The Magnolia Sisters Read online

  “There’s clearly been a misunderstanding,” he said, lifting his arms, palms out.

  “Are you Carrie’s landlord?” the woman demanded.

  “I am.”

  “And her boyfriend?”

  He shook his head. “Not at all.”

  She gave a sharp laugh as if she didn’t believe him, and he wasn’t sure why that bothered him so much. “Then get out.”

  “You get out,” Violet shot back. “Carrie lives here. Not you.”

  “I don’t owe you an explanation, pipsqueak...” The woman moved forward, yanking an oversized suitcase across the threshold. “But Carrie said I could stay here.”

  “You can’t,” Violet insisted, her voice shaky. “Carrie is coming back.”

  “Not tonight,” the woman said.

  “Violet, let’s go back to the house. It’s time for your bath.”

  “Kick her out, Daddy,” the girl pleaded, tugging on his hand. “She shouldn’t be here. She doesn’t belong.”

  “Smartest thing anyone has said all day,” the woman muttered.

  Gray pressed two fingers to his suddenly pounding head. He lifted Violet into his arms. “This nice lady must be Carrie’s friend,” he told the girl. “That means she’s our friend, too.”

  “I most certainly am not your friend,” the woman said, her tone as sharp and decisive as it had been earlier. “I’m not Carrie’s friend, either.”

  “See, Daddy. I told you. She’s—”

  “I’m her sister,” the woman clarified, and the shock on Violet’s face reflected his own surprise. The news wasn’t exactly a bombshell. Carrie didn’t share many details of her life, but he’d heard the rumors swirling around town about Niall’s will. He knew Meredith Ventner had been outed as one of the eccentric artist’s previously unknown daughters. He’d heard the news had come as a surprise to Meredith but not her former marine father, Carl.

  It explained this woman’s sudden appearance in Magnolia. She didn’t look the type for a road trip to a sleepy Southern town. Even after what had to be a trying day, with her suit rumpled and wisps of golden blond hair escaping her low ponytail, her cool beauty and obvious poise weren’t diminished in the least.

  She looked like someone who would be friends with his ex-wife, definitely not a mark in her favor. The fact that she and Violet were currently engaged in a stare down didn’t speak well of her, either, although his first instinct was to give her a break given her current circumstances.

  As stony as she appeared, he sensed she was holding on to her composure by a thin thread. He could appreciate a good defensive mechanism, even when aimed in his direction. But he’d always been too soft when it came to women.

  “If you need anything,” he said, moving toward the cozy guesthouse’s front door, “just holler.”

  She arched a brow. “I don’t ‘holler.’”

  His gaze slammed into hers as a dozen innuendoes crowded his mind. All of them revolved around what he would do to provoke her to lose control enough to shout—preferably his name in the throes of passion. A blush stained the woman’s cheeks—hell, he didn’t even know her name—like she could read every one of his inappropriate thoughts.

  Why did she have this effect on him? He hadn’t been on a single date since his divorce, let alone had time for any sort of sexual dalliances. Violet was his world and every choice he made was to protect her. He didn’t care about what he might be missing when it came to women.

  Especially not with a woman who had taken an immediate aversion to him.

  “Then have a good night,” he told her, and pressed a hand to his daughter’s thin back as he walked out the door.

  CHAPTER THREE

  AVERY AWOKE TO the sound of chattering, giggling voices. She glanced at the bedroom’s open window, wondering if some middle-school social club was holding a meeting in front of the carriage house.

  Although the house had central cooling, she’d cracked the window sometime in the middle of the night when she couldn’t sleep. Eventually, the hum of crickets from the woods bordering the property and the scent of the fresh air calmed her enough to get a few hours of rest.

  Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she walked to the window, ready to call down a scathing rebuke to the group of girls. One lone child sat at the picnic table situated in the grass between the main house and her place. Violet, whose hostile welcome last night had felt somehow comforting.

  Kids had never really liked Avery. On a day when Avery’s world had been turned even more upside down than she thought possible, Violet’s animosity had reassured her she hadn’t dropped into some strange alternate universe.

  The girl focused on the iPad propped in front of her as she reached two twig-like arms around the back of her head, fingers tugging at her long, dark hair.

  Another round of giggles drifted up from whatever video was playing. Her far too attractive firefighter daddy needed to buy his daughter a pair of headphones.

  The girl let out a frustrated cry and slammed the brush she held against the iPad, sending it hurtling off the picnic table and onto the grass.

  Avery sighed, lifting her gaze toward the painted Victorian house and wondering where the girl’s dad was at the moment. And what about a mom? She hated that her stomach clenched at the thought of Carrie’s landlord with another woman. What did she care about her sexy neighbor? He was a complication her already complicated life didn’t need.

  She tugged on the hem of the tank she’d worn to bed and padded downstairs. Carrie had decorated the small house with overstuffed furniture, shelves filled with all sorts of books and small knickknacks, and a variety of colorful art posters hanging on the walls. Avery was somewhat surprised none of Niall’s paintings hung in the house. If she hadn’t known it for a fact, she never would have guessed that the daughter of the famous artist lived here.

  The coffeepot on the counter called her name, but she bypassed the kitchen and let herself out the door, walking across the thick lawn. It was only seven thirty, but already the muggy air and bright sun hinted at the record-breaking summer heat forecasted for the day.

  “iPads don’t grow on trees,” she said, bending to pick up the device from the ground before sliding onto the bench across from Violet.

  The girl’s mouth took on a mulish pout. “I hate my hair,” she whispered.

  “We could cut it off,” Avery offered conversationally. “I bet you’d be cute with it shaped around your ears. There’re probably scissors in Carrie’s place. If you come with me—”

  “You’re not cutting it,” the girl interrupted, sounding scandalized. “I’ll look like a boy.”

  “You could never look like a boy,” Avery told her. It was true. Avery might not like kids much, but she could appreciate that Violet had won the genetic lottery. Her skin was creamy against her rich brown hair, her dark eyes framed by long lashes—the kind grown women used copious amounts of mascara to achieve. The girl’s father had the same lashes.

  “Why are you staying at Carrie’s?” Violet demanded.

  “I’m in town visiting and she offered it to me.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Avery.”

  The girl studied her for a long moment. “I don’t like you.”

  “I can live with that,” Avery answered, nodding.

  They sat in silence for several moments until Avery finally reached out and tapped a finger against the iPad’s screen. “Why are you watching out here? Is it a show your dad won’t let you see?”

  Violet shook her head. “It wasn’t a show. I was learning how to braid my hair. Margo always has her hair done at school, and I told her I was going to do something real good with mine. I was s’posed to stay at Mommy’s last night. She forgot about me. Daddy thinks he can do hair, but he’s bad.” The girl picked up the iPad and climbed off the picnic bench. “I didn’t want him to
get hurty feelings so I tried to learn. I’m bad, too.”

  She turned and walked away, and Avery felt an unfamiliar flood of warmth for the girl. Avery knew all about trying to make do on her own and failing miserably, but that didn’t explain the urge to wrap her arms around Violet’s bony shoulders and pull her close. Avery didn’t do that kind of affection. One day in Magnolia was already messing with her head.

  “I can braid hair,” she called as the girl started up the steps to the main house.

  Violet returned to the picnic table. “I just told you I don’t like you,” she said, clutching the iPad to her chest. “Why would you do my hair?”

  “Your friend Margo sounds like a real brat,” Avery answered, earning the barest hint of a smile from the girl.

  “You aren’t supposed to call kids brats.”

  Avery also wasn’t supposed to fall in love with a married man and get blamed for tearing his family apart and his son ending up in the hospital. She wasn’t proud of it, but name-calling a kindergartner was low on her list of no-nos. Besides, based on Violet’s reaction, this Margo seemed to be getting a jump on her mean-girl status. Avery had never been able to tolerate a mean girl. “Do you want your hair done or not?”

  “Can you do a Dutch braid?” Violet walked around the picnic table and positioned herself in front of Avery.

  “How about crisscross Dutch?”

  The girl sucked in a breath and gave a small squeal of delight. “Yes,” she breathed.

  Avery cocked a brow.

  “Yes, please,” Violet amended. She handed over the brush and turned so that Avery could access her long hair.

  Avery smiled as she began to braid, a sense of contentment filling her for the first time in months.

  * * *

  “AVERY BRAIDED MY HAIR, Daddy.”

  Gray blinked at the excitement in his daughter’s voice. Normally it took at least a day or two for her mood to rebound after being disappointed by her mother.

  He’d gotten dressed in jeans and a UNC T-shirt after his shower, panic seizing him when Violet didn’t answer his calls. At five years old, she was fine unsupervised for a few minutes, but he was on constant alert for anything that could be perceived by a court as him not being a fit parent. Misplacing his kid would definitely qualify.

  Then he’d glanced out the window above the kitchen sink to see her with Carrie’s newfound sister. The woman hadn’t seemed like a fan of kids last night, or at least of Violet, so he didn’t exactly trust her to be alone with his daughter.

  He’d rushed out the back door, both females turning as the screen slammed. But instead of having to step in as mediator the way he’d expected, Violet bounded over to him with a huge grin on her adorable face.

  “It’s a crisscross Dutch,” she reported, spinning so she was facing away from him. “She’s so good at braids.” He’d stayed awake until midnight and then set his alarm for six to watch braiding tutorial videos, ineptly practicing on Violet’s American Girl doll. It would have taken years for him to get proficient enough to create the intricate style she sported.

  “I love it,” he told her, lifting his gaze from the back of her head to the woman—Avery—now coming around the edge of the picnic table. Gray felt like he’d been clubbed in the head with a steel pipe. She wore a pair of loose boxer shorts and a thin tank top, her blond hair falling over bare shoulders. Yesterday she’d been all about stuffy attitude and a prim sort of beauty, even after a day in the North Carolina heat had taken its toll.

  But casual and unadorned, she was beyond gorgeous, despite it being an aspect of herself she clearly wasn’t comfortable sharing. She wrapped one arm across her chest and tugged on the bottom of the shorts with her free hand, like she wanted to hide from his gaze.

  “Thanks,” he mouthed, and she responded with the barest hint of a nod.

  “She thinks kids are useless and smelly,” his daughter reported, lifting one braid and smiling with satisfaction as she examined it. “She told me.”

  He lifted a brow. “Really?”

  “I didn’t say those exact words.” Avery rolled her eyes. “But you can’t blame me for being crusty. Someone woke me up with the lack of iPad volume control. I haven’t even had a cup of coffee.”

  “Daddy makes coffee with the timer the night before. Like he does my lunch.” Violet turned to her. “I still don’t like you, but you can come in and get a cup since you do such good braids.”

  “What a generous invitation,” Avery muttered.

  “Violet, you can’t tell people you don’t like them.” He crouched down and cupped his daughter’s soft cheeks in his palms. “We’ve talked about manners.”

  “Avery doesn’t care.” Violet shifted to look over her shoulder. “Do you?”

  “Nope,” Avery admitted.

  Gray patted her cheek. “I expect you to be polite.”

  “I said thank you and told her she could drink your coffee,” his daughter replied. “I have to get dressed for school. Margo is going to be so jealous of my crisscross.”

  He straightened as she skipped toward the house.

  “I don’t know what your deal is with kids,” he told Avery. “But you made her whole morning and got me off the hook.”

  “Braiding is easy.”

  “Tell that to the American Girl doll with knots in her hair after a night with me.”

  “You’re into sleeping with dolls?” Avery asked, deadpan. “That’s a super creepy fetish.”

  He chuckled at her dry humor, and the sound felt rusty in his throat. “The offer for coffee was real. I can even throw in a banana nut muffin to sweeten the deal. My mom brought them over yesterday.”

  It was obvious she wanted to refuse, but then she nodded, making Gray feel like he’d won some sort of neighbor lottery. “Banana nut is my favorite,” she said as they walked toward his house, like she wanted him to understand her acceptance had nothing to do with him.

  Fine.

  “I’m Gray Atwell, by the way.” He held the screen open with one hand and offered her his other.

  “Avery Keller,” she murmured but moved into the house without shaking his hand.

  “You and Carrie are sisters?”

  “Half sisters.”

  “She’s a good person.” He moved toward the cabinets and took out two mugs. “Always has been. The whole town loves Carrie. We went to school together from kindergarten through high school graduation.”

  “But you two aren’t dating?”

  He frowned as he poured the coffee, not quite understanding her preoccupation with his and Carrie’s relationship. “We’ve always been friends, but never anything more.”

  “Did you know Niall?”

  He handed her a mug and grabbed the container of muffins his mom had left. “Sure. Magnolia’s a tight-knit community and Niall was our most famous resident, even after his art fell out of favor. He gave a lot back to the town during the height of his fame. He funded the revamping of the main park and a walking trail along Indian Creek, which runs through downtown.”

  “A real stand-up guy.” Avery grabbed a muffin. “He turns himself into a local hero while ignoring the fact that he has two extra daughters, one of whom grew up in Magnolia.”

  “You have a point.” Gray massaged a hand over his neck. “He left all three of you in a bad position.”

  “Meredith didn’t seem to be in any hurry to create long-lasting family ties.”

  “Are you?” He took a drink of coffee as she pondered her answer. It would be better if she said no. Better for him anyway. He wasn’t sure where this strange connection he felt toward her came from, but he knew enough at this point not to trust it.

  She might be beautifully rumpled at the moment, but he guessed that yesterday’s cool perfection swept closer to the truth of Avery Keller. He’d been there and done that with a sophisticat
ed woman out of his blue-collar league. It had left him with a broken heart and a daughter to raise almost exclusively on his own.

  “We need to work out some things with Niall’s assets.”

  Gray nodded. “He owned a big chunk of downtown.”

  “I own that chunk now,” she revealed, biting down on her full lower lip. “But his finances are in bad shape according to the attorney.”

  “And Magnolia is long past its heyday,” he added. “But why you and not Carrie?”

  “You think she’s more entitled?”

  “To the gallery?” He inclined his head. “She’s dedicated most of her adult life to her father’s legacy, completely giving up her own art along the way.”

  Avery’s blue eyes widened. “Carrie’s an artist?”

  “She was back in high school, but I don’t think Niall approved. Probably because she was more talented than him.”

  He watched her mull over that information and regretted that he’d shared it. If Avery had as much in common with his ex-wife as he suspected from her manner, she’d use any detail she could gather to her own advantage.

  “You’ll figure it out,” he said, grabbing Violet’s lunch box from the refrigerator. She’d be down any minute and ready to head out to show off her new braids.

  “Why did Violet’s mother stand her up last night?” Avery asked softly.

  “She was busy,” he mumbled, disgust at his ex’s maternal apathy squirming along his skin like a thousand cockroaches. Making excuses for Stacy was becoming second nature. “She’s a doctor and had a patient with an emergency.”

  “What kind of doctor?”

  “A cosmetic dermatologist.”

  “Emergency Botox?” she asked with a sniff.

  Despite his anger, Gray chuckled. “Maybe. She’s a real piece of work.”

  “How long have you been divorced?”

  “Over a year.” He placed his mug on the counter when he felt his fingers begin to shake. “But things were off track longer than that. My fault. Stacy didn’t want...” He broke off, shook his head. “It doesn’t matter now and you probably don’t care about the details of my broken marriage.”