Famous in a Small Town

by Kristina Knight

  She popped a peanut in her mouth and chewed. Levi finished his beer, and James ordered another round. Collin was quiet, as if he were still upset about the concert benefit idea. Savannah didn’t understand why he would be upset. The concert wouldn’t affect him at all.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked.

  Collin nodded. “Just thinking about my meeting tomorrow with Westfall. I’m going to have to turn down their offer.”

  “But you could still supply the apples,” she began.

  Collin shook his head. “I don’t want to be focused on a contract with them when the orchard is still in disarray. I wasn’t all that hyped about their offer, anyway. I liked the money aspect, but taking everything away from the market, the local businesses, that wasn’t a good feeling.”

  Savannah squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry.”

  “There will be other contracts.”

  James tore the wrapper of his straw into shreds. He’d been pulling double shifts since the tornado, acting as the interim sheriff as well as a patrol officer.

  “You should contract with yourself,” he said.

  “I’m pretty sure that’s what I’m already doing.”

  “I mean like those companies you see on TV. They ship a box of food each week with recipes inside. People pay a boatload for fresh foods like that. You’d make a killing.”

  Collin shook his head. “Those programs provide vegetables and meats, too. I’m a fruit guy.”

  “Definitely a fruit,” Levi said and chucked Collin on the shoulder.

  “With the market down for the season, though, some of the vegetable growers will be looking for another outlet. Might be worth a talk,” James said.

  The idea was interesting, Savannah thought, but Collin remained focused on the bowl of peanuts and his beer.

  “Hey, Savannah, your old touring partner’s on TV,” Merle called out across the bar. He turned up the volume on the small screen hanging on the back wall. Savannah’s heart fell when she read the headline: Country Superstar Files for Divorce.

  Video images showed Genevieve Anderson rushing from a courthouse with her head down as if to avoid the glare of the rapidly flashing camera bulbs. The reporter began talking.

  “Citing irreconcilable differences, country music superstar Genevieve Anderson filed divorce proceedings against her husband and manager, Philip Anderson, Monday afternoon. The Andersons have been one of Music Row’s power couples for nearly a decade, but rumors have been rampant that the marriage hit a rough patch earlier this year.”

  Savannah wanted to snort. Obviously, Genevieve’s people had reached out to the reporter to ensure a favorable story. Savannah had no evidence, but she was positive she wasn’t the first person to be taken in by Philip Anderson; his moves were too practiced for that.

  “I was able to sit down with Genevieve earlier this afternoon to talk about this terrible time.” The reporter smiled happily into the camera while delivering that last line, and Savannah’s stomach twisted. It was as if the reporter’s predatory eyes looked directly into hers.

  “Should we go?” she asked, but all three of the men seemed intent on the television.

  The image on the screen switched from the reporter to Genevieve, looking pale and withdrawn. She wore a pair of black pants and a black button-down blouse with a pale gray cardigan over her shoulders. She looked like a cross between a funeral mourner and a preacher’s wife, Savannah thought, and then admonished herself. Genevieve had every right to mourn her husband’s infidelities.

  “What happened, Genevieve?” the reporter asked with a grave look on her face.

  Genevieve brushed a tissue under her eyes. “I think it’s always hard on a couple when one spouse is more accomplished than the other. Hard feelings develop and then distance.” She dabbed at her eyes again. “It’s like a damn country song,” she said, deadpan.

  Collin snorted. “As if she knows anything about living a country music song.”

  “She’s been the top female artist five years running,” James pointed out.

  Savannah slunk back against her chair. She didn’t want to be part of this. Not the conversation, not the television-watching. She wanted to be out of this bar, and she wanted Collin to come with her.

  “Doesn’t mean she knows real country,” Collin said stubbornly.

  “We hear the ‘irreconcilable differences’ excuse all the time, though—what made you say enough is enough?” The reporter cocked her head to the side, offering a supportive smile to the singer.

  The camera switched back to Genevieve, who appeared to think hard about her answer. The tissue disappeared into her clutched hands and she drew a breath.

  Savannah wanted to run.

  “I think, when your husband refuses to stay out of the bed of your opening act, that’s enough,” Genevieve said. She put her hand to her heart and made her voice soft. “I’m sorry, I really don’t want to talk about this any longer,” she said. But there was a look of malice in her eyes that Savannah had seen once before. That night on the tour bus.

  Genevieve wasn’t heartbroken at the infidelity. She was glad to finally have a reason to kick her man—and Savannah—to the curb.

  Collin didn’t even look at her. He simply stood and walked out of the Slope.

  Savannah watched him go, feeling as if she’d been punched in the stomach. She hurried after him, getting to his truck just as he started the engine. She heard the car doors click locked and she knocked on the window.

  “Collin, I can explain,” she said, but he wouldn’t look at her.

  Collin revved the engine, drowning out her words, and then put the truck in gear, making it jump backward. Savannah staggered back, putting as much distance as she could between her and the truck. He kept his gaze focused on the parking space in front of him as he backed into the street. Once clear, he sped away, his tires squealing a bit as he rounded the corner.

  “I can explain,” she said again, but he was gone.

  * * *

  THE NEXT DAY, COLLIN, dressed in his funeral suit again, sat in the marbled foyer leading into the Westfall Foods conference room. He had considered wearing cargos and a T-shirt, but in the end decided to button up what was left of his pride in the freaking uncomfortable suit and tie.

  He ran his index finger around his collar but that offered little relief. The room still felt as humid as a July afternoon when a rainstorm was coming.

  A buzz sounded and a leggy secretary with red-gold hair led him to the conference room door. “Good luck,” she said as she held the door open for him to pass.

  Collin sat on one side of the table, wondering again why he’d bothered. A simple phone call and a no would have let him off the hook. Of course, calling in a no was a lot easier than putting on a suit and driving two hours to deliver that same no in person.

  But right now, Collin wasn’t looking for easy. He was looking for exhausting. Something to take his mind off the ridiculous fool he had been to fall for Savannah’s song and dance about stage anxiety and wanting to please her family.

  To fall in love with her.

  At least now her eagerness to stage a benefit concert made sense. She’d been hedging her bets in case Genevieve spilled her nasty little secret. The small-town girl with the small-town tragedy. People would eat that up, and many would skip right over the affair.

  It had all been a lie. The bit about anxiety and parent-pleasing was just a cover for having an affair with her boss’s husband. The bit about being in love with him...probably just a mind game.

  He was done with mind games. It was time to focus on what mattered: the orchard and the security of his family.

  Collin passed the unsigned contract to Jake Westfall, who glanced at it and then passed it to the other executives.

  “I have to say I’m surprised, Colli
n,” Westfall said.

  “Until four days ago, I would have been surprised. The tornado that hit Slippery Rock changed everything. I can’t, with a clear conscience, commit to being the main provider for your grocery stores when I’m going to have to replant much of my orchard. I might still be able to deliver all the fruit you would need, but that wouldn’t leave anything for the people in my community.”

  “They can still get Tyler Orchards’ fruits at our grocery stores,” Westfall pointed out.

  It was the argument Collin had been having for weeks and he was tired of it.

  “Some of them don’t have cars anymore, much less the money for organic grocery-store prices.” Collin gathered his folder and stood. He didn’t want to be in this room, talking to these people. He wanted to be in his orchard, fixing things. “Maybe in another couple of years when our groves are back to one hundred percent, but now isn’t the time.”

  He left the conference room and didn’t stop until he was behind the wheel of his truck. Then Collin stripped off the tie and threw it onto the floorboard.

  He was done.

  * * *

  SAVANNAH WANTED NOTHING more than to get into her old Honda and disappear down a busy highway. She sat at the kitchen table, watching Mama Hazel roll piecrust at the butcher block. It had been more than a week since Genevieve’s not-so-veiled outing of Savannah as the cause of the collapse of her marriage. Collin wouldn’t talk to her, and she kept catching strange looks between her parents.

  Levi had moved out. Sure, his house had been completed, but the move had seemed almost planned to Savannah, which was silly. Levi wasn’t the sort to abandon anyone. He was a grown man who needed his space, that was all.

  Still, it left a lot of space to fill in the main house, and Savannah had no idea how to make it feel less empty.

  “Thom Hall called. We have three firm yesses for the benefit, and two crews have volunteered to build the staging area as long as the town provides the materials.”

  Hazel looked up from her crust-rolling. “Oh, hummingbird, do you think that’s wise?”

  “I made a promise to the council. Besides, it isn’t me singing.” The thought of even announcing the performances made her feel squidgy, but when the council members had asked her to emcee, she hadn’t been able to turn them down. She waited a long moment, but Hazel didn’t say anything. “I’m sorry I embarrassed you and Dad.”

  Hazel’s busy hands stopped moving. “You didn’t embarrass us.”

  “Then I’m sorry I hurt you.” She wasn’t sure how many other ways she could tell them she regretted her actions during the tour. The one thing she didn’t regret was not telling them earlier. Because she’d kept it quiet, she’d had nearly a month to repair some of the childhood wounds she’d held on to so tightly. Those repairs were worth the new scars.

  “You didn’t hurt us. You hurt you. Just like you always hurt you.” Hazel came around the butcher block and sat beside Savannah at the table. “That isn’t a condemnation, baby. You’ve been reacting to situations since we brought you home. Pretending everything was fine and then lashing out, or ignoring what was happening around you until it all came crashing down. I thought you’d finally come to terms with your past, and I don’t know what more I can do to walk you through it, but I’m here. I’m right beside you.”

  Sharp little knives of pain stabbed Savannah’s chest. “I did come to terms with it. Getting off that bus with Philip Anderson made me confront all the different ways I’ve sabotaged my life since those police officers found me on the steps. I don’t want to be that scared little girl anymore. I was just hoping that was one implosion I could keep secret from everyone.”

  She took a deep breath. “I knew almost from the moment that I set foot on that first LA stage that I didn’t want to be a star, but I wasn’t sure how to stop the madness once it started. The longer I was on that stage, the harder it got to be there. When Philip Anderson invited me onto that bus... I can’t explain it, not really. I didn’t want to be there, not with him. I wanted a reason to not be in Nashville or on the tour at all.”

  Savannah picked at a corner of her nail polish. “I think I thought that would give me a reason to leave, to stop the craziness of the tour and singing. But I never meant to hurt you or Dad. I didn’t mean to hurt Genevieve. I’m so sorry.”

  Hazel squeezed Savannah’s hand. “I wish I could go back to the day you were left so I could tell you it wasn’t your fault.”

  “I think that part of me was broken before they put me on those steps. I think, if that part of me had been whole, I wouldn’t have waited on those steps. I’d have run after them or at least knocked on the door behind me.”

  Hazel wrapped Savannah in a hug. “I never thought you were waiting to die. I always thought you were waiting to be rescued. There is a difference, you know. The person waiting to die thinks she has no value. The one waiting to be rescued knows she has value, even if she doesn’t understand it.”

  “What value did I have?”

  “You’ve always had value, Savannah. Always. You’re a kindhearted, lovable woman.”

  If she was so lovable, if she had value, why had Collin walked out on her after that interview? She wondered. Why hadn’t he stood beside her or at least let her explain? She knew the questions weren’t fair to Collin; after all, she was the one who’d gotten on that bus, and she was the one who kept that action a secret. That knowledge didn’t change the fact that those questions kept ricocheting around her mind.

  He’d walked out without letting her explain, and he kept distancing himself from her.

  The man she loved saw no value in her now, and it hurt more than she ever thought anything possibly could.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  TWO WEEKS AFTER the tornado, country music stars, professional fishermen and tourists crowded the downtown area of Slippery Rock.

  Collin sat off to the side, watching people traipse around what used to be the abandoned warehouse but was now a staging area. He still didn’t understand how dropping everything to build a staging area for a fishing competition that was still months away was a better bet for Slippery Rock than rebuilding their existing businesses. He also didn’t buy the town council’s explanations about future tourism, bigger events and community theater. Frankly, Collin was tired of thinking about it.

  If Amanda hadn’t wanted to come, he would be at the orchard today, watching the new saplings take root.

  As it was, he sat in a folding chair between James, who was considering running for sheriff during the fall election cycle, and Levi, who was considering all the pretty, nonlocal girls wandering around the event area.

  Collin tried to get interested in the girls, but none of them appealed. Their skin was too pale or their tans too fake, their hair too straight, their legs too short.

  The truth was none of them was Savannah, and that annoyed the crap out of him.

  What kind of fool was he that he was still hung up on a woman who had never been fully truthful with him?

  You weren’t exactly truthful with her, either. The voice in his head was angry. Annoyed. Sexually deprived. You didn’t tell her everything about your past, so why hold her to a higher standard?

  Because his past didn’t include an affair with a married man.

  The crowd began to settle, and Savannah came onto the stage. She wore that blue dress she’d worn when he’d taken her to the restaurant overlooking the lake, but instead of strappy sandals, she’d paired the dress with cowboy boots. His heart caught in his chest. She looked pale. Sad. Nervous.

  Beautiful.

  He wanted to go up on stage and tell her everything would be okay. Add another layer of stupid to his hormones.

  “Welcome to Slippery Rock, everyone,” she said, her voice booming through the speaker system. “I’m Savannah Walters, and my family owns
a dairy farm just outside town called Walters Ranch.” The crowd applauded, and Savannah waited for them to calm down. A light breeze swept her hair to the side. “Some of you might also recognize me from a reality show competition, but today I am just here as a resident of Slippery Rock. I’d like to thank everyone who is helping us to rebuild our town.”

  A stage worker brought a guitar on stage and Savannah slipped the shoulder strap over her head. Collin blinked. She was performing? He stood to go but Levi put his big hand on Collin’s arm, stopping him.

  “You’re going to want to hear this,” he said, and as he had always followed Levi’s instructions since their football days, Collin sat.

  “Before the real acts come out to entertain you, I’d like to ask a favor. My parents never got to see me perform in person on that reality show, and I’d like to remedy that now.” She strummed her hand over the strings and a light melody drifted into the night air.

  Collin found himself transfixed. He’d heard Savannah sing several times on TV, and a few times in person when she didn’t realize she was singing. Like that day they’d planted the berry garden. He’d never once seen her use an instrument, though.

  Her thin fingers worked the strings and, although her playing was tentative, it was as if she became part of the guitar, part of the stage.

  He swallowed.

  Savannah sang about a lost girl, unsure which direction to turn. “All this time, I was waiting for a rescue. I didn’t realize the rescuer was you.” Her fingers strummed, filling the air with her melody. “I didn’t realize I could rescue you, too.”

  Collin searched out Mama Hazel in the crowd and saw tears tracking down her face. She was Savannah’s rescuer. Her mother had finally made Savannah see that she was worth saving, and it must have worked. If it hadn’t, she wouldn’t be on that stage, wouldn’t still be in Slippery Rock.

  He drew in a breath. Loving Savannah wasn’t the problem. Allowing her to love herself? That was the problem. He’d wanted her to be like him, but she was a different person. Stronger maybe, because she had every reason in the world to leave this town and yet she had stayed.