"Old friends," I finish, though the words feel inadequate for whatever this is. "She's back in town for a wedding."
"Oh, how romantic! Weddings are so magical. Are you planning to stay long?" Madison asks.
"Just a few weeks," Savannah replies.
"Well, you'll have to try our Thursday night poetry readings. Very intimate, very authentic. Really captures the spirit of the community," Madison suggests.
Poetry readings. In Pine Hollow. Where the primary cultural event used to be the annual pie contest at the county fair.
"Sounds unforgettable," I say dryly.
We take our coffee and find a table by the window, where we can watch Main Street wake up to another day of being picturesque for people who've never lived here year-round. The coffee really is excellent, smooth and rich without the bitter edge that comes from sitting too long on a burner.
Savannah wraps her hands around her mug like she's trying to absorb its warmth, and I notice her fingers are long and elegant, her nails short and practical.
"Poetry readings," she muses, taking a careful sip. "Think they cover agricultural themes? Odes to hay baling, perhaps?"
"Probably more like an authentic mountain living by people who've never milked a cow," I reply.
"Harsh but probably accurate." She laughs, and the sound does things to my chest that should probably worry me. "Remember when the biggest cultural event was Mrs. Patterson's cat pageant?"
"She still does that. Seven cats now, all dressed up like tiny Victorian aristocrats," I tell her.
"Seven? She only had four when I lived here," Savannah says.
"Mr. Darcy, Heathcliff, Rochester, and Elizabeth," I list. "Then she added Jane, Emma, and Mr. Knightley."
"All literary characters, naturally," Savannah observes.
"All spoiled rotten. She brings them to Xavier for 'wellness checks' that are really just social visits," I explain.
The conversation flows easily, naturally, like we're picking up a thread we dropped eight years ago instead of trying to navigate the minefield of former lovers turned houseguests.
"Next stop?" I ask when we've finished caffeinating.
"The yoga studio. I need to see what enlightenment looks like in Pine Hollow," Savannah decides.
Mountain Serenity Yoga occupies what used to be Franklin's Five and Dime, a cramped little store that sold everything from fishing line to birthday cards to penny candy. The windows are now full of inspirational quotes and advertisements for classes with names like "Sunrise Flow" and "Chakra Alignment."
"Think they offer classes in practical spirituality?" Savannah asks, her breath creating small clouds in the cold air. "Like meditation for people who have to shovel snow?"
"Probably more like meditation for people who pay someone else to shovel snow," I respond.
A woman in expensive athletic wear emerges from the studio, her blonde hair perfect despite presumably having spent the last hour contorting herself into impossible positions. She's got the kind of carefully maintained appearance that screams money and leisure time, and when she spots us through the window, she waves with the kind of enthusiasm that suggests she either knows us or thinks she should.
"That's Jessica Hamilton," I tell Savannah, moving slightly closer as we watch Jessica approach. "She moved here from California two years ago. Bought the old Mitchell place and turned it into something that belongs in a magazine."
"Jessica Hamilton. Why does that name sound familiar?" Savannah asks.
"She's Emma's college roommate. The one whose anxiety scent throws off wedding parties," I explain.
"Right. The nervous omega," Savannah recalls.
Jessica reaches us before I can explain further, her omega scent carrying expensive perfume and the kind of manufactured serenity that comes from weekly spa treatments.
"Logan Pierce! How wonderful to see you," she gushes, then turns her attention to Savannah with obvious curiosity. "And you must be Savannah. Emma's told me so much about you. I'm Jessica Hamilton."
"Nice to meet you," Savannah says with professional politeness, but I catch the way she steps slightly closer to me, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from her body.
