Tanya Michaels - The Good Kind of Crazy

Jason shook his head. “No, thank you. I’m not technically scheduled to work tonight, but I’m on call as backup.”

A tug of premature disappointment pulled at Savannah. Jason had missed the last two monthly dinners and been called away from her father’s birthday celebration because of work. She hoped that wouldn’t be the case tonight—she felt bad enough that Trent couldn’t come because of a senior prom fund-raiser. Then again, interruptions were bound to occur when you were married to the man hundreds of women wanted to deliver their babies.

As she put his coat in the entryway closet, Savannah remembered how proud she’d been when she’d told acquaintances she was marrying a doctor! Not that he’d been a doctor at the time, but he’d already been accepted into med school and his path was clear. They’d married after graduating college, and she’d taught at a private day care, helping to shoulder the bills while he studied and interned.

When she’d discovered she was pregnant with Adam, she’d been first ecstatic, then worried about her husband’s reaction. They’d planned to wait another year or two before having a baby, but Jason had been thrilled. She’d teased him at prenatal checkups when he’d shown as much interest in the medical equipment as her progress, and she’d wept watching him cradle their son for the first time. If Jason hadn’t cried, his eyes had certainly been damp with emotion.

Recalling that moment in the hospital as if it were yesterday, she suddenly felt more generously disposed to the expecting women who so frequently needed Jason’s time. After all, when he couldn’t make family plans, it was because he was away, bringing the miracle of new life into the world, not because he was waving one-dollar bills in the air at some smoke-filled strip club on the seedier side of Atlanta. She’d known the specifics of being a doctor’s wife—odd hours, being a good hostess when he invited members of the medical community for dinner, attending different social functions. Jason had praised her on many occasions for making him look good, saying he’d be lost without her.

Her mood bolstered, Savannah went to help her mother in the kitchen. It was a sure bet Vi wouldn’t think to offer her assistance.

Beth had just started to carve the ham when the doorbell pealed through the old house.

“Looks as if our guests of honor are here.” Savannah had a sudden moment of reverse déjà vu that caused her smile to falter—would Adam be bringing home a woman to meet his parents in the next few years?

“Late,” Beth grunted, looking at the digital over the oven.

Savannah could tell this was another strike against the mysterious suitor who hadn’t bothered to meet Neely’s parents, much less ask their permission, before proposing. “I’m sure the delay was unavoidable, Mama, and not a reflection on Mr. Walsh.”

Her mother slanted her a knowing glance. “You’re not about to remind me to be hospitable in my own house, are you?”

“When you’re the one who taught me everything I know about Southern generosity? Of course not,” Savannah said sweetly. “You’d be the perfect gracious hostess to anyone who came to your door, even if they weren’t entirely punctual.”

Beth grinned. “With some coaching from you, Vidalia could be a lot more subtle about her back talk.”

Savannah thought of her sister, of her bright bleached hair and constant opinions. “I don’t think Vi has any interest in subtle.”

“Well, let’s go join them before she says something to scare off this Robert Walsh and Cornelia ends up as alone and crazy as my great-aunt Willa.”

Either Robert and Neely hadn’t bothered with jackets, or someone had already put them away. The two of them sat on the striped antique settee Gerald had reupholstered when Savannah was in high school—Neely in a scoop-necked sweater and black skirt, Robert in a button-down shirt and navy tie. He was handsome, Savannah thought judiciously, taking in the wave of silver in his rich brown hair and the sparkle of his gray eyes. The sparkle increased when he looked at Neely, which he did often. She didn’t seem to mind, snuggling close to him with her hand resting atop his knee. A simple touch, but meaningful for Neely.

Robert Walsh wasn’t quite debonair, but something more comfortable and sincere. Though he was tall, with a firm, square jaw, there was a kind of indefinable softness about him, too. Perhaps Savannah recognized it because it reminded her vaguely of her father, an invisible vibe of kindness that promised he’d never mistreat children or small animals.

When Neely glanced up at her, Savannah’s first instinct was to turn away and not be caught staring. Silly, really, since it was understandable for the family to be curious about Robert. She stepped forward, offering her hand.

“Savannah Mason Carter,” she introduced herself. “Have you already met my husband, Dr. Jason Carter?”

“We were just starting the name exchange,” Douglas said. “We’d only gotten as far as Dad and Vidalia Jean.”

“Who goes by Vi, right?” Robert smiled, looking as if he might say more, perhaps about how Neely didn’t like her full name, either, but stopped, catching sight of Beth behind Savannah. Apparently he had the good sense not to joke about names when the people who’d picked them out were standing in the room. “Mrs. Mason. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

As he held out the bottle of wine he’d brought along as a hostess gift, Savannah grinned inwardly. She liked the “finally” as a discreet reminder that, if it had been up to him, he’d have met them sooner. Robert Walsh might just hold his own with Beth, and once she approved of him, he was family.

After the pleasantries were exchanged, Beth planted her hands on her ample hips. “Well, not to discount the value of small talk, but I worked too hard on that food to let it go cold. Why don’t we move into the dining room?”

They all headed that way, and Savannah noticed the hand Robert placed on the small of her sister’s back. An odd ripple of yearning went through her at the unconscious intimacy conveyed in the touch. She cast a glance toward her husband, abashedly aware of the longing that probably showed in her face.

But he was deep in discussion with Douglas about a new property tax and didn’t notice.

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