Last Chance Book Club(4)
Author: Hope Ramsay

“Coffee sounds good,” he said.

“How do you take it?”

“Hot and nak*d, please.”

Color rose right up Savannah’s high cheekbones. Score one point for him in this lopsided battle. She was a sight to behold when she blushed like that.

“Naked?”

“That’s right, princess, nak*d. That’s the way I take my coffee and a lot of other stuff.”

She turned and poured the steaming brew into a jadeite mug and handed it to him. “You just sit yourself down, Dash. What can I make you for breakfast?”

She was talking too loud and smiling too perfectly. And then it occurred to him that she thought he was hung over. She probably expected him to turn green and run from the room. Ha! He was going to call her bluff. He was betting the princess had no idea how to cook.

“You make omelets?”

She blinked. “You want an omelet? Really?”

“Yeah. You know how to make a real western omelet? With onions and green pepper and ham and hot sauce.”

“You want hot sauce?”

“Yes, princess, I don’t eat nak*d omelets.” He sat himself down at the kitchen table and grinned at her.

“I’ll, uh, see if we have the ingredients.” She headed toward the fridge. And she kind of bustled like she knew her way around a kitchen. Which surprised the heck out of him.

It had been a long time since anyone had bustled in this particular kitchen. And then he remembered that Savannah had spent a lot of time cooking with Aunt Sally. Which meant she probably did know how to make omelets. And if they were anything like Aunt Sally’s, then Savannah might be a useful houseguest after all.

Just then Miriam shuffled into the kitchen. She didn’t look good. Her hair was kind of all over the place, like she’d had problems getting it braided right.

“I heard y’all talking real loud,” she said as she sat down. Savannah poured a cup of coffee for her. She took a sip. “My, but you make good coffee.”

“I would hope so. I have a part-time job as a barista.”

Miriam rested her cup on the table and squinted in Dash’s direction. “Lord’a mercy, Dash, you look like you walked into a fan blade.” She leaned in. “Do you have stitches in your lip?”

“I’m fine, Aunt Mim.”

“Ha!” Savannah said over the sound of the cabinet doors she was slamming and banging. She’d apparently found eggs, onion, and ham.

Miriam turned her attention to the princess. “Sugar, if you slam the eggs, you’re liable to break them.”

“I’d like to break them over Cousin Dash’s head.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that. He looks like he’s already been hit by something. I’m dying to know what. Did you and one of those fancy horses of yours get into a fight?”

Savannah stopped slamming cabinets and kitchen utensils. Now she was beating the eggs with a whisk. Dash felt sorry for the eggs. “No, it wasn’t a horse. It was Roy Burdett.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Miriam shook her head. “Was he drunk again?”

“He was.”

Savannah put the bowl down on the counter. Good thing it was made of plastic.

“I feel so sorry for Laura-Beth,” Miriam said.

“I do, too,” Dash replied. “The mention of Laura-Beth was kind of what set him off.”

“Really? Did he think you and Laura-Beth were—”

“No. I got into trouble by pointing out that Laura-Beth would be happier if Roy stayed sober. I tried to give him the number of the Allenberg chapter of AA.”

“Well, good for you.”

“Right. That didn’t go over too well. And also, he was mad because I unplugged the jukebox.”

“Well, I can see that a thing like that might set him off.”

“Yeah. I forgot that he used to be one hell of a good football player. He decided I needed to get the same treatment he used to hand out to pass rushers from Central High.”

“Oh, honey, are you in pain?”

“I’ll be okay.”

Savannah turned around. She cast her glance from Dash to Miriam and back again. “Aunt Miriam, you don’t believe this crap, do you?”

“Crap?”

“He came in drunker than a skunk last night. He smelled like a brewery. He couldn’t walk straight. He was slurring his words.”

Miriam smiled up at her. “Oh, I don’t think so. Dash goes down to Dot’s Spot to watch his baseball games on account of the fact that we have only one television, and I like to watch my programs in the evenings. He doesn’t drink anymore, sugar. But Roy Burdett—well, he is a drunken fool. And an ex-offensive-lineman.”

Savannah turned back to her cooking, looking surprisingly competent, even if she didn’t believe a word Miriam had just said. But then, what else was new? Savannah had always believed the worst about him.

Not much had changed, had it?

“Oh, my God, darlin’, it’s been years and years.” The Baroness Woolham, otherwise known as Rocky Rhodes deBracy, enveloped Savannah in a ferocious hug and a cloud of expensive-smelling perfume. Rocky Rhodes used to be tangle-haired, grubby-kneed, and barefooted. How, in the name of all that was holy, had she grown up into this sophisticated woman? She was dressed to the nines in a pencil skirt and a black-and-white floral jacket. And she’d arrived at Uncle Harry’s wake on the arm of a man who could pass for Colin Firth.

Her husband was genuinely swoon-worthy. He even sounded like Colin Firth when he introduced himself. And then, like every other guy who had arrived for the wake, he quickly excused himself to go in search of a slice of Jenny Carpenter’s pie.

Rocky stayed behind on Granddaddy’s porch and kept Savannah company as she welcomed a steady stream of post-funeral mourners. Since Rocky knew everyone in town, her help was truly appreciated.

“So how long are you staying?” Rocky asked when the stream of visitors trickled down.

“Well, I… I…” Savannah stumbled over the words, then took a flying leap of faith. “To be honest, Rocky, I was thinking about staying permanently. I thought, maybe, I might try to renovate the theater and live in the apartment above it. Todd and I are used to small spaces.”

Rocky blinked a couple of times. “Really?”

Rocky’s surprise shouldn’t have thrown Savannah for a loop, but it did. Of course Rocky thought her idea was stupid. Rocky had finished college and had worked for a senator at one time. She had gone on to marry an English baron and industrialist. Rocky probably saw right through Savannah’s pitiful half-formed ideas for salvaging The Kismet.

“Have you told Dash about your plans?”

Resentment replaced self-doubt. “Why would I punish myself by discussing this with Dash?”

Rocky cocked her head. “Punish yourself?”

“He’ll laugh at me. Dash is the last man on earth I would discuss my plans with.”

“You know, he’s grown up a little bit since the two of you were kids. And he’s also rich as sin. He might be interested in investing in a theater renovation. He was pretty close to your grandfather, as I recall.”

Savannah clamped her mouth shut. The idea of asking Dash for money was the absolute height of humiliation.

“Dash is Hugh’s partner, you know. He’s the only reason Hugh was able to locate his factory here in Last Chance,” Rocky added.

That was a surprise. The idea of a classy guy like Hugh having a partnership with a drunk like Dash was kind of hard to figure. “I didn’t know. In fact, I didn’t even know Dash was living with Miriam and Harry until a couple of days ago.”

Rocky rested her behind on the porch railing. “Really? He’s been living here since he retired from baseball.”

Well, that was a delicate way of putting it. Dash’s “retirement” from baseball hadn’t been voluntary. The sports pages had been full of the scandal, when Dash had gotten on a motorcycle after drinking one too many beers. Thank God he’d only messed up his leg and not killed anyone.

This was not the kind of man she wanted as a partner.

Just then the minister who had officiated at Harry’s funeral came striding up the drive, saving Savannah from having to express her thoughts about Dash out loud.

Bill Ellis was long-legged, slim-hipped, and handsome. His dark hair curled over his forehead in a way that begged to have someone push it back into place. His eyes were sky blue and sober. His mouth was soft and expressive. All in all, he reminded Savannah of young James Stewart, the old-time actor in Frank Capra’s Christmas movie, It’s a Wonderful Life. Bill Ellis conveyed the feeling that he was one of those everyday small-town American heroes that Capra had featured in practically all of his classic films. The Episcopalians must be packing them in every Sunday.

The minister bounded up the porch steps and formally introduced himself. “I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to speak before the funeral. I’m very sorry for your loss, but I’m so glad you had the time to drive down from Baltimore. I think you being here means a lot to Miriam. I gather you are her last living relative. Aside from Dash, of course.”

His hand was warm, and his smile was kind. “Dash and I are kissing cousins,” Savannah found herself saying.

He cocked his head and gave her an earnest stare. “So I’ve heard.” There was a hint of dimple in both cheeks.

“Miriam and Dash are inside. Dash is nursing his split lip,” she added with a smile.

“Then I’ll go pay my respects. Is there any of Jenny’s pie left?”

“I think so.”

“I better get going, then, because it usually doesn’t last long.” He continued into the house in search of Miriam, Dash, and a slice of pie.

“Who the heck is Jenny Carpenter and why is every man in love with her pie?” Savannah asked.

“She’s a math teacher up at the high school. Her pies are legendary.”

“So I gather.”

“You know, it’s just a shame one of the single men around here doesn’t marry that woman. I think Reverend Ellis might be inclined except she’s a Methodist. Lillian Bray would have a heart attack if our minister married outside of the faith, so to speak.”

“The minister’s not married?” Savannah asked. She stomped on the thought forming in her head. The last thing she wanted was another romantic entanglement. She needed to stop leading with her heart all the time.

Rocky snorted a laugh. “No, he’s not. And before you ask me how a man of God who looks that good could reach the age of thirty-five and not be married, let me make it clear that I do not believe he’s gay. Although I think Lillian Bray is starting to worry about that. Lillian is the chair of the Ladies’ Auxiliary, and she would not cotton to our having a g*y minister. Which explains why she is on a mission to find Bill a wife. So you be careful now, you hear?”

“I’m not interested,” Savannah said. But of course, what single woman in her early thirties wouldn’t be interested in a guy like Reverend Ellis? He was handsome. He was gainfully employed. He looked like a movie star. Which, of course, was the problem. Next time, she was going to go for a guy with a face like a dog.