On June 5, 1922, the glittering glamour and abundant wealth of the twenties evaded the small South Carolina harbor town of Port Royal. In that South Carolina town there was an establishment called Brandy’s Tavern and it was in that tavern a young woman with dark hair and the prettiest green eyes worked nights laying whiskey down. Her named was Charlotte. Tonight, she was late for her shift.

“Charlotte, why you always be so late, child?!” Adela, a black woman from Savannah cried out when she saw Charlotte entering the tavern’s back entrance twenty minutes after her shift had begun.

“It ain’t my fault, Adela.” The young woman complained while tying an apron around her waist. She was out of sight of the two customers at the bar, but not of the black woman behind it. Adela looked at her skeptically as she continued to wipe down the bar’s counter.

“And why’s that?” Adela asked when the Charlotte took her place behind the bar next to the woman with her arms on her hips.

“Randal made me sign those papers, then made me sit there while some Yankee lawyer read over them for the ninth time.” Charlotte snapped. Adela’s arms dropped as she gave the young a sympathetic look.

“I do thank you for making them keep me working here in those papers, Miss Charlotte. Lord knows that man would kick me out to the street once he gets control of this place.” The black woman spoke with her eyes pointed downward. Charlotte refilled an empty glass bottle in front of a long time customer with the tap beer behind the bar.

She turned back to Adela and said. “You’ve been working here since before I was born, with ma and pa, you’ve practically run the place for thirty years. Randal knows that. Why, he couldn’t run this place without you.”

“You know they’s wouldn’t want you selling it. Why it got your mama’s name on the front!” Adela placed her hands on her hips once more in protest.

“Adela, enough. You and I both know we can’t keep this place going ourselves and I need the money if I’m ever gonna make it to Savannah. Now do something useful! You work for me until next week. ” Charlotte said flustered. Adela narrowed her eyes, but picked up the rag again and began wiping the counter once more, all the while muttering to herself under her breath.

Charlotte let out a sigh. She went over to the fairly new customer at the bar. He was an older man in his thirties, whom had come to town for the new shrimping business that was slowing making its way into this Port Royal. These new shrimpers, along with a few old time regulars made up the majority of her customers. “Evenin’ Charlotte,” The man greeted her with a missing tooth smile. His sandy blonde hair could use a good combing, Charlotte thought.

“Evenin’ Lester, what’ll it be tonight?”

“Oh just a shot of whiskey and date with the loveliest young lady in all of Port Royal with those eyes that could steal a sailor from the sea.” The man winked at her.

“Oh Lester,” Charlotte laughed off this bit of sweet talk. A girl of her looks serving the drunks of this town was used to all forms of flattery. She shook her head as she pour the shot of alcohol.

“How about it?” Lester encouraged. Charlotte heard Adela’s snort of derision from down the bar.

“How about just the whiskey tonight?” Charlotte slid the filled shot glass over to him.

“My, you really are a tease, Miss. Charlotte.” Lester called after her once the shot glass in front of him hand been emptied. Charlotte blew him a kiss followed by a smile. Lester chuckled at the other side of the bar.

With no other customers this earlier in the evening, Charlotte entertained herself by beginning to clean the dirty glass from lunch that day. She had gone through two glasses when the door opened and in walked a man. He was tall, with dark features, and when he glanced at Charlotte she saw he had the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen on a man. He walked different than the shrimpers of this town; his walk was balance, more poised than their causal trudge. His clothes were different too; it was causal attire, but very high quality, not torn jeans and splatter shirts. Charlotte could tell, it had the same look as what Randal would wear, the rich man who was buying her tavern.

“You know him?” Adela whispered into Charlotte’s ear while the two watched him pick a seat at the bar. Charlotte only shook her head. A stranger in town was such a rare occurrence; people would sometimes forget it was impolite to stare.

When the stranger finally chose a seat, he looked over at the two of them still standing behind the bar a ways staring at him. He gave them a smile and a wave. “Go on,” Adela gave Charlotte a shove in his direction.
When Charlotte approached him, he smiled, not a missing tooth smile, but a full gleaming white tooth smile. “Is this Brandy’s Tavern, the sign’s down out front?” He asked with a Yankee accent.

“Yeah, for another week it is, then it’ll be lord-knows-what.” Charlotte replied with a heavy heart.

“So I have made it just in time then, excellent!” Charlotte was about to ask him what he meant by this comment when he said, “I take glass of Remy Martin, please.”

Charlotte laughed. “We don’t carry no Remy Martin.”

“Well, then what would you suggest?”

Charlotte looked at him with a devilish smile. She produced a glass from behind the bar along with a bottle of her finest Disaronno amaretto liqueur.
“A Southern’s favorite.”

“Amaretto, I should have known.” The man laughed. “Well, bottoms up.” He gave the glass a gulp. Though, he place the empty bottle back down on the bar top with dissatisfaction.

“What’s the matter, don’t like taste of the South?” Charlotte joked, and put on her sweet smile most men couldn’t resist.

“Is my accent that obvious?” The man asked with a smile, his gleaming white teeth showing. Charlotte loved how they were all there.

“Incredibly,” Charlotte replied quickly. Despite herself, she found her eyes gleaming. “So where are you from, Yankee?”

“Well, now that you ask, Rhode Island. I’m Archie, by the way.” The man extended his hand to shake hers. It was clean, exceptionally clean. There was no dirt underneath his fingernails, not blisters or broken nails.

“Archie?” Charlotte laughed. She shook his hand still giggling. “Archie from Rhode Island, it’s nice to meet you.”

“And are you to keep your name a mystery to me?” Archie asked once his hands fell back to rest on the bar.

“It’s Charlotte.”

“Ah, Charlotte,” Archie tried the name out for himself. “No other name would be worthy of belonging to such a beauty.” Charlotte blushed at his remark. Adela gave another snort of derision from the other side of the tavern.

“So Archie from Rhode Island, what brings a Northern gentleman such as yourself out to our little town of Port Royal?” Charlotte asked as she poured him another glass of amaretto.

“The harbor of this quant little town, actually.” Archie replied as he grasped the full glass of alcohol before him.

“You’re a sailor?” Charlotte inquired. Since, their conversation had begun she had completely ignore the four other customers that had entered the bar. Adela was giving her annoyed glances over her shoulder as she ran around serving the men.

“Yes, in fact my very own sailboat, Lucy, is out there in the docks as we speak. She’s a great boat. We’re sailing the eastern coast together. We started in Rhode Island and we’ve made our way down throughout the last month stopping at ports here and there, never docking in the same one twice. I’m planning to go on to see the Florida Keys, then I’ll make my way around the Caribbean Sea, and perhaps onto the South American coast.” Charlotte watched as his eyes began to light up and sparkle at the mere mention of the sea.

She burst out laughing after his explanation, drawing the attention of the entire tavern. “Now that is a lie if I’ve every heard one. You sir, are a terrible liar.” He just looked at her confused and a bit embarrassed.

Charlotte continued. “Everyone knows no self-respecting sailor would ever cruise within a hundred feet of Port Royal’s docks, much less one with as much wealth and experience as you claim to have.”

Archie smiled, ready to defend his argument. “Now see, that’s exactly what I intended to do, not give this town of yours a backwards glance as I sailed on by, but I don’t know my way around these parts too well. So down in Charleston I was asking around about a harbor to dock and spend the night at before I reached Savannah. To my surprise, a man suggests this here little port town. Now, there’s a small rumor down in Charleston about this here harbor. The men say that near the water, there’s a place called Brandy’s Tavern and in this tavern there’s an ever so lovely barmaid, with eyes the color of the sunrise meeting the sea. From their descriptions, I imaged a beauty that matched the elegance of Cleopatra and the magnificence the Goddess Aphrodite herself. So I decided I would come and see this woman for myself and if she turned out to be as beautiful as I was expecting, I would ask her if she would like to accompany me on my travels. Like, I said before, I don’t know these parts very well and I’m assuming she does, so I would like to ask her to be my guild. It is for this young woman that I brought this.”


Archie pulled out a small bundled from inside his jacket pocket. He unwrapped the velvet cover to reveal a shimmering silver locket. “It’s finest silver from the north of Spain.”


Charlotte’s eyes were fixated on the shimmering trinket dangling in Archie’s hand. “Oh my,” She gasped, leaning in closer.


“So now that I made my intensions clear, I was wondering… is there another tavern near the water, perhaps a ways down called Brandy’s too?” Archie’s face remained a mask, revealing the uncertainty and insult on Charlotte’s face.

Charlotte was utterly insulted and even more so when he began to laugh, presumably at her. “It was a joke.” Archie laughed, mostly at the expression on Charlotte’s face. “I do believe I have found the tavern, which means this,” He handed her the locket, “belongs to you.”


Charlotte took a moment to feel the smooth silver over in her hands. It was cold to the tough. “I,” Charlotte stumbled. “I can’t accept this.” She tried to hand the locket back to Archie.


“Nope, I’m sorry I never take back gifts.” When Archie refused to take the locket back, Charlotte laid it on the bar.


“Well, I never accept gifts, certainly not from strangers.” Charlotte said with a straight face.


“Well, if you don’t want to accept the gift, I wonder if I can still persuade you to take me up on my offer?” Archie asked with his bright smile.


“I’m afraid n-,” Before Charlotte could finish her reply; she was whisked away into the kitchen by Adela, who had been listening to the whole thing.


“Charlotte, if you don’t take that man’s offer, you’s a damn fool! Go wit him! Get outta this good-for-nothin’ town!” Adela whispered to the girl, with her hands on her hips.


“Adela, I don’t even know the man! He could be a murder or a criminal!” Charlotte reasoned.


“Oh come on now, we both knows who that man’s. That be Archie Pitman… of the Pitman Oil Company. After the death of his father and the fortune that boy’s gonna get, why his picture made it in the papers all the way out here. Now, you get out there and you go wit him or I will!” Adela snapped. She then pushed Charlotte out the kitchen doors into the tavern.


Charlotte would have said yes, she would have taken him up on his offer to get out of this town, she would gone away with him, but standing there behind the bar she saw a heartbreaking sight. The chair where Archie had sat was vacant, the glass of Amaretto emptied, but the shimmering silver locket lie untouched upon the bar. It was open to reveal the engraved words, with love from, Archie Pitman.