Savannah didn’t mind supporting her mother, considering it more of a debt. Despite her outspoken disapproval and obvious humiliation, Ernestine had been there for Savannah when Savannah found herself expecting twins at a time when she was little more than a child herself.
Ernestine had sacrificed a great deal to make a new home for her daughter and her grandchildren in a town where they could live comfortably and quietly, supporting all of them until Savannah had been able to take over as the breadwinner. Ernestine still helped a great deal around the house, doing most of the cooking, shopping and cleaning, though not, of course, without occasionally pointing out everything she did. But there were times when the magnitude of Savannah’s own responsibilities got to her, resulting in migraine headaches she felt compelled to hide, and a steady diet of antacid tablets.
Though Savannah loved her mother, Ernestine was not an easy woman to live with.
When the long day finally ended, Savannah hugged her daughter and son, then sent them off to bed. She felt a pang at how quickly they were growing. Miranda was as tall as Savannah now, a full five feet four inches. Michael was two inches taller. And they were only thirteen.
Where had her babies gone?
Savannah spent the rest of her birthday doing laundry and getting ready for the next day. By the time she went to bed—the last one in the household to do so, as usual—she felt tired and rather old.
Because her bedroom seemed unusually quiet and lonely, she turned on her radio while she cleaned her face and applied the new night cream her mother had given her. The volume of the easy-listening channel was turned low, and she paid little attention to the tunes as she dressed for bed. She had only wanted something to fill the silence.
And then she recognized a melody and felt hot tears fill her eyes.
“Star Dust.” The blatantly sentimental tune suddenly seemed to fill the room. If she closed her eyes and tried very, very hard, she could almost imagine that she was back on a beach in the moonlight, feeling young and happy and carefree as Kit swept her into his arms for a midnight dance.
She’d wanted memories, she reminded herself. She’d thought they would comfort her.
How could she have known that they would torment her, instead?
She wondered for at least the hundredth time since she’d returned from Serendipity if Kit—wherever he was—ever thought of her.
5
A GAGGLE of ladies greeted Savannah when she dragged herself home from work Thursday evening, almost two weeks after her vacation. She’d had to work late, and was so tired it was all she could do to summon a smile for her mother’s hospital auxiliary club, who were having a dessert party in the living room.
The women descended on her. the moment she walked in the door.
“Savannah. How nice to see you.”
“Oh, dear, you look so tired. You’re working too hard.”
“Please join us, Savannah. There’s plenty of food left.”
Savannah would have loved to keep walking, straight to her room and her bed. She really didn’t mind her mother entertaining her friends, and Savannah genuinely liked most of the women in the room, but she simply wasn’t in the mood for a party this evening.
For some reason, she hadn’t been feeling very energetic since she’d returned from her vacation. For a while, Ernestine had been concerned that Savannah had picked up a tropical illness on the island.
But Savannah knew exactly what she’d brought home from her vacation—memories that were proving to be more haunting that she’d expected, and dreams that tormented her with what-might-have-beens.
She’d reassured her mother that she wasn’t ill—unless being lovesick counted. And that was one conversation Savannah didn’t want to get into!
So, she held onto her forced smile and agreed to have a slice of Mrs. O’Leary’s red-velvet cake. Not to be slighted, Mrs. Burleson immediately insisted that Savannah try a bite of her lemon cream puff, and Mrs. Avery slipped her a pecan-laden fudge brownie.
Ernestine brought her daughter a glass of iced tea. “Dick kept you working late tonight, didn’t he?” she asked in a tone that expressed both disapproval and concern.
“I had paperwork to finish,” Savannah explained, then swallowed a moan when she spotted Lucy Bettencourt bearing down on them.
Lucy was, without doubt, the most avid gossip in Campbellville. Nothing escaped her ears, and any details she didn’t know, she was quite willing to make up. Not that anyone ever actually had the nerve to accuse her of lying, of course. Getting sideways with Lucy Bettencourt was a surefire way of ending up on her verbal hit list.
Savannah was always very careful to watch her back when Lucy was around.
“Savannah, darlin’, what a lovely pantsuit. Did you get that at Sophie’s?”
Savannah smiled and shook her head. “I picked it up the last time I was in Atlanta,” she explained.
“Well, it just looks darlin’