Change of Life. Leigh Riker

is there something you haven’t told me?”

      Savannah didn’t meet her eyes. “Could we not talk about this right now? The clam chowder I ate for lunch is threatening to take the reverse route in my digestive system.” She turned away from the look on Nora’s face. Another second, and her mother would be shoving saltine crackers down her throat. “Enough about me, Ma.” She looked at Nora. “Why is your face flushed? The wine? Or are you having a hot flash?”

      “One,” Nora muttered. “Two at the most.”

      To Savannah’s relief, the front door opened. But it wasn’t Johnny.

      Savannah’s brother, Browning, strolled into the kitchen carrying a big bag from Kentucky Fried Chicken and wearing his usual What, me worry? grin. If he only knew…

      “Hey. My two favorite girls. Thought I’d drop by for dinner before the football game tonight and—uh-oh,” he said, taking in both their faces. He dropped the bag on the counter, spun around and headed back the way he’d come. “Guess I’m outta here.”

      Savannah caught him by the collar. “Oh, no you aren’t. This is a surprise, but I need fresh troops—and you’re it.” She poured the last of the wine into a glass, which only made him wrinkle his nose. Browning preferred beer. “You just missed Kit and Tyler.” When he groaned at her teasing, Savannah said, “Take Ma into the living room while I find some clean plates for dinner.”

      It wasn’t long before Savannah heard Nora’s agitated voice from the other room. Obviously the subject of Detective Caine had come up.

      Savannah unpacked their take-out dinner while her brother listened to Nora vent about the missing vase. When Savannah poked her head around the kitchen door to check on them, he was leaning back, arms spread across the back of the sofa with his grin still in place. It took a lot to ruffle Browning. He had nerves of steel.

      “Let it go, Ma. You told the cop what you know—that you’re innocent. Forget him.”

      “I should be that lucky. The vase is valuable, but even more so to Geneva, it’s an emotional loss. She won’t give up until it’s found. Neither, I’m sure, will Caine. Why expect less? This hasn’t been my week, angel.”

      Savannah almost pitied her brother, stuck with two women who were trying to deal with their topsy-turvy lives. How could he understand? Browning had too many friends of the single male variety, all of whom tended to act like adolescent, hormone-driven boys half their age. Like Nora, she had nearly given up hope that Browning, at twenty-six, would mature—and find a good woman to marry so they wouldn’t have to worry about him.

      Not that Browning actually needed care.

      He had grown into an amazing man, tall and lean with muscle, yet almost rangy like her Grandfather Pride, but with his own father’s perfect bones and Wilson’s vibrant coloring. Long-lashed hazel eyes, dark hair. Why on earth didn’t some woman grab him?

      Many had tried, Savannah knew.

      Browning insisted he liked his bachelor state as much as he enjoyed his government job. His friends. His weekends at the beach with any available blonde, brunette or redhead who answered his come-here smile. He practiced a persuasive variation of it on Nora now. Savannah had her own opinion. Her friend Kit might have a few issues, but she could very well be a match for Browning. If only he thought so, too…

      “Ma, sit down. You’re wearing a hole in Savannah’s carpet.” He patted the seat beside him. “Finish your wine and tell me the rest of your troubles.”

      “Don’t encourage her, Browning.” Savannah ducked back into the kitchen and ran the garbage disposer, as if the noise might shut out their conversation. And her own fears.

      When she came out with a tray full of cutlery and plates, Nora was gazing into her chardonnay as if the wine tasted like acid and might kill her at any moment.

      “I can’t stop thinking about that detective or about Geneva. If you had seen her, Browning, just falling apart this afternoon… Not only did she lose something precious, now she’s worried about her marriage, too.”

      “It wasn’t a pretty sight, I’m sure. Ah, here we are.” He glanced up, sounding relieved when Savannah set their dinner on the coffee table. Fighting a wave of nausea at the smells wafting from the cartons in front of her, Savannah plunked down on the carpet, cross-legged.

      “That may not be a healthful position for the baby,” Nora cautioned.

      “I’m not even showing, Ma. The baby only weighs an ounce.”

      “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

      Browning snickered, not seeing Savannah’s alarmed expression. “Hey, look. The Colonel’s best chicken, extra-crispy, with mashed potatoes. It doesn’t get much better than this.”

      Nora took one bite of coleslaw then set down her fork. “I have the impression Caine would see me behind bars.”

      Browning snorted.

      “If so, Johnny would bail you out,” Savannah said. “He’d call Wade Blessing in L.A. and get the name of the best shark attorney here in Florida. A whole dozen of them, if necessary, just like O.J.—”

      “My thought exactly,” Nora said.

      “—and all this will be an unpleasant memory,” Browning put in.

      Nora smiled. “You’re a sweet boy. So is Johnny when he tries. And Savannah, you’re always a dear. You’ll make a good mother, a fine wife—if that’s what’s bothering you.”

      Savannah nearly choked on her potatoes. Her mother knew her too well. “Whatever happens, Ma, we’ll all stand by you.” And you’ll stand by me. She’d always known that. “Are you feeling bad, too, about Dad’s wedding invitation?”

      “Of course not. I told you, I’ve put that behind me.”

      “Then he did invite you?” Savannah asked.

      “Well, yes. I thought it was a little strange, but then we have made our peace in recent months.” Nora blinked. “Thank you, angels. Family and friends are everything.”

      Savannah reached out a hand to her.

      “Ma, you’re not going to cry, are you? You’ve been our Rock of Gibraltar, the one who fixes things and helps us.”

      “I wonder if I can fix them now.” Nora threw down her napkin. “How could he possibly think I’m guilty of stealing a vase?”

      “Caine has to consider everyone who had contact with Geneva or was in her home,” Browning said around a mouthful of chicken. “But you’ll see. Tomorrow he’ll come crawling. And apologize.”

      Nora was in her office the next afternoon, still pondering the welcome support she’d received from her children, not only about Caine but Wilson, too, when she realized that Geneva Whitehouse was in the reception area.

      Maybe she’d come to return Nora’s portfolio, which she’d left behind yesterday.

      Daisy left her place, and her nap, on the carpet to pad into the other room, her tail not quite wagging but definitely interested. This was the first sign that Daisy might be willing to acknowledge Nora again after the dog’s trip to the vet’s for her dental cleaning. When Nora had picked her up the night before, after leaving Savannah and Johnny’s condo, Daisy had pointedly ignored her.

      Now Nora’s eyebrows arched.

      “Please send her in,” she told Daisy. Nora rose from her chair and went around her glass-topped desk to grasp Geneva’s hand. She felt much warmer today. “How nice to see you again so soon. You’re looking better.”

      “I called Mark Fingerhut,” Geneva reported. “I’ll see him tomorrow. But that’s not why I came.” She took the chair Nora indicated in front of the desk, and Nora resumed her place