your peach cobbler. Baking is always a good way to get to a man. Right, Sarah?”
The owner of the most successful bakery in three counties nodded. Celeste said, “You could do a broad theme around peaches. Peach cobbler, peach ice cream, peach jam in Sarah’s pinwheel cookies.”
“Peach lingerie,” Nic suggested.
“Peach massage oil,” Sage added.
“I like the thought, but I don’t think I could get him close enough to notice scents.” Savannah’s thoughts were glum. “I’m sure lingerie is out of the question.”
Gabi said, “I think it needs to be something public that involves risk on Savannah’s part. Not physical risk. Emotional risk. And you’d better be prepared for him to give as good as he got from you.”
“Yes,” Nic agreed. “You could break the ice with something like that, then follow up with peaches.”
“Would you be up for that?” Sarah asked.
Savannah didn’t hesitate. “Yes. I love him. I want a life with him. I’ll do whatever it takes to earn his forgiveness. If the icebreaker doesn’t work and the peach follow-up isn’t practical, well, I’ll just do something else. I’m not above groveling in the street.”
“That’s the attitude, girlfriend.” Sage sank lower into the pool until her shoulders were completely submerged. “Now we just have to figure out the icebreaker.”
Long minutes dragged in relative silence. Savannah considered and rejected a flurry of ideas that ranged from staging a one-woman picket line in front of the sheriff’s office to writing him love letters on signs all around town.
Then Celeste said, “Groveling in the streets, hmm? The annual arts festival is coming up. I have this friend. I think she might be able to provide our solution.”
Celeste outlined her idea. It was silly and hokey and made Savannah cringe to think about. But at the same time, she could see it appealing to Zach.
“Well, dear?” Celeste asked. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know. I sort of like it. What do you guys think? Is it bold enough? Humiliating enough? Do y’all think it could work?”
The Eternity Springs matchmakers looked at one another and nodded. Then Nic said, “Honestly, Savannah, I think he’d come around no matter what. Zach loves you. He’d forgive you eventually. This will just help eventually come around a little faster.”
Savannah sucked in a breath, then let it out in a rush. “Okay, let’s do it. The arts festival starts when?”
“Ten days from tomorrow.”
“Good. That will give me plenty of time to order the perfect peach-colored bra.”
Ordinarily Zach greeted the end of tourist season with mixed feelings. He looked forward to the slow time of year and the opportunity it gave him to spend time doing those outdoor activities he loved, but he missed the constant change that the influx of visitors to Eternity Springs introduced into his days. He especially had conflicting emotions where the summer arts festival was concerned.
It was the final event of the summer season, and of all the special events the town hosted, he enjoyed the arts festival the most. He loved seeing the artists’ and crafts-people’s creative products. Every year he bought something, whether it was a painting or a photograph or even children’s toys he gave to the Callahan twins. He also particularly enjoyed the people the event attracted. Creative people were interesting. No one could deny the talent of those who created breathtaking Colorado landscapes or rocking chairs that made a man want to sit all day long. But the minds that thought of making jewelry out of potatoes or sculpting a fish entirely from beer tabs were downright fascinating.
And yet Zach had some crummy memories of the Eternity Springs summer arts festival, memories that were the source of those conflicting emotions.
His shoulder still ached on cold days as a result of the gunshot wound he’d received while disarming a crazed father out to murder the photographer who’d taken pornographic photos of his son.
Today as the festival kicked off, he almost wished he’d have a law-enforcement emergency to deal with. Rumor had it that he had a surprise waiting for him. Considering just who had been spreading the rumor—his nosy, busybody, way-too-interested-in-his-business friends—he figured the surprise must have something to do with Ms. Savannah Sophia Moore.
“Talk about conflicts,” he muttered as he exited the office, headed for Spruce, where festival booths lined the street. As he would do at least twice a day during the three-day festival, he would start at the top of Spruce and work his way south to the booths in the park area at the south end