Last Chance Book Club(15)
Author: Hope Ramsay

Todd moved around the easy chair and sank down onto the ottoman. Four minutes later, the kid handed back the phone. The screen was lit up with the word “Fartmaster” across the top. There were a dozen colored buttons underneath.

“This one is really tight,” Todd said pointing to the fifth button.

“Yeah?”

“It’s bathtub bubbles.”

Dash started to laugh. He put his newspaper aside. “C’mon.” He nodded his head, and he and Todd headed off toward the kitchen. Once they got there, he tested out the aforementioned bathtub bubbles button. He laughed so hard the tears filled his eyes.

Before five minutes were out, they were both giggling like idiots and helping themselves to leftover strudel.

Twenty minutes later, Dash was teaching Todd how to create an armpit fart. And wouldn’t you know it, just as the party was about to get truly rowdy, Bill came sauntering into the kitchen looking for his own second helping of strudel.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t any left. And it was a little disturbing to have the minister of Christ Church staring down his blade of a nose at Dash’s unbuttoned shirt. Dash slowly but deliberately let go of one long, loud armpit fart.

The minister’s mouth thinned.

And that’s when Todd came to Dash’s rescue. Boy, that kid put on the biggest suck-up routine Dash had ever witnessed. He had some mad skills in that department. And by the time Bill left the kitchen, Todd had convinced the preacher that he wanted nothing more in all the world than to help the Sunday School kids put on the egg hunt during the Easter Egg Jubilee.

And all Dash could think was that the parishioners might want to rethink the idea of letting Todd White hide Easter eggs. He was liable to put them down abandoned wells, just to see the little kids fall in.

Which, as it turned out, was exactly what Dash had done the year he’d helped hide eggs.

Chapter 8

Lillian Bray, chairwoman of the Christ Church Ladies’ Auxiliary, beamed a smile at Aunt Miriam. Savannah and her aunt were spending Monday morning at the Cut ’n Curl, where Jane Rhodes was diligently working over Aunt Miriam’s manicure, while Jane’s mother-in-law, Ruby, was working on Savannah’s haircut.

Lillian was having a body wave.

“I declare Bill is smitten,” Lillian pronounced, “right down to the toes of his tasseled loafers. Miriam, I just don’t know how you manage to match folks up year after year. I’d say we’ll be hearing wedding bells before the end of the summer.”

Savannah stared at Lillian’s reflection in the mirror at Ruby’s workstation. Lillian’s hair was a mass of body-wave rollers. And even though she had a magazine in her hands, the woman had shown no interest in actually reading it. Planning the preacher’s wedding seemed to be much higher on her list.

“So, my dear,” Lillian continued as she met Savannah’s gaze in the mirror, “we all want to know everything that transpired last night when Bill came to call. I declare that man was nervous as a kitten when he stopped by and asked if he could cut some of my camellias for you.”

“We were sure they came from your garden, Lillian,” Aunt Miriam said. “Weren’t we, Savannah? They were such a pretty pink.”

Savannah wasn’t sure of any such thing. In fact, she didn’t even know those flowers had been camellias. But she forced a fake smile to her lips and said, “Oh, yes, we certainly did think they came from your garden, Ms. Bray. They were stunning.”

Savannah had already figured out that Lillian Bray was a person she didn’t ever want to cross.

“So, what’s it like being courted by such a wonderful specimen of southern manhood?” Lillian asked.

“Well, he has a very unique approach,” Savannah said politely, thinking that she’d been more titillated watching paint dry on a wet afternoon. He’d actually put his arm around her at one point when they sat on the porch last night, and she’d felt not one iota of reaction. In contrast, Dash made her body parts pucker when they passed each other in the hallway. Her libido had definitely emerged from its cocoon. And right on schedule. Jeremy had dumped her about six months ago. And of course, her libido had a thing for jocks.

Or maybe it was just the way Dash exposed his chest on a regular basis. It was hard to ignore an athletic body like that. She really needed to take him aside and explain that a robe would be appreciated. But then, if she did something like that, he would know she’d noticed his nak*d chest and manly butt.

And that would be humiliating.

“I’m sure he is the perfect gentleman,” Lillian said, and Savannah had to force herself to think about Bill and not her kissing cousin. Because Dash was not a gentleman. He was complicated and well built, but he wasn’t nice. She thought about the way he’d laughed at Todd’s dinner table stunt. She thought about how he’d looked yesterday all sweaty and nak*d. These thoughts sent blood rushing to her cheeks in an amalgam of irritation and lust.

“Savannah?” Miriam seemed determined to help her keep her mind on this conversation.

“Oh, yes, quite gentlemanly,” she said a bit breathlessly.

“My goodness, look at the girl blush,” Ruby said as she fussed with Savannah’s hair.

“So, he’s very romantic, is he?” Lillian asked on a sigh.

“Well, no, I’d say he was very serious.”

“My goodness, did you hear that, girls? It’s just so like Bill, isn’t it? Such a spiritual man.” Lillian tittered.

“I’ll bet he quotes all the romantic parts of Song of Solomon,” Ruby said, her eyes smiling at Savannah in the mirror. There was something wise in Ruby’s eyes, like maybe the hairdresser knew Savannah was merely sucking up to Lillian.

“Well, he does know his Bible, but then you’d expect that,” Savannah said. And, really, that quote from Proverbs about using the rod had been over the top. Surely Bill Ellis wasn’t one of those ministers who exhorted his flock toward corporal punishment.

Aunt Miriam waded into the conversation. “He called Savannah’s biscuits the bread of the angels. I think that’s from one of the Psalms, isn’t it?”

“Well, that’s a very positive thing,” Lillian said. “I mean the man appreciates good home cooking. Just look at the way he’s been running after Jenny all these years.”

“I wouldn’t say he’s running after her, Lillian,” Ruby said. “I don’t think Jenny would be that hard to catch if he was serious about her.”

“Of course he isn’t running after Jenny; she’s a Methodist. And besides, he has supper regularly with half a dozen ladies in town, including Hettie, and Hettie couldn’t cook her way out of a carryout bag. Jenny isn’t Bill’s soulmate,” Miriam said.

Everything stopped. All the women—Ruby, Lillian, and Jane—turned to stare at Miriam. “You know something about the preacher’s soulmate?” Jane asked.

“Well of course. Bill needs to be looking for a woman who is active and useful. Someone with a sense of humor and the ability to make his limited paycheck go a good, long way.”

Everyone turned and looked expectantly at Savannah. A little uncomfortable giggle percolated from her middle right out of her mouth. “What?” she said on the laugh. “Just because I know how to put a good meal on the table without breaking the household budget doesn’t mean I have any special qualities.”

Lillian’s mouth curved up before she said, “Oh, praise the Lord. At last. Thank you so much, Miriam.”

Savannah must have let her confusion show. “Huh?”

“Honey, don’t you know that your aunt has a gift?” Ruby said as she patted Savannah’s shoulder. “What she joins together never comes apart. You take me and my Elbert. We weren’t exactly a match anyone would have expected. But we’ve been so happy together. And you could say the same for dozens of folks here in town.”

“Including me,” Jane said, “and all of Ruby’s children. Heck, she matched Stone up twice.”

Savannah shifted her gaze from lady to lady and wondered if everyone in Last Chance was nuttier than Granny’s fruitcake. But before she could say another word, Ruby asked, “So what did your aunt tell you to be looking for?”

“Uh—”

“A man with an appetite, among other things,” Miriam supplied.

“Well, that settles it,” Lillian said. “Bill fits that description to a T. Congratulations, honey. I’m sure you two will be happy together.”

Thelma Polk delivered the gossip to Hettie before the noon hour was finished. Hettie sat at her late husband’s desk at the Country Pride Chicken corporate office and tried, without much success, to regain her composure.

She told herself that she didn’t personally care that Miriam Randall had finally made a forecast for Bill. She wasn’t interested in Bill. She and Bill were just friends. They had been friends for a long time—since, well, before Jimmy was killed.

She wasn’t jealous in the least. She had sworn off romance of all kinds.

She stared down at the well-thumbed copy of Pride and Prejudice. Well, maybe not all romance. The make-believe romances were fine. Real romances were simply disasters waiting to happen. In that one way, she and Nita Wills agreed. The real world didn’t have many happy endings.

Not that she was all that experienced in love. She’d had exactly one romance in her life—with Dash Randall—when she’d been sixteen. The affair had not turned out well. It had cost her virginity, not that losing it had been terribly traumatic. But she hadn’t counted on falling out of love with Dash so quickly. She hadn’t counted on Dash falling in love with her. Her dalliance with Dash was supposed to be an adventure. But it had turned into a millstone around her neck.

No, she wasn’t at all concerned that Bill would soon be married to someone.

She just didn’t want that person to be Savannah White. If Savannah married Bill, she would probably give up her quest to revive the theater. She was just the sort of wholesome, pretty, churchgoing woman who would give up everything for a man. Heck, Hettie had been exactly like that when she was twenty. And Mother had encouraged her right into that role.

She thought about that pretty pink dress Savannah had worn to church. She even looked like a minister’s wife. It made Hettie downright queasy to learn that Savannah was also one heck of a good cook. And really, Bill lived for good food. Savannah would love cooking for him. He would want to keep her in the kitchen—probably barefoot and pregnant.

A frisson of emotion coursed through her. She wasn’t even sure what she was feeling. She propped her hand on her chin. She needed to do something about this situation. Last Chance needed that theater more than Bill needed a pregnant wife. Hettie needed to head off this marriage, and get Dash off his backside.

This was an emergency.

It was time for the Queen Bee to actually do something. So she picked up the phone and called Lady Woolham.

“Rocky, we’ve got a big problem.”

“We do?”