Reflection Point: An Eternity Springs Novel (16 page)

“Drugs,” Zach said.

His assumption was understandable considering what
he knew about her conviction, but annoying nonetheless. “Moonshine. It was the family business, and my brothers helped. I was sixteen when Gary asked me to make a delivery for him because he had a date. Turns out the law was waiting for him. I got arrested.”

“So you have a juvie record, too?”

“Not anymore. I served my probation and it was expunged. I’m telling you this part of it because it’s the reason I went to live with my grandmother, my mother’s mom. My father wasn’t a bad man. He was an independent man who didn’t like anyone—especially not the government—telling him what to do. My brothers took after Dad, but when I got into trouble … they didn’t like it. They wanted better for me, so they sent me away.”

“That must have been hard.”

“No, not really. They didn’t abandon me. They came to visit. I loved my grandmother. She gave me a stability that life with the Moore men didn’t offer, and when we lost Dad to a heart attack, she nursed me through my grief. She taught me to make soap and to do well in school. She encouraged me to join the softball team. I was offered a softball scholarship, I’ll have you know. To Notre Dame.”

“You
were
a ringer.” He snapped his fingers. “I knew it. So you met this cop when you were in South Bend?”

“No. I never went to Indiana. Two weeks before I was due to leave, my grandmother and I were up on the mountain when she fell and broke her hip. I ran to the nearest house for help. The woman who lived there had recently moved in. I hadn’t met her previously. Zach, she looks so much like Celeste Blessing that she could be her sister. Francine Vaughn helped me that day and was so kind. She and Grams became great friends. She had a phone with long-distance service and we didn’t. It took a lot of phone calls for me to make arrangements with
Notre Dame to delay my enrollment for a year so I could help my grandmother. Francine was the one who offered to watch Grams on Tuesdays and Thursdays if I wanted to commute to the small junior college two hours away and get a few basic classes out of the way. That’s where I met her son, Kyle.”

“Kyle the cop?”

“Yes. He was a detective in the local police department. Kyle and I started dating. He was sweet to Grams and nice to me. I fell in love, blew off Notre Dame, and said yes when he asked me to marry him. Three weeks before the wedding, as I left my chemistry class, it happened.”

She shut her eyes as memories and old emotions rolled over her. She hadn’t let herself think about that awful time in so long. She didn’t want to think about it now. But when she sensed Zach moving closer, felt him take her hand, link their fingers, and give her a gentle, encouraging squeeze, she let herself go back.

ELEVEN
 

Eight Years Ago

The light turned green. Savannah stepped on the gas and pulled into the intersection. From the corner of her eye, she saw the car approach seconds before impact. She screamed as her airbag deployed and the car spun out of control
.

It seemed forever before it stopped, though it took only seconds. Savannah grew aware of burning sensations on her face and arms. Breathing hard, she fumbled for the seat-belt release, opened the driver’s door, and stumbled out of the car
. Okay. I’m okay.

“You all right, lady?”

She took it in with a glance. A pickup truck had run the red light and T-boned her car at the passenger-side rear axle. The driver was her father’s age, apparently unhurt, but watching her with a worried look on his face. “I’m okay.”

“I called 911. They should be—” He broke off abruptly, and Savannah heard the siren. “They’re here. That was fast. Good.”

A patrol car arrived on the heels of the ambulance. Savannah answered the paramedic’s questions, and when the policeman approached her, she responded to
his in turn. “Yes, it’s my car.… Yes, the contents are mine.… Are my textbooks okay? They were in the backseat. Would you please call my fiancé? Officer Kyle Vaughn.”

The patrolman wrote down the name, asked for Kyle’s number, then turned her world upside down by repeating a string of all-too-familiar words. “Ms. Moore, you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent …”

After that, things got a little fuzzy. She had only a vague memory of the three hundred thousand dollars in cash and plastic zip-top bags filled with pot. The lawyer from the public defender’s office told her about the search warrant for Grams’ house and barn
.

She vividly recalled Kyle standing in the interrogation room, his expression earnest as he laced his fingers with hers. “I’ll stand by you, honey. I’m an excellent detective, I’ll figure out who set you up.”

And, months later, her fiancé stood in the witness box, one hand raised, the other on the Bible: “… nothing but the truth, so help me God.”

Francine leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “You stupid, naive girl.”

Handsome, clean-cut Kyle used a crisp, white handkerchief to wipe his eyes before he answered the prosecutor. “Yes, sir. I’m so embarrassed and ashamed. She fooled me completely. I saw her loading money and drugs into her car.”

Savannah was snapped back to the present when Zach’s angry voice demanded, “You are telling me the cop set you up?”

Her emotions were raw, and her throat was tight. The memory of that moment of realization, of the despair washing through her, hit her like a fist, and she pulled her hand away from his.

“You don’t believe me,” she muttered, scrambling to her feet. Because of course, except for Grams, no one
had ever believed her. Not even her brothers. “I’ve got to go. I shouldn’t have … good night.”

“That’s not what I … Savannah, stop. Wait.”

But she didn’t wait. She ran away from Zach, away from her memories, away from the tragedy at Mirror Lake today and the heartache of her past.

She ran home to her little rented house on Fourth Street, where she held Inny and wept. And wept. And wept. Perhaps all those years of not allowing herself to cry made it almost impossible to stop once she got started now. Finally the storm of emotion subsided. Inny wiggled her desire to be put down, and Savannah went in search of a tissue box that wasn’t empty. Her gaze fell upon the stack of Angel’s Rest brochures Celeste had asked her to display in her shop. “Well, Grams,” Savannah said, attempting to deal with her grief in an old, familiar way, “think there’s a chance she knows what she’s talking about?”

The window curtains fluttered. The scent of ripe peaches drifted on the air. Inny barked, and slowly Savannah smiled.

She awoke the following morning with a tension headache, tear-swollen eyes, and a craving for one of Sarah Murphy’s cinnamon rolls. She popped two aspirin, showered, and dressed, and dealt with her puffy eyes with some eyedrops. Inny barked and leaped excitedly upon seeing the leash, and they started out.

At times of great personal crisis, a girl couldn’t go wrong with a cinnamon bun.

Her sense of self-preservation had her peeking through the big plate-glass window of Sarah’s bakery, Fresh, before she committed to going inside. She spied Cat Davenport seated at a table with Nic Callahan and Celeste. She was happy to speak to them. Maybe a little “girl time” would be just what she needed. Had Zach been inside, she’d have continued on her walk.

She looped Inny’s leash around a tree. “I’ll just be a minute. If you behave, I’ll bring you out a treat, too.”

The dog’s ears perked up at the word
treat
.

Inside, Savannah ordered her cinnamon roll and coffee, then greeted her friends. “Join us,” Celeste said.

“I can’t. I have Inny with me.”

Nic hooked her thumb toward the window. “She’s fine. She’s curled up snoozing. We’ll keep an eye on her.”

Since she had the town veterinarian’s permission, Savannah took a seat and removed her cinnamon roll from the white paper bag. Cat eyed the sweet roll greedily. “We had fruit plates. The fruit was good, but that roll …”

“It looks heavenly,” Celeste agreed.

Nic inhaled the scent of warm yeast bread, cinnamon, and sugar. “I’m gonna need a drool cup. I limit myself to one of Sarah’s cinnamon rolls a month, and I had mine last weekend.”

Savannah cut the huge roll into four pieces and pushed the plate to the center of the table. “Here. Be bad. Blame me.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Cat picked up her fork and dug in. She moaned with delight. “I love being bad.”

“Well, I need the energy boost from a little sugar,” Celeste said, sampling her piece. “With tourist season right around the corner, I’m busy as a beaver on Angel Creek these days. As are you, I expect, Savannah. When is your grand-opening celebration?”

Savannah smiled, wishing she could look at Celeste without seeing Francine. “I’m opening on Memorial Day, but I didn’t plan on any sort of celebration.”

“No celebration!” Celeste drew back, obviously appalled. She clicked her tongue. “Well now, we can’t have that. A new business is opening in Eternity Springs. That’s a huge cause for celebration. You must have an open house.”

Savannah glanced from Nic to Cat. Both women licked their forks and nodded. “It’s a great idea,” Nic said. “You need to do it.”

Savannah had never even been to an open house. What on earth would she do? “Whom would I invite?”

Cat said, “I’d start with the Chamber of Commerce list. You’ll introduce your products to other business owners, who will recommend them, plus you’ll sell a bundle.”

Savannah took a bite of roll, and as sugary, sinful pleasure exploded on her taste buds she considered it. What if it flopped? That would be the worst! “I don’t know. Seems like a lot of work. I already have so much to do. Maybe if I had more time …”

“We’ll do all the work,” Celeste declared. “It’s right up our alley, isn’t it, girls? Sarah and Ali can handle the food. Cat, you can take care of the invitations, can’t you?”

“Sure.”

“Oh, that’s really thoughtful,” Savannah said, wondering how she’d lost control of the conversation—and her business plan, apparently. “I appreciate the thought, but I can’t ask you all to—”

“And why not?” Sarah stood beside the table, a coffeepot in her hand. Pouring a refill for Celeste, she said, “We’re your friends, aren’t we?”

Savannah’s heart did a little pitty-pat. “Well, yes, but—”

“I’ll bring my lemon pound cake. What night will we have this shindig? I suggest Thursday.”

“Thursday!” Savannah said as Sarah responded to Nic’s nod by topping off her cup, too. “That’s two days away!”

Cat said, “You said you’re opening Memorial Day weekend.”

“Wednesday night is out because it’s Baked Goods
Bingo night at Saint Stephen’s.” Celeste smiled at Savannah over the top of her coffee cup. “Don’t fret, dear. Just dust and make sure you have change and enough inventory to restock after you sell twice as much as you expect.”

Ten minutes later, Savannah departed Fresh with a dog biscuit for Inny, a to-do list a mile long, and a new spring in her step. Not only was she on a sugar high, but she was going to have a party. Her first!

And she couldn’t think of anything better to keep her focused on moving forward rather than looking back … or thinking about Zach.

It was a good plan that didn’t quite work out, because when she arrived home she found a note taped to her door.
I do believe you
, it read. There was a name scrawled at the bottom:
Zach
.

She stayed in her workshop most of the day, trying not to think about events at Reflection Point, preparing inventory, and wondering if she was crazy to make so many of the Spring Cleaned bubble bars. To her the scent said springtime in Eternity Springs, so she thought the locals would like them. She spent her evening fielding calls about the open house and trying on almost every outfit in her closet. While jeans and a T-shirt were the ordinary uniform of the day in town, she thought her first party deserved something a little more.

Not that she had that much to choose from. Six years in prison garb had given her a pent-up demand for pretty clothing, but the desire to save enough money to get out of Georgia had limited her spending on nonessentials. Still, she’d shopped smart and she did have a few nice pieces in her closet. After much inner debate she’d settled on skinny jeans with a red cashmere sweater and red peek-a-boo pumps.

By morning she’d changed her mind and decided on a bohemian look with a broomstick-pleated skirt, a
V-necked knit top, and a hand-beaded, fringed leather belt.

By lunchtime she’d switched her choice to a designer sundress she’d bought in a consignment shop in Denver.

She’d just finished dressing in the skinny jeans and sweater when her doorbell rang a full forty-five minutes before the open house was due to begin. Her annoyance disappeared when Sarah Murphy said, “We’re here to help with last-minute preparations.”

Her husband, Cam, gave Savannah a gratifying wolf whistle and a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t you look gorgeous.”