by Hope Ramsay
She cast her gaze from Mom, to Claire, to Bill, and back again.
“And Mom, there is one last thing. I’m sick and tired of you always bringing me down. I have financing for the theater. There are people in this town who want to see it revived, and they’ve given me a grant. So don’t look down your nose at me. Don’t belittle my achievements. I’m not living your life. I’m living mine.”
“They gave you the money?” Mom asked. “Don’t you think that’s a little strange? I mean, usually people invest in a project.”
Before Savannah could address these questions, the door burst open again to admit the prodigal son and his canine.
“I found him,” Todd said. His announcement was completely unnecessary because Champ scampered into the parlor, his tail wagging, his nose sniffing. He went directly toward Claire and put his paws on her beautiful designer outfit.
And Claire flinched. She was obviously scared to death of that little puppy. “Get down,” Claire ordered, but the pooch seemed oblivious until Claire started sneezing.
“Ah,” Dash intoned, “allergies.”
Todd came to a halt. “Oh, hey,” he said, his gaze shifting from one grandmother to the other.
“Oh, my God, your face,” Claire said as she pulled a tissue out of her Hermès bag. She glared at Dash. “You were there when it happened. Why on earth did you put him in a situation where he could get beaten up by a bully like that? And why didn’t you stop it?”
Dash glared back, but said nothing.
“It wasn’t Dash’s fault. It was yours and Granny’s,” Todd said in a surprisingly adult tone.
“What?” Mom and Claire said in unison. Their expressions suggested that World War III was about to break out at any moment, probably with the force of a nuclear explosion.
Todd stood straight and tall in front of his grandmothers. He didn’t flinch. “Well, I’m sorry, but it’s only the truth. You all let the dog out. And he got into a lot of trouble. And then Corey Simms started a fight over it.”
“That’s right, son, but you’re the one who finished it,” Dash said, giving the boy a big smile.
“Who is this man?” Claire asked again, giving Dash the stink eye. But Dash was impervious, so she turned back toward Todd. “Young man, I will not take insolence from you. Is that clear? Now go upstairs and pack your things.”
Todd looked at Savannah. “Are we going somewhere?”
“We’re going home,” Claire said. “And you’re going to interview for the Gilman School. Your interview is next week, and I only hope the black eye has faded by then. I’m sure the board of admissions takes a dim view of boys who get into fights.”
“Now, Claire—” Savannah started.
“I don’t want to go to the Gilman School,” Todd said.
“Of course you do. Everybody in your family has gone there,” Claire said.
“I didn’t.” Dash smiled. Todd smiled back.
“Really, Cousin Dash, you are not related to us in any way.” Mom sounded like she was about to burst a blood vessel.
“You know, Aunt Katie Lynne, when you’re not so angry, you’ll realize that what you just said was kind of funny.”
Champ decided that it was time to make friends with Mom. He jumped up on her beige ensemble and started licking her face. Her reaction was decidedly unfriendly. “Get off me, you mangy mutt.”
She pushed the dog off her lap. He landed hard with a yelp.
“Hey, that was mean.” Todd got down on the floor and gave the puppy a big hug.
“He’s undisciplined,” Mom said.
“Sort of like the boy,” Bill muttered.
Dash snorted. “You know, people have been throwing that word around a lot lately.” He smiled in Savannah’s direction and then glared at Bill. Bill glared right back.
Savannah felt the corners of her mouth lifting. It was kind of strange having Dash at her back.
“Stop playing with that disgusting dog and go pack,” Claire said.
Todd turned toward Savannah. “Can I bring Champ with me?”
Before Savannah could open her mouth to tell her son that they weren’t going anywhere, Claire and Mom said “no” in unison.
Big mistake.
The boy stood up, the dog at his feet. “I’m not going then.”
“Of course you’re going.” Claire was almost as dense as Bill, who was still standing there clutching the Easter lily.
“No. I promised that I was going to look after Champ for the rest of his life. I’m not going to leave him here if I have to go back to Baltimore,” Todd said.
He looked up at Savannah, and her heart broke. If she could find a way to make Greg love this child, she would do it in a New York minute. But she’d tried and failed. Greg was a spoiled brat and a louse. And she had a good idea why her ex had ended up that way. His mother was a piece of work.
“I’m proud of you,” Savannah said to her little boy. “And we’re not going anywhere.”
The uncertainty in Todd’s eyes fled. “That’s good.”
“Now, why don’t you and Champ go upstairs? You need to wash your face and change out of those bloody clothes.”
He turned and headed up the stairs.
Savannah turned toward Dash. “Can you make sure his nose is really okay?”
Dash nodded and followed Todd up the stairs. It was kind of strange. A month ago, she didn’t trust Dash with her son. Now she couldn’t imagine anyone better to check on him. In fact, Dash would probably give Todd a few words of wisdom while he was examining Todd’s many hurts. Dash and Todd had a lot in common.
Savannah turned toward Miriam, who was sitting on the sofa drinking sweet tea and looking like nothing particularly ugly had been going on. “Aunt Miriam, are you okay?”
“Oh, I’m fine, sugar. Couldn’t be better.” She gave Savannah a slightly goofy smile.
“So,” Savannah said to the assembled crowd in the parlor, “the excitement’s over.”
She turned toward the minister. “Bill, I appreciate your offer, but I’m not ready to be married to anyone.”
“You’ll change your mind.” He thrust the lily at her. She took it, and he turned on his heel and strode from the room.
Lillian shook her head and turned, too. She hurried after the minister. “Bill, honey, don’t be discouraged. It will all work out,” she cried as she left the room.
“Mom, Claire, you’re welcome to stay for the dance and Easter services.”
Claire stood. “I wouldn’t think of it. You listen, young woman, you don’t know what you’re playing with. Daniel is one of the most powerful attorneys in Baltimore. You will rue the day that you took my grandson away from me.” She turned toward Mom. “Come, Kate, we’ll have to rethink.”
For a moment, Savannah hoped Mom would tell Claire where she could take her high-powered attorney husband and shove him. But of course, Mom didn’t.
“You’re a fool, Savannah,” she said. “No one gets free money for a project like The Kismet. You’ve obviously gotten yourself entangled in something you don’t understand. It’s only a matter of time before you fail and come crying back to us.”
And with that, Mom followed Claire out of the house.
“It’s truly amazing,” Miriam said, once the grannies had departed, “that Sally and Earnest managed to give birth to a person like Katie Lynne. I’m so sorry that your mother is the way she is.”
Aunt Miriam’s words provided no comfort. Suddenly all of Savannah’s doubts and fears redoubled, followed by the sudden retreat of the adrenaline that had powered her defiance.
Tears filled her eyes, and she started to shake. She took the stairs at a dead run. When she made it to her bedroom, she threw herself on the bed and let the mother of all crying jags have its way with her. She always ended up crying when she got angry.
CHAPTER 14
Hettie surveyed City Hall Park. Everything was perfect. The members of her dance committee had outdone themselves. The paper lanterns hanging b
etween the trees looked festive. Thanks to Jenny, the Methodists had loaned a collection of folding tables and chairs. There were votives on each table.
The Wild Horses were all set up on the bandstand that blocked Palmetto Avenue for the evening. People had already started turning up with lawn chairs, coolers, and thermoses filled with coffee and probably other beverages.
It was going to be a nice night. A little chilly perhaps, but not cold. Hettie loved the annual street dance. When Jimmy had been alive, they had danced away the nights here. She liked her husband best of all when they were dancing. Unfortunately, they hadn’t danced nearly enough.
It looked as if she would be sitting with the matrons this evening. It made her feel old.
“Well, that’s it, Ms. Marshall,” Rachel Lockheart said. Hettie’s administrative assistant at Country Pride Chicken was the most organized person Hettie had ever met. Hettie had inherited Rachel with the business when Jimmy died, and Rachel was probably worth more than any other asset her husband had left her.
“Those lanterns and votives are a real nice touch, Rachel.”
“Thanks.” Rachel blushed.
Just then her Ladyship, Baroness Woolham, came striding across the grass. Rocky didn’t look much like a baroness. She was wearing jeans, a pink sweatshirt, and a pair of slip-on sneakers that she would undoubtedly ditch before the night was over. “Hey, y’all, did you hear what I heard?”
“You mean the news about Bill Ellis?” Rachel asked.
Hettie forced a neutral expression onto her face. It wouldn’t do for anyone to know how this news had affected her when she’d first heard it earlier in the day. She was shocked that Bill had asked for Savannah’s hand and far too relieved that Savannah had rejected him.
“I can’t believe he asked her to marry him after just a month of knowing her,” Rocky said.
“Me neither,” Hettie said.
“I can’t believe Savannah told him no, and in front of Lillian Bray,” Rachel said. “Lillian is in a perfectly foul mood. She snapped at me five times while I was setting up card tables. Honestly, I don’t think it’s such a big deal that the tables came from the Methodists.” Rachel let go of a big sigh.
“She’s just in a tizzy because there’s a risk that Bill might settle for Jenny,” Rocky said.
Hettie’s stomach flip-flopped. She didn’t like Bill settling for Jenny any more than she liked the idea of Bill and Savannah.
Molly Canaday, wearing an absolutely gorgeous sea green hand-knit sweater over one of her ratty T-shirts, strolled over. “Hey, y’all. So what’s the over-under on Bill and Savannah ending up hitched?”
“Honestly.” Hettie shook her head. “Could we talk about something else, please?”
Rocky, Rachel, and Molly stared at Hettie, and then Molly said, “You know, it’s way more fun betting on Bill’s marital misadventures than speculating on how many runaway bullfrogs will end up as roadkill before tomorrow morning.” She grinned.
“Honestly.” Hettie rolled her eyes.
“Quit making fun, Molly. This could be serious,” Rachel said.
“Serious how?”
“Well, what happens if Miriam says that Bill and Savannah are made for each other, but Savannah refuses to believe it?” Rachel asked. “You don’t want to mess around with one of Miriam’s marital forecasts.”
“I’m sure the world will not come to an end,” Rocky said. “Miriam’s forecasts are always open to interpretation. Didn’t everyone in town think I was going to end up with Dash, when in fact it was Hugh all along?”
“That’s right,” Molly said. She scanned the gathering crowd with slightly squinted eyes.
“What are you doing?” Rachel asked.
“I’m just thinking. If Savannah isn’t supposed to be with Bill, then who else might fit the bill, so to speak?”
“Oh, please,” Hettie groaned, “can we leave the puns out of it. And the matchmaking, too.”
Molly gazed at Hettie. “You’re right. We should pretend we don’t care.”
“But we do,” Rachel and Rocky said in near unison. Which wasn’t all that surprising since they had been friends forever.
“Hush up, y’all, he’s coming this way,” Molly said.
Hettie turned just in time to see Bill strolling across the street and heading right toward them. As usual, he was dressed in his black clerical shirt and a pair of gray slacks. He looked pale. And his appearance at the street dance was a huge surprise.
Usually the town’s ministers chose to turn in early on Easter Eve so they could get up at o-dark-thirty for sunrise services.
“Bill, what a surprise,” Hettie said, forcing a smile to her face.
He nodded, seemingly unaware that the members of the dance committee, book club, garden club, and Ladies’ Auxiliary were watching his every move and speculating on what was going to happen next. Suddenly Hettie was ashamed of all of them. They should leave Bill alone.
He walked right up to her. “Hettie, do you have a moment?” he asked.
“Of course I do.” She took him by the arm and guided him to one of the tables set back into the trees. Bill reached out to touch Hettie’s hand once they took their seats. Warmth spread up her arm.
“I suppose you heard all about Savannah,” he said.
“I did. I’m sorry. And I’m so sorry the entire town is talking about it. Savannah should have—”
“No, it wasn’t really her fault. I should have known better than to ask her in public like that. That was foolhardy.”
“Is your heart broken?”
He straightened his shoulders, and a frown folded into his forehead. “I don’t know. I’m embarrassed.”
For some reason, this response made Hettie feel lighter. “Bill, if you were heartbroken, I think you’d know it. Maybe Savannah did you a favor.”
“A favor?”
She tightened her grip on his hand, suddenly aware of the bones beneath his skin, the warmth in his palm, the slightly rough male texture of his fingertips. “Love is supposed to knock you on your butt. If you don’t feel knocked, then it probably isn’t love.”
“Did Jimmy knock you on your butt?” His eyes were very sharp.
“No. He didn’t. I married Jimmy to please my parents.”
“Have you ever been knocked on your butt?”
She giggled. “Hearing you say the word ‘butt’ tickles me, you know.”
He smiled. It was a warm, wonderful, beautiful thing. Watching it unfold on his face was like watching a big magnolia open up its petals. “You know, Hettie, you are always making me laugh, too.”
“Thank you.”
“So, have you?” he pressed.
“Have I what?”
“Ever been knocked on your butt.”
She looked down at their conjoined hands. For an instant, she wasn’t sure where her fingers left off and his started. It was a very odd kind of feeling that made her heart bounce around in her chest.
“I fell in lust once.”
“Really?”
“I was sixteen.”
“Sixteen? I take it you weren’t listening to my predecessor on the need for abstinence.”
“I’m sorry. I was weak.”
“And he knocked you on your butt.”
“Almost. Not quite. I think I may have knocked him on his butt, though. And you know, that’s a real problem.”
“What is?”
“When someone thinks they are in love with you, but you don’t feel the same thing back.”
“I guess I get that.”
“It’s no fun, to be honest. I’m always feeling guilty about it.”
“I take it we’re talking about Dash Randall.”
She looked away, just in time to see Dash sauntering up to the bandstand to talk with Clay Rhodes.
Bill followed her gaze. “He’s a good-looking man. He’s rich. His money would solve all your problems.”
“Yeah, it would. And if I were a different woman, I might give up my pri
nciples. But I can’t. I don’t love him. I did lust after him when I was very young, but I got over that mighty quick.”
They sat there holding hands for the longest time, each of them gazing across the park to where Dash stood by the bandstand.
Finally Bill let go of a long breath. “I don’t want to be like Dash,” he said. “I don’t want to go carrying a torch for someone who doesn’t want me.”
“Good for you. Dash is stuck, and you’re already moving on.”
“But I want a wife, Hettie. To be honest, I’m kind of lonely, and I’d really like a family. And Savannah comes with one, ready-made.”
Just then Jenny Carpenter came hurrying up with a pie in her hand. “Oh, there you are, you poor thing,” she said sitting down at the third chair at the table. Bill and Hettie quickly disengaged their hands. “I baked you a pie, and I took it to the rectory, but you weren’t there. I’m glad to see you out and about.”
Bill smiled at Jenny, his blue eyes lighting up. “Pie, oh my. I definitely could drown my sorrows in pie, Jenny. Thanks.”
Hettie stifled the urge to punch Jenny’s pretty little face. Damn it all to hell. She should have had Violet make some of her cookies for him. But it was too late now.
Hettie pushed up from the table. “Well, Bill, I think your problems are just a slice away,” she said.
She started to stroll away, but he called her back. “Hettie.”
She turned. “What?”
“Would you save a dance for me?”
Savannah arrived at the street dance and scanned the crowd. Bill was at a table under the paper lanterns talking with Jenny Carpenter. The book club, minus Jenny, had staked a claim to a portion of the sidewalk not too close to the bandstand. Nita, Cathy, and Lola May had brought refreshments.
Dash was standing by the bandstand, looking… perfect.
He wore a new pair of Wranglers, a pair of old cowboy boots, a plaid shirt, and a cowboy hat. He and Clay Rhodes were the only guys in hats. But Dash was the only guy wearing cowboy boots. Once a Texan, always a Texan. She remembered giving him all kinds of grief over the battered straw cowboy hat he’d worn that first summer when he was almost thirteen and she was a bratty ten-year-old. She’d told him he looked stupid in that hat.
