Just Like Heaven

by Lacey Baker

  “We’re back where we started. In the small town that we were all born in. The town all but one of us hurried to get away from,” he told his brother.

  With a nod, Parker asked, “Yeah, but is that good or bad?”

  Preston didn’t answer because he was drinking more juice.

  Parker continued, “I miss Gramma like I never thought I’d miss anybody in my life. I mean, when Dad died that was tough. We hadn’t even been gone from Sweetland that long when he got sick. It hurt like hell that he was gone, but Quinn was there.”

  “Then Mom left,” Preston added. It was a cold statement of fact that neither of them could dispute, yet it never failed to rattle him. Patricia Cantrell was not meant to be a mother and a wife. She hated the small town of Sweetland, despised the closeness of Mary Janet and her son Clifford, and blamed everyone in her life, including her six children, for all the unhappiness she’d endured. So the day after her husband of twenty-two years was buried, she’d packed up all her clothes and climbed into her car, driving herself right out of Sweetland and out of her children’s lives forever.

  Well, not necessarily forever. They’d all been invited to her wedding eight years later. She’d remarried on a private beach near Turks & Caicos, to a real estate mogul who had the money and the prestige to keep her entertained for the rest of her life.

  That had been the last time Preston had seen or spoken to his mother. The last time he’d given Patricia any kind of thought or space in his life.

  “And now Gramma’s gone,” Parker continued, snapping Preston out of his reverie. “It seems surreal that she had cancer and didn’t tell anybody.”

  “Michelle had to know something was wrong. She saw her every day, how could she not know?” This was a question that Preston had been grappling with for weeks now.

  Parker was already shaking his head. “Gramma didn’t tell her, either. She only told Mr. Sylvester, and she swore him to secrecy. I can see her doing that. You know how Gramma was, and nobody dared go against what she said.”

  Yes, Preston knew his grandmother. He knew there was nothing he would not have done for her. Okay, yes, there was something he didn’t do. She’d wanted him to come home more often, wanted him to be a part of the legacy that belonged to all of them. But hadn’t he helped her with the legal aspects of opening the B&B, hadn’t he gone over all her contracts as if they were documents of national security? He’d come back to survey the addition of the restaurant and had provided her and Michelle with a crash course in human resources and Maryland’s employment laws. He’d taken all their calls whenever there was a legal question and had come home every Thanksgiving and Christmas. He knew his grandmother’s ultimate wish was to have all of them living back in Sweetland, but that wasn’t something Preston had ever considered.

  As he’d grown up in the small town where everybody knew everybody and their family, he’d realized how stagnant the lifestyle could quickly become. In Sweetland, you were born, you went to school, then you got a job. After the job, you were married to someone else who’d been born in Sweetland and went to school there. Next came the house and the children. And the cycle continued. He knew that song and dance very well and had vowed to live his life differently.

  So while he also knew his family had been brought up cherishing things like loyalty and responsibility, he felt that where his grandmother and this town were concerned, he’d done his part.

  Funny thing was, the guilt sitting in his chest like another organ hadn’t figured that out yet.

  “We should have been here. She shouldn’t have died in that room alone with all of us scattered across the United States,” Preston declared.

  “The world,” Parker corrected. “Savannah was in Milan when she died.”

  “Thanks for the clarification,” was Preston’s stony retort.

  Savannah was a model. She traveled more frequently than any of the other siblings, and she’d needed Gramma the most. Each day Preston was in Sweetland he paid close attention to his youngest sister, watching the way she grieved, the way she now lived, and wondered—as he tended to do with females—at the secret she was harboring.

  “We’ve got to move on,” Parker said, reaching for a napkin and wiping his fingers. “Onward, forward, keep your head up and your back straight. Cantrells never break.”

  Preston smiled at the mantra their grandmother had instilled in them from the time they’d learned to walk.

  “You’re right,” he agreed with a smile. “That’s exactly what she’d tell us.”

  “You’re a great attorney,” Parker told him as he stood up and took his cup to the sink.

  Preston was a little startled by that compliment. “What makes you say that?”

  He’d just rewrapped the plate of ham when his brother shut off the water and came back to clap a hand on his shoulder.

  “You shifted my cross-examination of why you were upstairs, and who you were steering clear of, to another topic entirely. Lucky for you I’m a great detective and I never forget a single detail.”

  Parker laughed as he limped out of the kitchen, leaving Preston to smile at his retreat. Parker Cantrell was a great detective, and he did keep details in his mind as if a Rolodex or a small computer had been implanted there. But in this instance he was wrong: There was nothing to tell about the reason he’d been upstairs or the fact that he thought it might be best to steer clear of one pretty tempting female.

  Heaven Montgomery was not for him. She was here for his puppy and that’s all. No probing, no interrogating, no more thought was necessary. It was simple, she was simple.

  She was, as he thought that night when he finally lay down to go to sleep, simply irresistible.

  * * *

  She was an idiot.

  But thumping her head against the tile of the shower wasn’t going to change that fact. It was going to give her a headache if she didn’t call it quits. And so she did, because Heaven Montgomery was nothing if not a fighter.

  Her therapist had told her that, and strangely enough she’d believed it. Still, months later her nerves were as frayed as they had been immediately following the accident. It probably would have been simpler if the explosion had left her with physical injuries instead of the emotional turmoil she’d been thrust into.

  Warm water sluiced over her naked skin, relaxing tense muscles and conjuring images of one sexy-as-hell puppy owner who right about now probably thought she was a basket case. Closing her eyes, she imagined the lathered cloth moving sensuously over her body with his hands. Strong hands that didn’t appear to be strangers to hard work even though he had a corporate-mogul look.

  He would be firm and aggressive with his lovemaking, taking complete charge of the situation, of her. And she would let him. Of course that wasn’t her nature, or at least she didn’t want that to be her nature. She wanted to take charge, to be assertive. Maybe she would be the aggressor and put her hands on him first. Her fingers tingled at the thought of possibly moving over his naked body, feeling sculpted muscles, touching taut skin.

  The vivid and tempestuous thoughts had her gasping. And that brilliant act had her swallowing water, as her head had been tilted back beneath the shower spray. Coughing, Heaven inwardly cursed her stupidity again. By the time she stepped out of the shower she’d regained most of her composure and headed out into her room to figure out what she was going to do for clothes for the remainder of the weekend. It was no real surprise that the airline had yet to contact her about her misplaced luggage. But there was no way she could wear the same clothes for the duration of the weekend, especially since yesterday’s outfit was probably still wet. She was just about to settle herself into thinking of a plan B when Savannah Cantrell gave a quick knock and entered her room with a picture-perfect smile and the kind of stunning beauty at the crack of dawn that made women like Heaven want to slap women like her.

  “Good morning,” Savannah said brightly. “I’ve come to help you with your dilemma.”

  Because this
woman whom she’d only met yesterday knew the list of dilemmas Heaven kept in her mental Rolodex. Not!

  “Ah, good morning, Savannah. What dilemma would you be referring to?”

  A little self-conscious, especially when Savannah moved like a dancer, showing off her gorgeously toned body in very fitted capris and a halter top, Heaven pulled the towel tighter around her naked body.

  “That one,” she said with a nod toward said towel. “You need clothes, right? The airline lost your bags, which is a likely story. That just means one of their dim-witted staff members probably got sticky fingers and wanted to take a look-see before giving the bags back to you. That’s happened to me more times than I can count. But I’ve given them so much hell over it, three airlines have upper management personally handle all my baggage from the time I arrive at the airport and then have it delivered to the hotel at my destination.”

  After all that Heaven could only nod. She was absolutely certain that Savannah could cause a great fuss over her missing luggage. Heaven, on the other hand, was patiently—well, not so patiently—waiting to hear back from them.

  “I was just thinking I need to get to a store. Is there a mall close by?”

  Savannah laughed. Like the bend-over-and-hold-your-stomach type of laugh that Heaven usually only experienced when watching a Vince Vaughn movie.

  When she could talk, her response was, “This is Sweetland, Heaven. There are one thousand, one hundred and five people in this town. It says so on the big sunflower-shaped sign that marks your entrance into this Mayberry-like patch of land. There’s one grocery store and three cops, total. So the answer to your question is, hell no, there’s no mall close by. If there was I’d spend the majority of my days there instead of walking around here like Michelle’s kitchen slave.”

  Okay, that may have been way more than Heaven actually needed to hear. A yes or no would have sufficed. But something told Heaven that Savannah wasn’t a simplistic, yes-or-no type of person.

  “So there’s nowhere in town I can get some jeans and T-shirts?” she asked. “I really do not want to wear the same outfit for the next two days.”

  Savannah waved a hand. “Believe me, that’s not an option any of us wants to explore.”

  Heaven frowned. She didn’t know whether or not to be offended.

  But before she could say another word, Savannah had gone to the door and stepped out into the hallway. When she came back she had an overnight bag, which she promptly carried to the bed and set in its center.

  “In here are all the necessities to get you out of the house for the day, or at least for a couple of hours. Delia Kincaid owns a nice little shop with some really unique pieces. She used to be an actress and lived in LA until her boyfriend thought it was okay to start slapping her around. I met Delia while I was on a job in Europe and she was shooting a movie about five years ago. Anyway, since then I’ve been to her shop at least twice a week. She keeps great stock and her prices won’t raise your blood pressure. Even though the diamond studs in your ears tell me that you’re not unable to spend money freely. So once you get dressed, we’ll head into town and get you all fixed up.”

  Somehow Heaven had managed to follow that entire diatribe while watching Savannah take things out of the duffel bag. A blow dryer, a flat-iron, jeans, a T-shirt, a makeup bag that was so full it looked as if it would burst, and high-heeled sandals that she tossed back into the bag after a glance down at Heaven’s feet.

  Heaven frowned. She’d always had large feet; her height sort of dictated they be large or else she might topple over. Passing a discreet look at Savannah’s, she raised a brow; they didn’t look so small. Which meant Savannah must have just decided she didn’t want to share her shoes after all, which was fine, she could just wear … what?

  “Michelle washed and dried all your clothes,” Savannah said, pulling a plastic bag out of the duffel.

  It appeared she didn’t want her stuff to touch Heaven’s. She was a peculiar one, and Heaven wasn’t quite sure how to take her at the moment. Yet it seemed like she genuinely wanted to help, or maybe she just wanted an excuse to make another shopping trip. Something told Heaven that Savannah Cantrell didn’t need an excuse to do anything she wanted to.

  “Your shoes might be a total loss, but she wiped them out pretty good with thick towels. I’m a size nine but looking at your flats I guess you prefer not to wear heels all day. Delia has some great Italian leather ballet shoes. I wish I could wear them but I think my feet would protest if they weren’t elevated all the time.”

  “I’d think they’d protest to the contrary,” Heaven said with a sigh. “When I was in sixth grade I had a growth spurt. From that point on I was at least five inches taller than everyone my age. So you’re right, heels were never really my friend.”

  Savannah nodded. “Did you ever consider modeling? Your height and body build are perfect for the runway. And I know girls who would pay good money for your naturally smooth skin and those cheekbones.”

  Heaven was astonished. Nobody had ever asked her that question before. And no, she’d never considering becoming a model. But she didn’t have time to answer Savannah, who was already on to the next subject.

  “Michelle’s going to want me to do something around here if I hang out too long. So I’ll just wait here while you dress, then we can sneak out together.”

  “Ah, okay,” Heaven said, still not sure she wanted to go shopping but recognizing that she didn’t have a lot of choice. “Um, I’ll just be a minute.”

  Grabbing the clothes off the bed, the ones Savannah had given her, not the ones she’d had on yesterday, Heaven went back into the bathroom. While she dressed, she smiled, thinking that this must be what it was like to have a sister. When she was finished dressing and about to open the bathroom door, she concluded that she liked Savannah. She liked her a lot.

  Chapter 5

  Sylvester Bynum sat at one of the patio tables at Jana’s Java Shop. He’d wobbled a bit trying to sit in the chairs, which were iron but nothing short of dainty. After propping his cane up against the railing to his back, he’d flipped through the menu that was in the peculiar shape of a coffee cup. Normally he would have taken his coffee at The Silver Spoon with Michelle pouring and asking him about his day. That had been his routine, one he sorely needed to change.

  Mary Janet had been gone for going on two months now. It was time for him to move on. But Sylvester didn’t have anyplace else to go. Sweetland had become his home the minute Mary Janet had let him stay at her inn, and when he’d fallen in love with her, his roots had been planted. He was here to stay.

  So it stood to reason he needed to get out and get to know more people around town. Or not, he thought with a glance to the inside table closest to the window where Marabelle Stanley and Louisa Kirk sat each and every day. They looked out at Main Street talking about everybody that passed—and even some people who weren’t around, he figured. With a grumble he looked away from the two old biddies and focused on Boudoir, the new dress shop where he spotted Savannah escorting a pretty new face inside.

  He’d heard there was a guest at the inn, a female, Michelle had told him this morning as he’d headed out. She hadn’t said a pretty, young female. Of course she was too young for Sylvester; then again, he wasn’t looking at her for himself.

  After a few moments he’d ordered his coffee. It was brought to him in a steamy hot mug and smelled better than any cup of java he’d ever had. He sat back in his chair to think on the new arrival in town and just how she would play into the still-sticky situation at the Cantrell home.

  * * *

  “This is cute and it’s sexy,” Savannah said, holding up a yellow dress with a bikini-top bodice and enough straps in the back to make Heaven feel just a bit dizzy.

  “I don’t think so,” Heaven replied, moving to another rack that held T-shirts in an array of colors. “I just need something casual for tomorrow and Monday, then I’ll be on my way home.”

  Savannah grabbed her by
the shoulders, turning her so that she now faced her again. “Nonsense, casual is boring. Yellow is sexy and flirtatious,” she told her while pushing the dress up to Heaven’s body.

  Heaven was more than a little uncomfortable as Savannah continued to push the dress over her chest and waist. “I really can’t tell like this but I think it’ll look hot on you. Here, hold this while I look for something else.”

  “But I just want jeans and a T-shirt,” Heaven said quietly. “Maybe a pair of shorts.”

  Of course she was talking to herself. Savannah had already disappeared to another part of the store, undoubtedly looking for something else she thought was sexy and flirtatious—even though Heaven didn’t have any reason to be either one of those things.

  “Can I help you, ma’am?” asked a pretty female who looked to be in her early twenties. She smiled and displayed deep dimples in both cheeks.

  Heaven returned her smile, feeling warmed by the openly sincere question.

  “This is only a weekend trip. But the airline lost my bag. I wanted to get a hotel but the Cantrells offered me a room. Still, I don’t have any clothes, so I guess I need to buy a few things.” And she had no idea why she’d told this woman whom she didn’t even know all this.

  Shaking her head, Heaven continued, hoping to sound a little more like an adult than a babbling teenager. “Basically, I need clothes for the weekend.”

  “No problem, we have plenty of clothes here,” was the woman’s response. “I’m Delia. I own this shop and for the record, when I came to town it was supposed to be for a weekend as well. I’ve been here almost four years now. So good luck with trying to leave on Monday.”

  Delia, the ex-movie-star—Heaven should have known. Actually, she should have remembered, since Savannah had told her not even an hour ago. Looking at her now, Heaven thought she might just recall her being in one of those Vince Vaughn movies she loved to watch. Delia was a couple of inches shorter than Heaven’s five foot nine. He hair was cut short, almost to the scalp around the sides, and spiked with red frosted tips on top. She wore a tiny dress, much like the one Savannah had draped on Heaven, in a fire-engine-red color that only highlighted her daring hairstyle. Watching her move quickly through the racks, grabbing items and tossing them over her arm, all the while chatting about colors and fabrics in a happy little voice, made Heaven uncomfortable.