by Hope Ramsay
Lillian’s mouth curved up before she said, “Oh, praise the Lord. At last. Thank you so much, Miriam.”
Savannah must have let her confusion show. “Huh?”
“Honey, don’t you know that your aunt has a gift?” Ruby said as she patted Savannah’s shoulder. “What she joins together never comes apart. You take me and my Elbert. We weren’t exactly a match anyone would have expected. But we’ve been so happy together. And you could say the same for dozens of folks here in town.”
“Including me,” Jane said, “and all of Ruby’s children. Heck, she matched Stone up twice.”
Savannah shifted her gaze from lady to lady and wondered if everyone in Last Chance was nuttier than Granny’s fruitcake. But before she could say another word, Ruby asked, “So what did your aunt tell you to be looking for?”
“Uh—”
“A man with an appetite, among other things,” Miriam supplied.
“Well, that settles it,” Lillian said. “Bill fits that description to a T. Congratulations, honey. I’m sure you two will be happy together.”
Thelma Polk delivered the gossip to Hettie before the noon hour was finished. Hettie sat at her late husband’s desk at the Country Pride Chicken corporate office and tried, without much success, to regain her composure.
She told herself that she didn’t personally care that Miriam Randall had finally made a forecast for Bill. She wasn’t interested in Bill. She and Bill were just friends. They had been friends for a long time—since, well, before Jimmy was killed.
She wasn’t jealous in the least. She had sworn off romance of all kinds.
She stared down at the well-thumbed copy of Pride and Prejudice. Well, maybe not all romance. The make-believe romances were fine. Real romances were simply disasters waiting to happen. In that one way, she and Nita Wills agreed. The real world didn’t have many happy endings.
Not that she was all that experienced in love. She’d had exactly one romance in her life—with Dash Randall—when she’d been sixteen. The affair had not turned out well. It had cost her virginity, not that losing it had been terribly traumatic. But she hadn’t counted on falling out of love with Dash so quickly. She hadn’t counted on Dash falling in love with her. Her dalliance with Dash was supposed to be an adventure. But it had turned into a millstone around her neck.
No, she wasn’t at all concerned that Bill would soon be married to someone.
She just didn’t want that person to be Savannah White. If Savannah married Bill, she would probably give up her quest to revive the theater. She was just the sort of wholesome, pretty, churchgoing woman who would give up everything for a man. Heck, Hettie had been exactly like that when she was twenty. And Mother had encouraged her right into that role.
She thought about that pretty pink dress Savannah had worn to church. She even looked like a minister’s wife. It made Hettie downright queasy to learn that Savannah was also one heck of a good cook. And really, Bill lived for good food. Savannah would love cooking for him. He would want to keep her in the kitchen—probably barefoot and pregnant.
A frisson of emotion coursed through her. She wasn’t even sure what she was feeling. She propped her hand on her chin. She needed to do something about this situation. Last Chance needed that theater more than Bill needed a pregnant wife. Hettie needed to head off this marriage, and get Dash off his backside.
This was an emergency.
It was time for the Queen Bee to actually do something. So she picked up the phone and called Lady Woolham.
“Rocky, we’ve got a big problem.”
“We do?”
“Yes, we do. Savannah can’t marry Bill.”
“Why not? They’re perfect together.”
“Because if Savannah marries Bill, she’ll give up on the theater.”
“Oh. Well you do kind of have a point. I can’t see Bill married to a person who owns a theater. But from what I’ve heard from Dash, the theater is in such bad shape it’s almost not worth trying to fix up.”
“Now, see, that’s the problem right there. Dash is being difficult.”
“He’s always difficult,” Rocky said. “It’s one of his most charming traits. He’s difficult with a crooked smile.”
Hettie let go of a frustrated sigh. “I’m only saying that he has the money to fix that place up, but he seems to be less than enthusiastic about helping me out this time.”
“Really? That would be a first. Maybe there’s hope for him, bless his heart.”
“Rocky, that was mean.”
“I’m sorry. But you have to face it, Hettie. It would be good for him—and you—if he could move on.”
Hettie swiveled in her chair and stared through her office window, her brain suddenly going into overdrive. “Rocky, that’s it. That’s the solution.”
“What’s the solution?”
“We need to get Dash and Savannah together.”
Silence beat on the phone for a few seconds. “Hettie, honey, that is never going to happen. Dash and Savannah hate each other.”
Hettie turned and stared at the well-thumbed copy of Pride and Prejudice sitting on her desk. “So what? Elizabeth Bennet hated Mr. Darcy, and look where they ended up.”
“Hettie, this is real life.”
“Does she really hate him that much?”
“Oh, boy, does she ever. And I can’t blame her. He put a snake in her bed when he was like thirteen.”
“And she still holds that against him? Really? He’s not the most mature guy in the world, but he’s definitely older than thirteen.”
“Yeah, and he’s a recovering alcoholic who screwed up his baseball career. I love Dash like a brother, but I’m not entirely sure that he’s great boyfriend material. And besides, I wouldn’t do that to Savannah. She’s an old friend. I think we should focus on the business at hand. There’s another way to help her get The Kismet off the ground.”
“Oh?”
“Sarah and Lark have cooked up an idea. They want to create a nonprofit development corporation to revive the downtown district. Sarah told me just last night that she and Tulane are interested in Savannah’s project. Tulane’s racing career has taken off. He’s almost as rich as Dash.”
“Well, hallelujah.”
“And I’m really glad you called. Because Sarah and Lark are at the point of forming a board of directors, and they asked me to ask you if you were interested in being a member.”
“Of course I am. I’m flattered. But I don’t know that I can make much of a contribution.” She stared at the spreadsheets on her desk. There was a lot of red ink on those financial statements.
“Hettie, don’t sell yourself short. Maybe you can’t give money right at the moment, but if we’re going to form a group of young gals in this town, you have to be one of them.” Rocky’s voice sounded warm.
“Young gals?”
“No one wants to be part of an old-gals network, Hettie. We’re all young. And we’re going to be different from the Ladies’ Auxiliary.”
The Last Chance grapevine was notorious for circulating rumor, innuendo, and factually incorrect information. But this time, the rumor mill had been accurate.
Dash stood just inside the door of the Red Hot Pig Place, sucking in the aroma of Earl Williams’s Carolina-style barbecue. He hadn’t really expected to find his objective here. After all, the Pig Place wasn’t the sort of restaurant where a corporate CEO, a Pulitzer Prize–winning photographer, a marketing wizard, and a baroness usually dined. Especially if they were all women.
But this was Last Chance, and strange things often happened in this town. Yep, the girls were definitely up to something. They huddled around one of the red-and-white-checked tablecloths, a pitcher of sweet tea sitting between them. Hettie had her back toward the door. Sarah Rhodes, the wife of NASCAR driver Tulane Rhodes, was punching something into a smartphone. Lark Rhodes, the wife of Allenberg’s sheriff, was listening intently, while Rocky was doing most of the talking. As usual.
Das
h sucked down a deep breath and told himself that facing these women was not nearly as intimidating as facing a ninety-seven-mile-an-hour fastball with lateral movement. Dash had been known to knock fastballs a long way.
These women couldn’t throw worth a damn, but at least one of them sure knew how to play hardball. He had this horrible feeling he was about to strike out with the one woman he wanted more than anything.
But he was determined to see this through. So he squared his shoulders and marched across the room.
“Evenin’, ladies,” he said, tipping his Stetson. He’d worn the cowboy hat because it was black and looked a little more professional than one of his baseball caps. “Y’all mind if I join you?”
Four pairs of eyes looked up at him, displaying a range of emotions.
“Dash, what a surprise,” Hettie said.
He didn’t wait for a gold-plated invitation. He pulled a fifth chair from an adjoining table and sat down. “So I hear y’all are annoyed at me and have decided to take matters into your own hands.”
“Where did you hear that?” Hettie asked. Danged if she didn’t sound exactly like a Queen Bee.
Rocky’s cheeks immediately turned pink. “I’m the guilty one,” Rocky said. “I told Clay, and he told Jane, and Jane told Lizzy, and I’m guessing that Lizzy mentioned something to you, Dash?” Rocky’s eyebrows arched.
“Yup, that pretty much sums it up. Did you plan it that way, darlin’?” he asked.
“Of course I did. Everyone knows Clay is incapable of keeping a secret.”
“You could have called me directly, you know.” He said this to Hettie.
Hettie didn’t respond.
Instead, Rocky shrugged and said, “I know. But I promised Hettie that I wouldn’t tell you about this meeting. So I used the tried-and-true Rhodes-family method of communicating important information to the community at large. That way I had plausible deniability.”
Sarah shook her head. “Rocky, you spent way too much time working for a politician, you know that?”
Dash turned his gaze on Sarah. “So it’s true, then, Tulane is interested in investing in the theater?”
Sarah picked up her smartphone and tapped it a few times. “Well, I don’t know specifically. I’d have to see the numbers. But Tulane and I have been talking about creating a foundation that could invest in Last Chance. I’ve just sent you an e-mail with some ideas we’ve been roughing out for something he calls the Last Chance Development Corporation.” She glanced at Rocky and then Hettie. “I know Tulane would love to have your support on this.”
Dash reached into the breast pocket of the blue blazer he almost never wore anymore now that he didn’t have to meet any kind of team dress code. It was kind of ridiculous to wear a sport coat to the Pig Place, but these ladies meant business, so he’d dressed for the part. He pulled out some papers and handed them around. “Well, since you’ve brought the topic up, I would like to be involved with this new organization.”
“You would?” Hettie seemed surprised.
“Yes, but only at arm’s length, darlin’. I don’t think I could stand being on a board of directors. Especially being the only dude on a board of directors.” He smiled.
“What kind of support did you have in mind?” This from Lark, who was very much like her husband, the sheriff. She didn’t say much; she just observed.
“The handout has an estimate of costs associated with the theater project. I’ve done a survey, and the structure has some serious problems. To bring it back, we’ll have to replace the seating, the sound and projection systems, and the roof. It probably needs some additional work to bring the building up to fire and ADA standards. And we’ll need to add a kitchen.”
“A kitchen?” Lark asked.
He shrugged. “Savannah wants to turn it into a dinner theater. She needs the biggest damn kitchen we can squeeze into the place.
“I made a rough guesstimate of the amount we’d need to do all that, and an equally back-of-the-envelope analysis on the theater’s likely profit and loss. For that, I did some research on other theaters that have been rescued by nonprofit organizations. Most of them lose money. You’ll find all of that in my handout.”
He gave Sarah a hard stare. “So if y’all are in this for a profit, you need to rethink. The Kismet is going to be the biggest money pit this side of the Mississippi. The good news is that Savannah owns the building free and clear. So she’s got some collateral. You could minimize some risks by insisting that she take out a mortgage. But it would have to be pretty small, otherwise she’ll have a long-term problem meeting the payments.”
Hettie’s violet gaze bored into him. “Did you come here to talk us out of this project? Because—”
“No, Hettie, I came here to talk sense. Dollars and cents. You were right last Sunday. I would like to see the old place lit up again, but we have to face the fact that it’s never going to be a moneymaker. And Savannah may know how to make biscuits that are Heaven’s bread, but she doesn’t know crap about business.”
“She can learn,” Sarah said. “We can teach her.”
“I’m sure she can learn. And I’m sure you can teach her. But Savannah isn’t interested in learning anything from me. And she sure as shootin’ isn’t interested in taking my money. She’s prejudiced against me, and for good reason.”
“Dash, if that’s the case, why did you come here tonight?” Hettie asked. “Because it sure does seem like you’re spouting nothing but negativism.”
Dash leaned forward a little bit. “I’m just speaking the cold, hard truth. And here’s another truth—I’m prepared to put a couple of million dollars into this development corporation y’all are dreaming up, but please don’t call it the Last Chance Development Corporation because that would be a stupid name.”
“A couple of million?” Sarah’s hazel eyes lit up.
“Yes, ma’am, but I have a requirement that the corporation, whatever you call it, gives Savannah at least five hundred thousand dollars for the theater renovation.”
“Give her the money?” Sarah said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Dash replied.
“She’s going to know the money came from you,” Rocky said.
“She won’t if you keep your mouth shut about it. And that means not telling Clay a thing about it.” He gave Rocky a meaningful look.
“Are you asking us to lie to her?” Hettie said.
“Hettie, do you want the theater renovated or not? Because if you want it renovated and you want me to pay for it, then it’s got to be done on the QT. I’m only trying to do what you asked me to do, you realize that, don’t you?”
Hettie’s gaze didn’t soften one iota. He’d come in here with all his flags flying, determined to be all she wanted in a man, and here she was arguing with him.
“Half a million dollars? You think she’ll need that much?” Hettie asked.
Dash shrugged to hide the disappointment that almost overwhelmed him. What the hell did he have to do to please Hettie, anyway? “The structure needs work,” he said through his clenched teeth. “I want Savannah to have enough money to hire an architect who could preserve the history of the building. I don’t want to lowball this. I want her to have the means to do it right.”
“That’s really nice, Dash, doing this for your cousin, even though you don’t get along,” Sarah said.
“I’m not doing it for my cousin.” He glanced at Hettie, whose expression remained utterly neutral.
He was a fool. He couldn’t buy her love for any price. And he couldn’t earn it either. Hettie was never going to love him the way he loved her.
The truth should have devastated him, but it didn’t. It was just one more truth he had to soberly face as a part of his recovery.
He couldn’t win her love, but he could make atonement, especially for his failure to live up to the expectations of Aunt Mim and Uncle Earnest. The kink in his gut eased, and a sense of purpose replaced it.
There were other, better reasons fo
r him to help Savannah revive The Kismet.
“I cared a lot about Earnest Brooks,” he said. “And I know he would appreciate it if I helped his granddaughter. I’m doing this for him. You could say this is sort of like one of my twelve steps.”
CHAPTER 9
Four days later, Savannah and Todd sat at the kitchen table, doing their homework together. Todd was working on social studies. Savannah was working on her business plan.
Todd let go of a big sigh. “I don’t know why I need to learn about South Carolina history. It’s not like I’m going to live here for that long. Dad is going to come any day now, and Champ and I will be out of here.”
Savannah didn’t rise to the bait. Todd had made it abundantly clear that he hated almost everything about Last Chance, except for the dog. He hated his new teachers at the middle school. He hated having to do chores around the house. He whined incessantly about everything, especially the fact that Bill Ellis was coming to dinner every other night.
Savannah felt like whining about that, too. But Miriam kept inviting the preacher. And Bill kept coming even though Savannah had done everything in her power to discourage him. Maybe she should switch shifts at the doughnut shop so she wouldn’t be available for supper.
Of course, then she wouldn’t be able to cook for the family either. She didn’t like that idea. Not one bit. She loved having a crowd to cook for.
Todd turned back to his textbook, and she continued to work on putting together an estimated profit and loss statement. As she punched numbers into her cell phone’s calculator, she remembered why she had flunked math so many times.
She was just no good at this stuff.
Just then the phone buzzed to life. The caller ID screen flashed, and Todd saw it before Savannah could send the call to her voice mail.
“It’s Grandmother.” He squinted at her. His look was a dare that Savannah couldn’t pass up. No way she was showing Todd how much his paternal grandmother scared her.