Last Chance Book Club

by Hope Ramsay

  “Her name was Frogzilla. She was one big bullfrog.”

  “You guys aren’t kidding, are you?” Savannah said.

  “Nope. Last Chance is a homey kind of place. Mark Twain would have felt comfortable here,” Miriam said. She turned toward Todd. “Have you ever read that Mark Twain story, the one about the jumping frog?”

  He shook his head.

  “Well, you should. I think it’s in Harry’s library. I’ll get it for you. You should read the story before you enter the frog jump.” Miriam gave Dash a big smile that he felt down in his middle.

  But Savannah looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. She turned toward her son. “Have you finished your homework?”

  Todd gave her an eye roll. “Mom, Dash made me do it before he took me to Golfing for God.”

  Savannah’s expression softened just a little, and Dash felt a rush of warmth. Damn. Pleasing Savannah was kind of fun. But dangerous. He had to remember that. He was already halfway hooked on her smile.

  “It’s time for bed. You get ready, and I’ll be up to tuck you in,” she said.

  “Jeez, I’m way too old for that.” The kid turned and stomped into the house, slamming the door behind him.

  Miriam chuckled. “What is it about boys and screen doors?” she mused.

  “You got a minute?” Savannah asked Dash.

  His warm fuzzy feelings evaporated. Savannah was ticked off about something. He could sense it. Her shoulders were all tense. “Sure.” He started toward one of the rockers, but she stood up.

  “Not here. Inside.”

  “Honey, you be careful with him, now, you hear?” Miriam said.

  “Be careful with me how?”

  Miriam smiled, her eyes twinkling in the porch light. His aunt was up to something.

  He followed Savannah into the living room. She turned and put her fists on her hips.

  “Who gave you permission to show my business plan to Rocky?”

  “I didn’t think it was a secret.”

  “Well, I wasn’t totally finished with it. I gave it to you so you could give me advice on how to improve it. I didn’t expect you to hand it off to Rocky or for her to hand it off to Hettie and Sarah and Lark. I don’t even know who Lark is.”

  “She’s the sheriff’s wife. And the sheriff is Rocky’s older brother, Stone. You remember Stone from your summers here, don’t you?”

  “Vaguely. Look, Dash, I gave you that plan in draft form so you could tell me all the things I did wrong.”

  “But you didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I didn’t?” She seemed genuinely surprised.

  “No. It was a really good plan.”

  “Oh. Why didn’t you tell me that?”

  “I didn’t think you wanted my advice.”

  “Of course I did. Why would I have given you the plan in the first place?”

  “Because I told you I would invest in the theater.”

  She squinted at him. “And I told you I didn’t want your money.”

  “Exactly, which is why I gave your plan to Rocky and the gals. I figured they were planning a fund to reinvest in downtown Last Chance, and you had a plan for reviving The Kismet. I just played matchmaker. Sort of like Aunt Mim, only different.”

  She stood there frowning at him.

  “What did they do, honey? Criticize your plan at the book club tonight?”

  “No, they want to give me a grant of half a million dollars. I don’t think I even need that much. What the heck am I going to do with half a million dollars?” Her voice rose into the stratosphere, and she turned around and strode across the room to the fireplace. She was really upset.

  “Honey, getting half a million dollars to realize your dream is not something to get upset over.”

  She didn’t say anything. She just stood there all stiff in the back.

  He battled his feelings for a long moment. He should walk away. He should tell her the truth. There was a long list of things he should do.

  But instead, he behaved exactly like the addict he was. He walked up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. Her bones were so tiny. Her skin so warm. He wanted to spin her around and plant a kiss on her like she’d planted one on him last Friday. He had to fight that urge with every sinew in his body.

  “I’m so angry at you.” Her voice was low and didn’t sound angry at all. The sound of it burned a hole in his middle.

  “I only did you a favor, princess. And besides, if I didn’t think you’d done a good job on the business plan, I would never have shared it with Rocky.”

  She turned.

  He jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He could look, but touching was forbidden.

  But looking proved disastrous. Because something had changed. When she’d first arrived for Harry’s funeral, he’d thought she was only average in looks. She had good legs and pretty blond hair, of course, but he didn’t think she was a beauty. But then he’d begun to notice the way her eyes lit up when she was with Todd, and the way she helped Aunt Mim around the house, and the way she sang old Alabama songs to herself when she was in the kitchen.

  She had turned into a ravishing beauty. How had that happened? How had his perception of her altered so much?

  It was a danger sign, pure and simple.

  “Did you really think my plan was good?” she asked.

  “I did. You must have spent hours on the phone talking to contractors. Those numbers were dead-on.”

  “How would you know?”

  Ooops. Busted. He smiled. “Just experience,” he said. He couldn’t tell her about the hours he’d put in getting ballpark estimates for the work needed.

  “But I don’t need half a million dollars.”

  He shrugged. “So don’t use it all. But getting half a million dollars means you could consult an architect. You could register the site as an historic building and really do the right kind of restoration.”

  She stared at him like a deer caught in the headlights. She didn’t say a word for a good thirty seconds. Looking at her was driving him crazy.

  But he would beat this thing. It was kind of like going down to Dot’s Spot and drinking Coca-Cola. He had conquered that demon, and he would conquer this one, too.

  “Savannah, what is it? Are you scared?” he asked.

  Her chin quivered but she remained silent.

  He stifled the urge to pull her into his arms. “You’re going to be fine. Just put your plan into action. You start by taking a look at other theater renovations. See which architects they used. In the meantime, you could work on cleaning the place up. And once you consult with an architect, you need to find a general contractor. You just take one step at a time.”

  It was almost as if he were talking to himself and repeating the mantra of one day at a time.

  “But half a million dollars, free and clear? Why would Sarah Rhodes do that for me? Rocky and I were friends, but Tulane was almost as big a pest as you were.”

  “Honey, he was a piker compared to me.” He smiled. “You know, I reckon Hettie is behind this. The Queen Bee has told me a dozen times that she wants that theater revived. And she can be mighty persuasive. So, I think you should just go with the flow. Don’t stand here being mad at me. I have nothing to do with this except handing your plan off to people looking for a project.”

  He turned on his heel and headed up the stairs to his room. He prayed like hell that she wouldn’t follow him and that she believed his lies.

  Hettie lit the tall taper on the dining room table. Violet Easley, her longtime housekeeper, had outdone herself this time. The table was elegant without being showy, and Violet’s fried chicken, warming in the oven, was to die for.

  Probably literally, given the amount of fat it contained.

  The doorbell rang, and Hettie rushed to answer it. Her pulse kicked up a notch as she opened the door to find the rector of Christ Church standing there with a bunch of Lillian’s camellias in his hand. Bill was a startlingly handsome man,
with dark hair that curled over his brow and serious, deep-set blue eyes. Hettie hated to admit it, but Bill had settled down in the back of her mind, and he wasn’t budging. Every encounter with him was like a secret, guilty pleasure.

  “Hey,” she said like some lame high-schooler.

  “Is that some of Violet’s fried chicken I smell?”

  “Are those some of Lillian’s camellias?”

  He stiffened ever so slightly.

  “Oh, come on, Bill, I’m just teasing you. Smile.”

  That elicited a little quirk at the corners of his mouth. His dimple flashed and then disappeared. He stood on her threshold for the longest time staring down into her eyes. These moments of connection were truly embarrassing.

  She took his flowers and led him to her table. They ate Violet’s fried chicken and then took coffee and lemon meringue pie into the living room. They sat side by side poring over the latest financial statements for the Christ Church building fund. Hettie had been its treasurer and chief fund-raiser for some time.

  “Honestly, Hettie, I’m so impressed by what you’ve done. We’re at least six months ahead of where we thought we’d be at this time. And you did this at the same time you were managing the Golfing for God restoration and dealing with Jimmy’s death and the chicken plant. I had no idea you were such a wiz at finances.”

  “I was always good at math. Unfortunately, I wasn’t ever encouraged to use it—at least not until—”

  She swallowed the rest of the sentence. She knew good and well that Bill knew all the bad things Jimmy had done before he’d been killed. His mismanagement of Country Pride Chicken was unconscionable. The irony was that her husband had been cleaning up his act when he’d lost his life. In fact, Jimmy got himself shot for standing up for the truth and trying to be a good man. Hettie would always feel responsible for that.

  She laced her fingers together and stared down at her hands.

  “What is it, Hettie?” Bill asked. His voice was laced with concern. Bill could always sense when she was worried. And he always had a way of making her feel better.

  “Things aren’t good at the chicken plant, but we’ll muddle through.”

  “If things are that bad, why are you spending your time on Angel Development? Don’t get me wrong, now. I think it’s a wonderful idea. And I’m amazed at the help you’ve offered Savannah. But sometimes, Hettie, I think you get all wrapped up in helping others and don’t think about yourself.”

  “I take that as a compliment. I was raised up with the idea that I should care about others. And I would think that you, being a minister, would understand that.”

  He reached over and patted her hands. His palms were warm and masculinely rough. His touch ignited feelings she didn’t want to have. Not just feelings for Bill. But feelings in general. She wanted her independence more than she wanted anything in the world.

  “I do believe in charity. But I think sometimes that charity starts at home. You’re in trouble. All you have to do is ask for help.”

  She smiled. “I do ask for help. Nightly. I pray. And I know the Lord will take care of me.”

  Bill patted her hand. “You inspire me at times, you know that?”

  She wanted to grab his hand and hang on. But she didn’t allow herself that luxury.

  “I’m just curious, though,” Bill said. “Y’all are giving Savannah a great deal of money. And she doesn’t have any business experience. Where did this money come from? And it seems to me that if y’all wanted to invest in something, it ought to be Country Pride Chicken. It’s still one of the largest employers in the county.”

  “Yes, but I sit on the board of Angel Development, so I can’t ask them for money. Besides, I don’t need help. I’ll figure it out. Things are getting better, slowly.”

  “You didn’t answer my question. Where did all that money come from?”

  “We have investors. Tulane Rhodes is rich. Lark Rhodes has money she inherited from her father. Hugh deBracy’s business is doing incredibly well. These people want Last Chance to become a model of a thriving small town.”

  “Well, it still seems like an awful lot of money.”

  “What’s the matter? Don’t you want to see The Kismet rise from the ashes?”

  “I suppose.”

  “You suppose? Aren’t you happy for Savannah? I thought you and she were close. If you listen to the talk in town, y’all are practically husband and wife.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. She’s a wonderful woman. A good mother, a great cook, and last night she played piano for us. She’s quite accomplished.”

  “I’m sure she is.” Hettie tamped down on her jealousy. Hettie couldn’t cook, had no musical talent, and didn’t have anything even closely resembling Savannah’s curvy figure. She just had a knack for putting together spreadsheets so that she could obsess over them.

  She took a sip of coffee, feeling disgruntled. “How do you feel about marrying a woman with a day job?” she asked, even though she knew it was an ugly thing to ask.

  “I am not opposed to working women.”

  Hettie laughed at his unfortunate choice of words. “You mean women who work outside the home, don’t you? The term ‘working women’ is sometimes used to mean something else entirely.”

  Bill stared at her for a long moment before he got the joke. His face flushed bright red, but then he laughed. “Ah, yes, I’m sure that Lillian Bray would object to working women on the streets of Last Chance.”

  “She also has old-fashioned views about women working outside the home,” Hettie said.

  “Well, I don’t. And I’m sure Savannah will be very successful.”

  “Will that make you happy?”

  “Of course it will. I admire her greatly,” Bill said.

  “I’m happy for you then.”

  “Are you?” He raised an eyebrow.

  Did he suspect the turmoil that was running through her at this moment? Hettie had no reason to feel jealous. She’d done everything she could for Savannah’s project. And she even admired and liked Savannah. These feelings were confusing. She needed to ignore them. She was independent for the first time in her life. And she was enjoying every minute of it.

  “Bill, I am very happy for you and Savannah. The Ladies’ Auxiliary believes that every minister should be married. And she seems to suit you. And, as you have pointed out, she’s destined to be a great success.”

  His bright blue eyes softened ever so slightly. “Yes, but Last Chance is full of accomplished women. It’s hard for a man to choose. Take you, for instance. You’ve done so much for the people of this town. You resurrected the golf course. You’re trying to save the chicken plant. You’re part of this new downtown development thing. You’ve raised a lot of money for the church. I would say that you’ve begun to live up to that name everyone calls you.”

  “What? Queen Bee? I don’t regard that as a very nice epithet.”

  “I do,” he said.

  That sent a warm flush coursing through her. He noticed and appreciated the work she was trying to do. And that made her feel strong and independent.

  Zeph stood in the deep shadows cast by a magnolia tree. He watched the house as dusk turned to full dark. The kitten in his hand wanted to be turned loose. This particular critter was loaded with P and V. If he let him go, he’d be gone for good.

  He’d had a problem kitten like this a couple of Christmases ago, and he’d stashed that one in the manger with baby Jesus over at Christ Church where Annie could find her.

  But it was almost Easter time. There weren’t any mangers around.

  He stood in the dark for the longest time, watching the lights come on inside the houses on Maple Street. He couldn’t bring himself to knock on the door.

  He was about to turn away and go back to his truck when the front door opened. “I declare, Zeph Gibbs, is that you standing there still as a statue?”

  Nita came out onto her porch. She was dressed in a real pretty yellow dress. She kind of looked l
ike spring in that dress. Like the jonquils that were blooming out on Bluff Road. “Ma’am,” he said. His voice sounded rusty, and behind him, he could almost hear the ghost laughing at him.

  “What you got there?” she asked.

  Zeph screwed up his courage and crossed the street. He stopped at the edge of Nita’s lawn. “It’s a kitten, ma’am.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Zeph, you and I went to high school together. Don’t call me ma’am.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I mean Miz Nita.”

  “Well, bring that kitten over here.”

  He stepped up onto the lawn, conscious of the ghost waiting behind him. He sure hoped Nita couldn’t see that haunt. She might get scared. He didn’t want to scare Nita.

  He got as far as the porch steps and held out the kitten. “It’s a little calico stray. Someone dumped her in the swamp a few days ago.”

  Nita looked down at him from the porch, and he lost himself for a little while in her dark, kind eyes. She came down the porch steps and took the kitten from his outstretched hand. And just like that, the little critter quit trying to get away.

  But then Zeph knew that would happen. He didn’t exactly know how he knew, but he knew. This one was for Nita.

  “Aw, he’s adorable. Is it a he?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Nita frowned at him. “I told you I don’t want to be called ma’am.”

  He nodded. “I thought you might like a cat.”

  “Is that why you were standing across the way like that?”

  “You saw me?”

  “I did. I was scared for a minute until I realized it was you. You looked like a ghost standing there so still. How have you been, Zeph?”

  “I been fine, Miz Nita.” He felt a little odd calling her by her first name. She was the finest lady in all of Last Chance.

  “You still living out in the swamp?”

  “No, ma’am. I don’t live in the swamp. I built me a very nice house right off of Bluff Road. Near the Jonquil House. The flowers are in bloom. It’s right pretty out there this time of year.”

  “I’m glad to hear you aren’t camping out. What have you been doing lately?”