Dash awoke to the sound of his brains being sucked from his head.
No, that couldn’t be right. If his brains were being sucked out, he would be unconscious. Unconsciousness would be better than this. He lay on his back, and something roared at him from someplace.
Inside his head, perhaps?
Or maybe he’d been abducted by aliens who were about to probe him.
He cracked an eye and immediately closed it against the bright morning sunlight streaming through the dusty windows of his bedroom. His face was pounding. His lip was throbbing. And his knee…
Well, there weren’t words to describe that pain.
He lay there panting and mentally cursing himself and Roy Burdett. Everyone was going to think the worst of him. Why had he gotten all riled up at Dot’s? Why had he lost his temper?
What is that sound?
He rolled over and peeked at his bedside clock. Shoot, it was eight-thirty. The funeral was scheduled for ten. He needed to get himself some ibuprofen.
He pushed himself out of bed. Every muscle screamed. He was bruised in all kinds of places. Damn. Football was a vicious sport. He staggered across the floorboards and pulled open the door.
The roar got louder, and the sight that greeted him didn’t make him feel any better.
Savannah, wearing a skirt, a pair of high heels, and a tight sweater that showed off her breasts, was pushing the old vacuum cleaner across the worn carpet in the hallway. She looked up from her domestic chores and greeted him with a regal smile as bright as the light shining from her blond ponytail.
A tight coil of unwanted reaction wormed its way through the haze of his pain. She was uppity all right, but boy howdy, was she ever built.
He drew in a breath and held it for a long moment as he reached for the robe hanging on the back of the door.
She stopped running the machine across the threadbare carpet. One proud eyebrow arched as her gaze narrowed. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear she’d just gotten one hell of a good look at his morning erection.
But, being a princess, she kept calm and carried on. “Good morning. I thought you were never going to get up,” she said.
“You’re vacuuming.” His voice sounded as rusty as nails left out in the rain. “Princesses don’t vacuum.”
She scowled at him. “I’m sorry I disturbed your beauty rest, but I’m vacuuming because this hallway was dusty, and we’ll be having a house full of people this afternoon.” She cocked her head, and her ponytail swished.
“ ’Scuse me. I need to hit the head.” He staggered past her and into the bathroom, where he fumbled around until he found the ibuprofen and knocked back three. Cupping his hands under the water, he gulped down ten or twelve mouthfuls before raising his head and looking at himself in the mirror.
A sorrier sight he’d never seen. His lip was swollen out to there. The shiner was impressive, to say the least. He felt the back of his head. Yeah, the knot there was still tender to the touch.
Shoot, he looked like he’d been on a three-day bender.
How in the hell does a sober man end up looking like this on the day of his uncle’s funeral?
He stared at himself, replaying every humiliating moment of the previous night. His heart bumped against his rib cage as he recalled Savannah helping him up the stairs. She’d thought the worst of him, hadn’t she? And all the while, he was getting kind of turned on by the way her hair smelled, and the pressure of her warm, soft curves against his bruises.
Well, that was just the AA celibacy talking. Because having sexy thoughts about Savannah was ridiculous. All of Aunt Miriam’s friends might think that Savannah was sweet. But Dash knew the truth. Behind that facade, she was meaner than a junkyard dog.
His first summer in Last Chance, she’d come waltzing into his world and immediately run her mouth about all his private business to all her friends. She’d tried her darndest to turn her friends Rocky and Tulane Rhodes against him. She’d made his life miserable. She’d made him feel small and insignificant and unworthy.
He let go of a deep breath. All that had happened a very long time ago, and he needed to grow up. He had choices now. Choices he could control. And right now he was choosing to shower off the beer that Roy had splashed all over him and to stay the hell away from Savannah Reynolds White.
“Damned woman,” Dash muttered. “It’s gonna be a long few days until she goes back where she came from.”
Forty-five minutes later Dash stumbled into the kitchen, where he found Savannah brandishing a coffeepot like a Viking queen flaunting her sword. The field of battle was so spotless, the shine off the linoleum floor hurt his eyes. Did the woman stay up all night housecleaning?
“Coffee sounds good,” he said.
“How do you take it?”
“Hot and naked, please.”
Color rose right up Savannah’s high cheekbones. Score one point for him in this lopsided battle. She was a sight to behold when she blushed like that.
“Naked?”
“That’s right, princess, naked. That’s the way I take my coffee and a lot of other stuff.”
She turned and poured the steaming brew into a jadeite mug and handed it to him. “You just sit yourself down, Dash. What can I make you for breakfast?”
She was talking too loud and smiling too perfectly. And then it occurred to him that she thought he was hung over. She probably expected him to turn green and run from the room. Ha! He was going to call her bluff. He was betting the princess had no idea how to cook.
“You make omelets?”
She blinked. “You want an omelet? Really?”
“Yeah. You know how to make a real western omelet? With onions and green pepper and ham and hot sauce.”
“You want hot sauce?”
“Yes, princess, I don’t eat naked omelets.” He sat himself down at the kitchen table and grinned at her.
“I’ll, uh, see if we have the ingredients.” She headed toward the fridge. And she kind of bustled like she knew her way around a kitchen. Which surprised the heck out of him.
It had been a long time since anyone had bustled in this particular kitchen. And then he remembered that Savannah had spent a lot of time cooking with Aunt Sally. Which meant she probably did know how to make omelets. And if they were anything like Aunt Sally’s, then Savannah might be a useful houseguest after all.
Just then Miriam shuffled into the kitchen. She didn’t look good. Her hair was kind of all over the place, like she’d had problems getting it braided right.
“I heard y’all talking real loud,” she said as she sat down. Savannah poured a cup of coffee for her. She took a sip. “My, but you make good coffee.”
“I would hope so. I have a part-time job as a barista.”
Miriam rested her cup on the table and squinted in Dash’s direction. “Lord’a mercy, Dash, you look like you walked into a fan blade.” She leaned in. “Do you have stitches in your lip?”
“I’m fine, Aunt Mim.”
“Ha!” Savannah said over the sound of the cabinet doors she was slamming and banging. She’d apparently found eggs, onion, and ham.
Miriam turned her attention to the princess. “Sugar, if you slam the eggs, you’re liable to break them.”
“I’d like to break them over Cousin Dash’s head.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t do that. He looks like he’s already been hit by something. I’m dying to know what. Did you and one of those fancy horses of yours get into a fight?”
Savannah stopped slamming cabinets and kitchen utensils. Now she was beating the eggs with a whisk. Dash felt sorry for the eggs. “No, it wasn’t a horse. It was Roy Burdett.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Miriam shook her head. “Was he drunk again?”
“He was.”
Savannah put the bowl down on the counter. Good thing it was made of plastic.
“I feel so sorry for Laura-Beth,” Miriam said.
“I do, too,” Dash replied. “The mention of Laura-Beth was kind of what set him off.”
“Really? Did he think you and Laura-Beth were—”
“No. I got into trouble by pointing out that Laura-Beth would be happier if Roy stayed sober. I tried to give him the number of the Allenberg chapter of AA.”
“Well, good for you.”
“Right. That didn’t go over too well. And also, he was mad because I unplugged the jukebox.”
“Well, I can see that a thing like that might set him off.”
“Yeah. I forgot that he used to be one hell of a good football player. He decided I needed to get the same treatment he used to hand out to pass rushers from Central High.”
“Oh, honey, are you in pain?”
“I’ll be okay.”
Savannah turned around. She cast her glance from Dash to Miriam and back again. “Aunt Miriam, you don’t believe this crap, do you?”
“Crap?”
“He came in drunker than a skunk last night. He smelled like a brewery. He couldn’t walk straight. He was slurring his words.”
Miriam smiled up at her. “Oh, I don’t think so. Dash goes down to Dot’s Spot to watch his baseball games on account of the fact that we have only one television, and I like to watch my programs in the evenings. He doesn’t drink anymore, sugar. But Roy Burdett—well, he is a drunken fool. And an ex-offensive-lineman.”
Savannah turned back to her cooking, looking surprisingly competent, even if she didn’t believe a word Miriam had just said. But then, what else was new? Savannah had always believed the worst about him.
Not much had changed, had it?
“Oh, my God, darlin’, it’s been years and years.” The Baroness Woolham, otherwise known as Rocky Rhodes deBracy, enveloped Savannah in a ferocious hug and a cloud of expensive-smelling perfume. Rocky Rhodes used to be tangle-haired, grubby-kneed, and barefooted. How, in the name of all that was holy, had she grown up into this sophisticated woman? She was dressed to the nines in a pencil skirt and a black-and-white floral jacket. And she’d arrived at Uncle Harry’s wake on the arm of a man who could pass for Colin Firth.
Her husband was genuinely swoon-worthy. He even sounded like Colin Firth when he introduced himself. And then, like every other guy who had arrived for the wake, he quickly excused himself to go in search of a slice of Jenny Carpenter’s pie.
Rocky stayed behind on Granddaddy’s porch and kept Savannah company as she welcomed a steady stream of post-funeral mourners. Since Rocky knew everyone in town, her help was truly appreciated.
“So how long are you staying?” Rocky asked when the stream of visitors trickled down.
“Well, I… I…” Savannah stumbled over the words, then took a flying leap of faith. “To be honest, Rocky, I was thinking about staying permanently. I thought, maybe, I might try to renovate the theater and live in the apartment above it. Todd and I are used to small spaces.”
Rocky blinked a couple of times. “Really?”
Rocky’s surprise shouldn’t have thrown Savannah for a loop, but it did. Of course Rocky thought her idea was stupid. Rocky had finished college and had worked for a senator at one time. She had gone on to marry an English baron and industrialist. Rocky probably saw right through Savannah’s pitiful half-formed ideas for salvaging The Kismet.
“Have you told Dash about your plans?”
Resentment replaced self-doubt. “Why would I punish myself by discussing this with Dash?”
Rocky cocked her head. “Punish yourself?”
“He’ll laugh at me. Dash is the last man on earth I would discuss my plans with.”
“You know, he’s grown up a little bit since the two of you were kids. And he’s also rich as sin. He might be interested in investing in a theater renovation. He was pretty close to your grandfather, as I recall.”
Savannah clamped her mouth shut. The idea of asking Dash for money was the absolute height of humiliation.
“Dash is Hugh’s partner, you know. He’s the only reason Hugh was able to locate his factory here in Last Chance,” Rocky added.
That was a surprise. The idea of a classy guy like Hugh having a partnership with a drunk like Dash was kind of hard to figure. “I didn’t know. In fact, I didn’t even know Dash was living with Miriam and Harry until a couple of days ago.”
Rocky rested her behind on the porch railing. “Really? He’s been living here since he retired from baseball.”
Well, that was a delicate way of putting it. Dash’s “retirement” from baseball hadn’t been voluntary. The sports pages had been full of the scandal, when Dash had gotten on a motorcycle after drinking one too many beers. Thank God he’d only messed up his leg and not killed anyone.
This was not the kind of man she wanted as a partner.
Just then the minister who had officiated at Harry’s funeral came striding up the drive, saving Savannah from having to express her thoughts about Dash out loud.
Bill Ellis was long-legged, slim-hipped, and handsome. His dark hair curled over his forehead in a way that begged to have someone push it back into place. His eyes were sky blue and sober. His mouth was soft and expressive. All in all, he reminded Savannah of young James Stewart, the old-time actor in Frank Capra’s Christmas movie, It’s a Wonderful Life. Bill Ellis conveyed the feeling that he was one of those everyday small-town American heroes that Capra had featured in practically all of his classic films. The Episcopalians must be packing them in every Sunday.
The minister bounded up the porch steps and formally introduced himself. “I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to speak before the funeral. I’m very sorry for your loss, but I’m so glad you had the time to drive down from Baltimore. I think you being here means a lot to Miriam. I gather you are her last living relative. Aside from Dash, of course.”
His hand was warm, and his smile was kind. “Dash and I are kissing cousins,” Savannah found herself saying.
He cocked his head and gave her an earnest stare. “So I’ve heard.” There was a hint of dimple in both cheeks.
“Miriam and Dash are inside. Dash is nursing his split lip,” she added with a smile.
“Then I’ll go pay my respects. Is there any of Jenny’s pie left?”
“I think so.”
“I better get going, then, because it usually doesn’t last long.” He continued into the house in search of Miriam, Dash, and a slice of pie.
“Who the heck is Jenny Carpenter and why is every man in love with her pie?” Savannah asked.
“She’s a math teacher up at the high school. Her pies are legendary.”
“So I gather.”
“You know, it’s just a shame one of the single men around here doesn’t marry that woman. I think Reverend Ellis might be inclined except she’s a Methodist. Lillian Bray would have a heart attack if our minister married outside of the faith, so to speak.”
“The minister’s not married?” Savannah asked. She stomped on the thought forming in her head. The last thing she wanted was another romantic entanglement. She needed to stop leading with her heart all the time.
Rocky snorted a laugh. “No, he’s not. And before you ask me how a man of God who looks that good could reach the age of thirty-five and not be married, let me make it clear that I do not believe he’s gay. Although I think Lillian Bray is starting to worry about that. Lillian is the chair of the Ladies’ Auxiliary, and she would not cotton to our having a gay minister. Which explains why she is on a mission to find Bill a wife. So you be careful now, you hear?”
“I’m not interested,” Savannah said. But of course, what single woman in her early thirties wouldn’t be interested in a guy like Reverend Ellis? He was handsome. He was gainfully employed. He looked like a movie star. Which, of course, was the problem. Next time, she was going to go for a guy with a face like a dog.
“Honey, I need to warn you. A single woman your age is like fair game in this town. The old ladies will be working overtime to match you up with someone, and Bill is the most eligible bachelor in town.”
Savannah shook her head. “If Jesus Christ Himself walked up that path and got down on His knee and begged me to be His wife, I would turn Him down.”
Rocky’s smile turned wicked. “Honey, I don’t think I’d want to marry Jesus either. That sounds kind of boring.”
“I’m not looking for anything exciting. I just want to be on my own.”
Rocky put her arm over Savannah’s shoulder. “Now, that I understand. But not forever. You’re just regrouping after a failed relationship.”
“More than one. I’m a disaster at love. I was divorced at twenty-two. And over the last few years, I’ve gotten engaged and subsequently broken up with two more complete losers.”
“Aw, honey, I’m sorry to hear that. But I have a prescription for your heartache.”
“Please don’t tell me it’s Bill Ellis. He’s cute but—”
“Oh, no. I was thinking that I need to take you to the Last Chance Book Club meeting tomorrow night and introduce you around. If you want to talk about failed relationships, the book club is the place for you.”
“What is it, like a lonely hearts club or something?”
“No, not exactly. It’s just that Nita Wills, our librarian, doesn’t believe in happy endings. So every book we read has a sad relationship at its core. I swear, the girls are getting tired of it. Tomorrow’s meeting might be the last straw. Nita told me just this morning when I ran into her at the post office that she was thinking about another Nicholas Sparks book for this month’s read. And you know what that means.”
“No, I don’t.”
“It means either the hero or the heroine will end up dead at the end of the book.”
The lady with the dark hair and the flowers on her jacket told everyone that Mom was planning to move to this stupid town. Forever.
Todd couldn’t believe it. The place was boring. There wasn’t anyone here but old people. And there wasn’t anything fun to do. Besides, Last Chance was way far away from Baltimore. And if Dad had to come this far, he might not come at all. Dad was really busy a lot of the time. He was a lawyer during the week, and almost every weekend he was playing in some kind of billiards championship. He was a really good pool player, which was why he sometimes didn’t have time to see Todd.
Todd didn’t like the way his stomach felt. Like maybe he’d had too many pieces of cherry pie. Or maybe he shouldn’t have mixed the pie with the macaroni.
He headed across the crowded room. Mom was standing with the minister. Todd didn’t like the way she was looking up at the guy, like she was thinking OMG he’s hardcore or something. Whenever Mom looked at guys like that, it usually meant trouble. Mostly for Mom. He hated it when Mom cried. And guys always made her cry.
“That lady says we’re not going back home,” he said. He knew he’d interrupted the conversation, but who cared. This was important stuff.
Mom gave Todd the squint. She thought it made her look tough or something.
The minister dude looked down at him. “It’s rude to interrupt.”
“Is it true?” Todd asked, ignoring the minister.
“Todd, apologize to Reverend Ellis.”
Todd gave the guy a quick look. “Sorry.” He turned toward Mom. “Is it true?”
“We’ll talk about it later.”
“No, now. Because if we’re not staying then you need to tell that lady to shut up about it.” He yelled this time and pointed to the woman in the flowered jacket.
Everyone in the room stopped talking. Everyone stared at him. Typical.
“Todd, go to your room.”
“Is it true?” Cousin Dash said. Todd turned around. Dash was standing by the doorway with a plate of pie in his hand. He didn’t sound like he was all that thrilled about what the lady had been saying either.
“Is what true?” Aunt Miriam asked.
“That the princess is staying, and she plans to revive The Kismet,” Dash said.
Everyone looked at Mom. Mom looked kind of annoyed. “Well, I guess it is,” she said.
The grown-ups started clapping. Mom looked super surprised. And in all that excitement, everyone forgot about Todd.
He turned away, his stomach feeling like crap. He got as far as the landing on the staircase before Cousin Dash chased him down.
“Cheer up, kid,” he said as he leaned into the railing at the bottom of the stairs. “Your momma won’t last long. Once she realizes that the old theater is falling down, she’ll be heading back to Baltimore lickety-split.”
“It’s okay,” Todd replied, “you don’t have to worry that I’m gonna get all emo.”
Dash frowned. “What does emo mean?”
“It means all depressed and stuff.”
“Oh. Well, I wasn’t worried that you were going to get depressed. Especially since y’all will be headed home in a week.”
Todd assessed his older cousin. He was pretty tight for a grown-up. And at least Todd and Dash were on the same side.
“I hope you’re right,” Todd said. But just to make sure of it, Todd planned to borrow Mom’s iPhone and call Granny Katie. Granny Katie would tell Mom what was the right thing to do. She always did.