Behind the Frame Page 3

  Talia DeVries turned to Savanna suddenly. “You’d know,” she said excitedly.

  “I would?” She hadn’t been tuned in to their conversation.

  Talia nodded, tucking a sleek strand of her platinum-blond bob behind one ear. “What medium of submitted art has won first place most often for this event?”

  “Oh!” Savanna thought for a second. “I’m not sure. Michigan Arts Council started the festival in 1991, when Carson was well known for its artists colony. We actually hosted the very first event here. But as far as the winning pieces, I have no idea.”

  “Hmm,” Talia said. “We were just curious. Have you gotten a lot of submissions so far?”

  Next to Savanna, Yvonne laughed. “Have we gotten a lot? John’s office was overflowing, and we had to move it all to his home office.”

  John agreed. “We haven’t counted. We’re still going through the acceptance process.” He gestured toward Savanna and Britt Nash, as the three of them comprised the selection committee.

  “And cutoff isn’t until next Friday,” Savanna added. “Your judging panel will have your work cut out for you!”

  Talia smiled. “I don’t mind. I was thrilled to be asked.”

  A decade ago, Savanna doubted Talia DeVries would’ve agreed to be part of this event. Her original impressionist artwork had been showcased in one of New York’s most prestigious galleries, and the young DeVries was touted as an artistic prodigy. But, for whatever reason, there’d never been any follow-up to her debut pieces. Instead, she’d pursued a career as an art critic, with a monthly column in Galleries Galore magazine.

  Savanna excused herself, seeing the waitstaff clearing tables and a delicious array of desserts being carried out. “Everything going all right, Joe?” She poked her head into the kitchen. Fratelli was drizzling sweet sauce over a dozen small white plates holding pastries, and Remy James was packing up kitchen utensils into a large carrying case.

  “Right on schedule.” Joe nodded without glancing up. “Back out there with you, Madam Hostess! We’ve got it handled.”

  Savanna laughed. “All right then!” She hung back a bit, looking over the room. Tonight was a lovely success.

  As she drifted toward the front of the ballroom, she caught a flurry of movement in her peripheral vision. In the vestibule, on the opposite side of the red-velvet-curtained wall of windows, John Bellamy seemed to be having words with a man Savanna didn’t recognize—taller than John Bellamy, maybe in his forties. The councilman was talking with his hands, and the stranger leaned in toward him, jabbing one aggressive finger into Bellamy’s chest. Both men looked upset. Talia DeVries came through the doors into the foyer. Maybe she thought she could settle things down?

  Savanna hesitated, unsure of what to do. From where she stood, she couldn’t hear a thing. They didn’t need this perfectly executed banquet to end with some kind of drama. DeVries stood between Bellamy and the other man, whose face flushed red as he spoke. What on earth was Talia DeVries saying to the stranger? He took a few steps back and then turned on his heel and left, walking out into the rain.

  Savanna looked around; Sydney was a few tables away. She went over and grabbed her sister’s arm, pointing. “Who is that?”

  Sydney squinted. “That guy outside?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t recognize him. Maybe he’s a husband of one of the shop owners?”

  “That’s Paul Stevens,” a deep voice came from behind Savanna, and she turned to find the reporter just standing up from his table. “He owns Lakeside Pier Hotel in Grand Pier.”

  “Grand Pier? That’s an hour from here. You know him? He seemed very upset about something just now.”

  Landon King shook his head. “I don’t know him well. But I’ve covered Art in the Park ever since I’ve been with the Allegan County paper, and Grand Pier hosted the last three years. Paul’s normally pretty reserved. What happened?”

  Savanna shrugged. “I don’t know.” She gestured out toward the vestibule, where Talia DeVries and the councilman now stood with their heads close together, deep in conversation. Savanna was going out there. If something related to the festival was going on, she needed to know.

  DeVries gripped Bellamy’s arm, frowning, looking as if she was trying hard to get her point across. Savanna pushed through the door, and the two abruptly stepped apart.

  “John?” Savanna stared at him. “Is everything all right?”

  “Everything’s great,” Bellamy said, unruffled.

  Talia DeVries looked discouraged. Frustrated. Something. What on earth had Savanna interrupted? She made a mental note to ask him about it later.

  “We should get back in there,” the councilman said. “I don’t want to miss dessert.”

  Savanna ushered out the last guests—the elderly Rose of Rose’s B&B and her daughter—thanking them for coming. Then she helped the two Carson Ballroom employees put chairs away. After planning and worrying about the banquet for weeks, she was happy to have it behind her.

  “Oh, sir, I’m sorry, we’re closing up,” one of the staff spoke in the now-quiet room. Savanna glanced up.

  Aidan Gallager stood in the doorway.

  Chapter Three

  Savanna’s breath caught in her throat for a moment. In her mind, Aidan was still in New York. Except he wasn’t. He was here and, judging from the black wheeled suitcase beside him, he’d come straight from the airport. He wore a navy suit and white shirt with no tie. His dark, unruly hair was in need of a cut; he normally kept it short on the sides and a little longer on top. Combined with his five o’clock shadow, it lent him an uncharacteristic air of fatigue.

  Savanna moved toward him, feeling her face break into a smile, matching his.

  Aidan’s deep blue eyes crinkled at the corners, and he left his suitcase as he met her in the middle of the ballroom. They each stopped, a cushion of space between them. He seemed taller than she remembered.

  “Hi,” she said, her voice betraying her and coming out breathier and softer than she’d intended.

  “Hi,” he returned, his deep voice also quiet.

  If she’d allowed her body to listen to her heart, she would’ve sprinted across the room and leapt into his arms. Now that he was within arm’s length, Savanna hesitated.

  Aidan took the decision out of her hands and moved closer, hugging her.

  Savanna hugged him back, flooded with warmth. Oh, he smelled good. Clean—not a generic, soapy clean, but some kind of masculine, faintly spicy scent, just a hint of it where her cheek briefly touched his lapel.

  “I’ve missed you,” Aidan said, bending so his lips were near her ear, sending shivers zinging down her spine.

  “I missed you too,” she whispered before they both let go. Savanna smiled up at him, her cheeks feeling like they were on fire.

  “I’m so sorry—” he began.

  “I thought you weren’t—” she said at the same time, and then laughed. “I’m sorry,” she began again. “Go ahead.”

  He shook his head. “I interrupted.”

  Things felt too formal and polite between them. She hadn’t seen him in over two weeks. They’d texted a little, and talked on the phone less than that, but connecting was hit and miss between their schedules. She wished she could rewind to the comfortable, easy rapport of their last date. Every time he left, it was like starting over again when he returned.

  “I didn’t think you’d make it back this weekend,” she said.

  “I tried to get here in time for the banquet. That was the plan, anyway. But my flight got delayed. I was going to surprise you.” He gave her that slightly crooked smile, shrugging.

  “You did.”

  “Better late than never, I guess. How did it go?”

  “Perfectly,” Savanna said. “But—yesterday you said they needed you for at least a few more days. How are you here?”


  “I’m not. Not really. I’m due back again Monday.”

  “Oh.” Savanna heard the disappointment in her own voice. She had no right to feel this way; they’d only just started dating. She tried to put a spin on it, an attempt to cover her initial reaction. “Does Mollie know you’re back? She’ll be thrilled.”

  Aidan smiled. “No. It’s past her bedtime, but she’s my next stop. I wanted to try to catch you here before you were gone for the night.”

  “I’m so glad you did.”

  “Are you almost finished? Do you need a ride?”

  “I was about to head out, but I have my car,” Savanna said.

  He nodded. “Okay. I’ll walk you out.”

  Aidan followed her to the kitchen where she gathered her purse, laptop, and an overfilled box of flyers and registration forms from the business owners who’d signed up tonight. He took the box out of her hands as they went back through to the entrance to retrieve his suitcase.

  After they stowed the supplies from the evening in her backseat, Aidan held the driver’s side door open for her. At nearly eleven p.m., it was full dark, and quiet in town.

  Savanna was acutely aware of how close they stood to each other, but how vast the distance felt. In their paltry three dates, over the course of a couple of months, the chemistry between them had only grown. Now, Savanna focused on Aidan’s neck, the small V of skin where the top button of his collar was undone. He must be exhausted. Work and then racing to the airport, trying to make it back to Carson in time to surprise her. She raised her gaze, meeting his eyes. That hadn’t changed—she sometimes still had trouble looking at him. Especially this close.

  “So, I got some good news today,” he said, one hand resting on the open driver’s side door frame where she stood. “They finally hired a new chief of cardiothoracic surgery. She’ll be up and running within two weeks.”

  “Oh! Aidan, that’s great!” Savanna beamed. “Oh my gosh, wait until you tell Mollie.”

  “She may be less excited than we are.” He laughed. “Her grandparents have been spoiling her like you wouldn’t believe. But I’m so relieved. It’ll be good to have my head fully in Carson again. And see more of you, I hope,” he added.

  “I’d love that.”

  “How about Friday?”

  Savanna raised an eyebrow at him. “This Friday? You’ll be here?”

  He made a face, drawing the corners of his mouth down. “You don’t trust my crazy, unreliable promises?”

  She laughed. “That’s not it. I know you have no control over your schedule.”

  “I will soon. So, Friday?” He moved his hand across the top of her car door and covered Savanna’s hand with his.

  She let go of the door frame and turned her palm up in his. She kept her hand in his larger one between them now at her side. He was so warm. “Yes. Friday.”

  “It’s a date,” he said, his smile reaching the corners of his eyes.

  Savanna could feel her heartbeat in her throat. He was close enough to kiss. Somehow, that hadn’t happened yet for them. She took a deep breath; she had to get this under control. She was a grown woman. There was no reason she should be reduced to a pile of mush every time Aidan Gallager was near.

  “Well,” she said, looking down at her keys. “I should get home.”

  “Sure.” He stepped back to let Savanna get in her car and closed the door.

  Once she’d started the car, she pressed the button to lower the window and smile up at Aidan. “I really appreciate you flying home. Have fun with Mollie and your family tomorrow.”

  Aidan’s family wasn’t entirely his; he’d moved to Michigan when he got married and had stayed in Carson after losing his wife when Mollie was four, wanting his little girl to be close to her grandparents. He’d bought old Dr. Milano’s clinic, added a partner, and split his hours between the clinic and Anderson Memorial in town. Aidan never talked much about his own family, or the life he’d lived before, in New York. Savanna only knew he had a younger brother, Finn, and that the boys had lost their parents as kids.

  He leaned down, one hand on the roof of her little car. “Be careful going home. I’ll talk to you this week.”

  Sunday night dinners were tradition in the Shepherd family. Tonight was Sydney’s turn to cook, and a delicious aroma wafted to Savanna as she and Fonzie walked around the side of her parents’ house, the double French doors to the kitchen standing wide open. Basking in the sun on one of the deck chairs was Pumpkin, the Shepherd family’s plump orange tabby cat. He raised his head and meowed at Savanna as she gave him a quick scratch between the ears before she followed her little Boston terrier inside.

  Sydney stood at the stove, the whole countertop strewn with recipe ingredients—orange carrot heads, the green husks from peas, scattered onion peels, asparagus stalks. Next to the large frying pan on the stove were two glass bowls, one with what looked like a chopped cilantro-and-garlic combination, the other filled with long-grain rice.

  Savanna peered over her younger sister’s shoulder. “What are you making? It smells so good!”

  “Seafood paella.” Syd scooched Savanna away from the stove with a hip-check. “Don’t even think about it—no samples until it’s ready.”

  Savanna rolled her eyes and went around to the opposite side of the island, sitting across from her sister. “Fine. So bossy. Thank you for handling the music last night.”

  “I loved doing it. Your banquet was fantastic. Everyone seemed to really be enjoying themselves.” She sprinkled the garlic mixture over the simmering dish, folding it in and making her bracelets jingle.

  Through the doors, the sound of a motorcycle came from the driveway. “Dad’s home,” Savanna said. Their father restored classic bikes in his spare time. Today’s weather was perfect for a ride.

  Harlan came through the doors, followed closely by his son-in-law Travis and four-year-old Nolan, who zipped across the kitchen and hugged her. “Auntie Vanna!”

  She bent down and scooped him up, his white-blond hair flying as he leaned back, giggling. She liked that her nephew had an exclusive name for her.

  “Swing me! Come on, let’s go!” He was on her hip, throwing his whole body toward the yard through the open French doors and making her laugh.

  Travis spoke up. “I hope it’s okay it’s just us today. Skylar isn’t feeling well.”

  Both sisters frowned at him. Harlan looked over his shoulder from the sink, where he’d rolled up his sleeves and was scrubbing his hands. Skylar didn’t get sick.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Sydney asked.

  “I don’t think it’s anything to worry about,” Travis said. “She may be coming down with a little bug.”

  “She seemed fine last night,” Savanna said.

  He nodded. “She was. But today she says she just wants to take it easy. We left her on the couch with blankets and magazines. I promised to bring a plate home for her.”

  “She’s the most stubborn of all of you,” Harlan’s deep, rumbling voice added. He dried his hands on a kitchen towel and rolled his sleeves back down over tan, muscled forearms. “If she isn’t feeling better by tomorrow, make her go to the doctor.”

  “Tough to make your daughter do anything.” Travis smiled. “But I will, don’t worry.”

  Savanna flipped Nolan onto his back, carrying him like a baby. “I’m taking this kid outside to the swings until dinner’s ready,” she called, tickling his tummy and eliciting a shriek.

  When they sat down to eat at the long dining room table, Charlotte joined them. She’d been upstairs on a conference call the last hour or so; she worked as a management consultant and often traveled on business. But the trips were usually short, a few days at most, and sometimes she convinced Harlan to join her for the more exotic locations.

  Today, missing one sister, the group at the table felt much smaller.
Savanna would have to stop by tomorrow after work if Skylar was still sick. Travis didn’t seem overly concerned, which put Savanna at ease. He doted on Skylar and Nolan. He built his work schedule around her hours as an attorney, making sure one of them was always there for their son, as Skylar headed up the Carson branch of a large law firm out of Lansing. Travis was smart, funny, and good-looking in a just-stepped-off-my-yacht manner. Nolan had inherited all those traits, especially his father’s goofy side.

  Sydney’s seafood paella was amazing. When she brought a pineapple upside-down cake to the table after dinner, Savanna groaned. “I am way too full!”

  “So none for you?” Sydney paused cutting pieces, looking at Savanna.

  “Did I say that?” She held out her hands for a plate. “Cut one for the councilman too, please. I’ll take it to go. I promised I’d drop off the registration forms from last night.”

  “How is John? We didn’t get a chance to talk with him at the banquet,” Harlan said.

  “Yes, how’s his campaign shaping up?” Charlotte asked.

  “John’s great, although I still don’t know what that scene in the vestibule was about last night,” Savanna said.

  “We noticed that too,” Harlan said. “It looked pretty heated.”

  “I’m going to ask him about it when I see him. One of the art critics went out there, and it seemed to break things up. But as far as his campaign, he has all these new ideas for Carson. I think it’s going to be a tricky choice, the election. Mayor Greenwood is great, but people might be ready for a fresh approach, you know?”

  “I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes,” Harlan said. “Everyone loves Roger Greenwood. But you’re right, he’s been in office a long time.”