A Down-Home Savannah Christmas

Billie Jean’s lips formed an O shape and she placed a hand on Elle’s arm. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I can see how that would put you off dating.”

Elle slanted a glance at Daniel before looking back at Billie Jean. “Yes, it was pretty horrific. You see, my ex-fiancé’s best man talked him out of getting married. Can you believe that?”

Billie Jean’s mouth fell open and her eyes flashed, greedy for the gossip. “Get out. Are you kidding me? The best man? What kind of a lousy jerk would do a thing like that?”

“I know. Right?” Elle’s gaze bore into Daniel. “But wait, it gets better. Right before I was supposed to walk down the aisle, my sister heard my ex-fiancé and his so-called friend talking. She heard the best man tell him to get out while he could. My sister wasn’t sure if she should tell me. But when the ceremony started and she saw my fiancé standing at the altar, naturally, she assumed everything was fine. That my fiancé was better than that. But no. Right after the minister asked him if he took me to be his wife, he couldn’t answer. His best man leaned in and nudged him. I thought he was trying to help, but then, he tells Roger—that’s my ex’s name—‘Don’t do this. Leave. Now.’ And Roger ran out of the church like he was being chased. He left me standing there. Humiliated in front of more than two hundred fifty people. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive either one of them.”

“Honey, I don’t blame you one bit,” Billie Jean said. “Both of ’em deserve to rot in hell. I’m so sorry that happened to you. Maybe y’all would like a glass of wine rather than tea? It’s on the house if ya do. You deserve it after all you went through.”

“That’s sweet of you,” Elle said. “But tea is fine.”

Billie Jean looked at Daniel. “If she’s having lunch with you after going through all that, you must be a pretty good guy. There aren’t enough good guys in the world. And honey—” she leaned in to Elle “—this one is cu-u-te. Maybe you should rethink sending him to the friend zone. I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

Okay. So, Elle was making a point. He got it. Loud and clear. She was still angry. Obviously, Elle didn’t know the whole story or she wouldn’t be this mad at him. Hurt? Sure, he could understand that, but grudge-holding-furious for years? No, she didn’t know the half of what had happened that day.

“Do you feel better now?” Daniel asked.

“I don’t know who I’m more angry with,” said Elle. “You or Gigi. I’ve already told her to stop trying to push us together.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Is that what she’s trying to do?”

Elle looked down at her hands for a few beats before raising her chin and looking at him like he was an idiot. But she hadn’t gotten up and walked out.

“Why else would she set up a lunch with us and not show?”

Daniel couldn’t help it, he laughed.

“Your grandmother has a lot of great qualities, but subtlety isn’t a strength.”

“It never has been,” Elle said.

His gut was telling him to tread carefully. As tempting as she might be, this was not a date. Even though Wiladean was the instigator, Elle was her granddaughter, and if things went south with Elle, it might upset Wiladean and he might lose the job. Sure, he had enough work, but Wiladean was an opinion maker. Just as she’d helped give his business some clout over the years, she was connected enough to take back all that goodwill.

“Look, we’re here,” he said. “We might as well talk about the renovation. As your grandmother said, you’re the voice of reason in this project. It’s probably a good time for you to tell me everything I need to know.”

Before Elle could answer, Billie Jean approached with their tea.

“Wiladean wants the two of you to enjoy lunch without her. She said to tell you it’s her treat. And that y’all should get anything you want, including dessert.”

Billie Jean’s eyes flashed bright as if she’d received the news that she’d won the lottery. In a way, she had. No doubt, Wiladean had tipped Billie Jean well to enlist her help in pulling off this crazy scheme.