Dixie Rebel (The Carolina Magnolia Series, Book 1)

by Patricia Rice

Maya returned to rocking Alexa. "You're a worrywart, Axell. I heard Mr. Pfeiffer died with a whiskey glass in his hand, and his nieces just got all atwitter because they claim he never drank alcohol." Her eyes lit. "You know what Cleo told me this morning?"

  Axell was afraid to find out. He suspected Cleo was capable of saying almost anything. "What?"

  "She said Old Man Pfeiffer claimed to be our grandfather."

  "Shit." Axell closed his eyes and sank back in his chair. He was accustomed to an orderly process of thought, but Maya kept knocking him into tailspins. "If that turns out to be true," he ground out, "the mayor will be accusing the two of you of murder. Pfeiffer had no children by his wife. If you could prove that tall tale, you could stand to inherit a substantial share of the property over distant relatives."

  "Oh."

  Maya sounded mildly interested, and Axell winced. Obviously, he'd just handed her another weapon for her arsenal. "Don't even think about it," he warned.

  She shrugged and beamed her Maya smile. "My mother never knew who her father was. I just thought it might be interesting for Alexa to know her heritage. Maybe not," she concluded hastily at his glare.

  "We can do the genealogy after the murderer's caught." Axell pried himself from the chair before he got too comfortable. It was getting harder and harder to remember he had a business to run.

  "Cleo will do what's best for Matty," she called after him.

  As if that reassured him any. Squaring his shoulders, Axell marched out.

  Women were for motherhood and sex, he repeated mentally as the sound system blared on behind him. Sex—sex—sex...

  * * *

  "This is what I wanted, Kitty," Maya muttered as she ripped the sheets from her bed, crumpled them in a ball, and flung them into the hall. It was nearly midnight, and Axell wasn't home.

  The tangerine kitten—one of several named "Kitty" because Matty couldn't tell one from the other—peered down from his perch on the dresser and licked his paw.

  "You're a fat lot of help. If you're so tidy, why haven't you cleaned this room by now?" She shook out a fresh pillowcase and jammed a pillow into it. "I'm not waiting up for him any longer," she warned the kitten. "We don't have that kind of marriage. He'll probably go straight to his room rather than risk life and limb coming in here."

  Maya studied the explosion of clothing strewn over every surface and spilling from drawers. She'd never owned so many clothes in her life, and she wasn't entirely certain what to do with them. Sorting between dry cleaning and laundry alone required a Ph.D. in household maintenance which she didn't possess. She wasn't even certain where all the clothes had come from.

  She supposed she could put away the card table with the remains of the dragon mobile, but if she didn't use up the rest of those paints soon, they'd dry out. And she had this idea for...

  In the distance, she heard the garage door open. Double-D bad word, she grumbled to herself, punching the pillow deeper into the case. If Axell came back here, he'd probably think all this excess energy was for him.

  She'd never known sexual frustration, and she wasn't about to admit to it now. Axell Holm could go directly to his own bed, Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect Maya. The kids would be up at the crack of dawn, and she needed her sleep.

  She heard his step in the kitchen below as she punched the second pillow into its case. She should have turned out the light. She shouldn't have stayed up in the first place. She was still mad at him for thinking her school expendable and Cleo, unreliable. He obviously thought her a real ditz who couldn't get her head out of a bucket. She could have gone for the Ph.D. if she'd had any money—or if she'd thought it necessary. She wasn't a ditz.

  She knew the instant Axell appeared in her doorway, even though she deliberately kept her back to the door. His subtle aftershave wafted on the currents she was stirring. She glanced up at the mirror and saw him prop his shoulder against the doorjamb. His tie was unknotted, his golden hair rumpled, and his suit coat hung over his arm as he watched her. His eyes looked tired, but damn, he looked too sexy for words.

  He threw the coat over a chair already decorated with two dresses. Silently, he crossed to the other side of the bed and helped to pull the bottom sheet across the mattress.

  "Matty's in his room?" he asked cautiously.

  "Matty's with Cleo. Social Services said she could have him for the weekend." She sounded stiff, even to herself. Matty with his forlorn waif eyes and puckish grin had wormed so deep in her heart, he would always be a part of her.

  "Is Stephen still over there?" Axell asked with lingering wariness, smoothing a sheet corner at the bottom of the bed.

  He shouldn't look so damned handsome and masculine making a bed. Maya's wormy heart pounded a little louder. "He skipped out for Nashville yesterday, something about fixing a track on the new album."

  "That figures," he said dryly.

  "It's not as if working is irresponsible," Maya snapped.

  The kitten pounced on the fresh pillowcase. As casually as if she were stripping a sheet, Maya scooped the cat up, tossed him into the laundry in the hall, and shut the door.

  "I didn't say otherwise," Axell protested. "Why are you mad now?"

  "Because you want to tuck us into little boxes," she retorted without thinking. Because she'd wanted him home hours ago. Because she wanted to be on this bed with him right now. Because he'd taught her to want things she knew she couldn't have or that wouldn't last. "Mad" didn't even begin to touch her mood.

  "All right," Axell replied warily, taking the corner of the top sheet she tossed him. "I like things organized," he admitted. "Structure makes it easier to choose priorities and get things done."

  Now he was even trying to understand her, damn the man. "We're not things!" Maya tossed a freshly made pillow at him. "And fish don't nest, and trees don't bend, and we must have been insane to believe this would work."

  Axell grappled with her words as he untangled the sheet. Talking to Maya was like working a crossword puzzle. He just needed to understand the references. He understood her last declaration well enough for fear to grip his stomach. He'd walked into this marriage with eyes wide open—any failure would be all his fault.

  "Some fish don't swim far from their spawning grounds," he offered tentatively. He didn't know a hell of a lot about fish, but he figured she was talking about herself, so he could improvise.

  Maya shot him a dark look. "There won't be any spawning around here at this hour."

  He almost grinned at that, but he thought she'd throw him out on his ear like the cat. "It's Friday," he pointed out patiently. "I'm lucky to get home before two a.m. The new trainee doesn't know the clientele yet."

  He folded a hospital corner on his side of the bed while she shoved her sheet under the mattress without looking at it. "If that's all you're mad about, I'm sorry, but I warned you."

  "That's not what I'm mad about." She flung the comforter across the bed. "I'm mad because you think my school is less important than your damned bar. School—bar," she spat out, "Just listen to the words! Think, Axell. What's more important, teaching kids or feeding drunks?"

  This was going a little too far. Grabbing the comforter she was flinging on sideways, Axell shook it out straight. "That bar paid for this house, bought the building your sister's damned shop is in, and pays for the food we eat. Intellectual exercise is very nice, but not of much use on an empty stomach."

  "I was keeping food in our stomachs, that's not the point." Maya tugged the comforter farther to her side. "The point is, all my life, ever since grade school, I've wanted to build a school that was like family."

  Axell halted his straightening and let her tug the comforter where she wanted. Maya was arguing, so this had to be important. He just wished she'd speak in terms he understood: goals and touchdowns, invoices and assets. "Life" and "family" were too broad to translate.

  "I wanted a school where the teachers treated each child like their own, whether they were wearing hundred-dollar Nikes or
Goodwill Keds. Do you have any idea how much more attention the polite, well-dressed, country club kids receive than the unruly, or the poorly dressed, or the misfits? The child who can do math gets heaped with praise but the one who can only build block castles gets ignored. It's not right. Every child has something he's good at, even if it's not recognized as one of the three R's." She flung the lacy pillow shams on top of the comforter.

  Axell eyed the decorative pillows skeptically, but didn't argue with their placement. He didn't know why they were making a bed at midnight when they should be unmaking it, anyway.

  He could hear the creative child she'd been crying out in protest and figured she knew what she was talking about. He'd been one of the country club kids by the time he was in his teens. Before that... Well, he'd always played sports well. He'd never felt unaccepted. Maya had.

  "You want a school where the poor kids and the creative kids and the kids who can work with their hands better than their brains can all be equal," he translated. "That's not possible. You're dreaming."

  "Damned right, I'm dreaming. Somebody has to." She scowled at him. "It's obvious you quit long ago, if you ever dreamed at all."

  She was heading for emotional meltdown, and Axell was at a loss as to how to handle it. He'd gone this route with Angela. She'd scream and he'd stare at her in bewilderment. He could see it happening all over again. The cliff's edge he walked on crumbled a little more with each step.

  "Dreaming doesn't pay," he answered guardedly. "But you're entitled to try it your way. I wish you'd give me straight answers though. I told you, I don't do well at reading between the lines."

  To his surprise, Maya's scowl vanished. She finished straightening the bottom of the bed and sauntered to his side with a definitely wicked gleam in her eye. Axell wondered if it was too late to run. Glancing at the sway of her hips, he decided running wasn't an option he wanted to take.

  "Actually, you've been doing exceptionally well," she murmured, sliding her hands behind his neck until soft curves brushed him in tempting places, backing him up against the bed. "Let's see if you understand this."

  Standing on tiptoes, she gyrated her hips against his zipper until Axell thought his pants would explode. She was right. This, he understood.

  Falling backward onto the mattress, he pulled her with him. Before she could scramble away, Axell flipped over, pinning her beneath him. Capturing Maya's flailing arms, he proceeded to kiss her into a different form of passion. Maya did passion exceptionally well.

  Tomorrow night, maybe they'd make it to his room.

  May, 1970

  I cannot tell anyone but my journal, so I have dug it out after all these years to record my tears and joy—my daughter was married today to a fine, upstanding young man. I don't know whether her mother is watching from heaven or hell, but I'm sure she is smiling with the same teary-eyed happiness as I am.

  Chapter 31

  The more people I meet, the more I like my cat.

  Maya gaped at the shiny black Cadillac in front of Cleo's shop. If the rich discovered some of her sister's eccentric artists, business would definitely boom.

  Cheerfully, she shoved open the shop door.

  "The same arrangement as before," the bald man at the counter was saying as the door chimed. "You owe us," he finished, glancing dismissively at Maya and turning to leave.

  The man had an aura the same color as his Cadillac, Maya decided as he shoved past her. She didn't think she was a bigot, but the nasty snarl on the man's face made her think in terms of pit bulls, semi-automatics, and gang colors. This man wore a suit and tie and cufflinks.

  As the door closed behind him, Maya searched her sister's weary, resigned expression.

  "Matty's upstairs watching TV," Cleo said coldly at Maya's look. "I have to work on Saturdays. It's our busiest day."

  Several teenagers lingered near the inexpensive pewter fantasy figurines. No one appeared interested in the two magnificent paintings of a medieval sorcerer and his lady on the high walls. Maya had thought they'd sell quickly. Maybe she had no business sense after all. Maybe Cleo couldn't make a living here.

  "That man who just left was pure evil," she hissed quietly so the kids couldn't hear.

  "Bigot," Cleo countered.

  "Don't give me that. Evil comes in all colors." Terrified, Maya looked closely at her sister but couldn't see any sign of drug use. "Cleo, if you've got trouble, share it. You can endanger yourself if you like, but not Matty. He's too young."

  Cleo's expression shuttered. "You don't know what you're talking about. That man is a customer who likes to use mystical party favors. I supply them."

  "That man never showed his face the entire time I ran this store," Maya retorted. "Cleo, I'm your sister. We can fight this."

  Cleo shook her head. "You always were a dreamer." Forcing a smile, she emerged from behind the counter and spoke to one of the teenagers. "That's a crystal from Nepal. It's supposed to have the power to heal..."

  Maya marched up the stairs and retrieved Matty. As she held the boy's hand through the shop, he tugged and dragged his feet. "Don' wanna go," he protested.

  Furious with Cleo, Maya marched on.

  "Mama needs me!" Matty whined, fighting her hold.

  Arrows of pain piercing her heart, Maya halted and kneeled beside him. "Of course your mama needs you, sugar. She loves you. But she needs to be by herself right now."

  Wiping his eyes, Matty shook his head. "The bad man was here. I'm gonna kill him!"

  Shocked to the core, Maya glanced up to see Cleo hovering in the background, her expression stony but her eyes blurred with tears.

  Maya hugged her nephew and lifted him in his arms. "Bad men can't hurt people if they stay away from them," she said loudly enough for her sister to hear. "We'll chase him away like the Boogie Monster."

  Swiveling on her heel, she walked out of the shop carrying Matty to safety.

  * * *

  "It's drugs, Selene, I know it is," Maya sighed into the phone. "How can I repay all of Axell's kindnesses by letting my sister smear his reputation? Axell owns that building. The cops will be all over him. He'll lose the building and maybe his license. How can Cleo be so damned stupid?"

  Selene never argued over Maya's leaps of logic. She accepted them at face value and worked from there. Maya wished Axell could be so understanding.

  Remembering just how much Axell had understood when he'd come to her room last night, Maya brushed her hand over her wet cheek. She'd always known how to spurn the attention of men, even when she wanted it. Axell knew how to climb right over all her defensive barriers, straight into her bed. Just remembering what he'd done to her last night made her blush. Maybe "domineering" wasn't entirely a bad thing when coupled with understanding. She didn't want to lose him because of Cleo.

  "Look, girlfriend," Selene's voice jarred Maya back to the moment. "I'm not into that scene, but I know a few people who are. I'll sound them out, see if I can get the dude's name. If we turn her over to the cops—"

  "The whole story will hit the paper and Axell's name will be tarred in print. I may have to give up the school, Selene." Maya bit her quivering lip as she expressed the fear nagging at the back of her mind.

  "Say what?" Selene screamed.

  "If I give up the school, the mayor will get off Axell's back, and even if Cleo gets busted again, no one will make the connection without the mayor's instigation. He'll scratch Axell's back if Axell scratches his, is the way he put it."

  "That's blackmail," Selene snapped. "You swim out of this school, Miss Fish, and you swim out for good. I've got too much invested here, and I don't mean just money. This is my dream, too, you'll remember."

  Maya pinched the bridge of her nose as she'd seen Axell do. It didn't help. Any way she looked at it, she risked losing her husband, her sister, her best friend, and the dream of a lifetime.

  Life had been much easier when she could just swim along on her own.

  "The lawyers promised to call back Mond
ay," Selene continued. "If our lease is bona fide, the mayor has to go the condemnation route. You got your Garden Club lined up?"

  "Teamed with the Historic Society," Maya agreed numbly. What difference did saving the school make if she lost Axell and Constance because of it?

  She'd never fully realized the high price of a dream.

  * * *

  "How much do you know about drugs in this town, Headley?" Axell asked as he kicked aside the fallen police tape surrounding Cleo's condemned building and unlocked the alley door.

  "I'm semiretired, remember?" Headley glanced around the alley with interest. "I don't know nuthin' 'bout nuthin'."

  Axell switched on his flashlight and scanned the nearly empty storeroom. "Don't give me that. You're a sponge. You absorb information without trying. I've got two crackheads haunting my kitchen and this alley, and someone's using this storeroom. What are the chances drugs are involved?"

  "Drugs are involved in every crime in the country," Headley snorted. "It's worse than Prohibition. Government ought to tax the damned stuff and use the proceeds to build crackhouses where the morons can fry their brains without hurting the innocent. You're better off messing with the mayor than these guys, kid."

  "They chose my restaurant for their crimes." Axell shoved aside old boxes and searched the walls for the cellar door. "The police don't have time to find out why, so I guess I will."

  "That's ridiculous. You make it sound like a personal vendetta. Kids do drugs. They do it wherever they are. They happened to be in your kitchen when they did." Headley gingerly followed him into the vacant interior.

  "I fired their asses. They had no business back there. Someone was setting me up. And I think that someone was in here that night. How much more have you found out about our Yankee developers and their cash flow problems?"

  "You don't really think there's a connection, do you?" Headley inspected a box of trash as Axell tried the knob of a door in the far wall. "Real estate is booming. They'll cover their cash flow with a few loans."

  "Headley, you're not helping here." Axell tried the back door key in the cellar lock. "The mayor's risking his career by approving a road through the school grounds. If a loan would solve the problem, he wouldn't be after Maya." The key didn't fit. Axell jiggled it in irritation.