Last Chance Book Club(13)
Author: Hope Ramsay

“Is that why you’ve refused Dash’s help with the theater?”

Savannah leaned against the kitchen counter, staring down at the dough on Granny’s marble rolling board. She didn’t have any good answer for Miriam on that score. “I guess so.”

“Well, that’s just silly. Dash loved Earnest as much as you did. Besides, he has the money, and you can cook. It seems like a partnership that might be successful.”

“What does cooking have to do with it?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I was just thinking that maybe you could turn The Kismet into one of those dinner theaters where people come for a movie and dinner. That way you could cook to your heart’s content, and maybe you’d have something that the big multiplex up in Orangeburg couldn’t compete with. Because, honestly, your biscuits are amazing.”

Savannah turned and stared at her aunt. “That’s a brilliant idea.”

Miriam smiled. “And as for marriage, honey, you need to get to know Bill. A finer, more God-fearing man I have never met. And I have a feeling about you, and when I get one of my feelings, well, it usually means wedding bells in the future.”

“Aunt Miriam, you cannot seriously be trying to match—” The whine of a power saw coming from the general vicinity of the front porch interrupted her.

“Good God, what is that noise?” Aunt Miriam said.

“Stay here, Miriam,” Savannah directed as she sprinted down the hallway. The scene on the other side of the front door both pleased and upset her. There stood Cousin Dash in the unseasonably hot March sunlight, leaning over a table saw. He looked like the God of DIY wearing a pair of faded jeans, a tool belt, and not much more. Sweat darkened the band of his ball cap and the waistband of his jeans. It ran in glistening rivulets down his craggy cheeks and across his shoulders. A more masculine sight Savannah had not seen in many years.

Then she got a good look at her equally nak*d son, whose pale, and somewhat flabby, white skin was beginning to turn lobster red. Todd was not in his room where he was supposed to be. He was down on his knees with a crowbar, prying up the worn-out porch step. His puppy was there with him. Prancing and wagging and being infernally adorable.

Savannah opened her mouth, but before she could fire the first salvo in the continuing battle over the proper way to discipline a preteen, the screen door squealed, and Miriam shuffled out onto the porch. She scowled at Dash and shook a finger at him. “George Dasher Randall, just what do you think you’re doing to my porch? You know darn well that your Uncle Harry will have your hide for tearing up the step like that.”

“But Aunt Miriam, Uncle Harry is—” Todd started.

“Out helping Bobby Pine with his watermelon harvest,” Dash said before the boy could finish the sentence. Savannah watched the man’s eyes roll around as he cast his mental net to find some expanded explanation for a watermelon harvest in March. “Um, and Uncle Harry told me he wanted me to fix this rotten step before he gets back.”

“He did?” Miriam asked, her dark eyes growing wide. “Do you know what you’re doing? Harry can be mighty particular about work done around the house, you know.”

“Don’t you worry, Aunt Mim. I got a list of instructions written out by Harry. You want to see it?” Dash started in the general direction of the pickup truck in the driveway. He sold his lie like a professional tale teller.

Miriam waved a gnarled hand. “Oh, no, that won’t be necessary. But I declare, Dash, you nearly ’bout scared me out of my skin. You should have given me some warning before you started all that banging around. Now if y’all don’t mind I’m going to lie down for a spell. Savannah, I told Reverend Ellis that dinner was at six-thirty. Would you call me around five-forty-five so I can get ready?”

Savannah nodded, and the old woman turned and headed back through the doorway.

“Jeez, Mom, she thinks Uncle Harry is still alive,” Todd whispered once the door had closed behind the octogenarian.

The three of them stood there looking at each other, suddenly at a loss for words.

“Is that the first time she’s done that?” Savannah finally asked.

Dash nodded. “Right after Harry died, she kind of checked out for a little while, but she’s never forgotten something that important. She was fine before you got here.”

“She’s hardly okay. She hasn’t been eating well,” Savannah said.

“We need to get her to Doc Cooper’s. She’ll fight us all the way, though.” Dash pressed his lips together. “I think she worries about senility more than anything else, even falling.”

“I’ll see what I can do. She wants me to go to the Cut ’n Curl tomorrow. Maybe I can get the ladies there to put the idea in her head that it’s time for a checkup.”

He nodded.

“You should also know that she invited the minister for dinner. I think she’s got some crazy idea about trying to match me up with him.”

Dash’s eyebrow arched. “She told you directly that you and the minister were a match? Really?”

“Well, kind of.”

He snorted a laugh. “Oh, boy, the old gals at the Cut ’n Curl will be interested to hear that.” He looked at Todd. “We’ll have to be on our good behavior.”

“Dash, why is Todd out here? He’s supposed to be in his room.”

“Well, see, I figured that it would be better for him to make himself useful than for him to be up there.” He smiled.

Savannah wanted to be angry, but she couldn’t pull the trigger when he smiled like that. What was it about his grin that made her own mouth want to curl up? And there was no denying that Todd was helping out for once. He was also getting sunburned, but that was beside the point.

“Todd, did you put on any sunscreen before you took off your shirt?”

She rolled her eyes in Dash’s direction. “You know, he’s pretty fair, so when you encourage him to take off his shirt, in the future you need to make sure he puts on some sunscreen.”

She turned toward Todd. “There’s some sunscreen in the bathroom cabinet,” Savannah told him. “Go on inside and put some on your face and shoulders.”

Todd headed inside, letting the screen door bang behind him with a sharp thwack.

“Okay, I’m braced. You can yell at me now, princess.” Dash said.

“I’m not going to yell.” She took a big breath. “Thanks for fixing the step. And thanks for including Todd in the effort.”

“You’re welcome.”

He picked up his T-shirt and used it to wipe the sweat from his face. “I bought you a present. I guess you could call it a make-up present. I need to apologize for that stupid comment I made about the woodshed. Todd doesn’t need the woodshed. No kid needs that. I figured helping fix the step was a better thing.”

She found herself smiling. “Thank you. And your apology is accepted. But you didn’t need to get me a present.” She paused for a moment, then put her hands on her hips. “This present isn’t like that time you gave me a spider in a box, is it?”

He laughed right out loud, the sound surprisingly sexy. “No, ma’am. I am sorry about that spider thing. That was mean. This is a present I picked up this afternoon at the Allenberg bookstore after I picked up the lumber for the step.” Without waiting for her reaction, he turned on his heel and headed to the 1970s-vintage pickup in the driveway.

The old vehicle had once belonged to Uncle Harry, and the last time Savannah had seen it, it needed a paint job and some new floorboards. Apparently those needs had been seen to because, like Dash’s vintage Eldorado convertible, it sparkled in the Carolina sun.

Dash opened the door and pulled out a plastic bag that bore the name of a bookstore. He jogged back across the lawn and hopped up onto the porch, immediately invading Savannah’s space. He raised his right arm above his head and leaned on the porch column, presenting the bag to her with his left. The pose gave Savannah a bird’s-eye view of the fine hair that grew in the space between his pectorals. She hauled in a big breath and told herself she needed to look someplace else before she embarrassed both of them.

But looking up into his craggy face had absolutely no impact on her suddenly erratic heartbeat or the butterflies that took flight in her stomach. Now, instead of finding his chest hair fascinating, her eyes fixed on the swirl of stubble that grew around the cleft in his chin. She had to curl her fingers into a fist to resist the temptation to reach out and touch his face.

“You gonna take this gift or leave me standing here feeling like a piece of beefcake?” he said.

His words jolted her back to reality just as she felt the blush run up her cheeks. She dropped her gaze and took his peace offering, grateful to have her hands and her vision occupied with something other than Dash. She reached in the bag and drew out a large-format paperback with a yellow cover. The words Business Plans for Dummies in big block letters filled the entire front cover.

Maybe she should be offended, but she was a dummy when it came to writing business plans. And besides, Dash was the first person to give her practical help in realizing her dream. A knot of thick emotion seized her by the throat. Oh, Heaven help her, he made her mad and weepy all at once.

She looked up into his face, now softened by that three-dollar crooked smile and those sparkling eyes. His lip was almost healed now. And the shiner was gone.

“Is this part of the town’s campaign to turn us into partners?”

“I reckon so. Hettie can be mighty persuasive.”

“She was all over me at church about how I should take your money.”

“Folks around here refer to her as the Queen Bee, which means she outranks you, princess.”

“And you were watching every move she made.”

He shrugged. The little rise and fall of his shoulders spoke volumes.

“You have a thing for her, don’t you?”

“A thing? Now, there’s a word.”

She dropped her gaze to the book in her hands. Its title seemed to mock her. “Miriam said the most amazing thing a few minutes ago.”

“Really? What did she say?”

“She suggested that I turn The Kismet into a dinner theater. She said it would give me a chance to cook for a crowd. And I would love to cook for a crowd.”

“Well, you are a good cook,” he said. Then he touched her. Such a small touch—just the pad of his rough index finger under her chin, tilting her head up so she could meet him eye-to-eye. It shouldn’t have unleashed such a tsunami of response. She wanted to fall right into his wide, sturdy chest. She wanted to taste the salt of his sweat and know the texture of his skin.

Instead she clutched the book to her chest like a barrier and closed her eyes. She needed to get a grip. She always fell for good-looking jocks. And they had all disappointed her. Every last one.

“Look at me, Savannah, I have something important to say. And you need to listen.”

She opened her eyes as he retreated a bit.

His smile faded as he spoke. “This morning it occurred to me that you and I have a whole lot in common. Neither one of us has exactly lived up to expectations.