She nodded, keeping her back to him and her head lowered.
“I enjoyed our time together.”
“I…did, too.” Even though that time was over now. It was daylight, and the magic of last night was gone.
“I’ll give you a call later in the week.”
She nodded, although she didn’t believe it. This was probably a line he used often. Just another way of saying goodbye, she figured.
“What about Thursday?” he asked unexpectedly, after he’d helped her out of the car.
“What about it?”
“I’d like to take you out…. A picnic or something.”
He couldn’t have surprised her more. Slowly she raised her head, studying him, confident she’d misunderstood.
He met her gaze steadily. “What’s wrong?”
“Are you asking me out on a date?”
“Yes,” he said, taking her house keys from her lifeless hand and unlocking her front door. “Is that a problem?”
“I…I don’t know.”
“Would you prefer it if we went dancing instead?” he asked, his mouth lifting in a half smile.
Despite their terrible beginning that morning, Savannah smiled. “It’d be nice, but I don’t think so.”
“I’ll see what I can arrange. I’ll pick you up around six at the shop. Okay?”
Savannah was too shocked to do anything but nod.
“Good.” With that he leaned forward and brushed his lips over hers. It wasn’t much as kisses went, but the warmth of his touch went through her like a bolt of lightning.
Savannah stood on her porch, watching him walk away. He was at his car before he turned back. “You were a beautiful princess,” he said.
* * *
Nash wasn’t sure what had prompted the invitation for a picnic for Thursday. It wasn’t something he’d given any thought to suggesting. In fact, he felt as surprised as Savannah looked when he’d asked her.
A date. That was simple enough. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t gone out on dates before, but it had been a long while since he’d formally asked a woman out. He was making more of this than necessary, he decided.
By Wednesday he would have welcomed an excuse to get out of it. Especially after John Stackhouse called him into his office. The minute he received the summons, Nash guessed this was somehow linked to Savannah.
“You wanted to see me?” Nash asked, stepping inside the senior partner’s office later that afternoon.
“I hope I’m not calling you away from something important?”
“Not at all,” Nash assured him. It might have been his imagination, but Stackhouse’s attitude seemed unusually friendly. Although they were always polite to each other, he wasn’t John’s favorite, not the way Paul Jefferson was. But then, Paul wasn’t prone to disagree with anyone who could advance his career.
“I have a divorce I want you to handle,” his boss said casually.
These cases were often assigned to him. He’d built his reputation on them. Lately, though, they hadn’t held his interest and he was hoping to diversify.
“This man is a friend of mine by the name of Don Griffin. It’s a sad case, very sad.” John paused, shaking his head.
“Don Griffin,” Nash repeated. The name was familiar, but he couldn’t place it.
“You might have heard of him. Don owns a chain of seafood restaurants throughout the Pacific North west.”
“I think I read something about him not long ago.”
“You might have,” John agreed. “He’s mentioned in the paper every now and then. But getting back to the divorce…. Don and Janice have been married a lot of years. They have two college-age children and then Janice learned a few years back that she was pregnant. You can imagine their shock.”
Nash nodded sympathetically.
“Unfortunately the child has Down syndrome. This came as a second blow, and Don took it hard. So did Janice.”
Nash couldn’t blame the couple for that. “They’re divorcing?”
“Yes.” John’s expression was filled with regret. “I don’t know all the details, but apparently Janice was devoting all her time and attention to little Amy and well, in a moment of weakness, Don got involved with another woman. Janice found out and filed for divorce.”
“I see. And is this what Don wants?”
The senior partner’s face tightened with disappointment. “Apparently so. I’m asking you, as a personal favor, to handle this case, representing Don. My late wife and I were good friends with both Don and Janice.”
“I’ll help in any way I can,” Nash said, but without real enthusiasm. Another divorce case, more lives ripped apart. He’d anesthetize his feelings as best he could and struggle to work out the necessary details, but only because John had asked him.
“I’ll make an appointment to have Don come in for the initial consultation Friday morning, if that’s agreeable?” Once more he made it a question, as if he expected Nash to decline.
This was the first personal favor Stackhouse had ever asked of him.
“I’ll be happy to take the case,” Nash said again. So he’d been wrong; this had nothing to do with Savannah.
“Good.” John reached for his phone. “I’ll let Don know I got him the best divorce attorney in town.”
“Thank you.” Compliments were few and far between from the eldest of the senior partners. Nash suspected he should feel encouraged that the older man trusted him with a family friend.
On his way out of the office, Nash ran into Arnold Serle. “Nash,” the other man said, his face lighting up. “I haven’t seen you all week.”
“I’ve been in court.”
“So I heard. I just wanted you to know how much I enjoyed your sister’s wedding.”
“We enjoyed having you.” So he wasn’t going to escape hearing about Savannah after all.
“How’s Savannah?” Arnold asked eagerly.
“Very well. I’ll tell her you asked about her.”
“Please do. My niece is thinking about getting married. I’d like to steer her to Savannah’s shop. If your sister’s wedding is evidence of the kind of work Savannah does, I’d like to hire her myself.” He chuckled then. “I sincerely hope you appreciate what a special woman she is.”
“I do.”
“Pleased to hear it,” Arnold said, grinning broadly.
By Thursday evening, Nash had run through the full range of emotions. Knowing he’d be seeing Savannah later was both a curse and a blessing. He looked forward to being with her and at the same time dreaded it.
He got there right at six. Savannah was sitting at her desk, apparently working on her computer; she didn’t hear him enter the shop because she didn’t look up. She was probably entertaining second thoughts of her own.
“Savannah.” He said her name lightly, not wanting to frighten her.
She jerked her head up, surprise written on her face. But it wasn’t the shock in her eyes that unnerved him, it was the tears.
“It’s Thursday,” he reminded her. “We have a date.”
Nash wondered if she’d forgotten.
“Are you going to tell me what’s upset you so much?” he asked.
“No,” she said with a warm smile, the welcome in her eyes belying her distress. “I’m glad to see you, Nash. I could do with a friend just now.”
Eight
Savannah hadn’t forgotten about her date with Nash. She’d thought of little else in the preceding days, wondering if she should put any credence in his asking. One thing she knew about Nash Davenport—he wasn’t the type to suggest something he didn’t want.
“I had the deli pack us dinner,” he told her. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“I am,” she said, wiping the last tears from her face. Nash was studying her with undisguised curiosity and she was grateful he didn’t press her for details. She wouldn’t have known how to explain, wouldn’t have found the words to tell him about the sadness and guilt she felt.
“Where are
we going?” she asked, locking the shop. If ever there was a time she needed to get away, to abandon her woes and have fun, it was now.
“Lake Sammamish.”
The large lake east of Lake Washington was a well-known and well-loved picnic area. Savannah had been there several times over the years, mostly in the autumn, when she went to admire the spectacular display of fall color. She enjoyed walking along the shore and feeding the ducks.
“I brought a change of clothes,” she said. “It’ll only take me a minute to get out of this suit.”
“Don’t rush. We aren’t in any hurry.”
Savannah moved into the dressing room and replaced her business outfit with jeans and a large sweatshirt with Einstein’s image. She’d purchased it earlier in the week with this outing in mind. When she returned, she discovered Nash examining a silk wedding dress adorned with a pearl yoke. She smiled to herself, remembering the first time he’d entered her shop and the way he’d avoided getting close to anything that hinted of romance. He’d come a long way in the past few months, further than he realized, much further than she’d expected.
“This gown arrived from New York this afternoon. It’s lovely, isn’t it?”
She thought he’d shrug and back away, embarrassed that she’d commented on his noticing something as symbolic of love as a wedding dress.
“It’s beautiful. Did one of your clients order it?”
“No. It’s from a designer I’ve worked with in the past and I fell in love with it myself. I do that every once in a while—order a dress that appeals to me personally. Generally they sell, and if they don’t, there’s always the possibility of renting it out.”
“Not this one,” he said in a voice so low, she had to strain to hear him. He seemed mesmerized by the dress.
“Why not?” she asked.
“This is the type of wedding gown…” He hesitated.
“Yes?” she prompted.
“When a man sees the woman he loves wearing this dress, he’ll cherish the memory forever.”
Savannah couldn’t believe what she was hearing. This was Nash? The man who’d ranted and raved that love was a wasted emotion? The man who claimed marriage was for the deluded?
“That’s so romantic,” Savannah murmured. “If you don’t object, I’d like to advertise it that way.”
Nash’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “You want to use that in an ad?”
“If you don’t mind. I won’t mention your name, unless you want me to.”
“No! I mean…Can we just drop this?”
“Of course. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“You didn’t,” he said when it was clear that she had. “I seem to have done this to myself.” He made a point of looking at his watch. “Are you ready?”
Savannah nodded. This could prove to be an interesting picnic….
They drove to Lake Sammamish in Nash’s car and he seemed extra talkative. “Arnold Serle asked about you the other day,” he told her as he wove in and out of traffic.
“He’s a darling,” Savannah said, savoring the memories of the two older men who’d worked so hard to bolster her self-confidence, vying for her the way they had. “Mr. Stackhouse, too,” she added.
“You certainly made an impression on them.”
Although the night had ended in disaster, she would always treasure it. Dancing with John and Arnold. Dancing with Nash…
“What’s the smile about?” Nash asked, momentarily taking his eyes off the road.
“It’s nothing.”
“The tears were nothing, too?”
The tears. She’d almost forgotten she’d been crying when he arrived. “I was talking to my parents this afternoon,” she said as the misery returned. “It’s always the same. They talk about traveling, but they never seem to leave Seattle. Instead of really enjoying life, they smother me with their sympathy and their sacrifices, as if that could bring back the full use of my leg.” She was speaking fast and furiously, and not until she’d finished did she realize how close she was to weeping again.
Nash’s hand touched hers for a moment. “You’re a mature adult, living independently of them,” he said. “You have for years.”
“Which I’ve explained so many times, I get angry just thinking about it. Apparently they feel that if something were to happen, no one would be here to take care of me.”
“What about other relatives?”
“There aren’t any in the Seattle area. I try to reassure them that I’m fine, that no disasters are about to strike and even if one did, I have plenty of friends to call on, but they just won’t leave.”
“Was that what upset you this afternoon?” he asked.
Savannah dropped her gaze to her hands, now clenched tightly in her lap. “They’ve decided to stay in Seattle this winter. Good friends of theirs asked if they’d travel with them, leaving the second week of September and touring the South before spending the winter in Arizona. My dad’s always wanted to visit New Orleans and Atlanta. They said they’ll go another year,” Savannah muttered, “but I know they won’t. They know it, too.”
“Your parents love you. I understand their concern.”
“How can you say that?” she demanded angrily. “They’re doing this because they feel guilty about my accident. Now I’m the one who’s carrying that load. When will it ever end?”
“I don’t know,” he said quietly.
“I just wish they loved me enough to trust me to take care of myself. I’ve been doing exactly that for a long time now.”
Nodding, he exited the freeway and took the road leading into Lake Sammamish State Park. He drove around until he found a picnic table close to the parking lot. The gesture was a thoughtful one; he didn’t want her to have a long way to walk.
It might not be very subtle, but Savannah didn’t care. She was determined to enjoy their outing. She needed this. She knew it was dangerous to allow herself this luxury. She was well aware that Nash could be out of her life with little notice. That was something she’d always taken into account in other relationships, but her guard had slipped with Nash.
He helped her out of the car and carried the wicker basket to the bright blue picnic table. The early evening was filled with a symphony of pleasant sounds. Birds chirped in a nearby tree, their song mingling with the laughter of children.
“I’m starved,” Nash said, peering inside the basket. He raised his head and waggled his eyebrows. “My, oh, my, what goodies.”
Savannah spread a tablecloth across one end of the table and Nash handed her a large loaf of French bread, followed by a bottle of red wine.
“That’s for show,” he said, grinning broadly. “This is for dinner.” He took out a bucket of fried chicken and a six-pack of soda.
“I thought you said the deli packed this.”
“They did. I made a list of what I wanted and they packed it in the basket for me.”
“You’re beginning to sound like a tricky defense attorney,” she said, enjoying this easy banter between them. It helped take her mind off her parents and their uncomfortable conversation that afternoon.
They sat across from each other and with a chicken leg in front of her mouth, Savannah looked out over the blue-green water. The day was perfect. Not too warm and not too cool. The sun was shining and a gentle breeze rippled off the lake. A lifeguard stood sentinel over a group of preschool children splashing in the water between bursts of laughter. Farther out, a group of teens dived off a large platform. Another group circled the lake in two-seater pedal boats, their wake disrupting the serenity of the water.
“You’re looking thoughtful,” Nash commented.
Savannah blushed, a little embarrassed to be caught so enraptured with the scene before her. “When I was a teenager I used to dream a boy would ask me to pedal one of the boats with him.”
“Did anyone?”
“No….” A sadness attached itself to her heart, dredging up the memories of a difficult youth
. “I can’t pedal.”
“Why not? You danced, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but that’s different.”
“How?”
“Don’t you remember what happened after the dance?”
“We could rent a pedal boat and I’ll do the work,” he said. “You just sit back and enjoy the ride.”
She lowered her gaze, not wanting him to see how badly she longed to do what he’d suggested.
“Come on,” he wheedled. “It’ll be fun.”
“We’d go around in circles,” she countered. She wasn’t willing to try. “It won’t work if we don’t each do our share of the pedaling. I appreciate what you’re doing, but I simply can’t hold up my part.”
“You won’t know that until you try,” he said. “Remember, you didn’t want to dance, either.” His reminder was a gentle one and it hit its mark.
“We might end up looking like idiots.”
“So? It’s happened before. To me, anyway.” He stood and offered her his hand. “You game or not?”
She stared up at him, and indecision kept her rooted to the table. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”
“Come on, Savannah, prove to me that you can do this. But more importantly, prove it to yourself. I’m not going to let you overdo it, I promise.”
His confidence was contagious. “If you’re implying that you could’ve kept me off the dance floor, think again. I danced every dance.”
“Don’t remind me. The only way I could dance with you was to cut in on someone else. At least this way I’ll have you to myself.”
Savannah placed her hand firmly in his, caught up in his smile.
“If anyone else comes seeking the pleasure of your company this time,” he said, “they’ll have to swim.”
Savannah’s mood had been painfully introspective when Nash arrived. Now, for the first time in what seemed like days, she experienced the overwhelming urge to laugh. Hugging Nash was a spontaneous reaction to the lightheartedness she felt with him.
He stiffened when her arms went around him, but recovered quickly, gripping her about her waist, picking her up and twirling her around until she had to beg him to stop. Breathless, she gazed at him, and said, “You make me want to sing.”
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