Page 47 of Best Kept Vows (Savannah’s Best #6)

Ophelia

“ Y ou sure you want me here?” I asked Sebastian again as we walked into Husk Savannah.

“Yes,” he repeated.

“Sebastian.” I put a hand on his elbow, holding him. “She didn’t invite me.”

“Mama, as you know, does not extend invitations; she summons ,” he replied, amused.

“I…are you sure?”

“Baby, what’s the problem?” he asked softly, stroking a finger down my cheek.

I swallowed. “I don’t want to deal with her.”

“Or maybe you’re worried that I won’t defend you if she gets toxic.”

My eyes lowered in shame. Sebastian had done nothing to make me doubt him.

The past months had been heaven —not like when we were newly married. No, then it was all new, and we were young—but now we were older and wiser, and we knew each other and loved one another despite our flaws.

“Put me to the test, baby,” he coaxed. “Let me show you that you are the most important person in my life—even more important than me to me.”

“It’s fine,” I murmured, giving him an uneasy smile.

Since the debacle at the wake, I hadn’t seen any of his relatives. I had heard from the Savannah grapevine that Coco and Bryce had moved to Atlanta. No one knew where Birdie was, except that she wasn’t with Craig anymore.

Dolly had put the estate on the market, and once the mortgage and the debts were paid—which were considerable since Bryce had not just run the company into the ground but had taken loans by putting the company up as collateral—the estate sale would have to plug those holes as well.

My mother-in-law had brought this on herself, pushing Abraham to not only appoint Bryce as CEO but also co-signing the loans Bryce took out in an attempt to modernize Boone Metals, which was a futile attempt at resurrecting a dying business.

In the end, the company wasn’t sold as a whole but dismantled and sold off for parts.

Abraham had supported his investments by mortgaging the estate, which Sebastian said he couldn’t understand, but that was what he did. Now, he wasn’t sure if the investments could cover the mortgage after the sale.

Dolly would not be destitute. After everything was sold and paid off—she’d still be handsomely situated. Not like before when she thought she could walk into a jewelry store and pick up a bracelet for three hundred thousand dollars—but she could probably get a trinket for a couple thousand.

For most people, the kind of money Dolly would have would be considered a fortune; I was sure Dolly thought it was not enough to sustain life.

But the Boone fortune wasn’t the first and wasn’t going to be the last of the old money wealth that diminished—unfortunately, this was a familiar story.

To give her credit, Dolly didn’t ask why I was there when she saw me. She greeted us politely, her Dior perfume making my nose itch.

“We’ve already eaten lunch, Mama,” Sebastian explained when he said we’d only order drinks.

Dolly looked annoyed but didn’t force the issue. Once our drinks were served—champagne for Dolly and me, and a glass of white wine for Sebastian—my mother-in-law went for the jugular.

“Since you destroyed Boone Metals, Sebastian, the least you can do now is cover the debt that’s left after the fire sale.”

Sebastian didn’t look shocked, though my mouth fell open.

Seriously ?

She’d invited us to meet her for lunch to ask us for money.

“No. I don’t think so,” Sebastian said softly.

“Sebastian, this is not up for discussion,” she shot back as if her son wasn’t a grown man of forty-five but an errant teenager .

“Dolly, I think you’re being unreasonable,” I murmured.

“Nobody cares what you think, Lia,” she snapped. “I don’t even know why you’re here. I want to talk to my son, not?—”

“Mama,” Sebastian cut her off. “I don’t think you understand the situation. You want to talk about my family’s finances, you talk to Lia.”

Okay, what?

He’d only had half a glass of wine, so I knew he wasn’t drunk.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dolly quipped.

Sebastian smiled at me. “You’ve got this.” His quiet encouragement was a balm amid the charged atmosphere. Then, almost as if the moment demanded an escape, he rose abruptly.

“I’m going for a walk,” he declared with a calm urgency and then left me in the company of his formidable mother.

Alone .

In that unexpected solitude, the responsibility of navigating this delicate situation fell squarely on my shoulders for the very first time—and strangely, that realization sparked a secret smile deep within me.

He was not only defending me, he was also letting me defend myself. My husband’s psychology classes were undoubtedly paying off!

Dolly watched her son leave with a careful, pursed-lip expression, her eyes glinting with disbelief and anger.

Before turning her full attention to me, she attempted a saccharine smile—one I had long known to be nothing but a well-practiced facade.

“Well, Lia, dear,” she cooed, extending her hand toward her champagne glass as if preparing for a heart-to-heart. “What the hell have you done to my son?”

I resisted the urge to tell her that I had done nothing, choosing instead to let silence fill the space between us.

With a dainty sip of her drink, Dolly set the champagne glass down with an exaggerated, theatrical sigh that resonated through the still air. “You can go. I won’t be having this conversation with you.”

I lounged back and suppressed the smirk that was threatening. “Then there will be no conversation in the future. Sebastian isn’t interested in discussing your finances with you.”

She hissed and looked at me with disdain for what felt like a whole sixty seconds.

Then, as if she’d made a decision, she began, her tone heavily laden with a pretense of sorrow that felt all too manufactured, “I suppose you’ve already heard.”

“Heard what?” I inquired politely, fully aware of the narrative that was about to unfold.

Dolly sighed once more, this time with an extra flourish of dramatic despair, one hand pressed theatrically to her heart. “Sebastian’s reckless decisions regarding Boone Metals have left me in an extremely difficult position.”

A difficult position indeed—one so dire it nearly compelled me to roll my eyes.

“Dolly, you’re the one who insisted Bryce run the company, which is why you’re having to sell Boone Metals for scrap prices,” I said mildly, my voice calm amidst the theatrics of her lament.

As she dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a delicate napkin, her eyes betrayed nothing of the concern that should have matched her dramatic posture. “It’s humiliating. The Boone name—our legacy—has been tarnished beyond repair.”

I didn’t respond and instead allowed the silence to stretch, determined to wait her out.

Her lips pressed tightly into a thin line as she leaned in, her voice growing softer but no less insistent. “Sebastian must pay for?—”

“No,” I interrupted her.

“Lia—”

“You invited us to ask for money, but instead of asking , you decided to order and demand. That’s not how this works.” I gave her a flat, unimpressed stare.

At my bluntness, Dolly bristled visibly as if the directness of my words had struck a raw nerve. “I’m not asking —” she began to protest.

I interjected with cool composure. “But that’s precisely what you’re doing.”

At that moment, her demeanor shifted. Her eyelids fluttered, and for a fleeting second, I caught a glimpse of genuine fear in those eyes.

Dolly Boone, self-proclaimed queen of the Boone family, was undeniably scared.

The money was gone. The opulent gala dresses, the exclusive country club membership, even the luxurious services of a private chef—everything now seemed unsustainable without Boone Metals upholding the illusion of affluence and stability.

I drained my glass of champagne and set it down. “We’re not going to fund your lifestyle, Dolly.”

Her reaction was instantaneous—a sharp flinch, as if I had delivered a resounding slap to her meticulously crafted image. “No one is asking you to. I’m asking Sebastian to do his duty and?—”

“We’re so past that, Dolly, that it’s almost funny that you bring it up.

” I released a weary sigh. “You know what’s sad?

You didn’t ask your son how he was doing or what he was doing.

You didn’t ask about your grandchildren.

You simply went straight to the mercenary point you made.

You don’t have a relationship with your son or his family, Dolly, and he has no duty toward you. ”

Her nostrils flared in indignation. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she accused, her voice trembling slightly.

“No, Dolly.” I let out a long breath. “Your behavior hurts my husband, and that isn’t something I could enjoy.”

I had spent years quietly enduring her condescending glances and listening to the dismissive, backhanded compliments whispered about me. And now I saw Dolly for who she was—a miserable human being who was trying to fill her empty life with designer doodads.

Rising gracefully, and smoothing out my dress. “Regardless of how you asked or our reluctance, the truth is, Dolly, we don’t have that kind of money. ”

I stepped out into the warm, embracing Savannah air—searching for Sebastian. He was waiting across the street under a tree, leaning against it.

“So, how did it go?” he asked warmly.

I shrugged. “As well as it could go, I guess.”

He held out his hand, and I slipped mine into his as I felt an unyielding surge of power coursing through me.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“No, baby, thank you for taking care of an unpleasant situation with my mother for me.”

“Anytime,” I blurted out and giggled.

“So, you had fun, I see?”

“Maybe a little,” I agreed.

“Next time, I’ll tell her to simply contact you and leave me out of it,” he teased.

“Bring it on!”