by Nancy Naigle
Savannah Dey.
Sounded more like a description of something, or a pop song, than a name. And why the heck did he even remember it?
She was cute, but he knew lots of cute girls. It was rare that he ran radar, so what were the odds he’d pick a speeder who looked like her? Maybe there was a correlation between fast cars and pretty girls. And who the heck knew a Mini Cooper could go that fast? Not that it mattered.
She’d looked taller sitting in that little blue car, but standing in line at the bakery she’d barely come up to his shoulder. And her chestnut hair was longer than he’d realized. Pretty girl. Not cute. Definitely pretty.
He pressed the gas pedal and turned onto the street, nodding to the volunteers as he slowly passed the corner. He glanced in his rearview mirror, then pushed the whole mirror up and out of the way to resist the temptation to look back at that girl again.
Waste of time. Every girl he picked out was the wrong girl. That guy who said there is a match out there for everyone hadn’t met him, because he’d rolled the dice on a lot of women and not one of them had worked out. It had to be him. He slowly made his way down the entire parade route to confirm everyone was ready to go.
His eye was surveying the progress, but his mind was still on that woman. Odd name.
Who would name their kid that? Maybe Ms. Savannah Dey was one of those people who changed her name to make some point. But then again, her driver’s license said she lived in DC. It had to be her parents who had been the creative types. That’s got to be it. His own laugh caught him off guard. That girl was definitely more jet-set than flower child.
Of course she was jet-set. Wasn’t every woman he ever found attractive a big-city kind of girl?
It was his fatal flaw and what would probably ensure him a life of bachelorhood. Not that being a bachelor was so bad. Maybe somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind he wanted to be alone and that was why he was attracted to the wrong kind of woman.
He knew from firsthand experience that a girl in love with the city life would not, could not, live in Adams Grove. At least not for long.
Okay, so maybe Kasey had adapted just fine to the small town, but still . . . that relationship hadn’t worked out for him. And darn if Ruth hadn’t seemed perfect until they started spending more time in Adams Grove. The town was too slow and a shopping mall short of her happy place. His type and his life were just a total mismatch. How many times would it take for him to get that lesson through his thick skull?
Children waved frantically in his direction. At that age anything on the street seemed like a parade. He flipped on the lights and let the siren wail. The kids’ faces lit up. These moments touched his heart. He loved kids. Wouldn’t mind having a couple of his own, but at this rate, that wasn’t likely to happen.
Maybe that was part of why not winning Kasey had been so hard. He’d lost not only her, but Jake too. Although technically, he’d lost nothing at all. Once they got past the awkwardness, they’d repaired the friendship. Scott still regretted acting like such an ass when it became apparent that Cody Tuggle was stealing her heart. It had been a tough pill to swallow, but watching her and seeing how the two of them treated each other . . . even he had to admit they were a good match.
Mom was about to drive him crazy with all the grandchild talk, though.
He’d kept her at bay with his black lab, Maggie, and her puppies for a while, but that whole granddog thing was losing its charm pretty quickly. She kept encouraging him to settle down with one of the local girls. The problem with that was that he’d known those girls his whole darn life, and that just felt a little like getting close with a sister, and that put out the spark every time.
Impossible.
Chaz Huckaby waved a giant orange flag as if Scott was crossing an imaginary finish line. Even on a hot day like today, that guy’s hair never moved. Those Captain Kangaroo bangs would withstand a hurricane. Chaz’s job was to keep the parade entries spaced far enough apart that the bands didn’t drown each other out and there was time for everyone to see all the hard work that had gone into each of the floats. Since he didn’t hear too well, Chaz didn’t mind being right there next to the booming music as they started down the parade route.
Scott made a quick U-turn and headed for the high school parking lot. All the entrants were lined up in the order they would go down the route, and they looked ready to roll.
Deputy Taylor had already pulled his car catty-corner along the right lane of the road to block any traffic, and the first float was at the ready to kick things off. All that needed to happen now was for Chaz to drop the flag for the first band to get to steppin’, and it looked like that would happen in about two minutes.
Right on time.
About six floats back, a flatbed trailer had been decked out to match the purple silks worn by the Hillcrest Joyful Kixx jockey the day of the Kentucky Derby.
It had been a day of surprises, not all good ones.
The celebration had been meant for Rick Joyner and Jenny Herndon becoming part owners of the fancy racehorse. The Derby-themed party was like nothing this little town had ever seen, and then to top it off, Rick had surprised them all by proposing to Jenny in the middle of it all. But then everything went to hell . . . literally.
As in the guy behind the Goto Hell murder that had shaken this state all those years ago had come back, and in his plot for revenge against the man who had put him away, he’d abducted Brooke Justice. Thank goodness for the quick actions of Mike Hartman that night.
Scott’s jaw pulsed. That night would hang over this town for a long time. This parade was an attempt to soften that blow by shifting the memories of the day to the good ones that happened on that date.
Hillcrest Joyful Kixx had won the Kentucky Derby that day. This parade, in honor of that win, not only shifted the emotion of the town, but was also giving the ladies another chance to wear those hats they’d created for the party.
Ladies from the garden club sat in white Adirondack chairs, poised in their Sunday finest, ready to give their friends and family their best parade waves. His mom was one of them. He could hear her now. “Elbow, wrist. Elbow, wrist.” She fancied herself quite the waver ever since her homecoming days in this town. Lord, he’d heard that story five hundred times if he’d heard it once.
Ted Hardy, the owner of Floral and Hardy, had re-created a huge Kentucky Derby winner’s circle flower arrangement for the float representing his shop. Scott couldn’t imagine how many fresh flowers it had taken to fill up that monstrosity of an arrangement. While others used metallic floral sheeting, balloons, and crepe paper, Ted always used flowers. Oodles of them. But it wasn’t like he could recycle that gigantic forty-pound blanket of roses draped across a four-foot-tall horseshoe covered in peanut hulls by taking it to the hospital or the old folks’ home. Heck, it was too big to fit in a car. They’d had to make arrangements to use the ambulance to deliver it. Now he could see why.
The members of the marching band from the neighboring town just north, Hale’s Vineyard, let out snippets of the chorus of “Camptown Races” as they nervously prepared to represent their town in the big celebration.
Hillcrest Joyful Kixx, the guest of honor, stood regally in a makeshift holding pen that the local farm supply dealer had created out of red pole gates decorated in purple that matched the jockey’s silks. The Thoroughbred looked way more relaxed among the hustle and bustle than most of the kids lined up. In fact, the horse was about the only one who looked relaxed in the whole darn group.
Funny too, since the horse had been the biggest point of difficulty in planning the parade that he’d ended up being the least of the trouble. The town held three meetings to get approval to have that horse in the parade. It wasn’t like they’d never had an animal in one of these events. Heck, Rick had even ridden that darned camel he rescued from the circus in one, but then again that camel wasn’t worth
a plug nickel.
The town council was worried to death that something would happen and they’d get the bill. The rest of the town was mad that there was even consideration of having a parade in honor of the horse’s big win without allowing the horse in it.
It had become downright comical that they were that worried about a horse when Scott could barely get them to listen about the safety of the people coming to watch the parade.
But eventually Cody Tuggle’s mom, Denise Hill, had been able to reassure the committee that the horse would be fine and filed the appropriate papers to be sure the town would not be held accountable if there was an accident or injury. After all, now that she was moving her operation here to Adams Grove, in Kasey Phillips’s old place, she was one of them.
Just to be sure though, part of the deal was for Scott to drive his patrol car behind the horse to keep watch on the situation.
There’d been discussion of a float with Cody Tuggle on it, but thank goodness he turned down that idea and offered to do a free concert later in the evening instead. Part of that offer had been so that Cody would have a chance to showcase a new young talent he’d taken on since the death of his agent, Arty Max. That worked to Scott’s favor. Fans would’ve just made the parade route crazier, and even though Scott had made his peace with Kasey being with Cody, he’d be lying if he didn’t admit that if he’d had to cruise the whole parade with Cody and Kasey in his rearview mirror looking like the most adored couple in America, it would have been the worst.
Scott gave Chaz the nod, and Chaz dropped his flag to get the first float on its way down the parade route.
Music filled the air, and the low boom and perfectly timed rim clicks of a bass drum made the children bounce with excitement. Savannah had to admit she too was beginning to feel anxious about the parade. Her mood was ten times more cheerful than it had been just a short while ago when she was cruising down the interstate.
Savannah raised her iPhone and snapped a picture of one of the floats. Evelyn had never steered her wrong before, and her advice to take advantage of the parade to skip that dreaded wedding was feeling like a pretty good idea.
She’d hesitated only a minute before taking Evelyn’s suggestion. One more click and the picture would go to Aunt Cathy; Savannah’s cousin, the bride, Winnie; and motormouth Monica, Savannah’s best friend all through high school, who was sure to spread the word as fast as the torque from that mechanic’s air tools had removed the lug nuts from her wheel.
She typed, Car trouble and now stuck behind a parade in Adams Grove, VA. Sorry, I’m not going to make it. All my best on this special day. Love, Savannah. That would have to do.
Sucking in a breath, she hit Send.
The sound of the text zipping out into the world made her stomach spin in a very uncomfortable way that reminded her of the tilt-a-whirl at the county fair. Old feelings from the last time she was in that small town she grew up in still haunted her way too many years after she’d fled the darned place. Belles Corner. It sounded so charming, but boy, could it put her stomach in a knot.
She hiked back up Main Street, nearly catching up with the first float that had passed by when she was down at Adams Grove Garage. She wasn’t sure what it was powered by, but whatever it was, it was struggling. She could just picture a rusted VW bug underneath the cardboard-looking float covered in streamers and what looked like Easter grass. Too bad forty clowns couldn’t jump out of it and push the thing. It would surely move faster.
Joining the locals along the sidewalk settled her uneasiness some. She’d just begun to relax when her phone indicated someone had texted her back. Her knee-jerk reaction was to grab for her phone, but she stopped short and decided to just pretend to be out of range. That felt rather like a victory in itself.
She slipped out of her sweater and tied it around her waist, then leaned against the lamppost and watched another float go by. How many years had it been since she actually stopped and watched a parade? Except for the occasional glimpse of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade . . . never, since she left Belles Corner. Her hometown was so small the only parade they ever had wasn’t a parade at all, but rather just a convoy of pickup trucks on the opening day of hunting season. It had been a tradition for as long as she could remember. She wondered if they still did it.
DC had its share of parades, but comparing the big-city parades to ones like this was like comparing movies to slide shows.
She’d only been to one parade in DC, and that was only because she’d had to be in it. Right after she’d taken the job with Evelyn, all the writers at the paper rode on a float sponsored by GetItNowNews in the Christmas parade right past the Capitol building. She was still pretty sure they’d tricked her into drawing that short straw that forced her to be the newspaper’s stupid mascot. As if it wasn’t bad enough being the only woman, she had to be the one wearing a rolled-up-newspaper costume, which really made no sense at all, since they didn’t even have a physical paper anymore. Everything was online. Someone must have dragged that musty thing out of an old storage closet. The guys had spent the better part of the next year begging her to swat them for being naughty.
The timing of that parade had been less than perfect while she’d been trying to make a good first impression and be taken seriously in a man’s world like the newsroom. None of them had wanted to be in that parade, but Evelyn had made it mandatory. They’d all been half-drunk by the time the float started edging its way down Pennsylvania Avenue. To her benefit, at least no one could see her face in that costume.
The unmistakable clip-clop of horse hooves against the pavement grabbed her attention. There’d been a time when riding was one of the only things she could still find joy in. It had been years since she’d even been around horses, but the one walking by wasn’t your everyday trail horse.
The beauty of this horse was undeniable.
The sheen from the animal’s coat glimmered almost like it was wet, and his muscles screamed athlete, even with the bright-purple saddle towel and decorative tack. The jockey sat astride the horse in matching bright-purple-and-white silks.
Cheers and hushed whispers from the crowd filled the air. This wasn’t just any horse. This was Hillcrest Joyful Kixx, the Kentucky Derby winner. From what she was overhearing, he was being moved out here to a local farm. His win had been big news; in fact, if she remembered correctly, Evelyn had lost a bundle on that race because this horse won.
Too bad she hadn’t placed a bet. She probably would’ve picked this horse—purple was her favorite color.
A police car followed closely behind the horse, probably more for safety precautions for the high-dollar athlete than for parade reasons.
Savannah pulled her phone out of her purse and snapped a picture, then texted it to Evelyn with the message, Look.
Evelyn: Who’s the hot guy in the cop car? That your cop?
Savannah: The picture is of the horse. The Derby winner. And yes. That is the cop who pulled me over.
Evelyn: He’s hot. The cop. That horse cost me 5k.
Savannah: ;)
Evelyn: This little gig is going to be more fun for you than I thought.
Savannah: I didn’t agree to that gig.
Evelyn: One more thing. Hang on a second.
That woman ran at ninety miles an hour all day long. Her mind was always spinning up the next big thing. Too bad Savannah hadn’t considered that before she’d tried to play that silly April Fool’s joke on Evelyn. That joke had backfired on her big time. Evelyn hated advice columns. She made no bones about that, so Savannah had slipped a fake advice column tagged Advice from Van in the GetItNowNews upload to run on April 1.
In the Dear Abby format, she’d posted a question with a snarky answer. Evelyn was the only one who’d ever called Savannah Van, so she’d know exactly who was behind it, and it had seemed the perfect prank at the time. She’d thought they’d get a big la
ugh and it would be over. The problem was, the readers loved it. Questions came pouring in, and Evelyn, being the shrewd businesswoman she was, knew a good thing when it was in front of her and wasn’t about to let Savannah get away with not finishing what she’d started.
An advice column was not her idea of being a writer, and it sure as heck wasn’t something she could write home about. Especially since it wasn’t done with a real remedy in mind. The answers poked fun, making light of what really were some serious issues.
The paper had decided early on that part of the viral aspect would be to keep the columnist under wraps, which was easy to do since so few people knew about it to begin with.
So there she was, stuck getting no credit for all the hard work she’d put in and not sure she’d really be proud of it if she did.
She glanced down at her phone. Nothing back from Evelyn yet, and that just made her nervous.
She dreaded the one-more-hoop that Evelyn was always putting in front of her. Why was there always one more hurdle before Savannah could get off of that darn advice column? Change takes time. Patience just never was one of her strong suits.
Float after float went by. Good thing she’d decided to skip the wedding, because Bobby’s estimate of an hour had long passed. These people were serious about their parading!
The music drifted as the parade disappeared around the corner, and the locals started peeling back from the curb. Some gymnast in an animal costume went bouncing by, cartwheeling and carrying a sign that said HAPPY DAY Y’ALL! on it.
She wasn’t sure if it was the parade, getting out of going back to her hometown, or the possibility that she might really get off the Advice from Van assignment making her feel so good, but whatever it was, she wasn’t about to question it.
Savannah maneuvered between the people who had stalled to talk and catch up, then waited to cross the street with the others as cars filed out of a church parking lot.