Last Chance Book Club(21)
Author: Hope Ramsay

“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.