Fancy adjusted the sash around her middle and smoothed back her hair. She looked nice. Nobody would suspect a thing. Maybe Morgan would. She always seemed to see straight through to her soul.
Fancy would remember this birthday for many years to come. She’d learned something valuable today. Being pretty was her worth. Everything revolved around it. From this point forward she would make sure that she didn’t forget it. Not ever.
“Hold your head up high and don’t ever let anyone see the tears or the sweat or the fear. If you do…you’ve lost!” June Tolliver
Chapter One
Fancy Tolliver bit her lip hard as she stood outside Savannah House and gazed lovingly at the huge structure. It was all coming together so beautifully. So many renovations had been done on this lovely place. It had been stunning before, but now it was simply incredible. They had updated it without losing an ounce of its historic charm. A feeling of pride washed over her as she imagined guests arriving to stay at the historic resort. Savannah House in all its glory! And she felt so fortunate to be associated with this wonderful, historic place. She was one of the co-owners! That knowledge made her feel as if she could soar like a high-flying kite.
She turned her head toward the majestic view of the ocean. Fancy closed her eyes and breathed in the tangy scent of the sea. As always, the ocean calmed and centered her. In warmer months, guests would be flocking toward the sandy beach and the cool comfort of the water. Savannah House sat perched on one of the loveliest properties on Tybee Island. On some days it truly did seem as if you could see forever as you gazed across the miles and miles of ocean.
“Thank you, Miss Hattie. For giving me something that I can feel proud of. For believing that I was worthy of this amazing place.” She uttered the words in remembrance of Hattie Alexander, the woman who had bequeathed Savannah House to Fancy and her five closest friends—Olivia Renault Rawlings, Callie Duvall Holden, Morgan Lucas, Charlotte Duvall and Hope Matthews.
The historic inn had been built by Miss Hattie’s father, Tuck Alexander, back in 1915. Tuck had risen from poverty to millionaire status. He’d reached the highest echelons of the business world through pure grit and determination. Tuck had fallen in love with Miss Hattie’s mother, Patricia Smith, at first sight. Since Patricia hailed from Savannah, it didn’t take Tuck long to move to her hometown, court the woman of his dreams, then marry her. As a tribute to the love of his life, Tuck built Savannah House—a magnificent symbol of his achievements. Wanting others to experience life on Tybee Island and all of its splendor, Patricia and Tuck turned their estate into a luxurious bed and breakfast. Savannah House became a top resort, with people traveling from all over the country to experience the lush life.
At present, months and months of hard work was coming to a close. The resort would be opening in little more than a month, and they already had a full house of guests booked for the launch.
Fancy almost felt like doing cartwheels. But there was one huge thing that was holding her back. Her joy felt contained because of it. It was causing her legs to tremble underneath her.
Case was inside. With every step she took toward the house, her heart seemed to thunder louder and louder inside her chest. Case Duvall. Her ex-fiancé. The man who had ripped her heart out of her chest and eaten it for breakfast, lunch and dinner. The girls—Callie, Morgan, Olivia, Hope and Charlotte—had asked her prior to involving him on the project if she had any objections.
YES! Of course I do. She’d wanted desperately to scream those words at her friends. But she had remained stoic. As cool as a cucumber. She’d put her bravest mask on and pretended that it wouldn’t rip her apart to work with Case on Savannah House business. He was one of the best attorneys in Savannah, after all. And due to his being Charlotte’s big brother and Callie’s cousin, it made all the sense in the world to retain his services.
Tell that to your aching heart, a little voice buzzed in her ear.
This would be the first time she would be in a confined area with him. She’d had a few near brushes over the past few months. At Callie’s wedding Case had been one of the groomsmen, but things had been so carefully orchestrated that they hadn’t even uttered more than pleasantries to one another. That single fact had nearly killed her. If she hadn’t made such a colossal mess of things, Case Duvall would be her husband at this very moment. And her heart wouldn’t be beating like a drum right now.
Lord, please let me get through this moment with grace and courage. Don’t let me falter. Give me the strength that I sorely lack. Don’t let me make a fool of myself in front of Case. I still care so deeply about what he thinks of me.
At least she looked attractive. Beautiful, most would say. But lately—and for the first time in her life—she didn’t feel attractive. She felt ugly. For a woman who had always been gushed over for her beauty, it was an unfamiliar feeling.
Most days, she felt unworthy of good things. The shame hadn’t left her yet. Dumped. Jilted. Cast aside by her fiancé. To this day she couldn’t bear to dissect the events that had led to her breakup with Case. Each and every time it caused her an immense amount of pain. When would it stop hurting so badly? When would she heal?
With a burst of courage, she strode toward the front door of Savannah House and turned the knob, pushing the door open with gusto. Fancy let out a little squeak as she bumped into a solid force. Her stomach sank as she instantly recognized her ex-fiancé looking way more gorgeous than any man had a right to look.
“Fancy.” Case stared down at her, his gray-blue eyes resembling lasers. His expression was shuttered. Her heart rioted at the lack of emotion in his expression. It seemed so long ago that he’d looked at her with an abundance of adoration etched on his face. Where had all the love gone? Why was it so easy for him to keep such an emotional distance from her?
“Love one another.” It was God’s commandment, yet she and Case hadn’t even managed to get that right.
He looked different. Older. More mature, she realized. With his dark blonde hair and brooding good looks, he was an eye-catching man. He always had been. Women tended to gape at him when they passed by him, as if they couldn’t believe what their eyes had just seen. It had never made her jealous, not even a single time. Case had always made her secure in their love, until everything had fallen apart.
“Case,” she said in a cool voice that masked her nerves. “How are you?”
“I’m fine,” he answered with a nod. “And you?” For a moment she saw something flicker in the brilliant gray-blue depths of his eyes. They softened imperceptibly. It quickly passed, leaving her to wonder if she’d imagined it.
“I can’t complain,” she said with a shrug. “But if I did, who would listen?” She tossed off the joke, hoping she might get a slight smile from Case. In return, she received nothing but a blank stare.
“I just need to get my briefcase from the car so we can start the meeting,” he said, nodding in the direction of a spot outside in the distance.
“I guess I’m right on time then,” she said in a chirpy voice. She smiled at him, willing him to smile back. Please smile at me. Please.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you inside,” he said as he stepped outside and away from her.
Suddenly, Fancy was finding it hard to breathe. She shut her eyes tightly and counted to ten.
You’re okay. The worst is over. Just breathe, she reminded herself. Everything will be fine.
“Are you all right?” The soft, feminine voice washed over her like a welcoming rain in summer. She opened her eyes. Charlotte Duvall was standing there, a concerned expression etched on her pretty, warm features.
Fancy held back tears. She didn’t want to go into this meeting a sobbing mess. The look on Charlotte’s face oozed compassion. Of all her friends, Charlotte was the most sensitive. Case’s sister reached out and patted Fancy’s shoulder in a comforting gesture. It was typical Charlotte, always trying to smooth things over and make them better.
Fancy hated the fact that she
had ruined the possibility of becoming Charlotte’s sister-in-law. Things between them had been slightly off-kilter ever since. And who could blame Charlotte for avoiding her like the plague? She had broken her brother’s heart and single-handedly ruined everything.
Fancy blinked back tears. “I’ll be fine. It was just a shock to see Case so up close and personal.”
Charlotte’s eyes were moist with her own unshed tears. “I’m so sorry, Fancy. Truly, I am.” Her voice came out low and whisper-like. Fancy wondered if she was trying to save her some embarrassment by speaking in such a low tone. Fancy would be mortified if Case came through the door and overheard his sister consoling her. It would be yet another humiliation.
Fancy straightened her shoulders. Her mother’s voice came to her, loud and strong. “Stand up straight and have some pride, Francine. Never let ‘em see you looking like a wet dishrag.”
“You could never look anything other than radiant,” Charlotte said.
“Thanks, Char. Let’s get this meeting going,” she said in a crisp voice. “Where are we meeting? In the library?”
Charlotte nodded, then cast her gaze toward the front door. “Why don’t you go ahead. I’ll just wait for Case.”
“Sure,” Fancy said with a nod, making her way to one of her favorite rooms in the place. On her way to the library, she passed by the antique bench she had picked up at an estate sale. It looked marvelous sitting here in the main hallway. Fancy stood up a little straighter, armed with the knowledge that she had done a great job with the interior design of Savannah House.
She crossed the threshold into the library. As a small child, she had fallen in love with this wondrous room. With its wall to wall books and gleaming wooden surfaces, the library had been her safe haven. As a teenager she’d come into this room to find classic stories that would whisk her away from Savannah and the typical dramas of her peers. In another life she might have become a writer herself. Had she been smarter, she thought ruefully. Her one talent had been being attractive, which wasn’t really a talent at all. It was genetics, DNA and pure dumb luck.
As soon as she stepped into the room she was greeted with a chorus of welcoming voices. Her four beautiful friends were sitting on a couch surrounded by a group of love seats. The sun slanted through the windows, bathing the room in glorious rays of autumn brilliance. The sunshine served as a gentle reminder of God’s presence. He was everywhere. His artistry colored their world. She felt a sense of rightness about having replaced the heavier drapes in the library with lighter, airier fabric. Although the room had always been stunning and stately, it now felt fresher.
“Fancy. You look wonderful,” Olivia gushed.
Fancy knew she looked her best since she’d tried on at least half a dozen dresses this morning. In the end, she’d decided on the cranberry-colored skirt with the matching cardigan and a cream-colored silk shirt. A pair of low heels in a nude color gave her outfit the perfect kick.
“Thanks,” she said. “And you look amazing as well. The newlywed life must be treating you well.” She cast an admiring glance at Callie, who looked happier than ever. Both Olivia and Callie had recently married their soulmates. Olivia had reunited with her youthful flame, Hunter Rawlings, while Callie had fallen in love with their childhood friend, Jax Holden. Fancy had been a bridesmaid in both weddings, which hadn’t been easy considering her own ill-fated wedding. “Both of you look spectacular, actually. I guess I’d be enjoying the married life too, if I hadn’t messed up so royally.”
A shocked silence ensued. Why had she just said that and opened up a can of worms? The words had just popped out of her mouth without her even realizing it. She had taken her innermost feelings and spewed them all over the room. Awkward to say the least.
“Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I don’t know why I just said that.”
“Nerves, probably,” Hope said, sending Fancy a sorrowful look. “It isn’t every day that you come face to face with your ex-fiancé. Give yourself a break.”
Fancy plopped down in one of the love seats. She let out the breath she’d been holding ever since coming face-to-face with Case. “I guess so. Sometimes I just wonder how I ever got to this place and time where he can’t even stand the sight of me.”
“I highly doubt that,” Callie said. “He loved you more than anything. Who knows what he’s going through? As we all know, he holds his feelings pretty close to the vest. He might still be trying to process everything.”
“Callie’s right,” Morgan chimed in. “Loving someone and losing them isn’t easy.” The tone of Morgan’s voice caused all of the women to look over at her. The expression on her face could only be described as haunting. Fancy knew at that very moment that Morgan herself had loved and lost. Had there been someone she’d fallen for in Paris? Or was it someone in Savannah who held the keys to her heart?
“What is taking Case so long? And I wish Charlotte would get back in here,” Olivia said, standing up so she could peek out the window. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
“Maybe he left,” Fancy said in a defeated voice. “If I had to describe the look on his face when he saw me, I would have to describe it as frigid. As in ice-cold, below freezing, Antarctic blast, sub-zero temperatures.”
The sound of footsteps entering the room caused her to stiffen. She clenched her teeth. Why hadn’t she just kept her mouth shut about Case? She turned her head, her blood going cold when she saw his face.
Without a single doubt, Fancy knew by the expression etched on his face that Case had heard her comment. Charlotte looked nervously back and forth between them. Case moved to the seat next to her and deposited his briefcase on the coffee table in front of him.
He turned toward her, his gaze assessing. “You got all that from a single glance?” Case asked, his features implacable. He put his hands together and began to clap slowly. “Bravo, Fancy. Your powers of perception never fail to amaze me.”
**
Case sat through the meeting with his body feeling as if it was tightly coiled. He was so wound up he feared that he might explode. For the entire duration he’d felt keenly aware of Fancy’s presence in the seat right next to him. The smell of her light, floral perfume was driving him to distraction. He knew that scent well. It was “Wish”, her favorite perfume. He’d bought it for her many times on special occasions. The smell of it was something he automatically associated with Fancy. Romantic. Elegant. Timeless.
He wanted to groan out loud. How had he gotten into this situation in the first place? He should have just told Callie and Charlotte that he didn’t want to have anything to do with Savannah House. But that would have been like running away from his problems. Case Duvall didn’t run. He dealt with things head-on. Most times he did so without flinching. And if he did flinch it was on the inside where no one would see. That’s how he’d been raised. To be strong. And stoic. It was the Duvall way. And even when the love of your life made a fool out of you and twisted up your insides in the process, you still had to endure.
Never let it be said that Case Duvall had crumbled.
But now, with Fancy within touching distance, he felt himself wavering. She was without a doubt the most beautiful woman he had ever known in his life. With her lustrous blonde hair and sea-blue eyes set against a perfectly symmetrical face—high cheekbones and heart-shaped lips, she was extraordinarily stunning. Sometimes he wondered if she was too good-looking. Had that been part of the problem? Could a woman as exceptionally radiant as Fancy not be swayed by the attention from other men? That possibility made him sick to his stomach.
He clenched his fists. Nope. He still wasn’t over it. Case still struggled with anger over Fancy’s betrayal. If he’d come across Marc Cabron in the streets of Savannah, he might even be tempted to take a swing at him. Not that violence ever solved anything, but it might make him feel less foolish if he could take him down a peg or two.
“Case. Case, did you hear me?” The sound of Charlotte’s voice interrupted his thoug
hts, serving to remind him that he was in the middle of a business meeting. And he had no clue as to what she’d just said to him.
Charlotte, knowing him like the back of her hand, repeated the question. “Do you think that our liability insurance is sufficient?” She raised an eyebrow at him. Case detected a look of awareness on her face. His sister knew that he was struggling with being so close to Fancy.
He cleared his throat. “As it currently stands, the insurance will cover personal and general, the property, service automobiles, liquor. But you need to make a decision about liability for criminal acts.”
“Whoa. Like a burglary or vandalism?” Hope asked. “I hadn’t even thought of that.”
“It’s not pleasant, but we have to protect our interests,” Morgan said.
“I think it’s important to take that into account,” Fancy said. “Yes, we’re out here on Tybee Island where the crime rate is low, but we can’t live in a bubble and act as if that might never happen.”
Case swung his gaze toward her. “You’re right. Life shows us that bad things happen when we least expect it.”
Fancy barely met his gaze, then looked away. A thick tension hummed and buzzed in the air.“So, are we all in agreement about adding that to the insurance?” Morgan asked, filling up the awkward silence.
Everyone nodded and voiced their agreement. Case bowed his head and focused on the paperwork in front of him. He could barely see through a red haze of aggravation.
“Why don’t we move on to something else. Such as the pending liquor license,” Callie suggested. “How’s that coming along, Case?”
Using all of his faculties—the ones he’d acquired in three years of law school—Case focused on the business at hand and blocked out the fact that Fancy was sitting nearby. It was taking every ounce of his strength of purpose to do so.
“It’s coming along,” he said tersely. “I need to call and check on the status, but it looks as if you won’t be waiting much longer. You might even have it on hand for your launch.”
The Last Kiss (Secrets of Savannah Book 3) Page 2
