Page 45 of Best Kept Vows (Savannah’s Best #6)

Ophelia

S avannah converged en masse for Abraham Boone.

Christ Church Episcopal stood like a monument to Savannah’s history, its white steeple piercing the sky, casting long shadows over the cobbled streets.

It was one of the oldest churches in the city, its walls steeped in tradition.

Inside, the light filtering through the stained-glass windows bathed the congregation in soft hues of blue, red, and gold, causing fleeting halos over bowed heads.

The scent of polished wood, old hymnals, and lingering incense hung in the space, mingling with the low murmur of the gathered mourners.

The church was packed.

Some came out of obligation, some curiosity, and for some, this was a final act of affection and loyalty to a man who had once been a giant in Savannah’s business world.

I sat beside Sebastian in the front pew, his hand warm in mine. He hadn’t let go since we walked in. Ada sat on his other side while Tristan had his arm around me. The four of us were holding each other through this farewell.

Dolly sat across the aisle, her spine ramrod straight, her expression carved from stone. She wasn’t crying, but I had noticed her body shook when the casket was carried in. Her gloved hands had fisted in her lap for a moment, and then she calmed, resuming her perfectly composed facade.

Coco, beside her, mirrored the same rigid restraint, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Bryce, however, looked more like he was here to shake hands and make connections than to bury his father-in-law. His gaze scanned the room, assessing, calculating.

Asshole!

The service was formal and grand, every detail carefully curated—just as Dolly wanted. The rector’s voice carried through the high-ceilinged space, delivering scripture.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”

I felt Sebastian inhale beside me.

The choir’s voices rose in harmony, filling the church with the familiar strains of “Amazing Grace.”

I once was lost, but now am found.

Was blind, but now I see….

I glanced at Sebastian as the words echoed through the space. His jaw was tight, and his eyes were moist with emotion. He had changed in the past months, I thought. He wasn’t trying to be stoic like his mother or sister; no, he was letting himself feel .

When the final prayer was spoken, and the congregation rose, Sebastian sucked in a breath. I knew he wasn’t looking forward to what came next. The condolences. The whispered sympathies. The hushed gossip about what was happening with Boone Metals.

“Why don’t you guys head over to the house? Mama and I have got this,” Sebastian said to the kids, tilting his head toward the receiving line that was forming.

“You’re not doing this alone, Dad.” Tristan took his place next to his father.

So, the four of us shook hands and thanked those who came to bid Abraham farewell. In stark contrast, Dolly stood alone. Coco, Bryce, and Birdie had left after what I surmised was an argument they had with Dolly.

An hour and a half later, we headed to the wake and were reminded rather harshly of the famous Robert Frost quote: " In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on ."

Unfortunately for the Boone family, life went on, which meant that beneath the fragile opulence of the family name, the rot continued to eat through the very foundation of their legacy.

As the wake stretched into the evening, the Boone family home felt like a mausoleum, suffocating in its grandeur: the chandeliers, the scent of expensive cologne, the catered hors d’oeuvres , and the fake condolences.

And no one was more fake than Abraham’s wife, daughter, and son-in-law, I thought sadly.

Sebastian and I stood in the far corner of the drawing room by the tall French doors that opened onto the back lawn, our champagne flutes untouched.

“My father is gone. The company is…well, going. And I know I should feel sad—and I do—but the feeling that’s overwhelming me right now?” Sebastian’s voice was low. “It’s freedom.”

I looked up at him. The light caught the curve of his jaw, the gray at his temples. His eyes were softer now than they had been all day.

“That’s okay,” I said gently. “He’d be proud you chose happiness. He told you that.”

He lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “Doesn’t make it any less weird.”

“No. But it is honest.”

Ada and Tristan were with their friends, whom they’d grown up with in Savannah and who had come to lend their support.

The room buzzed with murmured condolences and sharp whispers from those who saw this gathering less as a farewell to Abraham Boone and more as an opportunity to assess the aftermath of his death.

“I heard Abraham kicked Sebastian out before he died.”

“Bryce is tanking the company.”

“Dolly’s going to have to sell the house. Did you see her clutch that Bulgari watch like the repo people were there to snatch it away?”

“I thought Sebastian and Lia were divorcing. They sure don’t look like it. ”

“Birdie’s dress…my God. Is this a wake or a casting call for The Real Housewives of Savannah ?”

Everyone here had a smile for the camera and a dagger behind their back.

Sebastian and I had just managed to escape a round of forced condolences when Bryce came charging over, face blotchy, eyes glassy with what I could only assume was a toxic cocktail of anger and bourbon.

“This is on you,” Bryce spat, his voice low but laced with venom.

Sebastian barely reacted, sipping his drink as though Bryce’s presence was no more than a mild inconvenience. I was about to tell Bryce to take this to a private location, but I could see it would be a waste of my time and energy. He was too far gone, out of control.

“You sabotaged Boone Metals,” Bryce hissed, his fury growing. “You set me up to fail.”

A hush fell over the immediate area. People subtly inched closer, eager to witness the Boone family drama unfold firsthand.

“Bryce, not here.” Coco hurried to his side, clearly trying to minimize the fallout.

“Oh, come on, Colette,” Bryce snapped. “If your father had given me half the capital he gave him?—”

“Our father is dead,” Sebastian stated, voice low and even, the words hitting harder than if he’d shouted them.

Bryce’s face twisted. “You tanked the company. You did it on fucking purpose.”

Sebastian placed his glass on the marble bar with deliberate calm, and turned to Dolly, who had just joined the fray, her eyes narrowed, searching.

“We’re leaving now, Mama,” Sebastian said evenly. “Goodnight.”

It was a full dismissal.

Final.

Devastating in its elegance.

Bryce lunged, fury written all over his face, but Sebastian sidestepped him with ease. Bryce stumbled but didn’t fall—thanks to Coco gripping his arm.

“You arrogant son of a?—”

“Enough!” Dolly snapped, stepping in front of Bryce like she was about to smack him with her Chanel clutch.

“You always take his side,” Bryce sneered.

That was when Ada and Tristan appeared, flanking Sebastian and me like bodyguards. I had to suppress a smile at how adorable they looked.

“Goodnight, Grandma,” Ada said with steel in her voice. She turned to me. “Time to go, yeah?”

“Time to go,” I echoed, slipping my hand into Sebastian’s.

Bryce’s voice followed us, venomous and pathetic. “You bitch?—”

“Hey!” Tristan got in his face so fast Bryce stumbled again. “You talking to my mother or my sister?”

Sebastian reached back, calmly pulling Tristan away. “He’s not worth it, son. Let him shout at the ghosts.”

We walked out together—Sebastian, me, and our children. Together . And I realized that was the only legacy we needed to give a damn about.