The generosity overwhelmed Savannah. She’d seen so little of it in recent years, and she didn’t quite know how to react. She knew she came across as standoffish and perhaps even unfriendly, and she was working on improving that impression. Maybe in time she could actually make friends with some of these people—as long as they didn’t find out about her, of course. People who knew what she was, where she’d been, wouldn’t want to count her as a friend. The nice people of Eternity Springs would run her out of town.
She was saved from going down that particular dark path by a knock on the door. Sage stood on the front porch with nine-month-old Colton Alexander strapped into a stroller. The boy was a darling little butterball with red hair and rosy cheeks, and he gnawed happily on the handle of a green plastic toy hammer. Savannah couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Her arms ached to lift him out of the stroller.
Determinedly she quashed the maternal ache and lifted her gaze. Spying the sketchbook in Sage’s arm, Savannah’s pulse accelerated. Despite all the planning and work she’d done to get her business up and running, Savannah Soap Company and Heavenscents didn’t seem real to her yet. She suspected that having logos might change that.
“Welcome,” she said, opening the screen door. “Please come on in, you two.”
Sage tucked an errant strand of wavy red hair behind her ear, then gestured toward the porch steps. “It’s the three of us. Snowdrop is hoping that Inny would like a play date.”
“Of course. Inny would love …” Savannah’s voice trailed off as she got a good look at her neighbor’s dog. “Oh, my. What is that dog wearing?”
Sage flashed an unapologetic grin. “It’s her Easter dress. And hat, of course.”
The ensemble worn by the white ball of fur—a bichon frise—consisted of something that looked like a knit sweater with an attached tutu in pastel pink netting. The hat was a little straw bonnet tied with a ribbon. “Okay, then,” Savannah said, amused. “Guess you were hoping for a girl when you had your boy?”
Sage laughed. “No, Snowdrop’s outfits predate my marriage. They started as a joke between Colt and me, but now she wouldn’t be Snowdrop without her finery. Besides, she’s an excellent marketing tool because she draws children along with their parents into the gallery. She’s never as happy as when she is sitting in someone’s lap being petted. Everybody is relaxed, and I end up selling more.”
“Hmm …” Savannah cast a considering glance toward Inny. “I’ll have to keep that in mind. Maybe I could have a T-shirt made for Inny to wear that says ‘Smell me’ to advertise my pet shampoo.”
Interest lit Sage’s eyes. “You make pet shampoo, too?”
“I do. My grandmother loved her pets, and she had one dog that lived to get dirty and stinky. She figured out a recipe that worked to her standards, and she sent it off to the University of Georgia to make sure it was safe.”
“You’ll have to tell Nic. She’ll stock it at the clinic if you’d like. We like to do cross-marketing whenever possible.”
“I noticed the VISIT VISTAS sign beneath the portrait of the Callahans’ boxer hanging in her vet office.”
“Clarence. He’s so ugly that he’s cute. And he has the sweetest disposition. I can’t say the same about Cam’s Boston terrier, though. Have you crossed paths with Mortimer yet?”
“No.”
“Cam calls him the ‘Boston terrorist’ for good reason. He—”
Sage broke off abruptly when the baby let out a squeal, waved his arm, and the hammer went flying. “Dada! Dada!”
“Alex!” Sage scolded. “Don’t throw your toys.”
“My fault.” Colt Rafferty opened the back door and stepped into Savannah’s kitchen. “He saw me standing on the stoop and he was saying hello.”
Savannah watched with a twinge of emotion she refused to name as envy when Colt greeted his wife with a casual kiss, then bent to release the safety strap on the carriage and lift his babbling son into his arms. “Hey, Racer. Have you been a good boy for Mommy this morning?”
“Racer?” Savannah asked, curious.
“His initials are CAR,” Sage explained with a sigh.
“Racer Rafferty. He crawls at light speed,” Colt added. He nipped playfully at the boy’s fingers, then lifted his voice to speak above the giggles. “Your shelves are finished, Savannah. The paint needs the rest of today to dry, but tomorrow you’ll be good to go.”