by Melissa West
They finished their tea, and Savannah said a simple thank you to her dead boyfriend’s mother and then set off back home, never in her life gladder to see the road to the bed-and-breakfast.
She’d moved on from losing Logan once, and though she knew it would be hard, she could do it again, but maybe she didn’t have to lose him. All during high school, she stayed with Will, never owning her feelings for Logan. Never choosing him. And then that fateful summer when they became so much more and he left, she let him. She didn’t call. She didn’t try to write. She just allowed him to leave, never fighting for him. Never telling him that she wanted him and no one else.
Well, she did want him. Then and now. And she wasn’t willing to let him go so easily this time.
...
“Thank you for inviting us to breakfast, Logan.” Bill poured another cup of coffee from the pitcher Eleanor had placed on their table, dropped in four packets of sugar, then a splash of cream, before lifting the cup to his mouth. How he drank coffee with that much sugar in it was beyond Logan, but he had other worries at the moment.
Alan grunted in agreement, never one to actually say thank you, which suited Logan just fine because he didn’t invite them out of the kindness of his heart. He invited them as a last ditch effort. One Hail Mary as the clock wound down. Only Logan feared he was too late. The partners rarely went back on their decisions, and they had their sights set on Maple’s B and B. Nothing Logan said would change their minds, but he had to try.
He thought of Savannah’s face last night, the sadness he’d put there, and wanted to scream at the partners that this was all their fault. But it wasn’t their fault. They were here because Logan had suggested it to them. It was his fault…all of it.
“Everyone should experience Southern Sandwich’s French toast,” Logan said, his salesman voice turned on. “Best in the South. But actually I wanted to talk to you about the bed-and-breakfast.”
Logan sensed ears pricking up from townies seated around him, and he wished he could have found a more private place to sit. He didn’t want to have this conversation in Maple, with the whole town in earshot. He wanted to have it back at the office, but the partners had already left the office last night when he called, and fool or not, he wasn’t going to call them at home. He was desperate, not suicidal.
“Is there an infrastructure problem? Something major?”
“No, nothing like that.” Though Logan wondered if he should have concocted a better reason for this meeting. Some flaw in the bed-and-breakfast that would make it an expensive investment. The problem was that Logan’s brain was hardwired to the truth. Good or bad, he never lied. It was likely one of the many results of his upbringing, a positive spin, some might say, though in that moment he could have used a good lie.
“Then what is it?” Alan asked, leaning back in his chair, impatient as always.
This was it, do-or-die time. Logan pulled out the printouts he’d made that morning, noting that he’d have to buy Chloe lunch for a week for sending him the file in the middle of the night. “I no longer feel Maple Cove’s Bed and Breakfast is Hartridge and Long’s best choice. Stantonville and Harbor Lake each have one as well, both with twice the number of rooms as Maple’s for the same price. Plus Harbor Lake would offer the added benefit of boating, both for fishing and scenic pleasure.”
Bill looked over the printouts for all of a half minute before glancing back up, his face etched in confusion. “But the real benefit of Maple’s bed-and-breakfast has always been the town’s charming people.” He smiled when Eleanor brought their check, only to find her glaring back. Logan nearly choked on his coffee. That was the thing about Maple—they were charming to each other. Executives here to snatch up one of their prized landmarks? Not so much.
“What is this really about?” Alan asked.
“It’s my job to make sure you choose the best investment.”
Alan laid down enough cash to cover the check then flipped his gaze back to Logan’s. “Yes, it is. And I suggest you remember that. Something tells me your emotional tie to your hometown is clouding your judgment. We have already looked at the properties at Stantonville and Harbor Lake. And the ones in Cherish Pointe and Greenmeadow. Because, while it’s your job to ensure we make the best decision, it’s our jobs to lay down the capital. We haven’t made Hartridge and Long the success it is today by stepping in without knowing all our options.”
Logan’s jaw tightened at Alan’s tone. He wanted to remind the old man that Logan had single-handedly carried the business for the last four years. He’d selected every one of their most profitable investments, not Alan or Bill or any one of the other account executives on staff.
“We appreciate your care in this project, Logan,” Bill added, clearly sensing Logan’s growing anger, “but we’ve made our decision. We’re buying the Maple property. And now that this breakfast is over, let’s head there to take a look.”
Logan’s stomach turned sour as he led Alan and Bill to the bed-and-breakfast, unsure what else he could do. Refuse to go? Quit? None of that would prevent Alan and Bill from going over, and Logan couldn’t let Savannah face them alone. She might hate him forever after this, but he had to go. A part of him prayed that Savannah wouldn’t be there, but the other part wanted it to be over. Like ripping off a Band-Aid—smooth and quick. Less pain that way.
But as they walked up the steps, he wondered why he hadn’t warned her? Said something, anything. When he’d returned to his room last night, her door was already closed, the lights out. He pressed his palm to the door, willing her to find some relief from the pain he’d caused her. He supposed he thought he’d be able to convince the partners. Why worry her for nothing? But there was no changing their minds this late in the game, and now…
“Logan. I was wondering where you went,” Leigh said, smiling at him. “I was going to ask you to fix—” Her words cut short as she took in Alan and Bill and their business suits. “Who are your friends?” she asked, her voice cautious.
Alan spoke up then. “We’re from the firm that is buying this business.”
Logan wanted to punch him in the face. How had he worked all these years with such a prick?
“I should get Savannah.” She hurried away to the kitchen, and Logan steeled himself for the oncoming nightmare. The nightmare that was his life. He’d been a fool to think he could be happy, and an even bigger idiot to think he could make Savannah happy.
Savannah appeared from the hallway, brushing her hands on her tan cargo skirt to knock off a bit of flour that had found its way there. She smiled at them, which confused Logan, until she spoke.
Stretching out her hand to Alan, she said, “Hi there. My name is Savannah Hale. I understand that you have interest in buying my bed-and-breakfast. Unfortunately, it isn’t for sale.” Her eyes never drifted to Logan, so he couldn’t be sure what went through her mind, but her smile held too long, the corners too tight. Behind the careful facade of a Southern-bred lady lay a raging tiger, seconds from lashing out.
Bill took her hand, then Alan shook it as well before responding. “Ms. Hale, I assure you we will be buying your bed-and-breakfast, whether you give us your blessing or not. We are quite aware of its financial shortcomings. Either you sell it to us and keep a bit of your dignity, or you allow your family’s business to go into foreclosure, and we buy it then. It really is no consequence to us at this point, though we would prefer to maintain some grace with the people of Maple Cove.”
Logan’s hands clenched. Who the hell did Alan think he was? He opened his mouth to tell him as much, job be damned, but a sharp look from Savannah made him hold back. She would handle this herself. She didn’t need him.
“Now,” Bill said cheerily, trying to put out the fire. Only he didn’t know Savannah. There was no calming her down now, no bringing her back to center, no friendly dealings. “We would love to tour the premises. Perhaps have some tea.”
“No,” Savannah said, her face so red Logan wondered if she would
spontaneously combust, like he’d seen on the science channel. “I appreciate you coming here, but the bed-and-breakfast is not for sale. Now, I thank you to please leave.”
“Ms. Hale—”
“I said leave!”
Logan came toward her then, torn between maintaining his job and comforting the woman he loved. “Savannah—”
“You lost the right to offer me your opinion when you walked in the door with them. It’s time for you to leave.” Her gaze met Logan’s, hurt and anger fighting it out for control. “All of you.”
Jack showed up then, towering over his sisters, his height and build a force to be reckoned with. “You heard her.”
Logan cast another glance at Savannah before nodding to the men that they should leave.
“This happens sometimes,” Bill said as they walked back down the road, but Logan was no longer listening. He wanted to turn back and say he was sorry, to beg her to forgive him. Beg all three of them to forgive him. But maybe this was for the best. Maybe she could finally move on now.
“Tell me you have good news,” Savannah said as she sat down before Frank’s desk, eager to hear what her accountant would say. She’d called him the moment Logan had left with his sleazy friends. Though, in truth, they didn’t look sleazy, and one of them appeared to be nice enough. Still, they came to take her business, her home, the very bones of her family. How could she be nice? How could she have handled it any differently?
She’d woken this morning to find a note from Logan on the front desk and the words, Sorry. For everything. x Logan, scribbled in black ink across the white sheet. Savannah couldn’t ignore the irony. His feelings were black and white, with no shades of gray left to interpretation, no hope of something more. She went to his room to find it empty, the bed made, nothing out of place. Like he’d never been there at all. Like he hadn’t swept in and stolen her heart, leaving a hole in his wake. How could she talk to him, hear him out, if he’d already left?
Frank settled in his chair, and as his eyes lifted, Savannah knew without him having to say it. “No. Come on, please tell me there’s hope.” Her bottom lip shook, and this time, she didn’t try to stop it. Didn’t try to fight away the pain. Memories of her mama poured in. Her kind hugs. Her sweet smile as Daddy sprayed Savannah, Jack, and Leigh with the hose. Her reading to them out on the front porch swing. Making homemade ice cream on the back deck. Listening to stories upon stories from guests by the fire, Savannah and her siblings in awe of the tales.
And now it was all gone. Over. The sign out front forever closed.
“I’m sorry, Savannah. You did your best.”
She hung her head. Yeah…and her best wasn’t enough.
Chapter Sixteen
A daughter should only ever have to experience the pain of her mother’s death once.
But as Savannah reached for another corrugated box, taped up the bottom, and flipped it over to fill with more of her family’s things, she felt like her mama had passed all over again. The aching in her chest weighed so heavily she wanted to sit down on the hardwood floor, drop her head into her hands, and cry until she forgot everything. Her mother dying. Losing the bed-and-breakfast. Logan.
Logan.
Pressing her hand to her heart, she rubbed circle after circle, attempting to massage away the pain at his name, but her heart refused to relax. She wondered if it would ever feel contentment again.
“Call him back,” Leigh said from beside her.
“There’s nothing to say.”
They were in the library, packing their daddy’s old books, things he’d picked up during his stints in Scotland, before he finally settled back in Maple and fell madly in love with Jane. Three short months later they were married. That Savannah lost both her parents before they were sixty-five seemed an impossible travesty that she couldn’t reconcile. And now the one thing they’d worked their entire lives to preserve was gone. Forget her feelings, she could never forgive Logan for taking the bed-and-breakfast.
He’d called her no less than twenty times, sent text after text, but how could she talk to him now? How could she listen to his voice and not think that he’d taken away the last piece of her parents? Even if she allowed herself to think rationally, to work through the fact that Logan wasn’t buying the bed-and-breakfast, his bosses were, it didn’t change anything. She would never be able to look at him the same way again.
Leigh dropped another stack of books into a box then looked at Savannah. “There’s a lot to say.”
“I can’t forgive him.”
“You don’t know that. You haven’t heard him out.”
Savannah let her gaze drift out the floor-to-ceiling windows of the library, watching as a lazy butterfly flittered around then disappeared out of view into the garden. She thought of her date with Logan out there, how it inspired Romance Under the Stars. How happy the couples had been lying in her garden—how happy she’d been watching them there. “I want to. Forgive him, I mean. I want to so badly it’s killing me.”
“I know that.”
“What would you do if it were Jim?”
Leigh’s eyes went wide and she turned away, busying herself with another shelf. “Why would I care if it were Jim? He’s nothing to me.”
“It didn’t look like nothing at the store the other day.”
“He was helping me.”
“With what? Cleaning the back of your mouth?”
“Gross.”
Just then Jack walked in carrying more boxes, and Leigh pressed a finger to her lips, linked her hands, and mouthed please. Savannah nodded, though she didn’t like the idea of lying to her brother. She’d have to work that out with her sister later. For now, she had her own problems to worry about.
Her phone buzzed on the coffee table, Logan’s name across the screen. Frustration bubbled to the surface. He had no right to call her. Right now, there were only two people in the world who understood what she was going through and they were the only two people she wanted to talk to. Why couldn’t he respect that?
“For the love of God, answer the phone or shut the thing off.” Jack set the boxes down and began haphazardly tossing things into one.
“I can’t. I’m waiting on a call from Frank.” She rose up onto her knees to watch Jack toss more of their parents’ beloved things into the box, and her frustration turned on him. “Stop it! This stuff is important, and you’re going to break something.”
Jack spun around, his eyes narrowed. “Name one time you ever saw Dad come in here. He didn’t care about this shit; that wasn’t how he worked. He cared about people and nothing else. And if you’re going to turn that glare on me, I’ll call Logan myself and beg him to come over and drag you away.”
“Douche,” Leigh said, tossing a book at her brother. “You can’t call Logan. You can’t even talk to him. He’s the enemy until Savannah makes her decision.”
“Why? I didn’t screw him.”
Leigh stood now, hands on her hips, and Savannah needed a breather, without her brother and sister’s arguing making it impossible to think.
She went out and closed the back door behind her, then walked down the deck’s steps, around the two bistro tables she brought in for the patio, and finally into the garden. It was early morning, the sun barely peeking through the leaves, so for once her favorite bench sat empty. A large fountain bubbled a hello as she took her seat and peered around.
Had it really been only three weeks ago that she and Logan were out here? Everything felt so hopeful then—their relationship so new and exiting, the prospect of saving the bed-and-breakfast still a possibility.
She genuinely thought she could save it. In her head, she was already home, Logan beside her, their future so bright it hurt to look at, but she couldn’t pull her gaze away. Now, it was all over.
Unable to hold herself up any longer, she lifted her hands to her face and allowed herself to cry for all the hope she’d had and all the things she’d lost. She stayed that way for several minutes, losing
herself in her grief, until the snap of a twig snapping made her jerk her head up to find Logan six feet away from her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked as she ran her fingertips under her eyes, trying to hide the worst of the mess. But there was no hiding these tears.
He started for her, and she glared at him. “Don’t.”
“I—”
“D-don’t you dare say you’re sorry. Don’t you dare, Logan Park.” Her voice trembled, and fresh tears sprung into her eyes, but she didn’t care. For once she didn’t care what anyone thought of her. She was sad. Deep in her muscles and joints, down in the very fibers of her being, she was sad, and she couldn’t hide it anymore. A part of her wanted to congratulate him for succeeding in breaking her so completely. She wasn’t sure another person could have accomplished the task with such success.
“What do you want from me? What did I…” Her hands shook at her sides, and she drew a breath to try to calm herself down. For years, she wondered who she was more like—her mama or her daddy, but as she stared at the man who’d destroyed her, she knew the answer. Savannah was Jane Hale made over, all heart without sense for where it might lead her. But that didn’t mean people should abuse it—and certainly not someone she trusted. “I don’t deserve this. Any of it,” she said finally, tired and wishing she could take a sleeping pill and forget life for a while.
“No, you don’t.”
“Then why are you here? To gloat? To tell me that you were right? That my attempts to save my family’s home was all a waste? Because I know. I know! I still had to try.”
“You acted exactly as you should. And there’s nothing I can say to fix this, but I am sorry.”
She lifted her eyes, rage behind the pain. “For which part? For taking my family’s home, or for making me fall in love with you and then leaving me? Again. Because I do love you, and I was ready to fight for you. To tell you that I wanted to try to make this work, that I’ve loved you for too long not to make this work. But then you packed up all your things without even a good-bye. How could you do that to me?” A sob escaped before she could force it down, and she hunched forward, caving in on herself as the tears won out, and streamed down her face.