house looked warm, inviting, classically beautiful … and filled with love. At one time, that’s exactly what it had been—or so she had thought.
Memories, uninvited but inevitable, flooded her mind. She and her sisters had been at camp when it had happened. Their grandfather had arrived to break the news and bring them home. She still remembered her surprise and then immediate anxiety at seeing him there. Instantly she had known something was wrong. How Daniel Wilde had been able to hold it together still amazed her. Not only had he been grieving for the loss of his son and daughter-in-law, but he had to deal with the knowledge that his son was a murderer. He’d had to put his grief on hold to be there for his granddaughters.
Eighteen years ago, she and her sisters had left home excited, happy, and secure ten-year-olds; their only concern was having a good time. One day later, they had returned traumatized and devastated, their whole world crashing around them.
Shaking herself from the unhelpful introspection, Savannah pulled the small overnight bag from the trunk. She’d take her larger suitcase out tomorrow, when she had more energy. The minute she slid the key into the lock and turned the knob, more memories swamped her. Grim determination kept her feet moving forward.
She threw her keys on the table beside the door, briefly noting that the lilies in the vase were fresh. Twice a week, a local florist placed lilies, her grandmother’s favorite flower, throughout the house. It was something her grandmother Camille Wilde had adopted when she was newly married. Her husband, Daniel, had kept that tradition even after she died. Neither Savannah nor her sisters had the heart to discontinue the custom.
She walked across the shiny hardwood floor and then up the winding mahogany staircase, smiling faintly at the memory of sliding down the banister and bruising her bottom when she had landed abruptly halfway across the foyer. She quickly squelched the other part of that memory. The one where her father had laughingly picked her up and hugged her hard until she stopped crying.
When she got to the top of the stairs, she turned around on the landing and peered down into the grand old house. The expected desolation didn’t come. This was a beautiful home and deserved to have a family love it the way she and her family once had. Despite the difficult days ahead of her, she was suddenly glad she had come home. This was the final step in putting the past behind her. After seeing Zach’s reaction, it was obvious he’d done that, too.
The ringing of the doorbell had her running down the stairs again. She had hoped to have one night alone before the inevitable visiting began. Of course, maybe if she had been able to sneak in without being seen, that could have happened.
Shrugging resignedly, Savannah opened the door. The polite smile of welcome froze on her face as she stared at her visitor.
Zach stood on the porch, feeling like the awkward, gangly kid he’d once been. Maybe he should have waited until morning, given her a chance to rest. He’d told himself he just wanted to get this over with. He would explain that her boss had called and advised him of the threats against her. That he’d be on the lookout for anyone new or suspicious-looking. That he was here to help her if she needed it. Yes, those were the reasons he’d told himself he was here, and up until now, he had almost believed them. The instant the door opened and she stood before him, Zach knew all of those reasons were lies and excuses. How could she possibly be more beautiful than before?
Surprise flared in her eyes but she quickly recovered and gave him the blandest stare he could imagine. If he hadn’t seen the quick flash of emotion, he’d almost guess she didn’t recognize him.
“Hello, Savannah.”
“Zach.” She gave a nod of acknowledgment and maintained her hold on the door.
“Can I come in?”
Her grip on the door tightened noticeably. She wasn’t even going to bother to pretend she didn’t want him there.
“I really don’t feel up to company right now.”
It’d been a long time since Zach had felt inferior. After an upbringing that no one in their right mind could call pleasant or normal, he’d worked hard at recognizing that wealth had nothing to do with the quality of a person. Funny thing was, Savannah was the first person to help him