was polished mahogany, so shiny he could see his reflection. The walls, a light lemony color, were covered with framed art and all sorts of family photos. A giant curved staircase seemingly miles away from the entrance spiraled up to the second floor. A balcony overlooked the first floor. The mansion appeared big on the outside but he hadn’t imagined how immense it really was. Long past believing that anything could intimidate or impress him, Zach felt rooted to the floor and speechless. The gulf between his upbringing and Savannah Wilde’s was like night and day, beans and apple butter … heaven and hell.
“Come into the morning room. That’s where we have Saturday breakfast. Sammie and Bri are excited to meet you, too.”
Barely comprehending that his feet were moving, Zach followed slowly behind Savannah, more intimidated with each step he took. Every room they went through reinforced the fact that he didn’t belong here. He was about to come up with another excuse to leave when she led him to a large sunny room with a table laden with the best-smelling and most delicious-looking food he could ever imagine. What amazed him even more were the three smiling faces of the people surrounding the table.
Daniel Wilde came toward him, his hand outstretched. “Welcome, Zach. I can’t begin to tell you how grateful we are for what you did for Savannah last night.” Tears glistened in the older man’s blue eyes.
“I was glad to help out, sir.”
Mr. Wilde turned slightly and gestured behind him. “I’d like to introduce Samantha and Sabrina, Savannah’s sisters.”
Though Zach had never officially met either girl, he’d seen them around. He knew Savannah and her sisters were triplets, and though they looked almost identical, he thought Savannah was by far the most beautiful of the three.
“Come sit down,” Savannah urged.
Zach watched as she pulled a chair out for him at the head of the table. Feeling more uncomfortable and awkward than he’d ever felt in his life, Zach lumbered over to the chair and sat down. Then, realizing that everyone was still standing, he sprang to his feet again, his face and entire body heating up in embarrassment.
When everyone was finally seated, Zach fell back into his chair and stared at the overflowing platters on the table: eggs, both fried and scrambled, bacon, country ham, pancakes, biscuits, gravy—sawmill and redeye—grits, and hash browns. Two glass pitchers, one holding orange juice and the other milk, stood beside a carafe of steaming coffee. The room was silent, as if everyone was waiting for him to say something. Before he could come up with anything, a gigantic and eager rumble of his stomach broke the quiet.
“We really didn’t know what kind of food you liked, so we each made our specialty.” Savannah paused and then added, “I made the biscuits and both gravies.”
“It looks really good.”
As if his approval was what they had been waiting for, platters of food began to be passed. Zach took a modest amount from each one and soon had an overloaded plate. When the last platter was finally passed, Daniel Wilde said, “Let’s give thanks.”
Everyone at the table bowed their head. Nerves and his grumbling stomach kept him from hearing much of the prayer, but when his name was mentioned, Zach’s ears perked up. Savannah’s grandfather thanked God for Zach being there to save her and for coming to breakfast. Had anyone ever prayed for him before? He didn’t think so. It felt odd but he couldn’t say he hated the feeling.
After a chorus of “Amen,” Zach opened his eyes and watched as everyone began to eat. Deciding he’d been given the green light, he wasted no more time and dug into the best meal he’d had in his life.
Savannah had the hardest time concentrating on her own plate of food. She had never seen anyone eat the way Zach did. He attacked and demolished. Knowing that it would embarrass him if she stared, she forced herself to only glance at him every so often so it wouldn’t look so obvious.
She still couldn’t believe he’d actually come. Last night when she had issued the invitation, the expression in his eyes and his noncommittal reply made her almost positive he wouldn’t. Not that it had stopped her grandfather from insisting that they make a meal fit for a king. After she had told him what happened and what Zach did for her, he’d been ready to go over to Zach’s house and thank him in person.