Chapter Four

Logan drove back to Atlanta first thing the next morning, needing to wrap up a few things and grab some paperwork. And, okay, so he could get away from Savannah and think. Interstate 75 was as congested as ever, and he wondered why he didn’t leave at five like he wanted. Then he remembered the late night with Jack and Leigh.

The whole reason he’d joined them was the hope that Savannah would show, so he could explain that he wasn’t in town to hurt her. Buying the B and B wasn’t to hurt her. None of it was to hurt her—it was all for Will. His double majors, his career choice, his travel, his every accomplishment and success were all for Will. But she’d never showed, and even if she had, how could he explain? He couldn’t. These experiences weren’t his to share; they were Will’s.

So, after a few too many beers and no Savannah, he walked out of Sal’s to the small motel just down the street. He should have known she wouldn’t come, and he scolded himself for hoping to see her. When would he learn?

His cell buzzed, his assistant’s name flashing across the screen. “Park.”

“Logan? Hey, it’s Chloe.”

Logan smiled. “I know. Your name showed on the screen.” Chloe had been his assistant for a year and yet still she walked on eggshells around him, petrified he would fire her for talking too much or not talking enough or any one of a thousand reasons she gave him over the year. The truth was he liked her, despite her spazzy ways.

A red convertible darted in front of him, cutting him off and nearly crashing into the car in the lane beside him before switching back to its original lane. “Watch out!” he called, tossing his hands as though the car could see him.

“What?”

“Not you. This idiot driver that nearly caused a pile up on I-75.”

“Oh. Well, be careful. And the partners asked when you’ll get here. They want to discuss the Maple Cove acquisition.”

His shoulders tensed up despite his effort to remain calm. “Tell them I’ll be there in an hour. But I need you to pull some things for me. I’ll be working remotely for the next few weeks to make sure everything’s in order.”

“Remotely? You mean at the bed-and-breakfast?”

The idea edged dangerously close to crazy, but Logan needed a comfortable place to work, and what better place than the bed-and-breakfast, so he could make sure there were no surprises for the company. And, okay, maybe he wanted to watch out for Savannah. He sensed yesterday that her brother and sister wouldn’t step up, and someone had to be there for her. Now that Will was gone, it was his job, he told himself. Just like it was his job to do all the other things Will couldn’t do.

“Yeah. I’ll be there for two weeks.” Then he rattled off to Chloe all the things he needed—files he wanted transferred to the main server so he could access them remotely. Floor plans of the bed-and-breakfast. Land details. Sales figures for the past five years. And then figures for comparable establishments in the South. Part of what had made him so successful in such a short amount of time was his ability to not only find solid investments, but to figure out what they needed to turn profit.

Maybe Maple’s bed-and-breakfast needed a new chef, a specialty dessert menu, or a backyard patio with a seating area overlooking the gardens. The most popular B and B’s across the South all had a singular thing that defined them. Some were food related, some were activity related, but they all had something, and Logan felt sure Maple’s lack of focus could be the reason for the steady sales decline over the last few years. Staying there would allow him to see its virtues and its flaws. And he saw no harm getting a little face time with its current owner while he scouted out the place.

He hung up with Chloe and hit the radio, flipping from station to station in search of something that would ease the nervousness in his gut. Finally, “Take it to the Limit” by the Eagles came on, and Logan’s hand dropped from the control on his steering wheel, his thoughts on Savannah and how different his life could have been if he’d just asked her out first. There would never have been a fight between him and Will during their Afghanistan deployment. Hell, he might not have joined at all. And then instead of helping a company buy the bed-and-breakfast, he would be helping Savannah save it. Like he wanted to now—but Hartridge and Long was too invested, the partners too set on their goal. There was no pulling out, even if he wanted to. And did he want to? Would he really jeopardize his career for a woman who could barely stand him?

Yes.

The problem was, he could risk everything and it might not change a thing. The bed-and-breakfast would still sell to the highest bidder, Savannah would be no closer to being his, and he would have failed Will.

He parked in the garage and made his way into Hartridge and Long’s office in the Queen building in Dunwoody with every bit of the composure he always had on the job. It was something the partners had mentioned in his last review—that nothing shook him. They didn’t understand that after what he had experienced during his deployments, nothing in the business world, or even the civilian world, could shake him. Well, nothing except a certain feisty strawberry blonde.

Chloe stood the moment she saw him, fidgeting with the bangles around her wrist, like always. Her jet black hair was styled in its usual bob, her eyes heavily lined, something that reminded him so much of his mother he had almost turned her away after the interview. But then he told himself that not all women who wore eyeliner were also horrible people, so he took a chance.

“I have everything ready for you,” she said, greeting him. “Printouts are on your desk in case you need them. The files are all on the server under your name and today’s date. Bob and Alan asked to see you as soon as you arrived.”

Logan nodded. “Thanks.” Then he continued into his office, shutting the door quietly behind him, needing a moment to breathe before going in to meet with the partners. Logan liked them, respected them, but he knew his job was only as secure as his latest sale. A month away from a promotion and a month away from losing his job. The instability had at first been a thrill, but now it was…tiring.

Staring out his office window at the outstretched city, he felt cramped. Though his townhouse served its purpose, he had forgotten what a slow life was like, and now that he had visited Maple, he found himself itching to return. Even if a part of that itch was his desire to see Savannah again.

He sat in his chair and, with reluctance, opened the top desk drawer, taking out the photo he kept stashed there for especially troubling days. It was the same photo he’d taken with him to Afghanistan. Just the sight of it gave him strength.

The photo was from Homecoming, everyone around the senior float, Savannah dead center, that wide smile on her face that looked only a breath away from laughter. He couldn’t remember where Will had been when he took the photo, but Logan felt guiltily glad he wasn’t in it. Logan couldn’t imagine looking at Savannah the way he did now with Will standing beside her, his arm draped around her shoulders.

God, what was wrong with him? Will deserved to have a woman like Savannah, not him. Especially not now.

“Logan?” Chloe peeked inside his door, as nervous as ever.

“Going now.”

He dropped the photo back into his desk and went down the hall to the double doors that led to Alan’s office. A large mahogany desk sat against the left wall, a round table with four chairs against the right. Floor to ceiling windows lined the wall across from the door, and though Logan felt he was lucky to have a window at all, he could get lost in an office like this, staring outside, his mind churning away. Though lately all his mind did was wonder what if.

“Good to see you, Logan,” Bill said, always the nicer of the two. His hair seemed to gray more each time Logan saw him. His black suit and white dress shirt were the same brand and style he wore every day. “How’s your golf game?”

Logan grinned. “As abysmal as ever, which I imagine means you want to play me sometime.”

Bill laughed, causing his rather round stomach to jiggle. “The mediocre always want to team with the novice. Makes us feel better about our plainness.”

Alan, never one for small talk, or golf, cleared his throat and pushed his small wire frame glasses higher on the bridge of his nose then peered over them at Logan. The light from above shined off his nearly bald head, and not for the first time, Logan had to look away to keep from laughing. He would have said the office decorator should have planned for that, but the decorator was Alan’s wife, and Logan thought maybe she did plan for it and was laughing to herself somewhere in their monstrosity of a home.

“How’s Maple Cove?” Alan asked finally.

“Clean,” Logan answered simply, then seeing the joke pass Alan without a smirk, he continued. “The new owners are there now, likely evaluating how far behind they are on the mortgage.”

“I thought you said they wouldn’t want the place? That we could easily purchase without issue?”

Logan nodded. “I still think it’s possible, but they just lost their mother. There are obviously emotional ties to the place. None of the children have expressed interest in taking over, but I feel I should stay around for a few weeks just to feel things out. I’d also like to know what sort of repairs are needed before we buy it.”

“Are you suggesting you stay on the premises?”

Leaning back in his chair, Logan noticed the old painting hanging behind Alan’s desk—a Revolutionary War era image of a man standing tall and arrogant against the world. Very Alan.

“I think it’s the best way for me to scope out any issues.”

Bill reached for his coffee and laughed again. “Goodness, man, you are heartless. But I’m glad you work for us and not a competitor. Stay until the deal is done. We don’t want any issues.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

Logan stepped into his townhome, set his keys on the kitchen key holder, and peered around. Had his home always looked so…beige? The walls, the furniture, even the few wall hangings were all the same bland shade, and as Logan walked upstairs to his room to pack, he realized that the color wasn’t he only reason his apartment felt empty. It was empty. Few people had ever stepped foot inside, and even fewer had been there more than once.

He’d always told himself that he was a private person, but really he was afraid to let anyone in. In his twenty-eight years, he’d allowed exactly two people to crack through his hard exterior. One was dead and the other may never speak to him again once this deal was final. And so he’d hired someone to decorate his home, to paint it, to make it easy to sell should he decide to leave. But never along the way did he realize how lonely his home felt—or how lonely he felt inside it.

With new energy, he set to packing, eager to return to Maple, where he may not be welcome, but he never once felt lonely.

...

Staring at her mama’s closet, Savannah wondered how one chose the last outfit a person would wear. Whether to go with a dress—which her mama hated—or jeans, which she loved. Whether to go full suit or blouse and slacks. Memories came back of her and Leigh playing in the large walk-in closet, a mess of shoes scattered on the floor. How had they gone from that moment of bliss to this? How could a single space hold both joy and sadness?

She didn’t know. What Savannah did know was that she, herself, would be cremated. The meeting with Brown’s Funeral Home was enough to cement that decision. Talk of the service itself, the songs to play during the receiving of friends. The casket. Dear God, the casket.

Choosing the casket her mama would lay in forever broke her heart in two. She stood there listening as they went over the options and all Savannah could think was that none of it was good enough. Not the casket. Not the service. Not the songs. And certainly not the dress or outfit or suit.

“Tell me what to do, Mama.” Savannah asked into the open. “Help me. Guide me. Boss me around and tell me I’m being a foolish child, but please tell me something, because I can’t do this.”

She pressed her face into her hands, just as there was a loud smack from the closet. She jerked back to see a pair of dark jeans on the floor. Her gaze lifted to the top of the closet where’d they had been moments before. Jesus C and Mary of loving God.

“Mama?” she asked, edging slowly into the closet.

A voice from behind her said, “Who the hell are you talking to?” Savannah jumped back, dropping the jeans, only to find Leigh staring at her like she was a crazy person. In her defense, the jeans had just dropped out of thin air.

“Savannah?”

“What?”

“You’re shaking.”

She stared down at her hands to find the traitors rattling like half-dead leaves in the wind. “I’m fine. I figured out Mama’s outfit.”

Leigh’s eyebrow lifted. “Okay. Well, where is it?”

With only a moment’s hesitation, Savannah bent down and picked up the jeans. “These. But I’ll need a top of some sort.” She turned back to the closet. “Maybe I should get her something new.”

“You’re joking.”

“Well, I just thought Betsy might have something nice that would—”

“We are not burying Mama in jeans. That’s… What’s the matter with you? This is her funeral. You don’t bury a person in jeans. You put them in a stylish suit or dress and lots of makeup. What you don’t do is put them in jeans and a T-shirt and call it a day. This is Mama. Don’t you care what she looks like? Don’t you—”

Savannah scowled. “Right. Because you and Jack were at Brown’s with me today. Stood right there offering your help and opinion as I selected her casket. As I chose her music. Now suddenly you’re giving out opinions like candy on Halloween?” Taking a step back to calm her nerves, she focused on the closet. Then it occurred to her that she had no idea where Leigh had been earlier that day. Or where she’d run off to yesterday. “Where were you, anyway?”

Leigh became very interested in a loose string at the edge of her shirt. “Um, I was at the hardware store picking up a hammer and some screws.”

“Since when do you spend so much time at the hardware store? And you don’t hammer screws.”

“You could!”

“You could not!”

Jack walked in then, chewing gum in the most obnoxious way imaginable. “Hey, Savannah, we need you—”

She tossed her hands up. “Can’t any of you do anything for yourselves?” she shouted.

He took a step back, then looked at Leigh for help, but she was still glaring at Savannah.

“Mama’s not wearing jeans. Figure out something else.”

“You figure it out,” Savannah said before sweeping from the room, Jack on her heels.

“Look, I know you’re having a moment, but we have—”

They reached the bottom of the steps, and she whirled on him. “I don’t give a flying shit what you need.”

The sound of someone clearing his throat behind her and Jack’s widened eyes had Savannah slowly turning around, the hairs on the back of her neck raised like they knew whatever she was about to see was going to bring her enough embarrassment for a lifetime. Sure enough, she stared straight into the wrinkled face of Pastor Parkins, his mouth set in a grim line as he ran a hand over his balding head.

“Oh my God, I— No, not oh my God, like God, God. It’s…I…” Just then the screen door opened and Logan walked in, a wide grin on his face. “Jesus Christ,” Savannah said, then her gaze snapped back to the pastor, both their faces successfully red now.

“I’m just going to set my service notes on the desk here and leave you to it.” He turned to go, Savannah still begging him for forgiveness and assuring him she’d pray for her sins.

“Fantastic work, Savannah. We’ll be lucky if we’re ever allowed in church again,” Jack said as he threw his gum in the trash and grabbed a Hershey’s kiss from the bowl on the front desk.

“Like you’ve once stepped foot in church since you left.”

Then she spun to face the new thorn in her side, who was leaning ever so casually against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his impeccably toned chest. He wore faded jeans and a white Ralph Lauren polo shirt that looked far too good on him for the mood she was in.

“Did the devil send you here to further test my good girl image? Because I’m thinking that went out the door with the pastor.”

Logan smirked. “Nah. Despite appearances, you lost that good girl card in ninth grade when you snuck into an R rated movie when you were supposed to be seeing the G rated one.”

“Who told you—never mind.” Savannah straightened her posture, which had gone slack after back-to-back confrontations. She didn’t know where Leigh had gone. Likely hiding all of Mama’s jeans. “What are you doing here?”

With a sidelong look to Jack, he walked over to the front desk and pressed the bell once, sending a jingle, jingle into the air. “I’m here for a room.”

“Is that supposed to be funny?”

“Not at all. I told you I was in town on business. I’m not supposed to leave until this is all wrapped up, and there aren’t too many places available to stay in town. Figured after yesterday you had plenty of rooms to spare, so here I am.” He flashed his ultra white teeth, and Savannah’s scowl deepened.

“You’re not staying here.”

“Yes I am.”

“No. You’re not. This is my bed-and-breakfast and I say who stays.”

Jack walked over and placed a hand on Logan’s shoulder in support. “Wait just a second. This isn’t your bed-and-breakfast. It’s all of ours, and Logan’s a friend of mine. He can stay.”

“He’s not your friend.”

“You don’t say who’s my friend or not.”

Good God, she was dealing with five-year-olds. Then she realized she’d yet again used God’s name in vain and cringed. Glancing up, she said a little “sorry,” then returned her attention to the creature in front of her, who was now biting his lip to keep from laughing.

“Struggling there?” he asked.

“No.”

“Why are you so angry with Logan anyway?” Jack asked, causing Logan’s gaze to find the floor.

Savannah’s mind went right back to that day—her standing on his front steps, desperate to see him, and his piece of crap father coming out to tell her Logan had left. Without a single note or text or word of good-bye. He just left. She’d thought they were…well, she didn’t know what they were, but certainly more than people who left without saying anything.

She swallowed down her hurt pride and lifted her chin a touch. “I’m not angry at him. I just don’t want him here.”

“Well, too bad. He’s staying.” Jack unlocked the cabinet behind them and pulled out a key. “Second floor, third door on the right. Directly across from Savannah.”