Till The End Of Time (Secrets of Savannah Book 1)

by Belle Calhoune

  “Hello,” Charlotte said, smiling at everyone before settling in to one of the available chairs next to Callie. “Sorry I’m late. I messed up on the time. I went all the way back home after the burial.”

  “You’re fine,” Callie said, reaching out and squeezing her cousin’s hand. “We haven’t started yet.”

  “Morgan! I didn’t even see you over there,” Charlotte cried out, jumping up from her seat to give her friend a warm embrace. “You’re back.”

  “It’s been way too long, my friend,” Morgan said, pressing a kiss on Charlotte’s cheek. “I can’t wait to catch up. I just got back the other day.”

  “How about lunch next week?” Olivia tossed out the idea. “We can meet up at the Starland Café.”

  It had been one of their favorite go-to lunch places over the years. All of them nodded their heads in agreement. There was still a slight wariness hovering in the air between them.

  “That would be great,” Callie said. Finally, after all this time she was feeling a little kernel of hope about fixing the broken strands between them. Where there was love, all things were possible.

  “Ladies. Please. We are about to begin the reading of the will. Since Fancy Tolliver and Hope Matthews aren’t present, we must begin the proceedings.”

  The sound of a baby’s cries rang out in the stillness of the house. Callie turned toward the door, which had been left slightly ajar after Charlotte’s entrance. Was she imagining things? Why would there be a baby at Savannah House?

  Everyone else turned their attention towards the door and the hallway beyond it. The baby’s cries grew louder and more distinct.

  “Oh for heaven’s sake, would someone please see what that ruckus is before we start the reading of the will?” Mr. Mayhew spit out the directive as if he couldn’t be bothered himself to go check out the disturbance. “Hattie Alexander must be turning in her grave,” he muttered.

  Callie snapped her head in his direction. “No, Mr. Mayhew. Miss Hattie was one of the most compassionate and loving people I’ve ever known. She would never let a baby’s crying ruffle her feathers.”

  “Amen,” Pearl said, shooting Mr. Mayhew an annoyed look.

  Filled with curiosity, Callie headed for the door, followed by Olivia and Morgan. Charlotte trailed behind them by a few steps.

  Following the sounds of the baby’s crying led them to the purple parlor. The door was slightly open, allowing them to get an earful of a feisty baby’s cries.

  Gently pushing the door open allowed Callie to get a view of a woman making soothing noises to pacify a baby who was cradled in her arms. The woman turned slightly, allowing them to get a glimpse of her in profile. Callie heard a shocked gasp behind her. Her own jaw dropped. The woman whirled around to face them.

  “Hope,” Callie said, shocked that she could even utter a word past the huge lump in her throat.

  Hope Matthews—with her long, dark hair and almond shaped brown eyes—was a pretty woman. It was only when you looked at her a second time that one realized she was stunning.

  “Hello,” Hope said with a nod and a shaky smile. “I didn’t want to interrupt the proceedings by making my entrance with a bellowing baby.”

  “Whose baby is that?” Morgan asked, her eyes wide with surprise.

  “She’s mine,” Hope said in a soft voice. She gazed at them shyly, as if she didn’t quite know how to explain herself. “Her name is Ella. And she’s six months old.”

  “Is Ella why you left Savannah? Why you didn’t keep in touch with all of us?” Callie asked. She felt a spurt of anger toward Hope. All this time she had been hiding such an incredible secret from them. Why? It made no sense at all.

  “Yes,” Hope admitted. “When I found out I was expecting Ella I was more confused than I’d ever been in my life. Honestly, I thought I was going to give her up for adoption. I was too ashamed to tell any of you.”

  “That’s crazy,” Olivia said. “We’ve been friends for most of our lives. If not us then who?”

  “No one,” Hope said with a shake of her head. Her voice sounded flat. “Not a single soul knew about Ella, not until I came home the other day and told my parents.”

  “She’s beautiful,” Callie said, reaching out and gripping Ella’s tiny little finger. Ella squeezed her finger back. Suddenly, she wasn’t crying anymore. “Something so beautiful should never be hidden away. I know how strict your upbringing was, Hope, and I’m pretty sure you were afraid of your family’s reaction.”

  “Not to mention my church community,” Hope confessed. “I didn’t want to be judged. And I wanted to make up my mind about Ella without interference and judgment.” Hope looked down at Ella, who grinned up at her. Hope let out a contented sigh. “In the end I decided to keep her, and I couldn’t be more over the moon about my decision.”

  “As you should be,” Morgan said. “There’s nothing more precious in this world than a child.”

  “Are the four of you finished with your confab? Or shall we reschedule the reading of Hattie Alexander’s will for a more convenient time? Perhaps you ladies want to have a tea party instead.” Mr. Mayhew stood in the doorway, his face mottled red with anger. He tapped his foot on the hardwood floors.

  Callie held up her hand. “We’ll be there in just a moment. Until then, could you please give us some privacy?”

  Mr. Mayhew let out a snort and stormed off down the hall.

  Hope clutched her baby tighter to her chest and rocked her to and fro.

  Once he had left the purple parlor, all four women burst out laughing. Before they knew it, tears were streaming down their faces. Callie clutched her belly and chortled.

  “He’s really losing it,” Morgan said.

  “H-he’s so official,” Charlotte said with a rueful shake of her head.

  Olivia threw back her head and roared with laughter. “H-He reminds me of Mr. Higgins from high school.”

  Hope began to snicker. For the next few minutes the girls tried to collect themselves.

  “I suppose we ought to head back in there and get down to the business at hand,” Callie said, placing her arm around Hope.

  Baby Ella was content at the moment, snuggled in her Mama’s arms.

  “I hope she doesn’t make a ruckus,” Hope fretted. She bit her lip.

  “It’s no big deal if she does, Hope,” Olivia said with a grin. “It’s just us in there. Your friends. We’ve got your back.”

  “She’s right,” Charlotte said. “If Mayhew has anything to say about it, he’ll have to deal with us.”

  Hope sent them all a look of gratitude before they left the purple parlor and headed to the library.

  A frazzled looking Mr. Mayhew greeted them at the door. “Come in. Come in. I can’t wait a moment longer to start the proceedings. Unfortunately, Miss Tolliver is still MIA.”

  As everyone settled into their chairs, Mr. Mayhew pulled out a document from his briefcase. He drew out his glasses from his inside pocket and placed them on his face. With a dramatic flourish, he cleared his throat. “Welcome to the reading of Hattie Alexander’s last will and testament. I, Hattie Mae Alexander, being of sound mind and body, lay forth the specific instructions for the distribution of my estate.”

  She smiled as she heard Pearl had been given a large sum of money and precious items from Miss Hattie’s estate. Pearl dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, clearly overcome with the generosity of her dear friend.

  Callie felt her eyes glazing over as Mr. Mayhew continued to speak. She perked up when she heard her name mentioned, along with that of Olivia, Hope, Morgan, Fancy and Charlotte. She sat up straight in her chair, wondering what token Miss Hattie had bequeathed her. Whatever it was, she felt grateful, especially for Miss Hattie’s mentorship and kindness.

  “Callie Duvall, you have been bequeathed one sixth ownership of Savannah House, along with an emerald necklace, stocks in the HR Corporation and a personal scrapbook.”

  “What?” Callie asked, interrupting Mr. Mayhew. She shoo
k her head, not believing what she’d just heard. Miss Hattie had left her partial ownership of Savannah House?

  Mr. Mayhew looked at her from behind his glasses which were perched at the end of his nose.

  “Is there a problem?” he asked in an imperious voice.

  “I-I just can’t believe it,” she spit out, making eye contact with her friends. Olivia sent her a look full of surprise. Charlotte shrugged and let out a sigh. Hope shook her head while Morgan literally scratched her head.

  “If I may continue,” Mr. Mayhew said. “Things might become more transparent.”

  As Mr. Mayhew continued, everything did become clearer. Miss Hattie had left ownership of Savannah house to her and the five women who were her best friends in the world. All six of them now owned Savannah House—lock, stock and barrel. It was mind blowing news.

  “And in addition to Savannah House, she has also stipulated that you are to be given one million dollars to be shared amongst you. It was Hattie’s hope that you would use this money to get the place up and running. If you choose not to accept this inheritance, Savannah House will be turned over to the Historical Society of Savannah. You may not sell Savannah House. It is not transferrable. A majority of you must always maintain ownership.”

  He drew a deep breath. “The rest of her fortune and holdings are to be donated to a fund for soldiers suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. She wanted to honor the love of her life, Samuel, by giving back to those who served this country in wartime.” Mr. Mayhew began gathering up his papers and placing them in his briefcase. “If any of you ladies have questions, feel free to call me.” He began handing out his business cards. “If I were you I would settle this amongst yourselves before you announce anything. Savannah gossip spreads like wildfire.” With a few long strides, he’d exited the room.

  Morgan let out a low whistle that shattered the silence after his bombshell announcement and departure. It seemed to Callie as if everyone was still reeling from surprise and shock.

  “Wow. This is unreal. Miss Hattie bequeathed Savannah House to the six of us,” Callie said.

  “What about Fancy?” Hope asked. “Should one of us call her about this?”

  “Fancy will receive notification via certified letter,” Pearl said. “Mr. Mayhew made that clear.”

  “I don’t know about you,” Morgan said, looking toward Hope, “but Fancy has pretty much cut the rest of us out of her life. She’s blocked us from calling her.”

  “I’ve been a bit absent myself, but that’s terribly sad,” Hope said, tears gathering in her eyes. “Losing Case was like losing her lifeline in many ways.”

  “It’s not as if Case wasn’t hurt as well,” Charlotte piped up, defending her brother. “He was blindsided. It’s not like he wanted to call off the wedding. Under the circumstances, he had no choice.”

  Callie didn’t comment, knowing that the situation was still as dangerous as a powder keg of dynamite. It had been a polarizing situation.

  “What do you guys think about our inheritance?” Olivia asked. “I never imagined that’s why we were invited here today. I figured I might inherit a gold pen or something.” She giggled.

  “Me too,” Callie admitted. “I’ve loved Savannah House my whole life. The possibilities of what we could do with this place are mind boggling.”

  “We would all have to be on the same page,” Charlotte pointed out. “Let’s face it. We’ve all drifted apart over the past few years.”

  “True,” Callie admitted. “But this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Not only to reinvent this place, but to get our friendships back on track.”

  Hope bit her lip. “I imagine the upkeep of a place like this is crazy expensive.”

  “But the proceeds if we restored it would be unbelievable. This place was always packed to the gills,” Morgan said.

  “I do need a job right about now,” Callie murmured. “It’s time I stopped relying on the Duvall trust.”

  “Me too,” Hope added. “I need to support my daughter. Taking handouts from my folks wouldn’t set the right example for Ella.”

  “Are you guys actually considering this?” Olivia asked. “It’s a huge undertaking.”

  Callie looked around at her group of friends. She felt a huge grin breaking out on her face. “I can’t speak for anyone else, but I know I am.”

  “If you step out on the limb of a big, towering Oak tree, not knowing if you might tumble to the earth…that’s called faith.”

  Hattie Alexander

  Chapter Seven

  Jax stood at the doorstep of Callie’s cottage and juggled the groceries in his arms while attempting to knock on her door. Callie flung the door wide open, saving him from a delicate balancing act. The sight of her—fresh-faced and beautiful with her hair pulled up in a high ponytail and sporting jeans and a white top—threatened to make his legs wobbly.

  “Hey! What do you have there?” Callie asked. “Did Christmas come early?” she teased.

  “Well, after you called and invited me over I did a little grocery shopping,” he admitted as he walked into the guest house. Callie shooed him toward the kitchen where he plopped his bags down on the granite counter. “I’m making you dinner.”

  Callie sputtered. Her green eyes widened. “You are?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised. I can cook,” he said.

  “Really? I would never have figured that,” Callie said.

  “My mama taught me to cook when I was ten years old. She said that there was no sense in counting on a woman to cook for me when God gave me two hands and a bright mind for learning.”

  Callie let out a hoot of laughter. “That sounds like your mama. She sure is a pistol.”

  Jax felt his smile tighten. “Less so lately. The stress of my father’s woes have gotten to her. It’s hard keeping your head held up high in a town like Savannah, especially when the media has taken such a delight in archiving my father’s fall from grace.”

  “I’m sorry,” Callie said, her expression rueful. “Trust me. I feel very fortunate that nothing about Mac or my father’s deception has popped up in the scandal rags. They would love to feast on that particular bone.”

  Jax rolled up his sleeves and began washing vegetables in the sink.

  “Wow. You really are cooking for me, aren’t you? How can I help?” Callie asked.

  “You could get me a cutting board, a few knives and some mixing bowls, olive oil, as well as a skillet. I’m making stir-fry for you.”

  Callie rubbed her stomach. “I’m really famished. This afternoon was pretty all-consuming.”

  “I’m dying to hear all about it,” Jax said, taking the cutting board from Callie as soon as she pulled it out of the cupboard.

  Callie quirked her mouth. “I’m sorry, Jax. I can’t really give out any details, but let’s just say that I got a lot more than the pearl necklace I thought she’d left me.” Callie graced him with a full-out, spectacular, pearly smile.

  “Seriously? You can’t leave me hanging like that. That is pretty cool,” Jax said, feeling happy for whatever items were making Callie so bubbly. He liked seeing her this way. Content. Joyful. There was nothing better than seeing her smile. As of late she had been somber. Her parent’s betrayal had hurt her deeply, despite the immense joy she had experienced after being reunited with Mac. Mac had been the silver lining in the clouds. He thanked the Lord for bringing Mac back into Callie’s life.

  “All will be revealed in time,” she teased. “What I can tell you is that I saw Hope today and Charlotte. We were all back together again…except for Fancy.” Callie’s face fell.

  “Hey, that’s great news. And who knows? Fancy may come around.”

  Her face brightened. “I pray you’re right. Then the circle would be complete. We have work to do with our friendships and figuring out what forces splintered us apart, but I’m willing to do anything to make things better.”

  Jax focused on cutting the vegetables. It was nice to know that, for the
most part, the girls had reconciled. For most of his life they had been the most tight-knit of friends. Loyal and loving. Protective of each other and supportive. He couldn’t imagine one without all the others. Their friendships needed to be mended. Completely. Thoroughly. Life was way too short to be at odds.

  Ouch. He felt a pain in his chest at the knowledge that he had been at a standstill with his father for way too long. How could he dole advice out to others while maintaining this stalemate with his father? He needed to think about this, long and hard. He was still furious with him, but he loved him. And he missed him terribly.

  “You look serious,” Callie noted. Their eyes met and he found himself getting lost in her brilliant green eyes.

  “Truthfully, I was thinking about my dad. I’ve been hard on him. Why is it so easy for me to extend grace to others, yet when it comes to him I’m as hard hearted as a miser.” Jax shook his head as shame threatened to swallow him up whole. “He’s sent me dozens of letters, placed collect calls to my phone and pretty much sent up smoke signals. Why can’t I forgive him?”

  “Probably because he’s your father and you expected better of him,” Callie said. “I know how it feels. My father was always my hero. Smart. Resourceful. Patient. Of course I always knew he was competitive and ruthless in business, but he was always as gentle as can be with me.”

  “You’re his princess,” Jax teased.

  “And I guess he’s always been my King. Until recently,” she said with a sigh.

  Jax moved toward the stove and began putting olive oil in the pan. “I think both of us are going to have to figure out how to work toward forgiveness. I don’t want to live my life holding on to anger.”

  “I don’t either,” Callie said in a small voice. “I just haven’t figured out how to forgive him.”

  “Neither have I. But my grandmother used to always tell me that sometimes you just need to take a step in the right direction.”

  Callie smiled. “Your grandmother was one wise woman.”

  “Yeah, she sure was. Did I ever tell you that Grandma Jean thought I was the best looking boy in Savannah?” Jax held up his hand. “Scout’s honor.”