Last Chance Book Club

Chapter 10


On Saturday morning, Savannah allowed Dash to take Todd with him up to Painted Corner Stables. She could hardly refuse, seeing as her son had expressed an interest in learning how to ride a horse.

It was the first time he’d ever expressed any interest in doing something physical. And hadn’t she brought him here for the fresh air?

She found herself thanking Dash again in the morning, but barely able to look him in the eye this time. Their kiss kept playing in her mind like a movie.

A really hot movie.

With Dash and Todd out of the way, Savannah took Aunt Miriam to town for a girl’s day out, with the notion of lulling her into complacency and then springing a trip to Doc Cooper’s on her. The doctor was in on the plan. He was well aware that Miriam hated doctor visits.

They brunched at the Kountry Kitchen where Miriam announced, quite loudly, that Savannah’s biscuits were ten times better than T-bone Carter’s. Thank goodness T-bone had a sense of humor.

He stuck his head out of the kitchen and said, “That’s all right, Miz Miriam. I don’t aim to marry no preacher.” He grinned and returned to his kitchen.

Everyone in the café turned and smiled at Savannah. A blue-haired lady in the next booth, whose name Savannah didn’t know, took that moment to say, “You keep cooking, honey. We’re all mighty glad you came to town. It’s not good for a minister to be without a wife.”

Heat ran up Savannah’s neck and face. Some of the little old ladies in Last Chance sounded just like Mrs. Bennet in Pride and Prejudice, who was single-minded in her attempts to match up her daughters with anyone wearing pants.

Right at the moment, Savannah felt a great deal like Lizzy Bennet, the book’s heroine, when the odious Reverend Collins comes to call. Lizzy’s mother was practically apoplectic when the heroine of the book told Reverend Collins where he could take his marriage proposal.

Savannah hoped against hope that Bill Ellis didn’t get any ideas about getting down on bended knee. She feared the entire over-sixty female population of Last Chance might just go into hysterics.

And then it occurred to her that if Bill Ellis was the Mr. Collins in her life, then who was Dash? Wickham, the villain? Or Darcy, the hero?

She flashed back to Dash’s kiss on the porch last night, and her temperature climbed into the stratosphere.

“Oh, honey, it’s so sweet the way you blush,” the lady at the next table said.

Savannah gave her a phony smile and then popped the last of her fried egg in her mouth. Boy, she didn’t have a whole lot of privacy in this town, did she?

“Can we stop by the yarn shop?” Miriam asked.

“Of course we can. I remember you used to knit all the time.”

Miriam sighed. “I’m afraid that was before my hands got so bad. I miss it. I like going in there and fondling the yarn, though.”

Fondling? Yarn? It really was a good thing Savannah was getting Miriam to the doctor’s for a checkup today.

She looked down at Miriam’s less-than-half-eaten bowl of oatmeal. “Well, finish up, then,” Savannah said, “and we can go.”

“Oh,” Miriam said on a long sigh, “I’m not that hungry.”

She hadn’t been very hungry for the last two weeks. Savannah tamped down on her concern.

A few minutes later, they strolled into The Knit & Stitch, a little shop located in an older brick building in the heart of the Palmetto Avenue business district. It had a bright red awning and door. Inside, blond wood shelving cubes crammed with yarn occupied all available wall space. The yarn had been sorted by color and texture so that stepping into The Knit & Stitch was almost like walking into a rainbow.

In the corner, near the front window, stood a group of comfy-looking easy chairs, with a scarred coffee table in the middle. A couple of women whom Savannah recognized from the book club sat in the chairs knitting away. One of them, a young mother with a sleeping infant in the stroller beside her, was someone Savannah had yet to meet.

The tall, gray-haired woman behind the checkout counter gave a big wave. “Hey,” she whispered loudly, giving the slumbering baby a meaningful look. “How are you doing, Miz Miriam?”

Aunt Miriam’s eyes lit up behind her trifocals. “Hey, Pat, I’d like you to meet my niece, Savannah White. Savannah, this is Pat Canaday, Molly’s mother.”

Pat smiled. “Well, hello. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m so glad someone is going to do something about The Kismet.” She glanced through her front window, which provided a bird’s-eye view of the dilapidated theater. “That place is an eyesore. The other merchants on Palmetto will be ever so grateful when The Kismet is restored to its former glory.”

Savannah smiled politely while simultaneously wishing that Rocky had kept her mouth shut. So many people seemed to be depending on her. She wasn’t used to that.

“So, Pat, what’s new?” Miriam asked.

“Well, I just got a shipment of possum yarn.”

Possum yarn? It was a joke, right?

“Oh,” Miriam said, “I heard about that stuff. It’s supposed to be very soft.”

Apparently it wasn’t a joke.

“Oh, it is. Here, let me get you a skein of it. You have to touch it to believe it.” Pat crossed the room and pulled down a hank of dark purple yarn. “Here, have a feel. Isn’t that the yummiest thing ever? They call that color claret.”

Miriam stroked the yarn as if it might be a real live possum. “Oh, that is soft. And I do love the color, too.” Her voice sounded wistful.

Savannah watched her aunt and knew right then that she needed medical attention. If not for the arthritis then for her obvious dementia.

“Don’t you look at me that way,” Miriam said with a suddenly sharp stare. “I’m not crazy.” She turned toward Pat. “Am I crazy?”

Pat snorted a laugh and turned a pair of gray eyes on Savannah. “Honey, you have obviously never knitted or crocheted. It’s always about the yarn. Now, you take that yarn, for instance. It’s as soft as cashmere. It’s spun of forty percent possum, fifty percent washable merino, and ten percent silk. It comes from New Zealand where possums are an ecological threat to the kiwis. So it’s even environmentally sound.”

Miriam held out the skein of purple possum. “Touch it, honey. You’ll see.”

She took the yarn. And it almost took her breath away. It was the softest thing she had ever felt. “Wow.”

“So, you want to take lessons?” Pat asked. “You could make your aunt a beautiful sweater.”

“No!” Savannah said.

“Yes!” Miriam said at the same time.

“Miriam, I have no desire to knit.” She handed the yarn back to her aunt, who stroked it against her cheek.

“Cooking is my thing,” Savannah said.

“So we’ve heard.” This came from the young mother sitting by the window. She smiled at Savannah. The sun coming through the shop window lit up her red hair. She had the classic looks of a carrot top, including the freckles. The baby in the stroller had red hair, too.

“I’m Kenzie Griffin. I’m also a member of the book club, but I missed you last time, because Junior had a bad cold. I heard all about how you stood up to Nita. Thank you. I really enjoyed reading Pride and Prejudice. I’m looking forward to discussing it on Wednesday.”

“Uh, thanks.”

“Amen to that,” the African-American woman sitting beside Kenzie said. Savannah recognized this woman from the book club, but she didn’t remember her name.

The woman gave her a big smile. “Honey, I’m Lola May Lindon. And for the record, I think what you’re doing for the town is just wonderful.”

“This town really needs a theater,” Kenzie said. “I’m a newcomer here. My husband just got a job at deBracy, and we’re not used to having to drive an hour to see a movie.”

Savannah gave Kenzie and Lola May a smile but didn’t say anything for fear of exposing herself as the fraud that she was.

This was horrifying. Everyone seemed to have the wrong idea about her. She wasn’t some mover or shaker. She didn’t have the first clue what she was doing. It scared her to death that people were looking up to her and expecting something grand.

She’d never done anything important in her life. She was so very ordinary.

“I do so wish you’d learn to knit,” Miriam said on a long sigh. “I would surely love to have a purple possum sweater.”

“I’ll think about it, okay? Meantime we have a few more errands to run.”

Miriam handed the yarn back to Pat. “We do?”

“Yes, we do.”

And with that, she took Miriam’s arm and led her from the store.

“Where are we going next?”

“We’re going to see Dr. Cooper. I want him to check your arthritis.”

Miriam stopped in her tracks. “I don’t like going to the doctor.” She frowned. “I especially don’t like being tricked into it.”

Savannah took in a deep breath and let it out. “Okay, look, I’ll make a deal with you. You go quietly to the doc’s. When we’re finished, we can come back here and buy some purple possum fur, and I will learn how to knit you a sweater.”

A cherubic smiled lit up Miriam’s face. If Savannah didn’t know better, she could have sworn that Miriam had played her like a fine violin.

“How is Miriam?” Rocky asked, “I heard she saw Doc Cooper on Saturday.”

“Boy,” Savannah said, “it’s amazing how everyone knows what everyone else is doing in this town. Doc Cooper says she’s probably just depressed, but I’m worried.”

Rocky put her arm around Savannah as they walked up the path to the Last Chance Public Library. It was book club night. “Honey, don’t you worry. Miriam is one tough old girl. She’ll bounce back from Harry’s death, I’m sure.”

Rocky eyed Savannah’s brand-new Vera Bradley knitting bag. “I see Pat Canaday has ensnared you.”

“With a little help from Aunt Miriam. I swear, Rocky, I am no good at this, but I promised I would knit Aunt Miriam a purple possum sweater if she would go to the doctor.”

“Possum, really? You bought some of that yarn? I heard it was as soft as cashmere.”

Savannah rolled her eyes. “You knit, too?”

Rocky shrugged. “I have a lot more time on my hands since I gave up my job with Senator Warren. Pat ensnared me, too. Be careful. It’s addicting. One small slip with possum yarn and ffffpt, you’re hooked for life.”

They entered the library. “I see Jenny has brought pies,” Rocky said. “I think I’ll go get a slice. I bet she used cherries from her daddy’s orchard.”

Savannah bypassed the pies and headed in Molly Canaday’s direction.

“Hey,” Molly said as Savannah approached, “I heard Momma suckered you in with a few skeins of possum and a Vera Bradley bag.” Molly grinned as she eyed Savannah’s blue-and-pink-paisley knitting bag.

“It’s amazing how everyone in town knows I bought possum yarn on Saturday.” Savannah pulled out her pitiful project and thrust it in Molly’s direction. “What am I doing wrong?”

Molly took the knitting in her hands. “Wow, that’s a really bright color. Is this for Miriam?” she asked as she ran her fingers over the fabric.

Savannah nodded.

“Well, you haven’t made any mistakes. You’re just trying to knit too tight. You need to loosen up. Knitting is supposed to be relaxing. It’s Zen.”

“Right. Zen. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You might want to frog that and restart. Or maybe practice on some throwaway yarn before you tackle a sweater. I’ve got lots and lots of leftover yarn. Stop by Bill’s Grease Pit tomorrow, and I’ll give you a bag.” Molly handed back the purple possum monstrosity.

Just then Jane Rhodes and several others showed up with projects in hand. But since Jane’s baby sweater project was still messed up, and the baby was due in a month, Molly helped her first. Everyone else stood around and watched Molly do her thing. It was hugely educational.

“All right, y’all,” Nita called a few minutes later, “let’s stop with the knitting and gather ’round to talk about the book.”

Everyone took their seats, but most of the knitters ignored Nita and kept right on stitching. Savannah left her possum in the bag. She didn’t think she had mastered the art of talking and knitting at the same time.

“So,” Nita said, “I have a number of questions I can pose, but before I do, does anyone have a particular topic related to the book that you might want to discuss?”

“I do,” Jane said, looking up from her knitting. “I have to say I lost all respect for Charlotte when she decided to marry Mr. Collins even though she didn’t love him. I mean, the man was a peanut-brained weasel, and she even knew it going in. I found myself cheering for Lizzy when she told the preacher to take a hike.”

“I admired Charlotte for taking her life into her own hands,” Molly said. “She had gumption.”

“Well, that may be true,” Jenny countered, “but she was also a cynic. Remember how she tells Elizabeth that once you get married you’ll eventually end up hating your husband? Even if you start out loving him.”

“Amen to that,” Lola May Lindon said. “It didn’t take more than six months before I knew Lyle had to go. He just got so resentful every time we went fishing and I caught more than he did.”

“Oh, hush, you said the same thing about Michael and Charles,” Cathy said. “A woman who’s been married and divorced three times is no judge of what it takes to make a good marriage.”

Lola May shrugged. “Well, all those husbands sure have weaned me off happy endings, I can tell you that. I’m thinking we should stick with Nita’s books next time. This one was dumb.”

“I think Charlotte would have remained unmarried if she could have,” Savannah said, stepping in to ease the conflict between Lola May and Cathy. “I mean she didn’t have any means of supporting herself. It wasn’t like she could go out and get a job.”

“Or renovate a theater,” Jenny said. The hostility in the comment took Savannah aback. She hardly knew Jenny, except for her pies. The mousy math teacher was staring at her from across the table, her cheeks going red. It sure looked like Jenny believed she had some prior claim on Bill Ellis. Savannah needed to find a moment to tell Jenny that she didn’t have anything to worry about. If Bill was in love with anything, it was her biscuits. Of course, that might be enough to make Jenny jealous. After all, Bill was arguably in love with Jenny’s pies.

“Well,” Hettie said, “you’ve got a point, Jenny. Charlotte didn’t have anything else to fall back on. But Savannah does. I mean, she’s going to be a great success. In fact, ladies, I have an announcement to make.”

“Now, Hettie, we’re talking about the book, not making announcements.” Nita glared at Hettie, and Hettie glared right back.

It was a standoff until Rocky said, “Y’all, Hettie, Sarah, Lark, and I have created this new development corporation. We—”

“It’s called Angel Development,” Hettie said with a grin. “And we’re giving Savannah half a million dollars for the theater. So, honey, if you want to be like Lizzy and tell Bill Ellis not to darken your door, you can do it.”

Savannah’s mouth dropped open. “A half a million dollars? But how—”

“Dash gave me your business plan,” Rocky said, “and I shared it with Lark and Sarah and Hettie. We were all impressed.”

“He what? I’ve been waiting for him to give me his thoughts on it. I didn’t think it was very good.”

“Well, it’s a moot point now, honey, because Angel Development is giving you everything you need to bring The Kismet back to life,” Hettie said with a big grin.

Rocky laughed. “Don’t look so surprised. You can do this, Savannah, and we think it could be the beginning of a real downtown renaissance.”

Hettie beamed and nodded. “Yes, ma’am. So don’t you do anything stupid like that Charlotte character, you hear? The old ladies of this town are just like that Mrs. Bennet, always trying to match folks up. But you have us. And we’re your angel investors. We’ll make sure you’re okay.”

Savannah stared at Hettie like she’d blown in from some other planet. “Half a million dollars?” she said again. “Is this a loan?”

“No, honey, it’s a grant. We want that theater reopened.”

They were angels. And they had answered her prayers.

“Well, darn,” Dash said. “You beat me by four strokes. Son, have you ever played golf before?”

Todd shrugged. “My dad took me to play putt-putt once up in Atlantic City. But that place wasn’t as weird as this one.” The kid waved his hand to encompass the entirety of the newly refurbished miniature golf course located a few miles south of Last Chance.

“You might be careful using the word ‘weird’ around Aunt Miriam or any of the other members of the Ladies’ Auxiliary. They held a whole lot of bake sales to raise money for the renovation of this place.”

“Why?”

“Well, it’s our main tourist attraction.”

“It’s still weird.” Todd rolled his eyes as he looked up at the fiberglass statue of Jesus that presided over the eighteenth hole.

“Just remember that the church ladies in town have embraced this place. In fact, your momma will probably praise me for bringing you here.”

“Why?”

“Because of all these Bible verses.” He pointed to the verse on the eighteenth hole.

“Mom isn’t all that into God.”

Dash laid his hand on Todd’s shoulder, and for once, the kid didn’t shake it off. They’d had a pretty good evening out here at Golfing for God. And while putt-putt was no real test, Todd was showing some serious eye-hand coordination. Dash was determined to get Todd into the football program that Red Canaday, the Davis High football coach, ran every summer for younger boys. After playing catch and Ultimate Frisbee with him, Dash was starting to think the kid might make a heck of a running back. He had real good hands.

They turned in their putters and headed home. Dash was surprised to find Savannah waiting for them out on the porch, sitting with Miriam. Savannah must have gotten home from the book club a little early.

“Hey, Mom, have you ever played miniature golf at Golfing for God?”

Savannah smiled. “Many times.”

“It’s kind of weird, but fun.”

“I always liked the plague of frogs best,” she said.

“I liked it, too. Dash said that at the Easter Egg Jubilee they have a frog jump. He said he’d take me down to the river to get me a frog.”

Savannah frowned. “A frog jump?”

“Oh, yes,” Miriam said. “It’s so much fun. You missed a lot coming only in the summers. Your granddaddy took Dash out to the river on a lot of frog hunts. You remember that frog you had that took second place that time?”

“Her name was Frogzilla. She was one big bullfrog.”

“You guys aren’t kidding, are you?” Savannah said.

“Nope. Last Chance is a homey kind of place. Mark Twain would have felt comfortable here,” Miriam said. She turned toward Todd. “Have you ever read that Mark Twain story, the one about the jumping frog?”

He shook his head.

“Well, you should. I think it’s in Harry’s library. I’ll get it for you. You should read the story before you enter the frog jump.” Miriam gave Dash a big smile that he felt down in his middle.

But Savannah looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. She turned toward her son. “Have you finished your homework?”

Todd gave her an eye roll. “Mom, Dash made me do it before he took me to Golfing for God.”

Savannah’s expression softened just a little, and Dash felt a rush of warmth. Damn. Pleasing Savannah was kind of fun. But dangerous. He had to remember that. He was already halfway hooked on her smile.

“It’s time for bed. You get ready, and I’ll be up to tuck you in,” she said.

“Jeez, I’m way too old for that.” The kid turned and stomped into the house, slamming the door behind him.

Miriam chuckled. “What is it about boys and screen doors?” she mused.

“You got a minute?” Savannah asked Dash.

His warm fuzzy feelings evaporated. Savannah was ticked off about something. He could sense it. Her shoulders were all tense. “Sure.” He started toward one of the rockers, but she stood up.

“Not here. Inside.”

“Honey, you be careful with him, now, you hear?” Miriam said.

“Be careful with me how?”

Miriam smiled, her eyes twinkling in the porch light. His aunt was up to something.

He followed Savannah into the living room. She turned and put her fists on her hips.

“Who gave you permission to show my business plan to Rocky?”

“I didn’t think it was a secret.”

“Well, I wasn’t totally finished with it. I gave it to you so you could give me advice on how to improve it. I didn’t expect you to hand it off to Rocky or for her to hand it off to Hettie and Sarah and Lark. I don’t even know who Lark is.”

“She’s the sheriff’s wife. And the sheriff is Rocky’s older brother, Stone. You remember Stone from your summers here, don’t you?”

“Vaguely. Look, Dash, I gave you that plan in draft form so you could tell me all the things I did wrong.”

“But you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I didn’t?” She seemed genuinely surprised.

“No. It was a really good plan.”

“Oh. Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“I didn’t think you wanted my advice.”

“Of course I did. Why would I have given you the plan in the first place?”

“Because I told you I would invest in the theater.”

She squinted at him. “And I told you I didn’t want your money.”

“Exactly, which is why I gave your plan to Rocky and the gals. I figured they were planning a fund to reinvest in downtown Last Chance, and you had a plan for reviving The Kismet. I just played matchmaker. Sort of like Aunt Mim, only different.”

She stood there frowning at him.

“What did they do, honey? Criticize your plan at the book club tonight?”

“No, they want to give me a grant of half a million dollars. I don’t think I even need that much. What the heck am I going to do with half a million dollars?” Her voice rose into the stratosphere, and she turned around and strode across the room to the fireplace. She was really upset.

“Honey, getting half a million dollars to realize your dream is not something to get upset over.”

She didn’t say anything. She just stood there all stiff in the back.

He battled his feelings for a long moment. He should walk away. He should tell her the truth. There was a long list of things he should do.

But instead, he behaved exactly like the addict he was. He walked up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. Her bones were so tiny. Her skin so warm. He wanted to spin her around and plant a kiss on her like she’d planted one on him last Friday. He had to fight that urge with every sinew in his body.

“I’m so angry at you.” Her voice was low and didn’t sound angry at all. The sound of it burned a hole in his middle.

“I only did you a favor, princess. And besides, if I didn’t think you’d done a good job on the business plan, I would never have shared it with Rocky.”

She turned.

He jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He could look, but touching was forbidden.

But looking proved disastrous. Because something had changed. When she’d first arrived for Harry’s funeral, he’d thought she was only average in looks. She had good legs and pretty blond hair, of course, but he didn’t think she was a beauty. But then he’d begun to notice the way her eyes lit up when she was with Todd, and the way she helped Aunt Mim around the house, and the way she sang old Alabama songs to herself when she was in the kitchen.

She had turned into a ravishing beauty. How had that happened? How had his perception of her altered so much?

It was a danger sign, pure and simple.

“Did you really think my plan was good?” she asked.

“I did. You must have spent hours on the phone talking to contractors. Those numbers were dead-on.”

“How would you know?”

Ooops. Busted. He smiled. “Just experience,” he said. He couldn’t tell her about the hours he’d put in getting ballpark estimates for the work needed.

“But I don’t need half a million dollars.”

He shrugged. “So don’t use it all. But getting half a million dollars means you could consult an architect. You could register the site as an historic building and really do the right kind of restoration.”

She stared at him like a deer caught in the headlights. She didn’t say a word for a good thirty seconds. Looking at her was driving him crazy.

But he would beat this thing. It was kind of like going down to Dot’s Spot and drinking Coca-Cola. He had conquered that demon, and he would conquer this one, too.

“Savannah, what is it? Are you scared?” he asked.

Her chin quivered but she remained silent.

He stifled the urge to pull her into his arms. “You’re going to be fine. Just put your plan into action. You start by taking a look at other theater renovations. See which architects they used. In the meantime, you could work on cleaning the place up. And once you consult with an architect, you need to find a general contractor. You just take one step at a time.”

It was almost as if he were talking to himself and repeating the mantra of one day at a time.

“But half a million dollars, free and clear? Why would Sarah Rhodes do that for me? Rocky and I were friends, but Tulane was almost as big a pest as you were.”

“Honey, he was a piker compared to me.” He smiled. “You know, I reckon Hettie is behind this. The Queen Bee has told me a dozen times that she wants that theater revived. And she can be mighty persuasive. So, I think you should just go with the flow. Don’t stand here being mad at me. I have nothing to do with this except handing your plan off to people looking for a project.”

He turned on his heel and headed up the stairs to his room. He prayed like hell that she wouldn’t follow him and that she believed his lies.

Hettie lit the tall taper on the dining room table. Violet Easley, her longtime housekeeper, had outdone herself this time. The table was elegant without being showy, and Violet’s fried chicken, warming in the oven, was to die for.

Probably literally, given the amount of fat it contained.

The doorbell rang, and Hettie rushed to answer it. Her pulse kicked up a notch as she opened the door to find the rector of Christ Church standing there with a bunch of Lillian’s camellias in his hand. Bill was a startlingly handsome man, with dark hair that curled over his brow and serious, deep-set blue eyes. Hettie hated to admit it, but Bill had settled down in the back of her mind, and he wasn’t budging. Every encounter with him was like a secret, guilty pleasure.

“Hey,” she said like some lame high-schooler.

“Is that some of Violet’s fried chicken I smell?”

“Are those some of Lillian’s camellias?”

He stiffened ever so slightly.

“Oh, come on, Bill, I’m just teasing you. Smile.”

That elicited a little quirk at the corners of his mouth. His dimple flashed and then disappeared. He stood on her threshold for the longest time staring down into her eyes. These moments of connection were truly embarrassing.

She took his flowers and led him to her table. They ate Violet’s fried chicken and then took coffee and lemon meringue pie into the living room. They sat side by side poring over the latest financial statements for the Christ Church building fund. Hettie had been its treasurer and chief fund-raiser for some time.

“Honestly, Hettie, I’m so impressed by what you’ve done. We’re at least six months ahead of where we thought we’d be at this time. And you did this at the same time you were managing the Golfing for God restoration and dealing with Jimmy’s death and the chicken plant. I had no idea you were such a wiz at finances.”

“I was always good at math. Unfortunately, I wasn’t ever encouraged to use it—at least not until—”

She swallowed the rest of the sentence. She knew good and well that Bill knew all the bad things Jimmy had done before he’d been killed. His mismanagement of Country Pride Chicken was unconscionable. The irony was that her husband had been cleaning up his act when he’d lost his life. In fact, Jimmy got himself shot for standing up for the truth and trying to be a good man. Hettie would always feel responsible for that.

She laced her fingers together and stared down at her hands.

“What is it, Hettie?” Bill asked. His voice was laced with concern. Bill could always sense when she was worried. And he always had a way of making her feel better.

“Things aren’t good at the chicken plant, but we’ll muddle through.”

“If things are that bad, why are you spending your time on Angel Development? Don’t get me wrong, now. I think it’s a wonderful idea. And I’m amazed at the help you’ve offered Savannah. But sometimes, Hettie, I think you get all wrapped up in helping others and don’t think about yourself.”

“I take that as a compliment. I was raised up with the idea that I should care about others. And I would think that you, being a minister, would understand that.”

He reached over and patted her hands. His palms were warm and masculinely rough. His touch ignited feelings she didn’t want to have. Not just feelings for Bill. But feelings in general. She wanted her independence more than she wanted anything in the world.

“I do believe in charity. But I think sometimes that charity starts at home. You’re in trouble. All you have to do is ask for help.”

She smiled. “I do ask for help. Nightly. I pray. And I know the Lord will take care of me.”

Bill patted her hand. “You inspire me at times, you know that?”

She wanted to grab his hand and hang on. But she didn’t allow herself that luxury.

“I’m just curious, though,” Bill said. “Y’all are giving Savannah a great deal of money. And she doesn’t have any business experience. Where did this money come from? And it seems to me that if y’all wanted to invest in something, it ought to be Country Pride Chicken. It’s still one of the largest employers in the county.”

“Yes, but I sit on the board of Angel Development, so I can’t ask them for money. Besides, I don’t need help. I’ll figure it out. Things are getting better, slowly.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Where did all that money come from?”

“We have investors. Tulane Rhodes is rich. Lark Rhodes has money she inherited from her father. Hugh deBracy’s business is doing incredibly well. These people want Last Chance to become a model of a thriving small town.”

“Well, it still seems like an awful lot of money.”

“What’s the matter? Don’t you want to see The Kismet rise from the ashes?”

“I suppose.”

“You suppose? Aren’t you happy for Savannah? I thought you and she were close. If you listen to the talk in town, y’all are practically husband and wife.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. She’s a wonderful woman. A good mother, a great cook, and last night she played piano for us. She’s quite accomplished.”

“I’m sure she is.” Hettie tamped down on her jealousy. Hettie couldn’t cook, had no musical talent, and didn’t have anything even closely resembling Savannah’s curvy figure. She just had a knack for putting together spreadsheets so that she could obsess over them.

She took a sip of coffee, feeling disgruntled. “How do you feel about marrying a woman with a day job?” she asked, even though she knew it was an ugly thing to ask.

“I am not opposed to working women.”

Hettie laughed at his unfortunate choice of words. “You mean women who work outside the home, don’t you? The term ‘working women’ is sometimes used to mean something else entirely.”

Bill stared at her for a long moment before he got the joke. His face flushed bright red, but then he laughed. “Ah, yes, I’m sure that Lillian Bray would object to working women on the streets of Last Chance.”

“She also has old-fashioned views about women working outside the home,” Hettie said.

“Well, I don’t. And I’m sure Savannah will be very successful.”

“Will that make you happy?”

“Of course it will. I admire her greatly,” Bill said.

“I’m happy for you then.”

“Are you?” He raised an eyebrow.

Did he suspect the turmoil that was running through her at this moment? Hettie had no reason to feel jealous. She’d done everything she could for Savannah’s project. And she even admired and liked Savannah. These feelings were confusing. She needed to ignore them. She was independent for the first time in her life. And she was enjoying every minute of it.

“Bill, I am very happy for you and Savannah. The Ladies’ Auxiliary believes that every minister should be married. And she seems to suit you. And, as you have pointed out, she’s destined to be a great success.”

His bright blue eyes softened ever so slightly. “Yes, but Last Chance is full of accomplished women. It’s hard for a man to choose. Take you, for instance. You’ve done so much for the people of this town. You resurrected the golf course. You’re trying to save the chicken plant. You’re part of this new downtown development thing. You’ve raised a lot of money for the church. I would say that you’ve begun to live up to that name everyone calls you.”

“What? Queen Bee? I don’t regard that as a very nice epithet.”

“I do,” he said.

That sent a warm flush coursing through her. He noticed and appreciated the work she was trying to do. And that made her feel strong and independent.

Zeph stood in the deep shadows cast by a magnolia tree. He watched the house as dusk turned to full dark. The kitten in his hand wanted to be turned loose. This particular critter was loaded with P and V. If he let him go, he’d be gone for good.

He’d had a problem kitten like this a couple of Christmases ago, and he’d stashed that one in the manger with baby Jesus over at Christ Church where Annie could find her.

But it was almost Easter time. There weren’t any mangers around.

He stood in the dark for the longest time, watching the lights come on inside the houses on Maple Street. He couldn’t bring himself to knock on the door.

He was about to turn away and go back to his truck when the front door opened. “I declare, Zeph Gibbs, is that you standing there still as a statue?”

Nita came out onto her porch. She was dressed in a real pretty yellow dress. She kind of looked like spring in that dress. Like the jonquils that were blooming out on Bluff Road. “Ma’am,” he said. His voice sounded rusty, and behind him, he could almost hear the ghost laughing at him.

“What you got there?” she asked.

Zeph screwed up his courage and crossed the street. He stopped at the edge of Nita’s lawn. “It’s a kitten, ma’am.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Zeph, you and I went to high school together. Don’t call me ma’am.”

“Yes, ma’am, I mean Miz Nita.”

“Well, bring that kitten over here.”

He stepped up onto the lawn, conscious of the ghost waiting behind him. He sure hoped Nita couldn’t see that haunt. She might get scared. He didn’t want to scare Nita.

He got as far as the porch steps and held out the kitten. “It’s a little calico stray. Someone dumped her in the swamp a few days ago.”

Nita looked down at him from the porch, and he lost himself for a little while in her dark, kind eyes. She came down the porch steps and took the kitten from his outstretched hand. And just like that, the little critter quit trying to get away.

But then Zeph knew that would happen. He didn’t exactly know how he knew, but he knew. This one was for Nita.

“Aw, he’s adorable. Is it a he?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Nita frowned at him. “I told you I don’t want to be called ma’am.”

He nodded. “I thought you might like a cat.”

“Is that why you were standing across the way like that?”

“You saw me?”

“I did. I was scared for a minute until I realized it was you. You looked like a ghost standing there so still. How have you been, Zeph?”

“I been fine, Miz Nita.” He felt a little odd calling her by her first name. She was the finest lady in all of Last Chance.

“You still living out in the swamp?”

“No, ma’am. I don’t live in the swamp. I built me a very nice house right off of Bluff Road. Near the Jonquil House. The flowers are in bloom. It’s right pretty out there this time of year.”

“I’m glad to hear you aren’t camping out. What have you been doing lately?”

“Oh, I work for Mr. Dash up at the stables, when I’m not fishing or hunting.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that. I’m glad to hear you have a real job.”

“You want to keep the cat?”

Nita looked down at the calico. “I’ve been thinking about getting a cat. Did you know that?”

Zeph smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”

She frowned at him again.

“I mean Miz Nita,” he added hastily.

“How did you know I was thinking about getting a cat?”

He shrugged. “I don’t rightly know, but I saw that critter and I said to myself he was perfect for you.” He needed to change the subject and fast. He didn’t want anyone to know how the ghost was always telling him what to do with strays. It was kind of uncanny the way the strays always came to the ghost.

He took a step back. “So, how did the ladies like Pride and Prejudice this Wednesday? If you want to know the truth, I liked Emma a whole lot better.”

Her frown deepened. “You’ve read those books?”

“Yes, Miz Nita. I read a lot of books. I get them down at the thrift shop, and when I finish them, I trade them in for more.” He backed up a little bit more. The ghost behind him was getting restless.

“I need to go,” he said.

“Zeph, if you like to read, you should come in to the library. Don’t you have a library card?”

“No, Miz Nita.”

“Well, you must get one. And if you like Jane Austen, why don’t you join the book club?”

He shook his head as he backpedaled, “Oh, no, Miz Nita, I couldn’t do a thing like that. No, ma’am. I have too much to do in the evening.”

Like walking the streets and keeping the ghost in line.