CHAPTER THREE
W hitney thought she might have officially lost her mind. She had no reason to be following a sweet lady and her handsome son home. Wait, he wasn’t handsome. Okay, that was a lie. He was a walking firefighter fantasy, with broad shoulders, biceps that could crush cinder blocks, and that little divot in his chin that ...
“Knock it off, Whit!” she scolded herself, hands squeezing the steering wheel. “You don’t have time for that nonsense.” The mini pep talk did nothing to calm her nerves.
Whitney appreciated this situation for what it was—a kind woman helping her out. Daisy’s son, no matter how attractive, was not hers to moon over. This wasn’t her life, and it certainly wasn’t permanent.
Knowing Winnie would have an unholy fit if she didn’t keep her in the loop, she hastily dialed her sister and waited for a reply. It was after nine o’clock, so she might already be in bed at the hotel. Despite being a workaholic, Winnie appreciated the need for her beauty sleep.
To her surprise, a sleepy voice greeted her. “Whit, what’s up?”
“Sorry to call late, but I wanted to keep you in the loop.”
The sound of rustling sheets and a light clicking on came through the line as Winnie woke up. “You’re fine. It’s the life of an attorney, I guess. I’m up with the rooster and passed out after dinner. What’s up?”
Whitney chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before summoning her courage. “I, um, took your advice.”
“You’re back to work? That’s great! What is your new placement?”
Oops, perhaps her sister wasn’t the target audience for her news. But then again, Whitney really didn’t have anyone else to call. It wasn’t that she didn’t have friends back in Savannah, but they were people she’d met through Baxter’s circle. The thought of calling these women now felt uncomfortable, like when she ate the entire package of Oreos. And not for nothing, but those women didn’t come calling when he dumped her. There was radio silence on both sides.
“No, Win. I took your other advice—I’m on the road.”
“Oh! Where to? Did you take Xena with you?”
A lump the size of a peach pit lodged in Whitney’s throat, and she had to cough three times to find her voice. “No, erm. Xena is with your neighbor, Mrs. Rodgers in 4A.”
More silence. Even through the lack of sound, Whitney could feel her sister reacting. “Where are you?”
Forcing a laugh she didn’t feel, Whitney strived to sound casual. “Believe it or not”—she added a maniacal giggle—“I’m in Pinegrove, you know, that little town near Peach Springs.”
“Pinegrove?” There was no mistaking the shock in Winnie’s voice. “But why?”
If Whitney had the answer, she would have shared it. “Not sure, really. I got in the car and decided to head west, I guess. The point of this call is to let you know I’m fine, Xena is fine, and I’ll keep you posted on when I’m coming back.”
“Where are you staying? Did you get an Airbnb?”
Part of Whitney considered lying to her big sister, spin the truth to meet her needs and hope for the best. Then there was the rational side of Whitney, who watched Dateline and Law I didn’t think of where I was going.” Even through the phone, she sensed her sister’s answering eye roll.
“Whit, you’re going to stay with a stranger and watch the fireworks? I know it’s been a rough month, but you need to think this through. What do you even know about this woman?”
I know that her son is gorgeous and protective of his mother. I know that I’d love to run my fingers through those dark red locks. I know it’d be nice to just avoid my life for a little while.
“I know enough. Her son is a fireman, and everyone at the pub vouched for her.”
“Oh, well, if a few drunks at a bar vouch for the woman, I’ll relax.”
“Win, that’s not fair.”
Winnie cursed under her breath and sighed. “You’re really going through with this, aren’t you?”
“Yep, it’s why I’m calling. When I get to the house, I’ll text the address so you know where I am.”
“You mean so I know where your corpse will be buried?” Winnie deadpanned.
“That’s real nice.”
“Says the woman that called to wake me up and tell me she was on an odyssey to our childhood?” Under her breath she muttered, “And you didn’t take Xena with you.”
“It’s better than sulking back in Savannah.” Since she was feeling feisty and already pissed off at her sister, she spat, “And Xena hates my guts. She’ll be happier with Mrs. Rodgers until you come back.”
“Mhm, sure. And this has nothing to do with the fireman son you just mentioned?”
“No!” Whitney’s response was too quick, and much too loud. Winnie snickered as Whitney rallied. “I mean that she’s a nice lady giving me a place to crash.”
“Please be careful, Whit. I’m serious.”
“I will be, and I love you.”
“Love you too.” And with that, Winnie hung up and Whitney tossed her phone onto the passenger’s seat. Her hands flexed around the steering wheel as she followed Daisy and Trevor into a small neighborhood. The houses were mid-century with manicured lawns and mature trees flanking the road, and it was like she’d driven onto the set of Leave it to Beaver .
She simultaneously felt at home and on edge as she pulled up in front of a small cottage with white shutters and pink and yellow flower beds. This house was a home, and right now that’s exactly what she needed. The lunacy of the moment be damned.
*
“M omma, I don’t mean to tell you your business,” Trevor said, leaning forward with his head in his hands. The four beers he’d crushed had caught up to him, and his head pounded in time with the turn signal.
“But I have a feeling you’re about to, son.” Daisy’s voice was light as she made the final turn into their neighborhood.
“Are you sure this is wise, Momma? You don’t even know this woman, and she could be a whole mess of trouble.” For his mother and him ...
Daisy waved away his concern with a flit of her wrist. “Now, come on, when was the last time I’ve done something foolish?” She shot him a sideways glance. “And choose your words carefully, Mister I’m-drunk-on-a-weeknight.”
She had his number and there was no denying it. “Fair point, but I’m worried about you.”
“You needn’t be, considering you’ll be crashing in your old room. If Whitney does turn out to be an ax murderer, I trust my big, strapping son to protect me.”
Trevor sat upright and cursed under his breath. He needed a pair of aspirin and a dark room pronto. “Momma, I thought you’d take me home.”
Daisy huffed. “After nine o’clock? You know I hate driving at night.” That was a lie, and Trevor wasn’t sure what his mother was up to. His apartment was less than five minutes down the road, seeing as how Pinegrove could fit on a postage stamp.
“What about work tomorrow? How will I get to the station?”
“You can borrow my car. I have nowhere to be until Bingo on Thursday.”
Trevor was incredulous. “Bingo? Aren’t you a little young for that game?”
The first thing that scared Trevor after his father’s death was what would happen to his mother. She and his daddy had been high school sweethearts, never leaving the other’s side in over thirty years. He’d watched what happened to his grandmother when his granddaddy passed, and he didn’t want Daisy to become an old widow before it was time.
“It’s a laugh, I’ll tell you. Paul has been taking me. Didn’t he tell you?”
Javi’s observation from the bar raced back with gusto as Trevor tried not to barf in his mother’s pickup. “No, he didn’t,” he said through clenched teeth. “I didn’t realize you were seeing that much of Chief Warren.”
“Ain’t much of a surprise, son. We have been friends since high school.” That wasn’t news to Trevor, as there were no secrets in Pinegrove.
Except for this secret, which Trevor was quick to solve. “So, what does that mean?”
“What does what mean?” Daisy asked, putting the truck in park in the driveway.
Realizing he had about thirty seconds to get to the bottom of his mother’s love life, Trevor went straight for the truth. “Are you dating Chief Warren, Momma?”
Daisy turned to face her son. Even in the light from the porch, her gaze was warm and her smile forgiving. “A lady never kisses and tells.” That was all she gave him before throwing the door open and bounding out of the truck. “Whitney sugar, you can park right there.”
The sound of Whitney’s name brought Trevor back to the present, leaving his mother’s dating concerns for another time. Scrambling from the passenger’s seat, Trevor nearly fell to his knees when he stepped down from the truck.
Whitney stood in front of her car, arms wrapped around her waist as she waited for them to join her. Her eyes darted around her, taking in the house and the neighborhood. “Are you sure it’s all right if I stay here tonight?” she asked, worrying her bottom lip. It took all of Trevor’s strength not to reach out and run his thumb over the plump skin to soothe her nerves.
Woah, man!
Clearing his throat, Trevor motioned to her car. “It’s no trouble at all. May I carry in your bags?”
“They’re in the trunk. I packed light.”
She wasn’t kidding. All Trevor found was a small duffle bag the color of pink cotton candy and a wheely suitcase. When he’d traveled with Virginia, this would have been the size of her makeup bag, not all her belongings for a trip. He admired Whitney a little more as he hoisted the bag on his shoulder and led the way up the driveway, only stumbling twice.
Daisy had run ahead, turning on the lights of the house so Whitney wasn’t greeted by darkness. “C’mon in, sugar!” Before Whitney joined them, their basset hound, Gus, bounded out the door to relieve himself. “That rude fella right there was Gus. He’s sweet as pie but has a bladder the size of a pecan shell.”
Glancing down at the dog, Whitney smiled before turning her attention back to the human owners of the house. “Thank you,” Whitney muttered as she crossed the threshold. She took in the surroundings, and for some odd reason, Trevor hoped she liked what she saw.
The house was modest, but it had been home his entire life. The floors had divots where he and his sister had played with their toys, the walls were covered in tiny slashes to mark their growth spurts, and the curtains in the kitchen were the same as when his mother had decorated after moving in.
Trevor stepped ahead and strode into the guest room, carefully placing Whitney’s bags on the corner of the bed.
The guest room had been his sister Jessie’s when she was a girl. It wasn’t that Jessie didn’t want to visit often, but since joining the Peace Corps out of high school, her visits home were few and far between. He missed his sister, but Trevor wasn’t going to focus on that fact now.
“This is lovely,” Whitney cooed, stepping inside and studying the display of his mother’s prized figurines. She’d collected one every time they went on vacation. The shelf of souvenirs was basically a snapshot in time of their family trips. Whitney peered down at one of a peach on a little waterfall. She gasped, gently picking up the piece to study it. “I have this exact one,” she said, cradling it to her chest.
Trevor’s own chest expanded at the look of wonder on her lovely face. He wasn’t sure, but he guessed Whitney was about his age, on the sunny side of thirty, give or take. Her eyes sparkled and her lips were turned into an adorable smile.
Daisy joined them, sitting on the side of the bed with a grin. “That’s from Peach Springs’s bicentennial celebration. My late husband and I took a weekend trip away to stuff our faces with peach jam and cookies. Have you ever had their spiced peach preserves? I’ll tell you, best jam I’ve ever eaten. And what about those peach waffles?”
Whitney placed the figurine back and eased down on the bed opposite Daisy. She clasped her hands together as if in prayer and sighed. “I was only a little girl then, but I remember my grannie bringing Winnie and me over for the bake-off. I’ve never seen so many peach pies, and I’ve lived in Georgia all my life.”
It was clear his mother was just as enchanted by Whitney as he was. Her eyes were focused, her smile eager, and the questions kept flowing. Leaning against the doorjamb, Trevor tried to school his features so he didn’t give himself away. “Who is Winnie?” he asked, genuinely curious about Whitney and her life.
She turned toward him, and her smile lit up the room. Two rows of pearly whites gleamed at him, and another chunk of Trevor’s resolved chipped away. “She’s my sister. She’s a lawyer out in Savannah. I’ve been, uh, staying with her these last few weeks.”
Trevor didn’t miss how her cheeks flushed at that admission, which only brought more questions. Why was she staying with her sister? Was she in trouble? Was she trouble?
Either oblivious to Trevor’s questions or uncaring, Daisy shifted the conversation back to safer topics. “It’s nice you’re close to your sister. My youngest, Jessie, is off saving the world. I do wish she’d visit more, but here you are.” His mother’s casual shoulder lift hid years of sadness over missing her only daughter.
Whitney tucked a dark lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m lucky. Winnie’s always been there for me.”
“That’s what family does,” Daisy said as she pushed herself off the bed. She walked to the far side of the room, then picked up a framed picture of their family about fifteen years ago. Jessie and Trevor were only two years apart, but they could have been twins. Daisy had forced them to wear matching shirts and denim shorts, their pairs of gangly limbs on full display. Both siblings had mouths full of metal, their braces glinting in the photo.
Trevor could have done without that glimpse into his awkward past, but there was no stopping Daisy Mays when she set her mind to something. You had to hold on for the ride and hope for the best. “This is our family. My late husband, Nick, and my youngest, Jessie.”
Whitney winced at the mention of his father, and she offered her condolences. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Daisy.” Handing the picture back to Trevor, she added, “And to you as well. I know it’s not the same, but my parents moved to Florida a few years ago. I miss them every day.”
Daisy saved them all from the tension of the moment by shifting gears. “Do you have a lot of kin in Peach Springs?”
Whitney shook her head. “Not many anymore. My father is William Kerr, and my mother is Janet Kerr, née Rollins.”
Daisy gasped, clasping her hands over her mouth. “Is your aunt Anita Rollins?”
Whitney laughed. “She is, but it’s Waysmith now. She married my uncle over twenty-five years ago. They just retired to Arizona.”
“To Colin Waysmith?” At Whitney’s answering nod, Daisy’s mouth dropped open as she gawked. “My, my, what a small world. I used to go to band competitions with your momma and auntie. I’ll need to give them a call.” Turning back to her son, she pointed at him and raised an eyebrow. “See, son? I told you Whitney wasn’t a stranger.”
Trevor held his hands up in surrender. “You’re right, as always. I’ll never question your judgment again.” Unless it has to do with dating my boss, he mused.
He wasn’t certain, but Trevor thought he saw Whitney relax at this realization, proving she was as nervous with the temporary housing situation as he was. When Daisy walked toward the door, he noticed Whitney yawn behind her hand.
“Momma, maybe we should let Whitney get some rest? I’m sure she’s had a long day.”
“Of course, how silly of me.” She held up a finger and jogged out of the room, leaving Trevor and Whitney alone with dozens of ceramic eyes watching them. If he were honest with his mother, he hated most of those souvenirs. He wanted the memories connected with them, but not their creepy gazes and mismatched shapes and colors.
A moment later, Daisy strode back in with an armful of towels. “The sheets were washed last week, and no one sleeps here anyway.” She plopped the towels on the bed. “And here’s some towels.”
“Thank you so much. This really is quite generous of you, Daisy.”
“My house is your home, sugar. Now we’ll get out of your hair so you can rest. If it’s all right with you, breakfast is at eight. I want to get Trevor fed before he heads off to work.”
Whitney snagged his gaze and offered a slight smile. “You’re spending the night, too?”
Trevor opened his mouth to reply, but his mother beat him to it. “Oh yes, ma’am. Can’t have my only son drinking and driving.”
Trevor ran a hand down his face and stifled a groan. “Momma, I’m hardly fall-down drunk right now.” Not to mention being in close proximity with Whitney sobered him right up.
“Nonsense. Go over to your room and get some shuteye.” Turning to Whitney, she said, “Your children hit thirty and suddenly they know it all.” She winked and left the room, leaving Whitney with a goofy grin and enough towels for a three-month stay.
“Thank you, Trevor. I know this whole situation is a little odd.”
The thing of it was, he would have agreed with her an hour ago. Yet now, standing in his childhood home surrounded by the unfamiliar scent of Whitney’s lilac perfume, he couldn’t imagine the space without her.
“Not odd at all, Whitney. My room is at the end of the hall. Give a holler if you need anything.” He nodded once before closing the door behind him.
As Trevor collapsed on his childhood bed, he stared unblinkingly at the ceiling. Not only was tomorrow a long day of tedious work, but he was emotionally wrung out. There was something going on in his ribcage, and it had everything to do with the curvy brunette down the hall. Squeezing his eyes shut, Trevor prayed for sleep. As he drifted off, his dreams were filled with lilac fields and a laugh that sounded like music for his soul.