Even though Savannah was home—she was born and raised here—she hadn’t spent much time here over the past few years. Not since she’d graduated from Savannah College of Art and Design and moved to Atlanta to teach art after the wedding was called off.
She mentally lined through her list of Savannah neighbors, and the various SCAD-related groups he could’ve belonged to and found herself reaching all the way back to her days at Savannah Country Day School.
The jogger stopped on the sidewalk across the street from the inn and peered up at her.
Her stomach clenched.
Wait.
Oh, crap.
Is that...? Oh, no, is that Daniel Quindlin?
She turned away too fast. The clumsy motion made her spoon fall off the saucer and clatter on the balcony’s wooden floorboards. Feeling foolish, she bent down and retrieved it.
What’s wrong with you? He probably saw you do that. Of course he saw you do that.
With a deep breath, she straightened, pulling herself up to her full height and pushing her shoulders back before she stole another glance.
Oh, God. It was him.
Her stomach lurched and she gritted her teeth against a gamut of perplexing emotions. If the pretty sunrise and everything familiar had been an omen of good things to come, Daniel Quindlin was standing there staring up at her like a harbinger of doom.
What was he doing in Savannah? When had he returned? She would’ve thought her mother or grandmother would’ve warned her.
Not that it mattered. When they were in high school, he’d made it very clear that Savannah was the last place on earth he wanted to be.
He stared at her for a moment before he lifted a hand in greeting.
Elizabeth’s heart thudded and heat burned her cheeks. Why? She had no reason to feel embarrassed or care what Daniel Quindlin thought of her. She raked her hand into her hair, trying to casually smooth the humidity-induced bedhead that she hadn’t bothered to fuss with before she’d stepped out here with her coffee.
This was Savannah. Not Atlanta. And knowing everyone in town—or at least most of the historical district—was the breaks of being a sixth-generation Savannah native.
She knew better.
Head held high and cheeks still burning, she pulled her hand out of her hair and gave a quick wave to prove that she was fine, that all these years after he’d succeeded in talking Roger out of marrying her and leaving her at the altar, humiliating her in front of God and everyone, she was perfectly fine.
Common sense dictated that Roger couldn’t have been talked into doing anything he didn’t want to do. But she blamed Daniel for the way it all unfolded. Seeing him again after all these years reopened a wound she thought had healed.
Shortly before the ceremony had started, Jane had gone to her car to get a safety pin. She’d passed by the choir room and had overheard Daniel telling Roger he had no business getting married. She’d heard him say, “It’s better to get out now than to get a divorce later.”
Jane had beaten herself up for not telling Elizabeth, for letting her walk down that aisle. But Roger had sounded so resolute when he’d told Daniel, “Stay out of my business,” and Jane thought Roger was fine. That Daniel was being a jackass.
A few minutes later, when Roger was waiting for Elizabeth at the front of the church and everything seemed to be going as planned, she’d made the snap decision to not say anything to Elle.
Elle had understood. She had forgiven Jane. Actually, she’d never held it against her sister, because it hadn’t been her fault. The music had been playing. Roger had been in place, seemingly prepared to get married. What was Jane supposed to do? Stop the wedding over a snippet of conversation she hadn’t even been sure she’d heard right?
For a solid year after the wedding Jane had beaten herself up, saying if she had one do-over, she would’ve confronted Roger and Daniel and asked them to clarify and she would’ve stopped Elle from walking down the aisle.
For Jane’s sake, Elle had tried so hard to prove she was fine that she’d actually convinced herself she was.
Until now.
After all these years, the mere sight of Daniel Quindlin made her feel clumsy and out of control.
But wait—why was she giving him so much power over her? When she thought about it that way, it was easier to push Daniel out of her mind and go inside to get ready for the day.