on you. Dark slacks are such a clever way to minimize the hips, aren’t they?”
Savannah held onto her smile. “That’s what they say.”
“And where are those precious twins of yours thií evening?”
“Miranda’s spending the evening with her friend Jessica Helper. And Michael is sleeping in a tent in Nick Whitley’s backyard. Nick’s parents agreed to have a camp-out for a few of Nick’s friends.”
Mrs. Bettencourt nodded sagely. “That little Jessica Helper is a sweet child. Too bad she got her mama’s crooked nose, but maybe she can have it fixed some day. I heard that Toni saved up enough to have hers done a few years back, but then Marv’s business got into trouble and she had to use the money to bail him out. Such a shame.”
Savannah refused to comment on the Helpers’ financial woes. She didn’t mind that Miranda and Jessica were such close friends since, with the exception of being a bit too fond of makeup and boys, Jessica was a good kid.
Michael’s latest best friend, Nick, was a different story.
Nick wasn’t exactly a bad boy—yet. But he had a predilection for mischief that worried Savannah, especially since Michael thought everything Nick did was extremely cool. Since entering junior high, Michael had changed from an easygoing, affectionate and eager-toplease child to a moody, reticent and occasionally rebellious teenager. While Savannah supposed she should have anticipated the transformation, she missed her sweet little boy. And she worried.
It wasn’t easy raising a son in a houseful of women.
As if she’d followed Savannah’s line of thinking, Mrs. Bettencourt clucked her tongue. “That Whitley boy worries me. He’s got a mean streak. Just like his daddy at the same age. I declare, Ernie Whitley was a handful, on his way to becoming a juvenile delinquent until his grandpa finally took him in hand and straightened him out. That boy of Ernie’s has the same look about him. You better watch your son if he’s keeping close company with Nick.”
Savannah could almost feel the blood trickling from the corner of her mouth as she bit her tongue to keep from telling Lucy to go jump into the nearest lake.
Ernestine spoke up quickly, giving Savannah a cautioning look. “We watch Michael very closely, Lucy. He’s a good boy. Hasn’t given us any trouble.”
Lucy glanced sideways at Savannah and nodded. “I’m sure you’re both proud of him. He and his sister are certainly nice-looking children. They look very much like you, Savannah. Except for the shape of their eyes. They must have gotten those round eyes from their father.”
There was just a hint of a question in the statement Lucy had been trying to find out who had fathered Savannah’s twins ever since Ernestine and Savannah had moved to town. Since Campbellville was over two hours’ drive from Honoria, no one here knew about Savannah’s humiliation with the captain of the football team, and she intended to keep it that way.
Her twins had been told that their biological father had been Savannah’s high-school boyfriend, that the relationship had ended with the pregnancy, and that their father had no interest in seeing them at this point—his loss, Savannah had always assured them fervently. She’d encouraged them to come to her if they had any questions, but warned them to keep their family business private. If their friends asked questions, she’d said, all they had to do was answer that their parents had separated before they were born and that they’d never known their father. And then change the subject.
Savannah followed the latter part of her own advice now. “How is Gareth, Lucy? I’ve heard that he is recovering remarkably well from his surgery last month.”
The distraction worked, this time. Lucy immediately launched into a slice-by-slice description of her younger son’s recent hernia operation.
One touchy subject successfully avoided, Savannah thought in relief. But she knew there would be others, particularly when she saw Lucy’s best friend, Marie Butler, looking her way. Catching Savannah’s eye, Marie sniffed and put her brightly dyed red head close to the woman beside her.
Marie was still annoyed with Savannah for rejecting her son, Eric, who’d pursued Savannah publicly and determinedly for over a year before finally conceding defeat. Eric was a nice enough guy, but Savannah simply hadn’t been inclined to date him. He wasn’t that fond of children, for one thing, and her kids hadn’t particularly liked him. And her kids were her main priority.
It wasn’t that Marie had been delighted with Savannah as a potential dàughter-in-law. But it bothered her greatly that everyone in town knew Savannah had been the uninterested one, rather than Marie’s precious Eric.
Savannah sent Marie a sweet smile and turned back to Mrs. Bettencourt.
It was going to be a long evening.
Longer than she realized.
TO SAVANNAH’S RELIEF, the party was just beginning to show signs of breaking up when Miranda came home. With a wince, Savannah noted immediately that Miranda had been into the makeup again. Her daughter was painted up like a super-model-in-training, she thought with a shake of her head.
Savannah was quite sure that the members of Ernestine’s club would later whisper about what a terrible mother Savannah was.
With admirable patience, Miranda submitted to being examined and teasingly interrogated by her grandmother’s friends, though she gave her mother a-look that begged for rescue. Savannah indulged the ladies for a moment, then slipped an arm around her daughter’s shoulders and directed a smile at the room in general.
“If you ladies will excuse us, it’s getting late. I’m going up with Miranda so she can tell me about her evening while she gets ready for bed. Good night.”
A chorus of good-nights answered her. It was with a sense of relief that both Savannah and Miranda made their escape.
Miranda started chattering about the movie she’d seen almost before she and her mother left the living room. “It was so cool! The best ‘Code’ film yet.”
“Cold film?” Savannah repeated quizzically, still thinking of a way to broach the subject of Miranda’s overuse of cosmetics.