Liv said it was over. But Savannah Shipley could not take no for an answer.
In the cocktail hour, she found the general at the far end of one of the club’s crimson-and-dark-wood bars, nursing a whiskey. She took the seat next to him and ordered one neat, flashing him a smile as bright as the brass buttons on his suit jacket.
He eyed her. “Didn’t think girls drank whiskey.”
He didn’t appear to recognize her. Maybe that was a good thing.
“I’m from Kentucky, sir,” she said, leaning into the accent. “We don’t drink much else.”
“Kentucky, huh?” His voice was still wary. “I’m from Cincinnati.”
“I have cousins there! Tell me somethin’, is the Sugar n’ Spice Diner still the best breakfast spot in town?”
He shrugged, but she could see she’d sparked a memory.
“We used to go after church,” she persisted. “Stack of their famous wispy-thin pancakes…?”
“With bacon on the side.” He patted his gut with a faint chuckle. “Trying to cut back. Doctor’s orders.”
“Still, you gotta eat. What’d Mark Twain say? ‘Eat what you like and let the food fight it out inside.’ ”
The general snorted and turned back to his glass.
“Well, I’ve had a humdinger of a week,” Savannah announced.
He took a sip, curious in spite of himself. “How’s that?”
Savannah pouted, girlish. “I had a fight with my daddy.”
“That’s no good.” The general’s demeanor turned fatherly. “Your old man is always right. You remember that.”
“Oh, sir, I know. My daddy’s my hero. He taught me to ride a horse and shoot a rifle and I’m still damn good at both.”
The general grunted, his gaze softening with nostalgia and an undercurrent of pain.
“Now that I live in New York,” Savannah continued, “I worry he thinks I’ve left him behind. I haven’t. I’m just becoming my own person. I think that frightens him.” She pressed her hand to her chest, willing a tear. “I love my daddy so much: I just can’t imagine him not being part of my life.”
General Fitzpatrick circled the whiskey in his glass as if in thought.
Savannah blew out a breath, her smile turning cheery. “But I know we’ll make up. Because deep down, we love each other. He just has to understand.”
“Understand what?”
“That everyone grows up. And it’s never too late to say sorry and start again.” Savannah held the general’s arm, speaking in the hushed tone of two close friends. “In my book: family comes first. Always.”
A light went off behind his eyes. “You’re one of the wedding planners.”
Savannah froze; sprung.
He huffed out an annoyed, if genuine, chuckle. “You almost had me.”
“Honestly, sir? I meant every word.” Savannah dropped the syrupy charm, replacing it with her best attempt at New York candor. “Look, my dad and I don’t always see eye to eye. But he’s my father. And I’d rather have an imperfect father than no father at all.” She felt an unexpected surge of power as she leveled her eye contact with his. “You’ve got one chance to get Vanessa back. Do not fuck it up.” Savannah picked up her whiskey and left, daring to hope she’d made an impact.