Savanna’s dog was immediately at attention, bounding around the giggling four-year-old.
“Hi, Nolan!” Savanna tousled his hair.
“Hi, Auntie Vanna,” he said over his shoulder. He tossed the frisbee in a wild throw and took off across the green back yard after Fonzie.
Harlan joined them on the patio. Savanna’s construction contractor dad was in his late fifties, his brown hair graying at the temples, though he still had the height and build of a linebacker. His tanned skin was the mark of time spent in the sun and wind, either working, fishing, or out riding his motorcycle. Underneath his sometimes intimidating exterior, he was a huge softie. His wife, Charlotte Shepherd, was the ruling force in their family, and Harlan was the sturdy foundation.
He handed a beer to Travis. A giggling Nolan sprinted by them, shooting a look over his shoulder to make sure Fonzie was still following him. “That boy sure loves your dog,” Harlan said to Savanna. “I’ll get you something to drink. What do you feel like?”
“That’s okay,” she said. “I’m going in. Are Uncle Freddie and Max here yet?”
Her dad nodded. “They’re inside, passing Hannah around.”
“Oh, I want a turn.”
Around the large kitchen island, she found her mother Charlotte, Skylar, and her uncles. Uncle Max was cradling the baby. Savanna gave him a little hug around his shoulders, careful not to jostle him. “Are you doing okay?”
“We’re brilliant,” he said, looking down at Hannah. She wrapped one tiny hand around his pinkie finger. Her toothless smile tugged at Savanna’s heart, and Uncle Max’s too, judging by his expression. “Aren’t we now? We certainly are.”
“Hi there, kid,” Uncle Freddie said to Savanna, coming around the island and planting a light kiss on the top of her head. A renowned architect for a Fortune 500 firm, Charlotte’s brother Freddie had thick silver hair, perpetually tanned-from-the-golf-course skin, and the kind of square-jawed, confident smile that won over colleagues and clients alike. At fifty-two, he was a few years younger than Charlotte and Harlan. He ushered Savanna away from the cluster of people around the kitchen island. “What about you? It sounded like yesterday was quite the traumatic event. Were you close with the florist?”
“Sydney was closer with her, but we were friends. I can’t believe it. I’ve tried to imagine who on earth would ever have wanted Libby dead, and I just can’t.”
“I’m sorry you girls have lost a friend.”
“I’m sorry Uncle Max had to find her that way,” Savanna said quietly.
Uncle Freddie nodded. “I am too. And I’m not happy with your sheriff’s department. They could’ve ruled out Max as a suspect on the spot. He told them he was at the café with your mother before coming into the shop yesterday morning. Max and I talked about it, and I put a call in to that detective.”
Uncle Freddie was probably right. Savanna hated the impression her uncles were probably forming of Nick Jordan, who was only following procedure. But they didn’t know the detective; they’d only been in Carson since last November.
Freddie Quinn and his husband Max had visited Carson last summer when they’d moved their daughter Ellie into her dorm at the nearby university. When Freddie had called a month later to announce they’d put an offer on a house in Carson, he’d claimed it was so they could be on the water, and closer to family. Savanna knew it was so they could be near Ellie. Freddie and Max had been at every single one of their daughter’s soccer games, parent nights, doctor visits, school plays, and a thousand other little things through the years.
Max had adopted Ellie a couple of years before he’d met Freddie. Ellie’s biological parents had appointed Max as their daughter’s godfather when she was born. He must’ve been shocked when he’d abruptly found himself a parent after the couple had perished in a tragic house fire. Two-year-old Ellie had somehow miraculously survived.
Savanna loved that her cousin was nearby now. And it was obvious from the way Ellie had gone from anxious and homesick back to her sweet, joyful self that she was much more at ease now that her dads were nearby. She’d often been part of their growing group around the Sunday dinner table.
Savanna fished around for something reassuring to say to Uncle Freddie. “I’m sure Detective Jordan will call you back. He’s good at what he does. He’ll get Uncle Max cleared quickly, I’m positive.”
Uncle Freddie nodded. “He’d better.” He must’ve caught Savanna’s worried expression, because he went on. “Now listen, you know me. I was nothing but polite when I called. I’m getting the feeling the detective is also a friend?”
She tipped her head to one side. “He is. But I’m just as upset about this thing as you are.”
“You know who isn’t?” Uncle Max had moved closer to their private little chat. “Me. It’ll all get sorted, and from what Savanna says about this detective, Libby’s killer will be brought to justice.”
Savanna turned toward him, seeing he’d passed Hannah on to Charlotte. “That’s right,” she agreed. “Mom, it was my turn. Don’t monopolize the baby!”
Charlotte was making silly faces and cooing noises at her granddaughter. Savanna’s mother was fine-boned and the shortest of the Shepherd women. Her auburn hair fell just past her shoulders; the glint of small gold earrings peeked through her waves. She carried Hannah over to Savanna, carefully transferring her. “Only because I have to go change. I’ve got a flight out right after dinner.” Charlotte Shepherd worked as a management consultant and often traveled for business.
Hannah began to fuss the moment Savanna touched her. “Oh no, little one,” she said, immediately launching into the gentle swaying, bouncing dance that settled most babies right down. “Let’s go see what your big brother’s doing, shall we?”
Sydney came through the kitchen door as Savanna carried Hannah out onto the patio. “The highlight of your evening has arrived, ladies and gents,” Sydney announced, an oversized foil-covered pan in her arms. “I give you my own personal creation—banana split cake!”
“Ooh, really?” Savanna turned and followed her back into the kitchen. “Let me see!”
Sydney set the dessert on the counter and uncovered it, revealing a wide layer of yellow vanilla pudding across the pan.
“Oh,” Savanna said. She’d expected to be wowed.
“Just wait. There are seven delicious layers to this masterpiece. But,” Sydney added as Nolan sidled into the kitchen, “only people who eat their dinner can have banana split cake.”
The little boy sighed loudly. “I know the rules, okay?”
Sydney scooped him up, whispering something in his ear.
Nolan shrieked and put a small hand on either side of Syd’s face. “Are you for real?”
She laughed and set him on a stool at the counter. “One bite. A preview. And only because I’m your favorite red-headed aunt and I said so.”
Skylar threw her hands up in the air, laughing. “Pure anarchy, I swear. You’re lucky I love you,” she said, making a kissy face at Sydney before exiting to check on Travis and the kabobs.
Savanna set a plate in front of Nolan, and Sydney cut the tiniest square possible from the corner of the pan. The concoction she served to their nephew was a mess of pretty: layer after layer of graham cracker, bananas, chocolate pudding, strawberries, cream cheese, more graham cracker, and vanilla pudding. Sydney added a dollop of whipped cream on top.
“Here you go, young sir.” Uncle Max handed Nolan a spoon. “You’re the official taste-tester.”
“Thank you, old sir!” Nolan bowed his head deeply toward Uncle Max. Savanna clapped a hand over her mouth, and Sydney burst out laughing. Four-year-old Nolan had meant nothing but respect, despite how it had sounded.
Max grinned. “He’s got my number.”
Over dinner, with Hannah happily pushing baby crackers around her highchair tray, Savanna leaned over to Sydne
y. “I thought you said you were inviting Finn tonight.” She kept her voice quiet; they’d discussed when might be the right time to invite Finn and Aidan to Sunday dinner, but hadn’t reached a real decision.
“He has this thing about parents,” Syd whispered. “They don’t usually like him.”
“What? That’s ridiculous,” Savanna whispered back.
“Where’s Aidan?”
“I...um...forgot to invite him.” Savanna couldn’t quite imagine throwing Aidan into her large, loud family dinner, as much as a big part of her yearned to have him here.
Sydney scowled at her. “You did not forget.”
“I wasn’t ready! And it’s a good thing, since you flaked on bringing Finn,” Savanna whispered.
“Okay, do-over next weekend. For your birthday dinner.”
Savanna’s eyes widened. Nothing like upping the stakes. “I don’t—”
Harlan cleared his throat at the head of the table. The family had gone quiet, all eyes on Sydney and Savanna.
“Care to share?” Charlotte asked sweetly.
“No, thank you,” Sydney said.
“Mm-hmm.” Charlotte speared a bite of chicken, her gaze moving to Harlan.
He sat back in his chair. “Girls. We hope you know friends are always welcome at our table.”
“Yes,” Charlotte agreed. “Anytime either of you wishes to invite a guest, perhaps a significant other, we want you to feel comfortable.”
“Significant other.” Sydney let the words roll slowly off her tongue. “That’s some serious stuff.”
“All right. I think they get our point,” their mother said, chuckling as she looked at Harlan.
“Significant other.” Savanna said the words to Sydney, enunciating each syllable.
“Boyfriend,” Sydney said firmly.
Savanna laughed. “Okay then.”
The evening wound down when Charlotte left to catch her flight to Denver. Skylar and Travis headed home to put the kids to bed, and Sydney covered the dessert she was leaving for her dad.
“I’ll walk you out,” Uncle Max offered when Savanna gathered her light sweater and purse to go.
“It’s dark out. Use the front door,” Harlan advised. “The bulb just went out on the patio.”
Savanna hugged her father goodbye and walked through the living room with Max. She gasped. “The front door.” She suddenly realized what had left her unsettled last night.
Max turned, looking at her curiously.
“The front door, Uncle Max. You said Libby always liked you to park in the back of the flower shop, to leave the street parking for patrons.”
“That’s right,” he agreed.
“Did that include Anthony Kent? When he came in to do the books? Was it Libby’s rule for all of you, Anthony and Rachel included?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Why did he come in through the front yesterday?”
“Well...he probably saw the hubbub outside the shop and just pulled up to go in,” Uncle Max offered.
“But the Kents live in the neighborhood behind the shops. I’ve arrived at the same time she has before when I’m picking up flowers—she comes in the back way to the parking lot.”
Max was frowning. “You’re right. I pulled in to open the shop last Thursday just as Anthony did. We parked at the back of the lot, next to each other. He doesn’t take Main Street.”
“So why did he use the front entrance Saturday? Why did he park on the street? Unless he wanted the folks out front to see him arrive. After Libby was already found dead.”
Chapter Four
Savanna successfully dodged Tricia Williams all day Monday. She’d brought her own coffee this morning, and then joined Jack Carson in his library for lunch. Jack was the kind of friend who’d brave the teachers’ lounge for her much-needed coffee refill, and he did—twice. He’d reported back both times that Tricia wondered why she hadn’t seen Savanna at all today.
“I kind of thought she’d just forget about it,” Savanna said. “I don’t get what the big deal is.”
Jack was the first person at school to make her feel welcome a year and a half ago when she’d come home to Carson. Being a librarian meant he was the black sheep in the Carson family, who all worked within the family’s commercial real estate corporation. Savanna had thought him a little awkward at first, but she’d quickly revised her opinion. He wasn’t awkward anymore with her. He’d become a kind and loyal best friend.
He stood in her classroom doorway after the last bell. “You don’t know Tricia.” He glanced over his shoulder into the long hallway before continuing. “She has this burning desire to be the source—the person with all the goods. It’d kill her if she thought you gave someone else the hot scoop about you and Dr. Gallager out alone together in the back of the movie theater.”
Savanna laughed. “You make it sound so illicit! We were there because we both love superhero movies.”
“Yeah, that’s working against you too.”
“What?” She frowned, curious. “How do you mean?”
“I think her exact words were ‘Why wasn’t Mollie with them? I know it was a date.’ Tricia figured if you and Aidan were out platonically, you’d have brought his daughter. She and Rosa Taylor had a whole conversation about it while I was getting your third cup of coffee.”
“Hey, don’t judge. You drink your share too. And in what world would it be appropriate for us to bring an eight-year-old to a PG-13 movie with violence and kissing?”
Jack shrugged. “Don’t blame me. I don’t write the news—I only report it.”
She sighed. “Great. So, she just wants to be in the know, is that it? Maybe I’ll be an adult tomorrow and inform her I’m dating Aidan. Not that it’s any of her business.”
“I wouldn’t do that. The last thing you need is to have your relationship with one of the parents put under a microscope by the school district. Be vague. Or better yet, keep avoiding her.”
“Hold on. Is it really a big thing? I mean... I’m Mollie’s art teacher. I only have her in class two hours a week. And we’ve been so careful to never have any hint of impropriety whenever Aidan has to be at the school for something.”
“I know. I’ve seen that firsthand. But I’d avoid starting that conversation. Keep flying under the radar as long as you can.”
Savanna stood, gathering her purse and sweater. “I don’t like this.” She felt very uncomfortable, little fingers of worry tapping the back of her neck. “I’m not going to knowingly break the rules. Should I talk to Mr. Clay?” The idea intensified her discomfort. She loved the principal, who had complimented her again last week on how happy the children and parents were with her classes. Mr. Clay had hired Savanna after she’d left her art authentication career at Chicago’s famed Kenilworth Historical Museum; she knew he’d rolled the dice by giving her the art teacher position, but she’d fallen in love with her job, and Mr. Clay seemed pleased with her work.
“I think that’s a bad idea,” Jack said. “I’m not even certain there is an actual rule, but Elaina and I try to keep things on the down-low too. Her son Carter’s in my computer class once a week.” Elaina Jenson taught at Carson Elementary as well. Now that Savanna thought about it, Jack and Elaina definitely kept their interactions platonic around school. “You’re always respectful, and your...friendship...with Dr. Gallager hasn’t impacted your teaching or treatment of Mollie. Leave it at that. Tricia will settle down at some point.”
Maybe he was right. After all, he’d been at the school eight or nine years and knew all the teachers fairly well.
“Ms. Shepherd?” The small voice came from behind Jack. He stepped to the side, and Mollie entered the classroom, backpack on and sparkly pink tote bag in hand.
“Hi, Mollie.” Savanna smiled at her. How long had she been standing there? Savanna tried to replay Jack’s
words in her head. She didn’t think Mollie had heard anything she could decipher or worry about. “Ready for dance?”
“Yes. We get our costumes today!” The little girl clasped her hands, clearly excited, and then looked up at Jack. “For m-my recital. I have t-two costumes, Mr. Carson.”
Savanna only ever heard the stutter at school. When Mollie was with Aidan, or in almost any other setting, it disappeared. She was making nice progress with the school speech therapist, who’d told Aidan the stutter would likely disappear as Mollie got older.
“How exciting,” Jack replied. “What classes are you in?”
“B-ballet and tap.”
“Really? I love tap! Did you know I used to take dance at Miss Priscilla’s too?”
Mollie giggled, looking at Savanna and then back at Jack. “You did?”
He nodded. “I think I was around your age. Oh my gosh, it was so much fun.”
“Mr. Marcus is s-s-silly,” Mollie said, beaming up at Jack. “Did you like him too?”
Jack chuckled. “Oh, well, Miss Priscilla was my tap instructor way back then. She was not even a little bit silly.” He glanced at Savanna.
She smiled. Mollie came right out of her shell around certain people, and Jack was obviously one of them. “Miss Priscilla was never silly,” she agreed with Jack. “She was my ballet teacher, but I never took tap. Which is your favorite?”
Mollie turned both hands palm up toward the ceiling, shrugging. “I like my p-pink ballet tutu better than the l-leggings we wear for tap. But my tap shoes are m-m-my favorite,” she said, her expression serious.
Jack checked the analog wall clock behind Savanna’s desk. “You are so right,” he told Mollie. “Tap shoes are the most fun. I’ve got to run. Enjoy!”
Mollie drank her juice box and munched on a cheese stick in the car during the short drive to Miss Priscilla’s. Savanna had volunteered to bring Mollie to dance two days per week, since the girl’s class time was right after school. She’d noticed Aidan taking turns with Finn, Mollie’s grandpa, and even the neighbor who occasionally babysat, and figured it only made sense. The two dance classes were back-to-back on Mondays and Thursdays. Savanna was even starting to enjoy her time in the lobby where parents gathered. She’d made a few friends, and it was nice seeing Mollie so happy. The girl loved her classes, even with stern Miss Priscilla. It was a shame Nolan’s theater class fell on alternate days with Mollie’s classes. She could’ve helped get him there or back too.
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