Savannah Nights
By Marnie L. Pehrson
Mystery Romance
#8 in Granite Publishing's Love Notes Series

Samantha Reynolds set off for college, leaving her best friend Sean Cooper behind just when their friendship had started to blossom into something more. Sean leaves on a basketball scholarship at a major university while Samantha sets her sails for culinary school in Atlanta.

Over the years they lose touch until ten years later when Samantha is a prominent chef in an Atlanta restaurant. When her mother's untimely death shocks her world, Samantha heads home to Savannah, Georgia where she hopes to lead a calmer life. Instead, she ends up entangled in a mystery her mother was trying to solve. 

In order to piece together the puzzle Marjorie Reynolds left behind, Samantha turns to her old friend Sean, now a city alderman in whom her mother confided. Together they must learn what Marjorie discovered before Samantha ends up sharing her mother's fate.

Available for $7.95 at Distractions Ink

Click here for Photos from Marnie's Trip to Savannah
that Inspired "Savannah Nights"

Prologue  

Samantha Reynolds finished brushing her hair and crossed to her open bedroom window just in time to see Sean Cooper step out of his car. She caught a whiff of magnolia blossoms on the breeze and a melancholy ache tormented her heart. This would be her last night in Savannah - her last evening with her best friend.

The melancholy transformed into a flutter of anticipation. She and Sean had been inseparable through high school, and here they were the night before they would leave to pursue their education at separate universities. The tension between them had been mounting for months - a friendship that threatened to transform into something deeper. But they were out of time, and they both knew it.

Samantha moved to the side of the window and discreetly watched Sean saunter to the door, his lanky legs making the trip in no time at all. He was so cute, she could hardly imagine life without him. Perhaps these feelings were only on her end? Then again, Sean seemed to be experiencing them too. Even her mother remarked that she'd seen Sean gazing at Samantha with a love-struck look in his eyes.

Would they tell each other how they really felt tonight? Would he finally kiss her? And if he did, was it all too little too late? Sean was off to UGA with a basketball scholarship and plans for becoming a lawyer. Samantha would leave for the Art Institute of Atlanta in the morning. Her thoughts drifted to her dreams of France and becoming a world-class chef. She knew she needed to pursue her dreams or she'd always regret it. But would she regret not telling Sean how she felt even more?

"Sam, Sean's here!" her brother Travis' voice called up the stairs.

Samantha grabbed her purse from the bed, gave her reflection a glance in the mirror and opened her bedroom door. Normally she would have trotted down the stairs, given Sean a hug and fairly jogged to the car. But not tonight, Sean asked her to dress up for dinner at the Pink House in historic Savannah .

Samantha wore a black tea-length dress with matching heels. It felt more like prom than a typical evening with Sean. Any other night they would have played basketball or gone to the movies. Her new shoes felt strange on her feet as she descended the stairs. She hoped that she wouldn't do something klutzy like trip and fall flat on her face.

About halfway down, Sean turned from his conversation with Travis, and his eyes caught Samantha's. He put a hand to his heart with a dramatic flair, "Sam! You're gorgeous!"

Samantha hoped her cheeks weren't as crimson as they felt. She affected formality, "You look very handsome too, Mr. Cooper. Is that a new suit?" Sean shook his head and took her hand.

"Don't you two look adorable!" Marjorie Reynolds exclaimed and lifted her camera to her face. "Just a couple of pictures before you leave."

Sean put his arm around Samantha's shoulder and she slipped hers around his waist. Marjorie snapped one picture, then another and another.

"Mom, that's enough," Samantha pleaded, blinking away the flash spots from her vision.

"Well, this is a momentous occasion. You'll want to remember it," Marjorie reasoned. "Who knows when you two will get to see each other again?"

Samantha and Sean looked at each other with a somber expression. When would they see each other again? The seriousness of the moment seemed to sink in for both of them, then Marjorie's camera flash interrupted the moment.

Sean looked toward Samantha's mother, "We better get going. Our reservation's at six." He glanced at his watch.

Marjorie kissed each of them on the cheek and then stood at the door watching them walk to the car. Sean opened Samantha's door, and she waved back at her mother. Sean gave Marjorie one last wave while he crossed to the driver's side and slipped behind the wheel of his Honda Civic.

"Your mom's an angel," Sean observed as he backed out of the driveway.

"Well, maybe not an angel."  Do angels have manipulative streaks? Samantha wondered.

"There aren't too many people in this world better than your mother," Sean's serious voice seemed almost to scold Samantha for her thoughts. He shifted the car into gear and pulled onto the street.

"Agreed," Samantha nodded, and Sean reached for her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. Over the last month or so, he'd been holding her hand every chance he got. The gesture made Sam wonder again if they would admit how they felt about each other tonight.

Instead they discussed UGA basketball all the way to the Pink House. Samantha was just as enthusiastic about the game as her friend, and she was absolutely thrilled that he would have the opportunity to play for the team. Sean had worked hard for his basketball scholarship. The star forward deserved this reward. Samantha's only regret was that she wouldn't be able to attend his games like she had in high school.

"Maybe you can come visit for some of the games," Sean suggested as they walked up the cobblestone streets toward the Pink House.

"That would be fun," Samantha gave his hand a squeeze. "I'll definitely watch the games on TV when they're on. Just imagine me screaming your name." She chuckled.

"I'll do that," his eyes met hers so intently that she half expected him to lean over and kiss her. But he didn’t.

They strolled in silence, listening to the crickets and the traffic. They turned down another square and Sean broke the silence, "Have you ever been to the Pink House?"

"No, I think Mom has though," she replied.

"Well, you do remember the story behind it, don't you?" Sean asked. He seemed pleased when she shook her head that she didn't. "For one thing, they say it's haunted."

"Everything's haunted in Savannah , Sean. It's built on graves." Samantha stared up at the gnarled live oak trees dripping with Spanish moss. While her comment had been sarcastic, the trees seemed to attest to its veracity.

Sean chuckled and continued. "Seriously, I have a cousin who worked as a busboy here. He said it's definitely haunted. Seems the man who originally commissioned the construction of this home didn't like that it turned out pinkish; it was originally red brick. He didn't like that so they put white stucco over the top, but the red brick bled through and turned the house pink. The man wanted to tear it down, but his wife liked it. In fact she liked it so much that she ran off with the architect."

"Poor guy," Samantha shook her head.

"It gets worse. The husband was so grief-stricken that he committed suicide. My cousin says he's seen him peeping through the kitchen service window and dishes mysteriously move around the place.

Samantha looked into Sean's face trying to determine if he really believed this tale. "You're serious. You really believe that?"

Sean shrugged, "Strange things happen in Savannah , Sam. It's part of its charm. Part of what I love about it."

"Well, it sells tour tickets and bed and breakfast stays, but a lot of it sounds a bit farfetched to me," Samantha reasoned.

"Maybe, but my cousin Jeff swears he's seen things move around the Pink House and bearded ghosts staring at him through windows."

"Is Jeff the one who had five imaginary friends when he was little?" Samantha teased. "I believe their names were Big Donnie, Little Donnie, Poonoo, Dr. Toebooger, and what was the other one?" Samantha started laughing.

Sean rolled his eyes, released her hand and put his arm around her shoulder, tugging her toward the restaurant, "That was Beth, not Jeff."

"Oh, okay," Samantha chuckled. "Just wanted to double check."

They entered the restaurant and the waiter took them to their table. Once seated, Samantha couldn't help looking around the place, half-expecting to see a disembodied torso float by their table or hover in a window. As much as she liked to tease Sean about his belief in old Savannah legends, she secretly hoped they were true. She left the door of her mind cracked for the possibility.

Her eyes fixed on a portrait over the fireplace, "You reckon that's the man who haunts this place?"

Sean looked over his shoulder at the portrait. "Must be."

Samantha ran her hand along the white tablecloth. "So fancy." She gestured to her wine glass filled with water and adjusted the silverware next to the china plate. "I can't wait to have a restaurant like this someday."

"A haunted one?" Sean teased.

"Yeah - right. No, an upscale one in Atlanta or maybe even a café in France . "  

~*~  

Sean took a deep breath and rubbed his perspiring palm against his suit pants. He'd been crazy about Samantha since ninth grade.  She'd come up to him in gym class and introduced herself. He was the new kid in town while Samantha had grown up with everyone and had tons of friends. When she learned they lived in the same neighborhood, she befriended him, introduced him to her friends, and made him feel welcome.

He even credited Sam for the fact that he got playing time on the JV basketball team his freshman year. Coach Crisman was a friend of her family, and Sam personally introduced Sean to the coach, raving about what a great player he was. Her inside knowledge of Sean's basketball skills had come from playing horse in her driveway - hardly enough to be credible. But for whatever reason, Coach Crisman heeded Samantha's counsel and played Sean when most coaches would have ignored the new kid on the block in favor of the boys who'd grown up in the local leagues.

Sean's thoughts came back to the present. He couldn't stop staring at Sam with her blonde hair resting softly on her shoulders. She looked incredible in that dress, and her eyes were even greener tonight.

He wanted to reach across the table, take Samantha's hand, and declare his love for her. He'd say he couldn't bear to be apart from her. Then he'd beg her to come to UGA with him.

"You'll come to my restaurant, won't you?" she was saying. "You'll tip my waiters generously when you're a big time lawyer, right?"

 Sean had rehearsed the conversation in his mind a dozen times. But as he listened to her talk about different aspects of the Pink House restaurant, comparing it to the one she would someday run, he couldn't bring himself to say the words. He couldn't ask her to sacrifice her dream for him.

"Sure, I'll spend lots of money at your restaurant," he replied instead.  

~*~  

The sun had set, but the Savannah streets were lit by lamps and houselights from the refurbished mansions on the squares. Samantha and Sean had ambled a couple  of blocks from the Pink House enjoying the beautiful historic atmosphere. Suddenly, Samantha stopped and announced, "I'm sorry, Sean, I just can't do this anymore." An apprehensive expression came over Sean's face.

Samantha reached down and unfastened the strap on her shoe. "I cannot walk another step in these heels on these cobblestone streets." She pulled off one shoe and then the other and let the pair dangle from her finger by the straps.

"Well then," Sean sighed and then chuckled, "I'll just have to carry you the rest of the way." He swept her up in his arms and started down the street with her.

"Sean!" she slapped his shoulder. "Put me down. I can walk."

"I can't let you traipse barefoot around Savannah . What kind of gentleman would I be?" He tightened his grip on her.

Samantha fluttered her bare feet, "It's ninety degrees out here. There's no way my feet are going to get cold."

"We wouldn't want you to make a scene going barefoot in front of all these tourists. They'll go back up North claiming southerners don't wear shoes."

Two people stared at them as they passed. "I think we're making more of a scene this way," Samantha observed.

He didn't reply, just carried her to the end of the square.

"Come on, Sean, I weigh a ton. I'm going to break your back," she reasoned.

"You're light. Besides, I'm on an athletic scholarship. Remember?"

"For basketball, not weightlifting," she retorted. He refused to heed her warning and sauntered on. Samantha relented and stared up at the Spanish moss dangling from gnarled limbs. The stars blinked from beyond the trees and she wondered why she was protesting. If she were smart, she'd remember this moment and file it away as the most romantic of her life.

She told her mind to press the record button and save this memory for replay when she was alone at culinary school. When she looked into Sean's face again, he was gazing at her the way she knew she must be looking at him -- with a longing desire to never be separated.

He stopped walking and his face drew closer to hers, his lips hovering less than an inch from Samantha's. Her heart pounded and her mouth watered. Samantha let her hand rest on Sean's cheek and would have pulled his lips the rest of the way to her own, but a man slapped Sean on the shoulder, "Hey, can you two kids tell me which way Nathaniel Green Square is?"

Sean closed his eyes, and released a sigh as if he'd been holding a deep breath. He let Samantha down, and she felt her bare feet touch the warm cobblestone.

Sean pointed, "Go left over here at the next street, walk a couple blocks and it's the only square that doesn't have Spanish moss on the trees."

Samantha smiled up at Sean, "Yeah, in life Nathaniel Green hated Spanish moss so much that it won't grow on his square."

"Thanks," the man said.

"I see you've been listening to my history lessons after all." Sean started to lift her again, but Samantha put her hand on his chest.

"It's okay, Sean, really. I can walk."

Sean rubbed his back a little. "Okay, if you insist," he chuckled.

~*~  

After a romantic stroll along the river, Sean took Sam home. They sat on her front porch talking and laughing. It was a little past midnight when Sean stood to leave. He accompanied Samantha to the door and she turned to face him.

Sean hugged her.

"I sure am going to miss you, Sean," she said.

"Me too," he whispered. Sean's heart hammered as he leaned to give her a quick kiss goodbye. He never could bring himself to say the words that were in his heart, but he couldn't let her leave without giving her some indication of how he felt.

At that instant, he decided he wanted to really kiss her - not some faint peck on the lips, but a real kiss. After all, she was the only girl he'd ever loved. Sean held her face in his hands and kissed her again. Samantha responded immediately, and he knew that she felt more for him than friendship.  He held her tight, memorizing how she felt in his arms and the strawberry scent of her hair. He kissed her again and allowed himself to express with his lips what he could never say with words - that there had never been nor ever could be anyone else for him but her.

After some time, Sean finally pulled her against him and whispered into her ear, "Why haven’t we ever done this before?" He hoped she would say something - anything to indicate that she wanted to be with him as much as he wanted to be with her.

But Samantha just shrugged -- her green eyes moist and staring up into his. Sean's heart sank and he knew she wouldn't change her plans for him, and he couldn't ask her to. He leaned over and kissed her lightly, hugged her and whispered into her ear, "Write me." He turned toward his car and never looked back.

Available for $7.95 at Distractions Ink

Click here for Photos from Marnie's Trip to Savannah that Inspired "Savannah Nights"

Copyright 2008, Marnie L. Pehrson. All Rights Reserved.