a bigger town, he’d have had security cameras to monitor. He could have canvassed the area for witnesses. But at that intersection just outside Eternity Springs, any eyewitnesses other than those directly involved likely walked on four legs and had antlers on their heads.
He tried to wipe the day’s events from his mind as he took Ace and went on a long evening run. Afterward, he showered and fell into bed, exhausted. Sleep, however, eluded him.
Even worse than most nights during the past two weeks, thoughts of Savannah grabbed hold of him and wouldn’t let him go.
He hoped like hell that the stop sign theft wasn’t TJ’s doing. Time and some good old-fashioned strong-arming by the sheriff would tell.
TWENTY-ONE
Savannah flipped her OPEN sign to CLOSED, then shut and locked the door to Heavenscents. The memorial service for LaNelle was due to begin in twenty minutes.
It had been a sad three days. Having attended only two meetings of the quilt group, Savannah had not known the other woman well. She had liked her, though. LaNelle had had a plainspoken manner and an inherent kindness that had reminded Savannah of Grams. Her death had hit Sarah especially hard, and Savannah had been glad to hear that Sarah and Cam’s daughter, Lori, was coming home for the service.
She arrived to find Saint Stephen’s overflowing with people. Mac Timberlake saw her and approached. “Ali saved a spot for you with the other quilters, Savannah. They are up at the front.”
“Thanks, Mac.”
She joined her friends. Sarah introduced Lori, a beautiful young woman with her father’s height and eyes and her mother’s smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lori, though I’m sorry it’s under circumstances like these.”
“Me too. My mom sent me a basket of your soaps. I like them a lot.”
“Thanks.”
Savannah was distracted by the sight of Zach, who escorted Celeste to the pew reserved for the members of LaNelle’s quilting group, the Patchwork Angels. Their eyes met, and he nodded, but she couldn’t read his expression. Then Zach smiled warmly at Lori Murphy and greeted her with a kiss to her cheek. Savannah tore her gaze away to find Sage eyeing her with a quizzical look. She was glad when the swell of organ music signaled the beginning of the service, and when beside her Nic began to cry, Savannah linked her arm with her friend’s, silently offering support.
It was a nice service, and afterward the mourners gathered at Angel’s Rest for an informal reception. As it wound down, members of the quilting group congregated upstairs in the attic workroom, where, with LaNelle’s instructive assistance, the Patchwork Angels had stitched their quilts and bonded in friendship.
“I thought it appropriate that we take time today to stitch and celebrate. While it’s true we lost our dear friend LaNelle too soon, we can take comfort in the fact that she’s in a place where her shears will never get dull.”
“Oh, Celeste.” Sarah clapped her hands to her head. “I know this sounds terrible, but I’ve heard all the uplifting sentiments I can bear today.”
“Jeez, Mom. Put a muzzle on her, why don’t you,” Lori said, then added to Celeste, “You say whatever you like, Celeste. You always know what to say, and it always helps. Honestly, sometimes what you said saved my sanity.”
Sarah’s head came up, and Savannah recognized worry in her eyes as she looked at her daughter. Celeste smiled and reached out and patted Lori’s arm. “Your mother has a point. I’m feeling sentimental today, and that’s when I tend to get a bit … well …”
“Preachy?” Nic and Sage said simultaneously.
Everyone laughed, and the sound was a welcome change. “Not preachy, I think. Philosophical. Which brings to mind a quote from Seneca that I consider particularly appropriate for today: ‘The day which we fear as our last is but the birthday of eternity.’ I think we should celebrate LaNelle’s birthday.”
Sarah groaned, but the sound was somewhat lighter. Not for the first time, Savannah recognized that Celeste had a golden touch with words—which suited her, since gold was obviously her favorite color.
“And of course, I’d be remiss not to mention Socrates, who said, ‘Death may be the greatest of all human blessings.’ ”
Ali looked at Sarah. “You should know by now that there’s no stopping her.”
“I know,” she replied with a sigh.
“And of course, I simply cannot fail to mention Bob Dylan: ‘Some people feel the rain, others just get wet.’ ”
Savannah shared a confused look with her friends. Finally, Lori asked, “What