“Just picture it, if you can,” he said. “Ethan the hero, Beth the heroine, and Candace the blackhearted villainess. The fans will go wild!”
Savannah tried to picture it, as requested. She tried to be happy for him. But it was a little hard to get excited about a movie, because a nasty wind had just blown her remaining Post-it away.
Once again, she was staring at an empty board.
Chapter 23
Savannah couldn’t remember a time when her rose chintz chair looked more comfortable, her ottoman more inviting, her cats more welcoming. What a wonderful thing “home” was when you were feeling exhausted, frustrated and like a total failure.
“I’m sure I’ve been more bummed than this at some point in my life, but right now, I can’t recollect exactly when,” Savannah told Granny, who was sharing the sofa with Lenora.
One glance at Lenora told Savannah that the woman was taking a certain amount of perverse pleasure from seeing her so down in the dumps.
Knowing it made Savannah feel the need to walk across the floor and box Lenora’s ears soundly for her.
But she was too tired.
That alone should have told her she was in desperately bad shape.
“You didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, darlin’,” Gran said gently, as she shifted Vanna Rose on her lap so that the baby could see her Aunt Savannah. “It’s no wonder you’re frazzled around the edges with all the obstacles you’ve come up against.”
“I hear your search and rescue effort in the park was a waste of time,” Lenora said.
Savannah just stared blankly at her for several seconds, not trusting herself to reply in a civil manner. She wasn’t in the habit of doing violence to guests under her own roof—with the exception of Marietta, the second oldest of the Reid siblings, who had totally deserved that pillow beating and more—and she didn’t want to start beating visitors just yet.
Though Lenora did try her patience sorely.
Momentarily, she entertained a vision of having both Marietta and Lenora on the sofa and her pounding the everlovin’ daylights out of them with her best accent pillows.
The pillows would be ruined, no doubt, lace and rosebud ribbon embroidery torn asunder. But it would be worth it. She’d feel so, so much better.
“No, Mother,” Tammy said from her seat at the desk. “They didn’t find anything during the search. But when you consider that what they were mostly looking for up there in those rugged hills were the bodies of two people, then not finding anything would be classified as ‘good news,’ no?”
“It’s a bittersweet feeling, to be sure, Tammy,” Savannah told her. “Of course, we’re mighty grateful we didn’t find any bodies, but it would’ve been nice to uncover some sort of clue about what happened to Beth and Freddy. Or find out about the person who may have taken them. Or find something that would lead us to Pilar’s killer. Some little something. Any little something.”
“It’s a bad break, Savannah girl,” Gran said with genuine sympathy, “but don’t go thinking you’re defeated. Tomorrow’s another day.”
“All I know,” Savannah replied, “is that I started the day with at least three suspects, and now I don’t have a single one. That feels like three giant steps backward and right off a cliff.”
“Have you ever considered another form of employment?” Lenora suggested. “Something a bit more mundane, perhaps, but that paid better and was actually a boon to society?”
I’ll give you a boon, Savannah thought, a great big boon, right up the rear end.
“Would you like some refreshments, Dr. Hart?” she asked her unpleasant guest.
She said it with just enough sugar and spice in her voice to sound like the perfect hostess. But she was silently wondering if she still had that box of rat poison under the kitchen sink.
Would it mix well with apple pie? Or would it be detectable? she asked herself.
You can’t be careless about these things. You only have one chance to get it right. If you blow it, it’s forty years to life.
Will it show up on the tox screen during the autopsy?
If it does, can I buy off Dr. Jennifer with a lifetime supply of chocolate chippers?
“No, nothing for me,” Dr. Hart replied. “All you people eat around here is sugar. It’s appalling. And I thought Southern Californians were known for their health consciousness.”
“I reckon that’s the problem,” Granny said softly. “We’re a bunch of Georgians, and, though some have learned to do better, most of us still like our pecan pie, peach cobbler, and sweet tea.”
“You’ll pay for it in the long run.”
“Yes, ma’am, that may be so. There’s a day of reckonin’ for everybody sooner or later, and on that day, I ’magine most of us will wish we’d done things different.”
Tammy turned away from the computer and said, “If you don’t mind me changing the subject—”
“Heavens, no,” Savannah told her. “Please do, as quickly as possible.”
“I was just looking at Ethan Malloy’s fan pages. I thought I was smitten with him, but some of these women just live for him! They make fan-vids, videos where they take clips from all of his movies and put them to music. Some of them are very romantic and nice. Some are funny. They even dub his voice over other actors and create little story lines where he’s saying and doing stuff. I mean, they’re obsessed with him.”
“You should have seen the turnout for that search today,” Savannah told her. “They were even wearing matching T-shirts with little Freddy’s picture on the front. How did they even get those made so fast?”
“They need to get a life of their own,” Lenora said. “Grown women acting like adolescents about a guy with a pretty face.”
“And a deep voice,” Gran added. “Not to mention muscles galore just poppin’ out ever’where.”
Tammy sighed. “He’s sweet and kind and brave, too. He plays all those noble characters so well because that’s who he is inside.”
“Okay, okay,” Savannah said. “My blood sugar is going up just listening to y’all. Dr. Lenora just told us the dangers of livin’ life too sweetly.”
Tammy turned back to the computer and said, “There’s something I need to do, and I’m sorry, but I need the room to myself to do it.”
“Are you telling us to leave?” Savannah asked, hoping that wasn’t what she meant, because, when she had sunk into that chair, she had promised her body that she would never force it to move again.
“Not telling, exactly. But . . . well . . . do you remember that picture you had someone forward to me, and I was only supposed to open it if . . .”
Savannah jumped to her feet. “Oh, right. I forgot all about that.” She turned to Gran and Lenora. “How’s about you two ladies join me in the backyard for some black coffee or unsweetened tea or—”
“Is everything you people drink full of caffeine?” Lenora gave a derisive sniff. “Because caffeine isn’t—”
“Water!” Savannah said, trying not to scream. “Anybody want a glass of plain ol’ unsweetened, decaffeinated, cotton-pickin’ ice water?”
“Is it filtered? If it isn’t filtered, I—”
Savannah stomped away into the kitchen, muttering, “. . . still under the sink . . . I’ll bet it is . . . but how much would it take to . . . ?”
* * *
Ten minutes later, Savannah was sitting in her chaise lounge under the wisteria arbor, listening to the bees abuzz in her roses. At least, she was trying to listen to the soothing sounds of nature, but someone kept distracting her. Apparently, Lenora found Southern Californians far too casual in their attire. She had seen several diners at ReJuvene the night before who were wearing jeans, and as much as she had liked Ryan and John, she couldn’t fully respect any restaurateur who didn’t enforce a suitable dress code.
“It’s a different culture here,” Savannah finally said. “Isn’t there something rather sophisticated and worldly about having a flexible attitude about these things
when traveling? You know, like ‘Live and let live’? ‘When in Rome . . . ’?”
“No. There is nothing whatsoever sophisticated about wearing jeans to a fine restaurant or granting permission for others to do so.”
“Okay. Never mind. It was just a thought.”
Savannah looked at Gran, and they both performed perfectly synchronized eye rolls.
“Now that I have the two of you alone,” Lenora said, leaning forward in her chair, an intent gleam in her eye, “I have something I need to discuss with you. It’s vitally important.”
“Of course, Dr. Hart,” Gran said. “Do tell us what’s on your mind.”
“My daughter, of course. Her happiness. I’m very concerned about her.”
Savannah thought that her day couldn’t have been much more stressful. But she decided it could, and was probably about to become so any moment now.
“We’re all concerned about Tammy and want to see her happy,” Savannah said, forcing her voice to be soft, her words gentle.
Something told her this wasn’t a heart-to-heart that she could afford to get wrong.
“Yes, but your idea of her being happy and mine appear to be very different.”
“That may be so,” Granny said, “but your opinion or Savannah’s or mine don’t mean much a’tall. It’s Tammy’s opinion that counts.”
“I think my opinion counts.” Lenora raised her chin a few notches. “I am her mother. But even if what you say is true, she doesn’t appear to be happy to me in the least. She’s tense and short-tempered and not at all herself.”
Savannah bit back the words “She was fine until she heard you were coming, and she’s been a nervous wreck since.”
She couldn’t speak that way to Tammy’s mother, and for the life of her, she couldn’t think of a nice way to say it.
“She never should have come to this place,” Lenora continued. “I told her not to, I forbade her to, but she defied me and did it anyway. Now look where she is.”
Lenora started to sniffle and wipe at her eyes.
Savannah reached for the tissue box on the table beside her and quietly, slowly, slid it under her chaise and out of sight.
“She was such a beautiful girl,” Lenora said. “She used to have such a lovely figure and—”
“She still does,” Savannah returned.
“She’s gained weight. At least ten pounds.”
“She just had a baby!” Savannah could feel her last nerve fraying. “For heaven’s sake, Lenora. Your daughter is gorgeous. She’s the picture of health, and so is her beautiful little girl. Why can’t you just accept Tammy as she is?”
Lenora looked up and down Savannah’s ample figure, then Granny’s. “Some families are more accepting of fat than others. We don’t tolerate it.”
“Well, bully for you. Must be nice to be perfect. Or, maybe just think you’re perfect.”
Lenora gave her an ugly smirk, then said, “You have anger issues, Savannah. I think you’re jealous because you know that, as Tammy’s family and people of means, we can offer her a much higher standard of living than you ever will with this ridiculous business you have here, if one can even call what you do a business. It’s no secret that my husband and I are wealthy, and you’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous of your wealth, Dr. Hart,” Savannah told her. “Not at all. I’ve known far too many wealthy people to believe that their money allows them to live charmed lives. Every torment that visits the poor can knock on the rich person’s door just as quickly. Sickness and death, betrayal and infidelities, unexpected calamities that no amount of money can set straight. Look at Ethan Malloy right now. His wealth can’t shield him from the pain he’s going through. He told me so himself. Money only gives the illusion of control.”
“Maybe wealth can’t buy happiness,” Lenora returned, “but being poor can cause a lot of suffering. I know that for a fact, and I don’t want that for my daughter. Or my granddaughter either.”
Savannah looked into the woman’s eyes and saw tears. Real tears. Real pain. Real memories welling up, bitter and hurtful.
“You haven’t always had money,” Savannah said softly to herself. She was starting to understand Lenora Hart. Maybe better than the good doctor wanted her to.
When Lenora didn’t reply, Savannah forged ahead. “You were poor once, and you suffered. Badly.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Lenora said, almost shouting.
“Yes, forgive me, but I think I do. I think there was a time in your life when you had very little and during that time you went through a lot of pain. But the poverty wasn’t the most painful part, was it, Doctor?”
Lenora began crying in earnest, tears streaming down her face. Savannah reached under her chair, pulled out the box of tissues, and handed her several.
“It’s okay,” Savannah said softly. “I understand. When I was a kid, I lived with my mom. She drank and neglected us, and I always blamed our misery on the fact that we didn’t have enough money. Then the courts took her kids away from her, all nine of us, and gave us to Granny here.”
Savannah paused to give her grandmother a long, loving look.
It was returned threefold.
“Gran was poor, too,” Savannah continued. “There were days when we had no idea where our next meal was coming from, but we were happy. We were loved. We were nurtured, and that made all the difference.”
Gran moved from her chair to one next to Lenora’s. She reached over and laid her hand on the crying woman’s arm. “I feel real bad about whatever happened to you back then, Dr. Hart,” she said. “I’m glad it got better, and you found happiness. Leastwise, more than you had before. But Savannah’s right. It wasn’t about the money. It was about the love. And your sweet daughter is much loved here. Much loved. By Savannah, by Waycross, by Ryan and John, by me, and even by Dirk. Though he has a hard time showing it, ’cause he wasn’t loved enough either when he was growin’ up, and that sorta thing stays with you, whether you want it to or not.”
Lenora Hart pushed Granny’s hand away. Savannah half rose from her chair, ready to do battle, but Gran gave her a simple look that stopped her.
“You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me,” Lenora protested. “Neither of you do, so don’t pretend you’ve got me all figured out.”
Then a look of horror crossed her face, and she said, “Did you run some kind of background check on me? Have you been prying into my private business the way you pry into everybody else’s?”
“No, ma’am,” Granny said. “We most certainly did not. But if you took offense at anything we said just now, then I apologize to you. More than anything, we want you to be happy, and we want Tammy to be happy, ’cause you both deserve it.”
“If you want her to be happy then let her come back home where she belongs. She wants to. I can tell. But she’s too proud to admit that she made a mistake.”
Savannah felt a deep anger growing inside her. The last thing she wanted to do was explode all over Tammy’s mother. But there was only so much of this she could take.
“How can you say that your daughter made a mistake? All you’d have to do is look at that beautiful little granddaughter of yours and know that Tammy’s life here was meant to be.”
“Okay, so the baby’s cute. All babies are cute. But that doesn’t mean that bringing her into the world was the smart thing to do. Especially with a father like that. For heaven’s sake, his grammar is atrocious, and he has no table manners to speak of whatsoever. I’ll bet he didn’t even graduate from high school, did he?”
“That’s my grandson you’re speaking of there, Dr. Hart,” Gran said. “He’s always been a fine boy, and he’s grown up to be a truly good man. I’ll ask you to speak well of him in my hearing, or not at all.”
“Yes,” Savannah interjected, “and he’s my brother, too. Don’t you—”
All three women heard a sound behind them, a small cry, like that of an animal caught in a painful trap.
They turned in unison to see Tammy standing there, her baby in her arms, pain and horror in her eyes.
Savannah jumped to her feet and rushed over to her friend. “Oh, Tammy,” she said. “I’m sorry. So sorry.”
Tammy said nothing for a long, torturous time. Finally, in a surprisingly calm voice she said, “I came out here to tell you something, Savannah. Something important.”
“What’s that, sugar?”
“I was examining those pictures, the one that Ethan Malloy sent us, and the one you found of Ethan in Neal Irwin’s spare room. I zoomed in on them really tight, and I studied the pixels. They’re fakes. Both of them. Composites of other pictures, skillfully photoshopped together.”
Tammy looked from Savannah to Granny and back to Savannah, avoiding her mother’s eyes.
Tears flowed down her cheeks as she said, “I thought it might be important. That’s why I came out to tell you.”
“It is important, Tammy,” Savannah said. “Very important. Like you.”
“How important can I be,” Tammy replied, her tears falling faster, “if my own mother thinks my whole life is a mistake? My marriage. My career. My draperies. What I wear, how I speak, what I eat and drink. Oh, yes, and my hair. My hair that everyone in the world seems to think is pretty, except you, Mother.”
For the first time since she had stepped outside, Tammy looked into her mother’s eyes. “I’ve tried my whole life to please you, to live up to your standards. Just before I moved to California, I realized something—that I never could, never would please you.
“So, I did something to please myself,” she continued. “I moved to the other side of the country, as far away from you as I could get without falling into the Pacific Ocean. I built myself a new life. A wonderful life with friends who love me, and approve of me. Then I met a man who thinks that I’m an angel that God sent to him. He really does believe that. But he doesn’t realize that he’s the god-sent angel. He’s taught me how to love, and how to trust, and he gave me this baby. This perfect, wonderful baby. If you can say that she was a mistake, then there’s no point in me ever trying to do anything that you will approve of again.”
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