Last Chance Book Club: Number 5 in series - Softcover

Ramsay, Hope

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1455522295 ISBN 13: 9781455522293

Publisher: Forever, 2013

Synopsis

This next three novels in this series will center around the women of the Last Chance Book Club as they meet to discuss literature and love. In each novel, the book club will be reading a classic novel, with the same themes playing out in the modern-day story.
While the Last Chance Book Club reads Pride and Prejudice, divorced mother Savannah White returns to Last Chance to attend her Great Uncle Harry's funeral and to visit her Aunt Mim after the death of her husband. Savannah hasn't visited Last Chance in ten years, so it comes as a shock to discover that her kissing cousin Dash Randall has everything taken care of. Savannah doesn't much like her cousin by marriage. When they were kids they fought like cats and dogs.
Dash is not so wild about this turn of events because Savannah and her bratty son end up staying at Aunt Mim's house and generally making his life miserable. Dash is determined not to help Savannah in any way . . . until Hettie Marshall asks him to. And Dash would do anything for Hettie, especially now that Hettie is a widow. In fact, Dash wants to turn himself into the kind of guy Hettie could love.
But a funny thing happens during the renovation when Aunt Mim goes into matchmaking mode and tries to match Savannah up with Reverend Bill Ellis. Hettie's not so wild about that turn of events. And, as it turns out, neither is Dash.

About this title

About the Author

Hope Ramsay is a USA Today bestselling author of heartwarming contemporary romances. Her books have won critical acclaim and publishing awards. She is married to a good ol' Georgia boy who resembles every single one of her Southern heroes. She has two grown children and a couple of demanding lap cats. She lives in Virginia where, when she's not writing, she's knitting or playing her forty-year-old Martin guitar.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Last Chance Book Club

By Hope Ramsay

Grand Central Publishing

Copyright © 2013 Hope Ramsay
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-4555-2229-3

CHAPTER 1

Savannah White pulled her twelve-year-old Honda into Aunt Miriam's driveway. Sheset the parking brake and studied the old Victorian house through thewindshield. It had seen better days. Mauve and gold paint peeled from theshingles and bric-a-brac, the porch steps sagged, and the azaleas along thefront porch were overgrown.

She studied the garden for a long moment. Clumps of daffodils sprouted in theside yard, shooting up through the pine needle ground cover. She had neverrealized that there were daffodils in the side yard. Savannah had only visitedAunt Miriam in the summertime, well past daffodil time. The whimsical yellowflowers were a reminder that she was taking a huge risk. Savannah had no idea ifshe would even like living in Last Chance year-round.

Of course, no one knew yet that she planned to stay. If she had announced herplans, her ex-mother-in-law would have done everything in her power to stopSavannah from leaving Baltimore. Claire White wanted complete control over theeducation of her grandson, Todd. But Savannah hoped that moving here might shakeup Todd's father, Greg, who had canceled every weekend visitation for almost ayear and who was behind on his support payments. Greg couldn't have cared lessabout Todd.

And that left Savannah to wage a never-ending battle with Greg's mother, whoseemed more than happy to spend money on the boy and make up for the supportGreg never sent. But there was a huge price tag associated with taking ClaireWhite's assistance.

Savannah was tired of always being beholden. And she was tired of living closeto her own mother, who never stopped adding up all of her faults and failures.When her last relationship, with Jeremy, had fizzled, Savannah decided to make achange in her life. She started planning a great escape back to her roots. She'dheld tag sales to reduce the clutter. She'd put stuff in storage. Her lease wasup. She was all ready to go when Uncle Harry died. God bless him, he'd providedthe perfect cover for a clean getaway.

Guilt slammed into her chest for allowing herself to think such a thing, even ifit was true. She was sorry that she wouldn't see her gruff old uncle again. AuntMiriam was going to be lost without him. But Claire White hadn't even batted aneye when Savannah announced that she was taking Todd out of school for a fewdays to attend Harry's funeral. And of course, Todd didn't know the trutheither.

She turned toward her twelve-year-old son. He sat in the passenger's seatcompletely engrossed in a video game. His brown hair curled over his forehead,and the tip of his tongue showed at the corner of his mouth as he concentrated.His eyelashes were amazingly long for a boy, but his skin was so pale he lookedlike one of those teen vampires from Twilight, albeit a slightly chubbyone.

"It's time to put the game away," Savannah said.

Todd didn't acknowledge her request. Tuning her out had become a pattern.

"We have to go now. It's time to meet Aunt Miriam."

No response.

She reached over and took the game from his hands.

"Mom," he whined, "I was just about to win that level."

Savannah turned the damn thing off and tucked it into her oversized purse."Sorry, kiddo, we're here. It's time to join the real world."

He rolled his pretty brown eyes. "Aw, couldn't I just stay in the car?"

"No."

"But I didn't even know Uncle Harry, and I'm sure Aunt Miriam is just some dumbold lady."

Savannah ground her teeth. "You will show respect to Aunt Miriam, is thatclear?"

"Yes, but I hate it here."

"You've been here for five minutes, during which time you've done nothing butzap zombies."

He rolled his eyes. "Mom, Semper Fi doesn't have any zombies. I wasshooting members of the Imperial Japanese forces occupying Iwo Jima."

Savannah stared at her son. "You do realize that World War Two is over, and theJapanese are our allies now, right?"

Todd crossed his arms over his chest and sank back into the seat. "I'm not goingto some dumb old funeral."

"The funeral isn't until tomorrow. And you will get your butt out of this carand go be nice to your aunt Miriam or I will put your PSP in a microwave andnuke it."

"You wouldn't. That would blow up the apartment and kill the microwave."

"Don't bet on it, kiddo."

"If you did that, Dad would buy me another one, and Grandmother would yell atyou."

And that was the problem, right there.

She drew herself up into full-out mommy mode. "I don't care what your father orgrandmother might do. You are with me right now, and you will get out of thiscar. Is that understood?"

He gave her a sulky look and then opened the car door.

She did the same and stepped out into a balmy March day.

"I've never seen a house painted puke green and purple before," he said.

"It's not that bad."

The boy wrinkled his nose in disgust. "It's mad warm here. Are we gonna standaround looking at the dumb old house all day?"

The muscles along Savannah's shoulders knotted, and the headache she'd beenfighting since they crossed the South Carolina border was beginning to actuallythrob.

Just then the front door opened with a bang, and a white-haired lady wearing ablue polyester pantsuit and a pair of red Keds appeared on the porch. Dark,almost black, eyes peered at Savannah through a pair of 1960s-style spectaclesfestooned with rhinestones. "Well, look who just turned up pretty as a daisy.C'mon up here, sugar," Aunt Miriam said, opening her arms.

Savannah took the rickety porch steps in two long strides and gave her aunt abear hug.

"Oh, I'm so glad you came," Aunt Miriam said.

Savannah pulled away and looked down at her great-aunt, noting the changesrecorded in her face. Her apple cheeks now drooped a little along her jawline.Her skin looked pale and papery. Even the ever-present twinkle in her eyes wasdimmed by time and sorrow. Savannah felt a sharp pang of regret that she hadallowed so much time to elapse between visits. Aunt Miriam was getting old.

Savannah wished with all her might that she could turn back the clock.

"I'm so sorry about Uncle Harry," Savannah said.

Miriam nodded. "He was old as dirt. And sick these last few years. I know at theend he just wanted to lay his burden down and go on home." Her voice wavered.

Savannah gave Miriam another big hug and whispered, "I'm sure he did. But I knowyou would have liked him to stay awhile longer."

Miriam pushed back and wiped a few tears from her cheeks. "Enough of thismaudlin stuff. Let me see that boy of yours. Last time I saw him, he was nobigger than a minute."

Miriam turned her gaze toward the yard where Todd slouched. Savannah's son hadassumed the preteen position—arms crossed and disinterest plastered allover his face.

"Hmm," Aunt Miriam said, "he's a big boy, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is."

"Too bad he doesn't live around here. I'm sure Red Canaday would be all over yourecruiting him for Pop Warner football."

"Really? His father played football for the University of Maryland."

"Well, it looks like your boy may have inherited his genes. I think Todd wouldmake an excellent center."

Savannah filed that information away. Todd probably had no interest in playingfootball. But Savannah was determined to get her son off the couch and out intothe fresh air. Last Chance had lots and lots of fresh air.

"Well, son," Miriam said with a wave, "c'mon up here and meet your old Aunt Mim.I know you don't remember me."

The boy walked slowly up the stairs and stoically allowed himself to be hugged.

"Y'all come on in," Aunt Miriam said once she let Todd go. "I've got cookies andpie and enough food to choke a horse. The casserole brigade has been doingovertime these last few days. To be honest, I got so tired of Lillian Braytrying to take charge of my kitchen that I shooed them all away this noontime.They mean well, I suppose, but a morning with Lillian is enough to try even themost patient of souls."

She turned toward Todd. "I'm sure you're hungry, son."

Todd nodded. Todd was always hungry.

"Well, come on then. I'll show you the way to the kitchen."

A burst of cool air greeted them in the hallway. It took a moment for Savannah'seyes to adjust to the dark interior. The house had changed little in the eightyears since her last visit. To the right stood the formal dining room with itsgleaming mahogany table and chairs upholstered in light green moiré. The chinacloset filled with blue willowware still dominated the far wall. She couldpractically smell the ham and butter beans that Granny had served on thosedishes all those years ago.

She turned her gaze to the left. The front parlor still contained Victoriansettees upholstered in red velvet and striped damask silk. The baby grand piano,where she'd practiced endless scales and learned Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata,"still stood in the corner between the bay window and the pink marble fireplace.

She closed her eyes and breathed in the scents of lemon oil, beeswax, andmemory. This house had once belonged to her grandfather, Aunt Miriam's olderbrother. Savannah had spent many happy summers here.

Miriam came to a stop beside the oak stairway. "Oh, there you are. I called youto come down five minutes ago," she said as a dark-headed man of about thirty-fivesauntered down to the landing and leaned into the newel post.

He hooked his thumbs through the loops of his Wranglers, lazily crossed onecowboy-booted heel over the other, and assumed the traditional Western pose. Toohard and rangy to belong to the house with its 1940s cabbage rose wallpaper,lace doilies, and china figurines, he looked like he'd just stepped out of agrade-B western.

He gazed at Savannah with a pair of sexy eyes as blue as Bradley Cooper's, andthe corner of his mouth tipped up in a craggy smile. "It's been a long time," hesaid in a twangy drawl.

She blinked a few times, taken by her visceral reaction to his accent.Recognition flashed through her like the Roman candles Granddaddy used to setoff on the Fourth of July.

"Cousin Dash," she said. "You still sound like a Texan."

Dash's gaze did a slow circuit of her body, and she felt naked as a jaybirdunder his intense inspection. "And you've grown up some since I saw you last,princess."

"Don't call me that," she said through gritted teeth. "I'm not ten years oldanymore." Granddaddy had called Savannah princess until the day he died, but inDash's mouth the word came out as a twisted insult.

"No, I guess not." His eyes flashed to Todd and back. "And I see you've become amomma."

She turned toward her son. "Todd, this is Cousin Dash. When he was twelve, heput a snake in my bed and blew up my favorite Barbie doll with a cherry bomb.I'm sure he is very sorry for what he did. And I am very—"

"Did the Barbie doll melt?" Todd asked.

Dash chuckled. "As I recall, it blew apart in about a dozen flaming pieces. Butyeah, it melted."

"It was my favorite, Twirly Curls Barbie. And—"

"Cool. What kind of snake did you put in the bed?" Todd asked.

"A garter snake, entirely harmless. Scared your momma to pieces, though. Youshould have seen her running through the hallway in her baby-doll nightie. Itwas the—"

"Dash, I really don't think we have to rerun our entire history for Todd'sbenefit, do we?" Savannah said.

"If we're talking about the past, princess, it's because you raised the issue."

Aunt Miriam entered the fray. "I declare you two sound just like you did whenyou were children. Now both of y'all act like the adults you are and c'mon backto the kitchen and have some dinner. I've got one of Jenny Carpenter's pies. Acherry one, I believe."

Dash flashed a bright smile in Miriam's direction. "Yes, ma'am, I will try tobehave. But no thank you, ma'am, to the dinner and pie. I have errands to run upat the stable. Aunt Mim, will you be all right if I leave you with Savannah fora little bit?"

"You go on, Dash. I'm fine," Miriam said.

He nodded to Savannah. "Welcome back," he said without much enthusiasm. Then hestrode toward the front door, his cowboy boots scraping across the oak floor. Hestopped at the rack by the door and snagged an old, sweat-stained baseball hatbearing the logo of the Houston Astros. He slapped it down on his head andturned toward Miriam. "Don't wait up. I'll probably be late," he said, thenturned toward Savannah. "Princess." He tipped his hat and headed through theopen door.

"Dash, don't slam—" Miriam's admonishment was cut off by the loud bang ofthe front door slamming.

Todd spoke into the silence that followed. "He's really tight."

Oh, great. Dash Randall was the last person on earth that Savannah wanted as arole model for her problem child.

"Boy, that was a big mistake," Dash muttered as he watched thetelevision above the bar. The Atlanta Braves' pitcher had just served up ameatball, and the batter had clocked it 435 feet.

"Uh-huh. Dash, honey, you want another Coke? You've been nursing that one forthe better part of an hour now, and it's mostly water," said Dottie Cox, theproprietor of Dot's Spot, Last Chance's main watering hole.

Dash pulled his gaze away from the spring training game on the television abovethe bar and looked into Dottie's over-made-up eyes. Dottie had to be pushingsixty hard, but she was outfitted in a neon green tank top and too-tight bluejeans. She might be trashy, but she had a heart of gold.

"Honey, you want another Coke?" Dot asked again.

Dash took a deep breath. "I guess I'll have to settle. Especially since I can'thave you."

Dottie leaned over the bar and gave him the kind of wise look only a bartendercould manage. "Dash, if you want to flirt, go find someone your own age. Infact, I have a suggestion—why don't you find your courage and do somethingabout Hettie Marshall."

He squinted back up at the television. "They're putting in Ramirez. Good move,"he muttered.

"I declare, Dash, you're a chicken. And I don't mean one of them chickens theyprocess out at the plant. Hettie is a single woman now, and near as I can tellyou've done nothing about it."

"She just lost her husband. She's in mourning."

Dottie leaned an elbow on the bar. It was a slow night at The Spot. The houseband didn't play on Mondays, so the regular patrons were feeding their pocketchange to the jukebox. And since the regulars drank too much, the jukebox waspumping out mostly drinking and cheating songs.

"Honey, you're afraid Hettie's going to say no."

He snorted. "Of course I am. She's been saying no for decades."

"My point exactly. You're so afraid of being alone that you don't even try.Which, of course, means you're destined to be alone."

He frowned. "Dottie, have you been sampling the liquor?"

"No, I haven't. And you know I'm right about this."

He tamped down his annoyance. He needed Dottie pointing out his fears andfailures like he needed a hole in the head.

"Dottie, the truth is that I love Hettie, but she doesn't love me." He lookeddown at his soda pop and ran his finger through the condensation on the outsideof the glass. Hettie was a sore spot.

He'd been carrying a torch for that woman since he was a teenager. They'd had apretty hot thing going his senior year in high school, and then she up anddumped Dash on the same day he signed his first major-league contract. He wassuddenly a rich man, but Hettie broke his heart by walking away from him. She'dleft him for Jimmy Marshall.

But now Jimmy was dead. And everything had changed. Dash wasn't the big man with themajor-league contract anymore. He was a recovering alcoholic with a busted-up knee.

He hated to admit it, but Dottie was right. Hettie wanted a different kind ofman. And he'd have to change if he wanted to win her love. What if he puthimself on the line, and she still said no? What if he let himself fall hard forher, and she walked away like she had all those years ago?

This was why AA suggested that people like him stay away from relationships.Dash had had a few in his twenties. But every time a woman turned heel andwalked out, he crashed, hard. And then he'd go looking for a drink.

Shoot, his life was exactly like those stupid drinking and cheating songs onDottie's jukebox. It was pitiful.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Last Chance Book Club by Hope Ramsay. Copyright © 2013 Hope Ramsay. Excerpted by permission of Grand Central Publishing.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Edition details

• Publisher: Forever
• Publication date: 2013
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 1455522295
• ISBN 13: 9781455522293
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• Number of pages: 368