Chapter 18: Never The Best: Chapter 18

Aunt Hattie and I were sitting in her garden room, which was blissfully air-conditioned. It was hot in Savannah. Summer was here with a vengeance, and anyone who ever thought that climate change was a myth could rethink that notion because we were having record-high temperatures.

Missy, Aunt Hattie’s housekeeper and majordomo, set out iced tea for us and joined us. Missy had been with Aunt Hattie for nearly two decades. She was younger than her employer by a decade or so, but no one was really sure. There were rumors that Missy and Aunt Hattie were lovers, but I hadn’t seen any indication of that, but if they were, more power to them.

Missy was African American and carried herself with immense grace. Her presence commanded respect, whether she was managing Hattie’s household or calmly stepping into one of Savannah’s more contentious charity meetings to restore order. She always dressed impeccably in crisp linen blouses and tailored skirts; her hair swept back into a low bun that gave her an air of effortless elegance.

Aunt Hattie shuffled through a folder filled with papers. “Pearl, darlin’, I know you hate this stuff, but we need to talk about the gala,” she said, her Southern accent curling around the words like ribbons of honey.

I groaned.

“None of that, young lady. It’s going to be the event of the season, and I’m counting on you to charm some of those deep pockets into opening up their wallets.”

I shook my head, amused. “You know I’m better with numbers than people, Aunt Hattie.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, sweetheart,” she admonished. “You’ve got that Beaumont charm—when you choose to use it, that is.”

“Beaumont charm sounds like an oxymoron.” I held up my iced tea with a toast.

Missy chuckled. “Now, Miss Pearl, you know Hattie’s got a knack for ‘voluntelling’ people to do things. If she says you’re going to charm them, you better believe it.”

Hattie gave a mock gasp, clutching at her pearls. “Missy, you wound me. I merely guide people toward their true potential.”

“Guided me right into a whole lot of trouble over the years,” Missy reproached.

I smiled, watching the easy banter between the two of them. Missy had a way of making Hattie seem less like the Grande Dame of Savannah and more like…well, herself.

“What’s the focus this year?” I asked, steering the conversation back to the event.

“Women’s healthcare,” Hattie said, her tone growing serious. “We’re partnering with the Savannah Women’s Health Initiative to raise money for free mammograms, cervical cancer screenings, prenatal care—you name it. The need’s greater than ever, and Lord knows we’re in a state that doesn’t make it easy for women to get the care they need.”

Missy shook her head in disgust. “There are so many women falling through the cracks, especially those who are underprivileged. This could make a real difference.”

I felt a swell of pride for both of them—Aunt Hattie for using her influence to push for change, and Missy for being the steady, guiding hand behind so many of Hattie’s efforts.

“Do we have a venue yet?” I asked, already thinking about the logistics.

“The estate, of course.” Hattie gestured around her. “Who else in Savannah has a garden that could accommodate half the city and still leave room for a dance floor?”

“You’re not wrong,” I admitted. It was not difficult to picture the sprawling grounds filled with guests in their summer best, sipping champagne and pretending not to sweat in the Savannah humidity, still raging in the autumn.

“We’ll also need you on the finance end, Pearl. Someone needs to manage the budget and all of that,” Missy added, her sharp eyes meeting mine. “We’re going to auction off some big-ticket items—a trip to Paris, a private dinner with a Michelin-starred chef, that kind of thing. Hattie’s good at shaking the tree, but you’re the one who has to make sure every penny ends up where it’s supposed to.”

“I’m all in.” This was one of the things I loved about being back in Savannah, working with people like Aunt Hattie and Nina Davenport to help the community. In Los Angeles, I worked a corporate job and nothing more—here, I had the contacts and network to do more.

Aunt Hattie reached over and patted my hand. “I knew I could count on you, darlin’. And who knows? Maybe we’ll even find you a dance partner that night.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help smiling. “Let’s focus on the fundraising first, shall we?”

“Fine, fine,” Aunt Hattie chuckled.

Missy raised her glass. “To women’s healthcare—and Miss Pearl, for putting up with us.”

“To women’s healthcare,” I echoed, clinking my glass against hers.

We were discussing guest lists and catering when the doorbell rang. Shortly after that, Rhett walked in, following a maid.

“Well, well, two of my favorite people with me at the same time.” Aunt Hattie rose and hugged her nephew.

“And what am I, chopped liver?” Missy complained.

“I think she meant you and Pearl, Missy.” Rhett leaned down to kiss Missy’s cheek.

I was grateful he only smiled and said hello to me, keeping his hands to himself. I was on shaky ground with Rhett—my feelings were all over the place.

“Have you eaten lunch?” Missy asked.

Rhett looked strained. He had dark circles around his eyes. “I’m fine, Missy. But I wouldn’t say no to some of that iced tea you got there.”

Missy didn’t need to be told twice. She headed toward the kitchen, muttering about fixing him a plate, whether he wanted one or not.

I poured him a glass of iced tea and set it in front of him. He sat in an armchair across from Aunt Hattie while I sat next to her on a loveseat.

We were surrounded by greenery both inside and out, making the garden room feel like a tropical paradise but cooler.

“Thanks, darlin’,” he murmured. He drank half the tea and set the glass down, looking pensive.

Aunt Hattie tilted her head, narrowing her sharp eyes at Rhett. “Well, you look like you’ve been through hell, darlin’. What’s happened now? Don’t tell me your father has driven you to drink before sundown.”

“Only tea,” Rhett joked weakly.

“You want to talk about it?” Aunt Hattie offered.

Rhett gave her a weary smile, running a hand through his hair. “I called off my engagement with Josie last night.”

The air seemed to shift in the room, a ripple of surprise followed by silence. My heart stopped for a beat, my breath caught in my throat.

Aunt Hattie’s lips curved into a broad smile. “Good for you. I’m assuming the shit has hit the fan?”

Rhett laughed in self-deprecation. “Not yet, but it’s going to. She didn’t take it well. I wanted to do it quietly, but she insisted we eat at Elizabeth’s and⁠—”

“Please tell me you didn’t dump her in a public place, Rhett Vanderbilt,” Aunt Hattie chided.

“I thought we’d talk, but…she’s fuckin’ delusional, Aunt Hattie. I’m telling her we’re not working out, and she’s telling the server she can’t eat bread ‘cause she needs to fit into a wedding dress.” Rhett ran a hand through his hair. “Next thing I know, my temper ran away, and I told her we’re done. She threatened to sic my father on me.”

“Well, she will,” Aunt Hattie remarked calmly. “But, son, we both know that he doesn’t have the power in this relationship; you do.”

“I do?” Rhett obviously didn’t believe that.

“You hold the purse strings,” Aunt Hattie stated triumphantly. “And in Savannah, the one with those strings, is the puppeteer.”

“You have met my father, haven’t you?” Rhett commented sarcastically.

“George Vanderbilt is a pompous ass, and I feared for a long time that you’d end up like him.” She looked at me when she said that, and I knew why. What Rhett had done to me was most definitely on the path to pompous assholery.

“And now?” Rhett prompted.

“Now, I think you’re going to be fine, as long as you don’t let George bully you into living a life that isn’t meant for you.”

“What is meant for me, Aunt Hattie?” Rhett asked wearily. “I don’t know anymore.” He turned to look at me then, his eyes bleak.

I didn’t say anything. What could I say? Hey, real glad you ditched that bitch, now, how about you and I shake it up like old times, without the pool scene?

“Oh, please!” Aunt Hattie scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. “We’re all figuring out who we are, and all the time, that’s called growing. In any case, that girl wasn’t right for you, and deep down, you knew it. Took you long enough to get rid of her.”

Missy returned with a plate of ham and pimento cheese sandwiches for Rhett, the edges of the bread perfectly golden from a quick toasting in the skillet. She set it down in front of him, the aroma of melted cheese and smoky ham wafting up, before settling back into her seat with a satisfied look.

“He broke off the engagement,” Aunt Hattie announced.

“Thank God,” Missy exclaimed with noticeable relief.

Rhett raised an eyebrow at her. “You too, Missy?”

Missy shrugged, utterly unapologetic. “Couldn’t stand that Vance girl. Pretty face, but that’s about it. No depth. No heart. And don’t even get me started on her mother. Now, eat something.”

Dutifully, Rhett picked up a sandwich, and I could almost see the energy flow back into him as he chewed.

Aunt Hattie smirked at Missy’s bluntness. “Well said.” She then turned to me. “What do you think, Pearl?”

“Not my place to think about this, Aunt Hattie,” I replied flatly.

I couldn’t even fake a smile.

He was free.

Rhett Vanderbilt was no longer engaged. No longer tethered to Josie Vance.

And suddenly, all the feelings I’d been trying to suppress—the attraction, the confusion, the pull I felt every time he was near me—came rushing to the surface like a tidal wave.

But along with that came darkness and a chill that went all the way to the bone.

He doesn’t want you, a voice in my head whispered, cruel and familiar. Why would he? You’re damaged, Pearl. A mess. You’ve spent years trying to fix yourself, and even now, you can barely hold it together when things get messy.

The voice grew louder, sharper, as if it had been waiting for the perfect moment to strike. You’re not beautiful like Josie. Why would someone like him want someone like you?

I swallowed hard, my throat dry, and my hands trembled slightly as I reached for my glass of iced tea. I took a sip, but even the cool liquid felt wrong, like my body was rejecting it.

Putting anything edible inside me felt impossible now, the familiar knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach. The room seemed to close in around me, the conversation fading into the background as the voice in my head kept going, relentless. Don’t eat or drink any more, it whispered. You don’t deserve to, not after indulging in such ridiculous thoughts.

I placed the glass back on the table.

“Pearl?” Rhett’s voice pulled me back, and I looked up to find him watching me, his brows furrowed in concern.

“Hmm?” I tried to sound casual.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his gaze holding mine.

“I’m fine,” I said, and because I needed everyone not to focus on me, I added, “You made a rather big decision. Are you sure you weren’t hasty?”

What I wanted to ask was: Why did you do it? Why now?

“No. In fact, I think I’ve been too slow in doin’ this,” he affirmed confidently.

Hattie and Missy chimed in, offering more words of encouragement. I nodded along, forcing a smile when it seemed appropriate.

By the time Rhett left and the house quieted again, I felt raw and exhausted. Aunt Hattie touched my arm gently as I stood to leave. “You alright, darlin’?” she asked, her eyes searching mine. “You’re looking rather pale.”

“I’m fine,” I lied. “Just tired.”

“Stay for dinner,” she suggested. “Missy is making⁠—”

“I have dinner at home,” I lied. Just thinking about eating made me nauseous.

She studied me for a moment longer before nodding. “Alright. Get some rest.”

When I left Aunt Hattie’s place, I saw Rhett leaning against the porch railing, as if he had been waiting for me.

“Hey.” He fell in step with me as we walked to my cottage. “You good?”

I nodded, forcing another smile. “I think that’s my question.”

Rhett shrugged. “I’m…relieved. I never wanted to marry her.”

“Then why did you propose?”

“She was pregnant. She said it was mine. She told my family it was mine. Not much I could do.”

“Doesn’t it bother you to keep being a good ol’ Southern boy?” I asked acidly. “And this is 2024, you don’t have to marry someone ‘cause you knocked them up.”

“I know. But then I felt the pressure to do the right thing.”

“And now?” I asked as I bent down to lift a fake rock where I kept my cottage keys.

“Now,” he paused and waited until I straightened, and then brushed his lips against my cheek, “Now, I want to be more like you.”

“What?” I gaped at him, clutching the house keys.

He grinned. “You inspire me, Pearl, to be a better man. You always have.”

He had rendered me speechless.

“Once”—he looked uncomfortable as he tucked his hands in his pockets—“the dust settles, so to speak, do you think…we could…you know?”

I cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.” He smiled.

I sighed. I did know.

“Let’s wait for the dust to settle first,” I quavered.

Instead of replying, this time, he brushed his lips against mine, soft and deliberate. A spark shot through me, sharp and unexpected, leaving a sizzle in its wake—one I hadn’t felt in a long time. It caught me off guard. I hadn’t had sex since moving back to Savannah, and the idea of swiping through Tinder or Bumbl, and stumbling across someone I knew, was mortifying. I was just horny, I decided, which made far more sense than the earth shifting beneath me simply from his touch.

“Let the dust settle, Rhett,” I whispered, unlocking my door with shaking hands. I shut the door on his face, not bothering to invite him in. I had to process this shift—even if it was one that I’d been secretly hoping for.

I sank onto the couch.

I’d promised myself I wouldn’t let Rhett affect me like this. But now that he was free, now that the possibility of a possibility of us loomed, I didn’t know how to stop my thoughts from spiraling. And then there was that stupid kiss.

Oh my God!

That had rattled my brain for sure.