Reflection Point

chapter ELEVEN





Eight Years Ago

The light turned green. Savannah stepped on the gas and pulled into the intersection. From the corner of her eye, she saw the car approach seconds before impact. She screamed as her airbag deployed and the car spun out of control.

It seemed forever before it stopped, though it took only seconds. Savannah grew aware of burning sensations on her face and arms. Breathing hard, she fumbled for the seat-belt release, opened the driver’s door, and stumbled out of the car. Okay. I’m okay.

“You all right, lady?”

She took it in with a glance. A pickup truck had run the red light and T-boned her car at the passenger-side rear axle. The driver was her father’s age, apparently unhurt, but watching her with a worried look on his face. “I’m okay.”

“I called 911. They should be—” He broke off abruptly, and Savannah heard the siren. “They’re here. That was fast. Good.”

A patrol car arrived on the heels of the ambulance. Savannah answered the paramedic’s questions, and when the policeman approached her, she responded to his in turn. “Yes, it’s my car.… Yes, the contents are mine.… Are my textbooks okay? They were in the backseat. Would you please call my fiancé? Officer Kyle Vaughn.”

The patrolman wrote down the name, asked for Kyle’s number, then turned her world upside down by repeating a string of all-too-familiar words. “Ms. Moore, you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent …”

After that, things got a little fuzzy. She had only a vague memory of the three hundred thousand dollars in cash and plastic zip-top bags filled with pot. The lawyer from the public defender’s office told her about the search warrant for Grams’ house and barn.

She vividly recalled Kyle standing in the interrogation room, his expression earnest as he laced his fingers with hers. “I’ll stand by you, honey. I’m an excellent detective, I’ll figure out who set you up.”

And, months later, her fiancé stood in the witness box, one hand raised, the other on the Bible: “… nothing but the truth, so help me God.”

Francine leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “You stupid, naive girl.”

Handsome, clean-cut Kyle used a crisp, white handkerchief to wipe his eyes before he answered the prosecutor. “Yes, sir. I’m so embarrassed and ashamed. She fooled me completely. I saw her loading money and drugs into her car.”

Savannah was snapped back to the present when Zach’s angry voice demanded, “You are telling me the cop set you up?”

Her emotions were raw, and her throat was tight. The memory of that moment of realization, of the despair washing through her, hit her like a fist, and she pulled her hand away from his.

“You don’t believe me,” she muttered, scrambling to her feet. Because of course, except for Grams, no one had ever believed her. Not even her brothers. “I’ve got to go. I shouldn’t have … good night.”

“That’s not what I … Savannah, stop. Wait.”

But she didn’t wait. She ran away from Zach, away from her memories, away from the tragedy at Mirror Lake today and the heartache of her past.

She ran home to her little rented house on Fourth Street, where she held Inny and wept. And wept. And wept. Perhaps all those years of not allowing herself to cry made it almost impossible to stop once she got started now. Finally the storm of emotion subsided. Inny wiggled her desire to be put down, and Savannah went in search of a tissue box that wasn’t empty. Her gaze fell upon the stack of Angel’s Rest brochures Celeste had asked her to display in her shop. “Well, Grams,” Savannah said, attempting to deal with her grief in an old, familiar way, “think there’s a chance she knows what she’s talking about?”

The window curtains fluttered. The scent of ripe peaches drifted on the air. Inny barked, and slowly Savannah smiled.

She awoke the following morning with a tension headache, tear-swollen eyes, and a craving for one of Sarah Murphy’s cinnamon rolls. She popped two aspirin, showered, and dressed, and dealt with her puffy eyes with some eyedrops. Inny barked and leaped excitedly upon seeing the leash, and they started out.

At times of great personal crisis, a girl couldn’t go wrong with a cinnamon bun.

Her sense of self-preservation had her peeking through the big plate-glass window of Sarah’s bakery, Fresh, before she committed to going inside. She spied Cat Davenport seated at a table with Nic Callahan and Celeste. She was happy to speak to them. Maybe a little “girl time” would be just what she needed. Had Zach been inside, she’d have continued on her walk.

She looped Inny’s leash around a tree. “I’ll just be a minute. If you behave, I’ll bring you out a treat, too.”

The dog’s ears perked up at the word treat.

Inside, Savannah ordered her cinnamon roll and coffee, then greeted her friends. “Join us,” Celeste said.

“I can’t. I have Inny with me.”

Nic hooked her thumb toward the window. “She’s fine. She’s curled up snoozing. We’ll keep an eye on her.”

Since she had the town veterinarian’s permission, Savannah took a seat and removed her cinnamon roll from the white paper bag. Cat eyed the sweet roll greedily. “We had fruit plates. The fruit was good, but that roll …”

“It looks heavenly,” Celeste agreed.

Nic inhaled the scent of warm yeast bread, cinnamon, and sugar. “I’m gonna need a drool cup. I limit myself to one of Sarah’s cinnamon rolls a month, and I had mine last weekend.”

Savannah cut the huge roll into four pieces and pushed the plate to the center of the table. “Here. Be bad. Blame me.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Cat picked up her fork and dug in. She moaned with delight. “I love being bad.”

“Well, I need the energy boost from a little sugar,” Celeste said, sampling her piece. “With tourist season right around the corner, I’m busy as a beaver on Angel Creek these days. As are you, I expect, Savannah. When is your grand-opening celebration?”

Savannah smiled, wishing she could look at Celeste without seeing Francine. “I’m opening on Memorial Day, but I didn’t plan on any sort of celebration.”

“No celebration!” Celeste drew back, obviously appalled. She clicked her tongue. “Well now, we can’t have that. A new business is opening in Eternity Springs. That’s a huge cause for celebration. You must have an open house.”

Savannah glanced from Nic to Cat. Both women licked their forks and nodded. “It’s a great idea,” Nic said. “You need to do it.”

Savannah had never even been to an open house. What on earth would she do? “Whom would I invite?”

Cat said, “I’d start with the Chamber of Commerce list. You’ll introduce your products to other business owners, who will recommend them, plus you’ll sell a bundle.”

Savannah took a bite of roll, and as sugary, sinful pleasure exploded on her taste buds she considered it. What if it flopped? That would be the worst! “I don’t know. Seems like a lot of work. I already have so much to do. Maybe if I had more time …”

“We’ll do all the work,” Celeste declared. “It’s right up our alley, isn’t it, girls? Sarah and Ali can handle the food. Cat, you can take care of the invitations, can’t you?”

“Sure.”

“Oh, that’s really thoughtful,” Savannah said, wondering how she’d lost control of the conversation—and her business plan, apparently. “I appreciate the thought, but I can’t ask you all to—”

“And why not?” Sarah stood beside the table, a coffeepot in her hand. Pouring a refill for Celeste, she said, “We’re your friends, aren’t we?”

Savannah’s heart did a little pitty-pat. “Well, yes, but—”

“I’ll bring my lemon pound cake. What night will we have this shindig? I suggest Thursday.”

“Thursday!” Savannah said as Sarah responded to Nic’s nod by topping off her cup, too. “That’s two days away!”

Cat said, “You said you’re opening Memorial Day weekend.”

“Wednesday night is out because it’s Baked Goods Bingo night at Saint Stephen’s.” Celeste smiled at Savannah over the top of her coffee cup. “Don’t fret, dear. Just dust and make sure you have change and enough inventory to restock after you sell twice as much as you expect.”

Ten minutes later, Savannah departed Fresh with a dog biscuit for Inny, a to-do list a mile long, and a new spring in her step. Not only was she on a sugar high, but she was going to have a party. Her first!

And she couldn’t think of anything better to keep her focused on moving forward rather than looking back … or thinking about Zach.

It was a good plan that didn’t quite work out, because when she arrived home she found a note taped to her door. I do believe you, it read. There was a name scrawled at the bottom: Zach.

She stayed in her workshop most of the day, trying not to think about events at Reflection Point, preparing inventory, and wondering if she was crazy to make so many of the Spring Cleaned bubble bars. To her the scent said springtime in Eternity Springs, so she thought the locals would like them. She spent her evening fielding calls about the open house and trying on almost every outfit in her closet. While jeans and a T-shirt were the ordinary uniform of the day in town, she thought her first party deserved something a little more.

Not that she had that much to choose from. Six years in prison garb had given her a pent-up demand for pretty clothing, but the desire to save enough money to get out of Georgia had limited her spending on nonessentials. Still, she’d shopped smart and she did have a few nice pieces in her closet. After much inner debate she’d settled on skinny jeans with a red cashmere sweater and red peek-a-boo pumps.

By morning she’d changed her mind and decided on a bohemian look with a broomstick-pleated skirt, a V-necked knit top, and a hand-beaded, fringed leather belt.

By lunchtime she’d switched her choice to a designer sundress she’d bought in a consignment shop in Denver.

She’d just finished dressing in the skinny jeans and sweater when her doorbell rang a full forty-five minutes before the open house was due to begin. Her annoyance disappeared when Sarah Murphy said, “We’re here to help with last-minute preparations.”

Her husband, Cam, gave Savannah a gratifying wolf whistle and a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t you look gorgeous.”

His wife elbowed him in the ribs. “Stop flirting with my friend and go get the pound cake out of the car.”

“Didn’t your son already drop off a pound cake?” Savannah asked as Ali and Mac Timberlake followed the Murphys inside. Devin Murphy had brought boxes of desserts around four o’clock, and Savannah knew a lemon pound cake had been one of them, because she’d snatched a piece.

“I decided we needed extras,” Sarah said after Savannah welcomed the newcomers.

Ali added, “I talked to Cat and she said she only received one invitation decline. It’s going to be a packed house. I have extra canapés in the warming oven at the restaurant. Mac said he’d go get them when we need them.”

Savannah’s stomach rolled over with nervousness. This is going to cost a fortune. “Sarah, Ali. Thank you so much. About your bill …”

“What bill?” Ali asked. “This open house is on the house.”

“But—”

“Don’t argue,” Sarah added. “We coerced you into having this party. I can pop for a few cupcakes. Consider the refreshments a welcome gift from me and Ali. After all, Sage did your design work as a gift. That made us look bad.”

“You guys are wonderful.”

“We know.” Sarah flashed an impish smile and changed the subject. “Before everybody gets here … I’ve got gossip about Zach.”

Oh, dear. Savannah’s smile dimmed, and when the doorbell signaled another early arrival, she was glad for the distraction.

“Actually, not so much about Zach as about his new deputy. Have you guys met her?”

Savannah opened the door to the subject currently under discussion. “It’s Gabi Romano,” she said, raising her voice so that Sarah would take care with her words.

It proved to be a wasted effort, because Sarah turned and went full gossip on Gabi. “Gabi Romano! I was just talking about you. I’ve been dying to meet you. Sage and Nic and I are fangirls of Coach Romano. He was the object of our sexual fantasies—”

“Sarah!” Cam protested, scowling, as he walked through the room carrying a pound cake.

“Let me finish.” She turned back to Gabi, gave an impish wink, and added, “Until we met the loves of our lives. We were Colorado fans, of course, so we knew about Anthony. Gabe was the one who told us he had a twin who also coached basketball. We all felt so terrible for him when that team bus accident happened.

“Now tell us what it was like growing up with male gods. Two of them. Actually, I heard a rumor that you have a third brother who’s no slouch, either.”

Gabi snorted. “Don’t even get me started. I’m the only girl in my family, and growing up was like living in a gym—sweaty jocks everywhere you turned, literally and figuratively. Not to mention all the panties that ended up in my lingerie drawer. Panties that weren’t mine, mind you, but somehow ended up in the family wash. Women have been throwing their underwear at the Romano men for a long time.”

“Gotta admire that quality in a man,” Cam said.

Gabi wrinkled her nose. “It makes me question the intelligence of a legion of females.”

“A legion?” Cam asked. “Really?”

“I can understand it,” Nic said. “The coaches Romano are hawt.”

“Stop it,” Gabe interjected. “You’re giving me a complex. Didn’t we come early to help Savannah? Shouldn’t we get started?”

Savannah went along with the teasing. “That’s okay. I don’t mind hearing stories about Gabi’s sexy brothers.”

Gabi’s mouth twisted in a grin Savannah couldn’t quite read. “I could shock you, believe me. Better it wait for another time, I think. So, what can I do to help?”

Before Savannah knew it, Heavenscents was overflowing with people, conversation, and laughter. Jack Davenport kept champagne glasses filled from bottles he’d furnished from his wine cellar, while Mac Timberlake played waiter, passing around hors d’oeuvres. Nic Callahan and Sage Rafferty conducted a sales competition, though Celeste’s efforts put them both to shame. Savannah spent so much time answering questions and accepting praise that Sarah shooed her away from the cash register and took control of the financial end of the evening.

It was the most exciting evening Savannah could recall. At one point she looked around and saw Sarah and Ali and Celeste laughing, and she marveled that these women had helped her simply because they were good people and they wanted to do it. It made her feel—

She broke off the thought when Gabi pulled her aside. “Congratulations, Savannah. You’re a hit.”

“I know.” She couldn’t hold back her excitement. “Thank you so much for coming. Tonight has been just … wow. I don’t have words. It’s more than the money—though that part is wonderful, too—but all this … them …” She waved a hand toward her helpers. “They’ve welcomed me. They’ve made me one of them. I’ve never belonged like this before.”

“I’m glad for you, and I’m glad I could come. You don’t know how badly I wish I didn’t have to go to work now. I’d love nothing more than to sneak back to Nightingale Cottage with a bottle of Jack’s champagne and put one of these bath bombs I bought to good use.”

“Which ones did you buy?”

“I bought the Serenity Sampler, Bubbling Peace, Silver Strike Salts, and Lavender Mountain Melt. I figure that might last me a week.”

Savannah laughed. “From your mouth to my banker’s ears.”

After Gabi left, Savannah enjoyed a nice conversation with Jim Brand and his wife, Marsha, about the likely history of the antique bookcase on loan from Angel’s Rest that she used to display her line of lotions. Despite being engrossed in the conversation, something—some inexplicable change in the room’s atmosphere—caused her to glance over her shoulder.

Zach Turner had just walked into Heavenscents’ open house.