuisine, offer delicious drinks, book the best entertainment, and set up luxurious spa treatments for a small group of the most important women in her life–from childhood best friends to the woman who cleans her house.
She may be focused on her friends, but Moira’s focus has a purpose–distracting herself from the lonely reality of her life as a widow and empty nester. Her twentysomething sons don’t really come back to visit anymore, and her husband, the love of her life, is gone forever. Moira may appear to have it all on the outside, but there’s way too much room in her home . . . and way too many memories. She’s spared no expense for this weekend, and everything’s perfect–until it’s not.
Each woman who arrives at the party comes with her own birthday well wishes–and her own secret sorrow, which she’s determined not to unwrap. But weekends spent with friends have a way of bringing things that have been kept hidden to the surface. Late into the evening, when the stars come out and everyone gets comfortable, one friend opens her heart . . . and then others join in. Allyson Island is like summer camp for 50-year-olds–and, just like at summer camp, it’s a place where friendships are strengthened, deep emotions are shared, and hope and healing happen.
EXCERPT
Chapter 1
Celia Kate Stokes flipped through the pile of mail that her youngest child, Tucker, had brought inside and dumped on the kitchen counter, which was already cluttered with books, papers, pencils, and artwork. One envelope stood out among the bills and junk mail. Even before checking the return address, she recognized who the sender was by the elegant black envelope adorned with gold trim. Something as sophisticated as this must have come from Mrs. Moira Allyson.
She ran her thumb beneath the shiny seal and pulled out the matte-black invitation. A slip of vellum paper fell to her hardwood floor, sticky with syrup from the morning pancakes and glitter from Sophie’s latest art project. She settled onto the leather barstool at the counter and reached for her cell phone. As CK ran her fingers through her light brown hair, Gemma Gardner’s loud Southern drawl belted out a “Hey!” after the third ring.
“Have you been to your mailbox this morning?” CK asked while reaching for her Golden Girls mug of tepid coffee and pressing it to her thin lips.
“Are you talking about Mo’s invitation? I grabbed it out of the mailbox on the way to work this morning and just opened it. Are you able to go?” Gemma asked.
Celia Kate shrugged while organizing stacks of construction paper on the counter. A weekend at Moira’s beautiful waterfront home on the Georgia coast sounded relaxing, but the thought of leaving her family to fend for themselves for three long days left her feeling a bit skittish. “I don’t know. Are you?”
“I would love to get away for a few days. School has only been in session for a month, and Carolina’s senior year is already stressing me out. There’s so much to do, not to mention how expensive it all is. I’ll have to sell a kidney to afford the yearbook photos. My high-maintenance daughter is asking for a photo shoot at Swan House. Who does my kid think she is? Princess Di?” There was nervous tension in Gemma’s voice. “What about you? Can you cut the cord and pull yourself away from your children for an entire weekend?”
CK rolled her eyes at her best friend’s remark. “I didn’t know it was a crime to care for your children’s needs.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Gemma sighed. “So when is the last time you even talked to Mo? It’s been over a month for me.”
CK took another sip of coffee and then replied, “She texted me a few weeks ago about her garden. She wanted to know if it was too late in the season to transplant a hydrangea. There was no mention of her birthday or a party, though. We only chatted for a few minutes. She must be keeping busy.”
“Well, that’s good to hear,” Gemma said. “I’ve been meaning to check in with her, but between work and Carolina’s demands, I just haven’t found the time. I’m a terrible friend, I guess. I’m surprised I even received an invitation.”
“That isn’t true.” CK looked out her kitchen window at the grove of magnolia trees in her side yard, their waxy green leaves swaying in the wind. “You know we can go months at a time without speaking to Moira and pick right back up where we left off.”
Gemma, in her rich-woman impersonation, said, “It’s sure to be an extravagant affair, darling. I imagine we’ll have European facials and mud baths, and we’ll be sent home with Louis Vuitton goody bags filled with caviar.” Then she shifted back to her normal voice. “I could definitely use a spa weekend. Mo always serves the best food too. Do you remember those fancy hors d’oeuvres at her Christmas party a few years ago?” Gemma sighed. “I haven’t looked at a snail the same way since.”
Celia Kate grimaced. “I can do without the snails, but I could use some pampering. I’ll have to check with Sean and see if he can handle the kids all weekend.”
“You don’t have three toddlers, Celia Kate. Sean can handle the kids.”
CK couldn’t stand the sight of the glitter and crumbs scattered on the hardwood floor any longer, so she stood from the barstool and headed to the utility closet to fetch the dust mop. “I wonder who else she’s invited.”
“I don’t know, probably her sorority sisters. Maybe her sisters-in-law,” Gemma continued. “Hopefully not MerryLee, though. That windbag never shuts up. I’m still traumatized by that girls’ trip we took a few years ago. Remember? She started talking the minute we left Savannah and didn’t stop until we pulled into the rental on Hilton Head. I literally fell to my knees and kissed the ground when I got out of the car. I’ll need more than snails to get through a weekend with Chatty Cathy. I’ll need vodka. And lots of it.”
CK laughed while she swept the glitter and debris on the kitchen floor into a little pile. “I’ll talk to Sean and get back to you. If we do go, I’ll drive. I want to get there in one piece. On our last road trip together, you got a speeding ticket on the way to Biloxi and on the way back.”
“If you ain’t fast, you’re last,” Gemma said, then hung up.
BUY HERE
Susannah B. Lewis is an author, humorist, and podcaster. She has written nine books, including Can’t Make This Stuff Up and How May I Offend You Today, both USA Today Bestsellers published by Thomas Nelson. Her work has been featured on Erma Bombeck’s Humor Writers, TODAY, and US Weekly, and her articles have appeared in Parents Magazine, Reader’s Digest, and more. She is the winner of the Southern Writers’ Magazine Short Story Contest and a recipient of the BlogHer Voices of the Year Award. Susannah also hosts the Moral of the Story Podcast, produced by AccessMore.
She lives on 90 beautiful acres in Tennessee with her husband, their three children, and a “whole bunch” of dogs and cats.
Category: On Writing
Subscribe
If you enjoyed this article, subscribe to receive more just like it.
