The Magnolia Sisters

by Michelle Major

  “Oh, look,” Avery said brightly. “The waitress is here with our food.” She smiled at the young woman who set Fiestaware plates filled with chicken enchiladas, a burrito and tacos onto the table. “Your timing is perfect. Some of us were getting a little hangry.”

  “I’m not hangry,” Meredith snapped. “I’ll be just as pissed with a full belly.”

  “Lucky us,” Carrie muttered.

  Meredith looked like she wanted to punch someone. Possibly Avery. Definitely Carrie.

  Why had it seemed like a good idea to include Meredith in tonight’s dinner discussion about a plan for Niall’s estate? Carrie might not like the idea of selling the properties, but Avery believed she could convince her that it was for the best. Meredith remained a wild card, feigning indifference but obviously emotionally wrecked by her new reality.

  That made her dangerous. Who knew what she might do or say to sabotage Avery’s plan to unload their father’s assets? According to Douglas, the whole of the estate needed to be settled before any of the properties could be put on the market. Niall had several thousand dollars in credit card debt and had taken out a second mortgage on the Fig Street house. In fact, the beachfront ranch was the only property he owned outright, which made it the most valuable.

  Carrie owned it, but Meredith needed it.

  Her two sisters would have to find a way to work together. Helping them to do that felt like Avery’s only choice.

  After the waitress checked their orders and it was just the three of them again, Avery leaned across the table. “We need a plan.”

  “First we have to get through the memorial service this weekend.”

  “Excuse me?” Avery paused with the fork halfway to her mouth. Melted cheese dripped toward the plate, but suddenly she couldn’t imagine taking a bite of the gooey enchiladas. A lead ball of dread had just ripped a hole through her stomach.

  “There’s no way I’m going to that,” Meredith said, biting into a crunchy taco.

  “What are you talking about?” Avery set down the fork. “Surely you’ve had the service already?”

  Carrie shook her head. “Dad left specific instructions that a service celebrating his life should be planned for the fourth Saturday of August.”

  Meredith exhaled a caustic laugh as she took another bite of taco. “It also happens to be the morning of the kickoff parade for Summer Fair, which is one of the biggest events Magnolia hosts all year. Of course he’d want to hijack the weekend to make it all about him.” She leveled a look at Avery. “It’s a wonder he didn’t get himself fitted for a crown back in the day. He always walked around like he was king of this town.”

  “He loved this place,” Carrie whispered.

  “Spoken like a true princess,” Meredith countered.

  “It would have been easier if you’d just been hangry,” Avery told her youngest sister. Youngest. She was the oldest of three sisters. The family she’d always wanted.

  Be careful what you wish for and all that.

  “Are you planning the service?” she asked Carrie.

  “No.” Carrie looked toward Meredith. “There’s a committee of volunteers from the downtown business district. I’d hoped to keep things low-key, but they’re making his memorial part of the kickoff for the festival on Saturday morning. The parade will start at the elementary school like it always does, but instead of ending on the steps of town hall, it will finish at the gallery. They’re setting up a grandstand on the street and—”

  “A grandstand?” Avery’s voice came out as a squeak. “Like a stage?”

  Carrie nodded, looking almost sheepish as pink flushed her cheeks. “For the mayor to give his speech and Dad’s eulogy.”

  Meredith looked as stunned as Avery felt. “Don’t you think you might have mentioned this?”

  “I totally forgot,” Carrie told them, pushing away her barely touched burrito. “Between finding out about the two of you—”

  “She says,” Meredith muttered, “in the same way someone would talk about discovering they had a communicable disease.”

  “That’s not how I said it,” Carrie argued weakly. “It was a shock, as was the state of Dad’s house.”

  Meredith picked up her fork and pointed toward the green-chili-smothered burrito. “Are you going to eat that?”

  Carrie shook her head, and Meredith pulled the plate closer.

  “How are you so tiny?” Avery asked the pixie-sized woman. “You eat like a team of linebackers.”

  “Good metabolism,” Meredith told her after shoveling in a bite. “I get it from my...” She shook her head. “I always thought I got it from my dad’s side of the family, but I guess that’s not the case.”

  Both Avery and Meredith looked at Carrie.

  “The Reeds have good metabolisms,” she said with a nod. “Dad’s family came from Scotland. His great-grandfather was a blacksmith. He settled in Cambridge and met my—our—grandmother when her family moved into the house across the street. Childhood sweethearts.”

  “Did Niall have brothers and sisters?” Avery asked, unable to completely squash her curiosity about the man whose DNA she carried.

  “A brother who was five years younger,” Carrie confirmed. “He died in a car accident when he was twelve. It destroyed their family. Gram and Gramps got divorced, and Dad didn’t stay close to either of them.” She shrugged. “He always said his unhappy childhood inspired the joy in the scenes he painted. He was trying to capture the ideal version of a family he never had.”

  “And chose not to create for himself,” Avery added.

  “Oh, he created it.” Meredith dabbed at one corner of her mouth with a napkin. “With his perfect wife and perfect daughter. I’m not exaggerating when I say they were like royalty around here. Only no one knew he had a whole below-stairs story going on at the same time.”

  Avery could tell Carrie wanted to argue but she only said, “Looks can be deceiving.”

  “Right.” Meredith rolled her eyes. “Even knowing what a two-timing jerk he was, the town is still giving him the celebrity treatment. His paintings haven’t sold well in years. He’s a laughingstock in the real art community, but we’re going to treat him like a fallen hero at the memorial.”

  Finally, Avery’d had enough. “Are you about done with the pity party?” she asked Meredith, whose mouth dropped open.

  “Did you seriously just ask me that? Do you know what I’ve been through with all this? How my life—”

  “Welcome to the club, sister.” Avery leaned forward. “I mean that literally. Sister. We are sisters.”

  “Half,” Meredith muttered under her breath.

  “Sisters,” Avery repeated.

  “Sisters,” Carrie said with conviction.

  When Meredith didn’t respond, Avery shrugged. “We can debate which of us has been more wronged and who gets to be the most resentful until we’re old and gray. You don’t have to like it or either of us. I understand Niall gave you plenty of reasons for your bitterness. But who is it helping at this point?”

  Meredith slugged back the rest of her margarita but gave no answer.

  “Exactly. For better or worse, we’re in this together. At least until we can figure out what to do with the messed-up, debt-riddled nightmare of an inheritance he left us.”

  Meredith cracked the barest hint of a smile as she asked, “How do you really feel?”

  “Angry, confused and slightly panicked. My life was already half off the tracks and this has pushed me even closer to the edge. I don’t like it any more than you do. I don’t want this to be my reality. Our father didn’t leave us much of a choice.”

  “You have a choice,” Carrie said, inclining her head toward Avery. “This town isn’t your home.”

  Avery swallowed, hating the emotion that clogged her throat and definitely not willing to admit she didn’t have a
home anymore. “I know.”

  “Don’t you have a life to get back to?” Meredith asked. “What do you mean ‘half off the tracks’?”

  Suddenly Avery wondered why she’d bothered to attempt to bridge the gap between these two. The last thing she needed was having them find solidarity by putting her in the hot seat. So far she’d been able to avoid revealing any details about the mess she’d made of her life, and she wanted to keep it that way.

  “My company went through a downsizing,” she said, her features schooled. No need to explain that the only person downsized was her when she’d been given the choice to quit or be fired. “I was getting ready to start a new job when I got the letter about Niall.”

  If by job she meant watching reality television and ordering Chinese takeout like it was her job, she wasn’t exactly lying. “I can put things on hold while we figure this out.”

  The other two women watched her like they didn’t believe a word of what she told them, but neither called her out on the flimsy fabrication.

  “That’s good,” Carrie said after the awkward silence stretched almost too long to bear. “We’ll need to work together to get the house in order.”

  “We also need a plan for the real estate downtown,” Avery added. “There’s no way the bank is going to continue to let us slide on mortgage payments now that Niall’s gone.” She leveled her gaze at Carrie. “Which means we can no longer let the local businesses get away with not paying rent.”

  “The ranch is paid for,” Meredith said, nodding as if congratulating herself. “That means my rescue has no threat of closing.”

  “We can sell it to pay for renovations on the house,” Carrie said, surprising Avery with the vehemence of her tone.

  “No way,” Meredith argued. “I need that property. You wouldn’t dare—”

  “Don’t get your panties in a bunch,” Carrie interrupted. “I don’t want to sell anything.”

  “Why not?” Avery demanded. “That’s the only option that makes sense for all of us.”

  “It sure sounds like you wanted to sell,” Meredith grumbled.

  Carrie inched her chair closer to Meredith’s. “We’re going to have to work together.” She looked between the two of them. “The house needs renovations. The buildings downtown are mortgaged to the hilt and we’re already behind on payments. Meredith wants to keep the beach house. Each of us owns a property, but we need one another to find the right solution. A solution that will benefit all three of us.”

  They sat in a weighted silence for a minute while the waitress cleared the plates and brought the check. Carrie held up a hand when Avery and Meredith reached for their wallets and pulled out a heavy bag of coins from her tote bag.

  “I found two dozen beer growlers filled with coins in the master bedroom closet.”

  Meredith arched a brow. “Do I officially own those since they were in the house?”

  “I’ve loaded and hauled four truckloads of old newspapers to the recycling center over in Kirby since last week. Let’s call it even.”

  Carrie started digging out quarters, then paused when she realized Meredith was grinning at her. “What?”

  “You’re different than when we were kids,” Meredith told her. “I like you better without so much shine and polish.”

  “I like you better now that you aren’t slamming me into lockers,” Carrie said.

  Avery gasped. “You bullied her?”

  Meredith sniffed but looked faintly embarrassed. “My dad hated Niall Reed. Being mean to his daughter felt like family loyalty.”

  “We’re a mess.” Avery dropped her head onto the table again. When she lifted it, both Carrie and Meredith grinned.

  “Speak for yourself.” Meredith handed her a napkin. “Wipe the guacamole off your forehead while you’re at it.”

  With a groan, Avery took the napkin and blotted her forehead.

  “At least we’re not in this mess alone.” Carrie offered an encouraging smile.

  “True,” Avery said, and even Meredith nodded in agreement.

  A Magnolia mess but one she didn’t have to face on her own.

  Maybe that was enough for now.

  CHAPTER SIX

  GRAY KNOCKED ON the door of the carriage house after Violet fell asleep, trying to convince himself he was just being neighborly.

  He’d heard Avery arrive home an hour earlier, not that he’d kept the family room window cracked to listen.

  She opened the door a moment later, brandishing a packaged roll of cookie dough in his direction. “I’ve got it under control,” she said by way of greeting.

  He opened his mouth to tell her he had no idea what she was talking about when the scent of something charred—cookies if he had to guess—hit him.

  “Are you trying to burn down my guesthouse?”

  She batted her eyelashes. “Just looking for an excuse to have the hot firefighter next door come over and check out my oven.”

  “You wouldn’t be the first,” he told her with a laugh.

  She swatted him on the shoulder with the cookie dough log. “I’d invite you in, but I’m not sure your ego could fit through the door.”

  He plucked the log out of her hand. “I’ll fit,” he said, dropping his voice to a low growl, laughing again when color rose to her cheeks. “Such an easy target.”

  She stuck out her tongue, then turned and walked back into the house. She didn’t shut the door in his face, which he took as a good sign, and he followed her.

  “Did you seriously smell smoke?” she asked, leading the way to the small kitchen area.

  Grimacing as he took in the scorched remains of a dozen cookies on a baking tray, he shook his head. “No. I stopped by to make sure your arm was okay.”

  “It hurts less after a couple of margaritas.” She picked up the baking sheet and scraped the burnt cookies into the trash can next to the refrigerator. “It’s not a great idea to drink and bake,” she told him.

  “I’ll remember that. Did you drive home?”

  “Home,” she murmured with an almost sad laugh. “Home to my sister’s apartment in a town I didn’t even know existed a few weeks ago. I don’t have a home, Mr. Hottie Firefighter.”

  “You like to call me hot.”

  She pointed a finger as if accusing him of something. “It’s the truth. Despite what you might have heard, I’m not a liar.” She placed the baking tray in the sink with a clatter. “Or a drunk driver. I got a ride home. I’ll pick up my car tomorrow morning.”

  “Glad to hear it. Can I see your arm?”

  She studied him for a moment, and even with her gaze slightly blurry, her hair coming out of the messy knot on the back of her head and a smear of chocolate down the front of her loose-fitting sweater, she was gorgeous and still unabashedly ladylike. “You rescued me today.” She sounded bitter, which made him smile.

  “You would have figured out how to get down eventually.”

  She shook her head, then walked toward the small four-person table in the dinette. Plopping into a chair, she yanked the hair tie from the back of her head, blond hair tumbling over her shoulders. She flipped it away from her face, then pulled the sweater over her head, revealing a pale pink ribbed tank top underneath.

  “You’re like an honest-to-God hero.”

  “The way you say it makes me feel like I should apologize.”

  “I’m just unaccustomed to stand-up guys.”

  Gray moved closer, thoroughly intrigued by this version of Avery Keller. “How many margaritas did you have?”

  “A couple,” she answered. “But I don’t usually drink. I like to be in control.”

  He drew a chair next to her and lowered himself into it. “I can just imagine.”

  “How’s your rug rat?” she asked as he unwound the bandage from her arm.

  “Violet’s asl
eep.”

  “Duh. I mean, how was her day? Was that bi-otch friend of hers impressed by the braids?”

  “I don’t think you’re supposed to refer to little girls that way.”

  “I won’t tell if you won’t. What happened? Did it go well?”

  “Yes,” he answered. “Apparently she saved a seat for Violet at lunch.”

  Avery groaned, and Gray stilled. “Does it hurt?”

  She turned her head to look at him, her face close enough that he could feel her breath on his cheek. “My arm is fine. What hurts is remembering the politics of the lunchroom in elementary school.”

  “She’s in kindergarten.” He examined her cut, touched the edge of it. “There are no politics.”

  “Don’t fool yourself. Girls can be brutal, and from what Violet told me her new lunch-table friend has gotten a jump on her queen-bee status.”

  “I can’t believe she shared more with you than she has with me.”

  “It’s hard to talk to a dad about girl drama. Or I assume it would be. I didn’t have that option.”

  “Violet has me forever, but most times I feel like a two-bit stand-in for the type of parent she really needs.”

  “She needs someone who loves her unconditionally,” Avery said quietly. “You’ll do.”

  The words could barely be considered a compliment, but they resonated through Gray like he’d just been awarded a Congressional medal. “Your arm looks good. Put a fresh bandage on it in the morning.”

  “Thanks.” She turned to face him more fully, her bare knee brushing his leg and sending a jolt of awareness through his veins that felt like the heat from a shot of straight whiskey.

  Damn, he needed to get out more.

  “Have you heard about the deal with Niall’s memorial service on Saturday?”

  “Yep. The station’s ladder truck is part of the parade every year. I guess Mal is hoping to get some national press coverage—honoring the memory of a town hero and all that. It may bring more tourists into town for the end of the summer season.”

  “Who’s Mal?”

  “Our mayor,” he clarified. “Malcolm Grimes. He was elected last year and is doing his best to revive things around here. For all Niall’s purported devotion to Magnolia, he didn’t make it easy.”