Falling in Love (Secrets of Savannah Book 5)

by Belle Calhoune

  As Hope dashed out, everyone settled in around the coffee table. All eyes were on Marc. He steepled his hands in front of him and laid his chin on the top of his fingers.

  “I wanted to touch base with you regarding the investigation of Grayson Holloway.” He looked around him. “For whatever reason, this guy is very elusive. I found out he’s an artist and illustrator. He works primarily with children’s books. He can’t be pinned down to one location, although he tends to spend most of his time in Martha’s Vineyard in Cape Cod. Right before I came over here a lead kicked in. Something that might really help us determine whether Holloway’s claim is junk or not.”

  Charlotte leaned forward in her chair. “What is it?”

  “Since Grayson is in his thirties, it isn’t possible he was the child of Miss Hattie. That would be simple to prove. However, one of his parents is another matter. I did a little digging and I came up with something. Grayson’s father is Tanner Holloway.”

  “That name sounds familiar,” Fancy said.

  “He’s a celebrated author. He’s done a lot of writing about identity and being adopted,” Marc explained. Hope quietly reentered the room and took a seat.

  Charlotte sucked in a breath. “Grayson’s father was adopted?”

  Marc nodded. “Which in itself doesn’t mean a whole lot. Plenty of people are adopted. But it does raise the question. Is Grayson trying to make a connection between his father’s ancestry and ownership of Savannah House? If he is, then something tells me he must have some sort of proof. And if so, I’m guessing he might have a leg to stand on. I think we really need to place some pressure on his attorney to provide more details, because he could be alleging any sort of familial link. We just don’t know a whole lot at the moment.” He scratched his jaw. “I don’t want to run up your tab but I might want to venture out to the Vineyard to check up on this guy. Do some digging around. I wouldn’t stay longer than two days tops.”

  “What do you ladies think?” Olivia asked, scanning the faces of her partners.

  “I think it makes sense,” Charlotte blurted out. Everyone regarded her with a measure of surprise. Even Marc. Charlotte knew it was due to her initial skepticism of Marc being hired to investigate Grayson Holloway. “I think going to the place where this Grayson character has roots might reveal something important. We need to be ready to fight this claim.”

  “I agree. And a few days of travel expenses won’t kill us,” Hope added, twirling long strands of her dark hair around her finger.

  Fancy shook her head. “I agree, although I just thought of something.”

  “What is it?” Charlotte asked.

  Fancy’s expression was thoughtful. “Miss Hattie is no longer with us, with nothing but distant relatives on both sides. How in the world could a DNA test show ancestry? Wouldn’t Miss Hattie already have to be in the database?”

  “DNA and ancestry lineage aren’t my forte, but—” Marc stopped mid-sentence.

  “But what? Don’t sugarcoat it for us,” Charlotte said. Every instinct told her Marc had stopped speaking in an effort to protect them from his thoughts. Whatever it was, they needed to know. Good, bad or in between. Full transparency was crucial at this juncture.

  Marc shook his head. “As I said, I’m no expert, but legally this guy could push for an exhumation of Miss Hattie’s body.”

  Shocked gasps rang out in the room. Charlotte raised her hand to her mouth. A squeak of outrage slipped past her lips. It was unthinkable!

  Marc held up his hand. “I’m not saying it will come to that, but I’d like to think this Holloway fellow can be cut off at the pass. It might very well be that he’s looking for a nice tidy settlement.”

  Morgan folded her arms across her chest. “That is so not happening,” she quipped. If the situation hadn’t been so serious, Charlotte would have laughed. Morgan looked as if she were ready to fight someone.

  “I’m hoping to be able to discredit him,” Marc said, his expression somber.

  “I’m not a DNA expert either,” Hope interjected, “but I do know of something called trace genetics. I studied it when I was taking classes at Savannah State University.”

  “This sounds extremely complicated,” Olivia said, biting her lip. “These type of things cost money. Who knows what will happen if he asks the court to make us pay for the cost of all these tests and exhumations.” Charlotte could see her friend was fretting about the situation. She reached out and patted Olivia’s hand.

  “Olivia, take a deep breath. We’re all just speculating, which honestly isn’t good for any of us. Our imaginations could run wild. Remember the time we had ourselves convinced that a monster was living in the basement of Savannah House.” Charlotte let out a chuckle. The other girls joined in. They had only been eight years old with wild imaginations and a tendency to be overly dramatic.

  Olivia giggled. “Miss Hattie sure set us straight.”

  “So did my Mama,” Morgan said, referencing her mother, Pearl Lucas, who had worked as Miss Hattie’s assistant for decades. Miss Pearl, as the girls called her, had always been no-nonsense with a soft heart at her center.

  “This is why we need Marc to travel to the Vineyard to investigate Holloway,” Charlotte said, praying none of the girls argued the point. Time was ticking away from them. With Fancy’s wedding rapidly approaching, the owners of Savannah House needed a quick and easy resolution to this matter. It would be a disaster for their brand if litigation ensued and the media caught wind of it.

  “I say yes,” Fancy said.

  “It’s a yes for me,” Olivia said with an emphatic nod of her head.

  Hope flashed a thumbs up sign.

  “Have a great time on the Vineyard,” Morgan said to Marc, who smiled before burying his head in his notebook. Charlotte wondered what was so important that he needed to write it down. Perhaps details of his trip to the Vineyard.

  Marc looked up from his notebook. “So, I’ll plan to go in a few days. If there’s no objection I’m going to schedule the trip around my dad’s doctor visits. I hate for my mom to be dealing with the day to day stuff all by herself.”

  “It won’t be a problem,” Charlotte said, locking gazes with Marc. Whenever he spoke about his father he had a certain wistful note in his voice. It tugged at Charlotte’s heart strings. She didn’t know Marc very well, but she could tell he loved his father very much. He smiled at her and nodded his head.

  As he gathered up his belongings and headed out of Savannah House, Charlotte struggled to understand the feelings coursing through her. Marc’s trip to Martha’s Vineyard might just provide some invaluable information about the man who was claiming to be Miss Hattie’s heir. It was a good thing he was going. Wasn’t it? She couldn’t explain her mixed emotions. She didn’t even want to think about it or dwell on it. Why was she feeling slightly out of sorts regarding Marc’s absence from Savannah?

  “Falling in love is one of the most complicated things a person will or can ever do in this lifetime. Someone once told me it was like riding a bike. I say it’s like riding a bike blindfolded with one arm tied behind your back.”

  Lucien Cabron

  Chapter Four

  The weather in Martha’s Vineyard was chilly for a January morning. The sky was blue with patches of pewter. Storm clouds seemed to be brewing in the distance. Thankfully there was no snow on the ground. As a lifelong southerner, Marc didn’t think he could make it through a New England winter. And from what he’d heard, Cape Cod winters were fierce. The ride over on the ferry from Hyannis had been fairly challenging due to choppy and churning waves. But he’d made it to the island in one piece. That was a blessing!

  Oak Bluffs was where the ferry docked on the island. According to his research, Holloway lived in a remote area here in town off the beaten track. Marc was hoping to ferret around the island and get information on Holloway. If he happened to run across him, all the better. Perhaps he could take some pictures of Marc’s house and ascertain his financial status. From
what he’d seen so far, no one on this island appeared to be struggling.

  He walked from the ferry to the Briarwood Inn where he was staying for the next few days. It was a small, nicely decorated inn with a strong New England vibe. Marc couldn’t help but compare it to Savannah House. Although the Briarwood Inn was nice, Savannah House was spectacular. Upon check-in he was given his room key, a local newspaper and a warm chocolate chip cookie.

  Marc located his room and settled down with the newspaper and his gooey chocolate chip cookie. He took a bite, letting out a groan at the delicious taste of the sweet treat.

  “Mmm. I need to bring some of these back home with me,” Marc said. He looked around him at his comfortable, cozy room. It was beautiful with a warm color scheme. At moments like this he wished he had a wife who could have made the trip with him. Charlotte’s stunning face came to mind. He shook his head, wondering why his thoughts had led him straight to Charlotte. The woman barely tolerated him. Granted, she had been nice as of late, but he had to wonder what she really and truly thought about him.

  Once this assignment was over she probably wouldn’t have two words to say to him. That reality made him feel sad. There was something intriguing about Charlotte. He sensed great vulnerability as well as a desire within her to appear strong and in control. He couldn’t help but wonder what had made her that way.

  He picked up the paper and almost choked on his chocolate chip cookie when he saw the face staring back at him. Whoa! This had to be divine intervention. Grayson Holloway’s picture was plastered on the front page of the Oak Bluff Times. According to the article, he was doing a talk and book signing today for his latest children’s book at Island Books, a local bookstore.

  “Thank the Lord,” Marc said, letting out a hoot and holler. God sure did work in mysterious ways. He had traveled all this way from Georgia to an island in Massachusetts all on a hunch. And now it looked as if it might pay off. He would show up at the Island Books location at three o’clock and meet the elusive Grayson Holloway.

  * * *

  Charlotte opened up the door to Savannah House and warmly greeted the journalist, Trina Charles, from Savannah Life and Style magazine. With her mocha colored skin and cornrowed hairstyle, Trina was a knockout. In her initial meeting with her, Charlotte had been impressed by her positive attitude.

  “Hello, Trina. It’s great to see you again. Welcome to Savannah House,” Charlotte said, sticking out her hand and shaking Trina’s.

  Trina smiled at her and paused to introduce her to the man standing next to her. “Charlotte, this is Eric, my photographer. He also happens to be my husband.”

  “Nice to meet you, Eric,” Charlotte said, admiring the way the couple looked standing side by side. Eric was tall and lean while Trina was short and curvy. They radiated joy.

  Charlotte waved them inside Savannah House. Trina let out a sigh as she gazed around her.

  “It’s just as stunning as I remember it,” Trina said in a gushing voice.

  “Have you been here before?” asked Charlotte.

  Trina nodded. Her eyes began to moisten. “Forgive me. Journalists are expected to be rather unemotional. My grandmother raised me. She used to bring me here for a special treat. We would sit outside on the patio and enjoy high tea in the afternoon.” She shook her head. “I’ll never forget that.”

  “Thanks for sharing that memory with me, Trina. I used to come here as a little girl too. I think that’s when I fell in love with Savannah House. One time I ventured upstairs when my mother wasn’t looking and I found Miss Hattie’s bedroom. Believe it or not I went over to her vanity and began spraying on her perfume and using her special comb and brush. All of a sudden I looked in the mirror above the vanity and I saw Miss Hattie’s reflection staring back at me. She was standing right behind me.”

  “Oh wow,” Eric said, letting out a low whistle. “You were busted. What did she say?”

  Charlotte laughed at the memory. “She asked me if I liked her Chanel No. 5 perfume and then began to comb my hair.”

  “That’s incredible,” Tina said, wrinkling her nose. “She wasn’t mad?”

  Charlotte felt an ache as memories of Miss Hattie washed over her. She had been a spectacular woman. “Not at all. She loved children so much and she always had a gentle way about her. She wasn’t a saint by any means. Miss Hattie could get angry. But it was usually when someone was being cruel or unkind. She didn’t tolerate bullies.”

  “No she didn’t. Not one bit.” Callie had come up behind Charlotte. She stuck out her hand in greeting to Eric and Trina as they all introduced themselves.

  One by one the other women drifted in to the main foyer. Morgan was dressed in her chef’s apron and hat while Hope had a baby monitor at her hip.

  Eric arranged them in various rooms to take group shots of them. He led them outside to the gardens to take individual shots. Charlotte tried not to feel awkward about getting her picture taken. All of the other ladies seemed so elegant and flawless. They were beautiful. She, on the other hand, felt like the plain Jane of the group.

  “Just relax, Charlotte,” Eric instructed as he snapped her picture.

  Charlotte tried to breathe in and out in an effort to appear more relaxed.

  “Think of something that makes you smile,” Eric suggested.

  A smile tugged at the corner of Charlotte’s lips. She thought about Miss Hattie and the inheritance of Savannah House and how all of her best friends had been reunited. They were now all running an inn together! And their friendships were back on track. They were incredibly blessed.

  “That’s the money shot,” Eric said in a voice filled with triumph. He took a few more shots, then moved the camera away from his eyes. “I got some great pics of you, Charlotte.”

  “Thanks for doing this, Eric,” she said, feeling relieved the photo shoot was over.

  Since it was rather difficult to take all of the ladies away from their posts to do one big interview, Trina broke it down into smaller groups. Charlotte and Callie were interviewed together.

  “Living up to the Duvall name in Savannah must be difficult. Did either of you feel the weight of that during the renovation of Savannah house?” Trina asked.

  Callie looked over at Charlotte. “Speaking for myself, I didn’t. Each of us had a unique relationship with Miss Hattie, and throughout the process of renovating Savannah House she was the one person I didn’t want to disappoint.”

  Charlotte nodded in agreement. “She entrusted us with this wonderful place. It’s really a monument to her family and legacy. We’re doing the best we can to keep it alive. And our families haven’t been a part of this at all.” Charlotte chuckled. “They’ve just given their support from a distance.”

  Trina was eagerly jotting down notes. “Savannah House is a very romantic place. I know you’ve hosted a few weddings with one very special one coming up between Fancy and Case. What’s the most romantic moment so far in your life?”

  “That’s easy,” Callie said. “The moment Jax first told me he loved me. I knew right then we would ride off into the sunset together.”

  “How sweet,” Trina said, turning her gaze toward Charlotte. “And you, Charlotte?”

  Charlotte felt dumbfounded. And pathetic. Although she’d had a few boyfriends there had never been a single moment in her entire life where she had been swept off her feet. Suddenly, more than ever, she felt like the wallflower at the dance. She tried to keep her voice light and untroubled as she said, “I don’t have any romantic highs, Trina. Love hasn’t found me yet.”

  Callie reached over and patted her on the knee. “It will though, Charlotte. When you least expect it. Bam.”

  But when? Charlotte desperately wanted to ask her cousin the question hovering on the tip of her tongue. When would love find her? And what was so wrong with her that love hadn’t come calling? Had the event from two and a half years ago scarred her so badly? Was she giving out vibes to men to stay away from her? Was she broken?

&n
bsp; Charlotte and Hope gave Trina and Eric a tour of Savannah House while everyone else got back to work. Hope was poised and articulate as she led the tour. It gave Charlotte a warm and fuzzy feeling to see Hope so secure in her role at Savannah House. In addition to her role as fitness instructor and garden planner, Hope was the most knowledgeable about the history of Savannah House. She really came alive when she led the tours.

  Yes, indeed. God surely had a hand in their inheritance and bringing them all back together under one roof. It filled her with a sense of purpose, knowing their dreams and goals were aligned with the Lord. Savannah House was more than just a way to make a living. It represented so much more—hope, faith and enduring friendship.

  As she walked outside and said her goodbyes to Trina and Eric, Charlotte felt a great sense of accomplishment race through her. The reboot of Savannah House had been a huge success. Every day brought new challenges such as leaking pipes in a bathroom or missing reservations or an abrupt cancellation from a guest. Despite a few hiccups, Charlotte knew they were extremely blessed.

  “Thank you, Miss Hattie, for believing in us,” she murmured. She looked up at the sky, firm in the knowledge that Miss Hattie was sitting up in heaven sipping tea and looking down upon her girls. Charlotte hoped her cousin Rachel was sitting right at Miss Hattie’s side and talking her ear off. That image gave Charlotte comfort.

  As she walked back inside, Charlotte’s thoughts were focused on Savannah House. Today had reinforced how grave the situation was regarding Grayson Holloway. Savannah House was making waves in the industry and earning accolades from guests and the media. According to Trina, Savannah House was the next best thing in resorts. It was now booked solid for months in advance and their profits were considerable. They had way too much to lose if Holloway decided to sue them and tie up their money in court costs.

  Please, Marc, find something out in Martha’s Vineyard that will help us get rid of Holloway before he turns our dream into a nightmare.