The Merriest Magnolia Page 8

  Of course, Dylan still believed his plan for the town was a better choice, but not much happened in real estate and construction over the holiday season. It wouldn’t hurt to postpone the start of what he wanted to do. He could line up a crew and all of the subcontractors in order to hit the ground running in January.

  “Well?” Carrie prompted in that soft voice that drove him crazy.

  “Fine,” he told her, ignoring his body’s reaction to the huge grin she gave him. “But it doesn’t change my feelings about what’s best for the town.”

  “Or the fact that you’re the bad guy in this scenario,” she agreed a little too readily. “Every good story needs one.”

  “So that they can get their butt kicked,” Sam said, smoothing a hand over the paper in front of him.

  “The only person who’s going to do the butt kicking is me if you sneak out again.” Dylan turned toward the drafting table where Sam sat. The scent of vanilla and lemon lingered in the air, as if Carrie infused every inch of this space. Of course Sam would be happier spending time with her. How could anyone resist her sweet spirit?

  Tamping down that thought, Dylan leveled a hopefully parental stare at Sam. “No more leaving without a note or some communication.”

  “I thought you’d be happy to be rid of me for a while,” the boy grumbled.

  Dylan hated that the kid still saw himself as a burden, although he understood it. According to the therapist, it was normal for Sam to test Dylan’s commitment. “How can I enjoy my free time if I have to worry about you?” he asked casually.

  Carrie elbowed him in the ribs then seemed to relax when Dylan winked at her, and Sam only gave another eye roll.

  “Just so I’m clear on the situation,” the boy said, his gaze darting between the two of them. He pointed toward Carrie. “You want the festival to help put Magnolia on the map as some kind of picture-postcard getaway.”

  Carrie nodded. “Yes.”

  “Like the creepy paintings your dad did,” Sam continued.

  “Seriously?” Dylan asked, shaking his head.

  Carrie only laughed. “I don’t think creepy is the word I’d choose to describe them.”

  “Creepy for sure,” Sam told her. “Like demented Norman Rockwell.”

  “Do you have any semblance of a filter?” Dylan demanded of the boy, even though in his heart he might agree. At first glance Niall Reed’s paintings were sappy and sentimental but knowing what Dylan did about the man and the choices he made in his own life, the depiction of an idyllic outlook on American culture definitely bordered on perverse.

  “I saw some of your old stuff,” Sam told Carrie, ignoring Dylan. “I didn’t put it together the other day when we met that you were the artist. Dylan hung it all over his properties in Boston. You were way better than your dad.”

  Dylan could have hugged the boy. And Carrie for that matter. She needed to hear that she had talent. He imagined he’d made her angry by buying her paintings but hadn’t been able to resist.

  Not only was she an amazing artist, she was also one of the best people he’d ever met. One morning spent with Carrie had prompted Sam to string more words together than he had in the past six months. Not to mention the monumental victory of the kid taking an interest in something other than video games or social media.

  “Thank you,” Carrie said, amusement lacing her tone. “I’m glad you don’t think they’re creepy.”

  “No ick factor,” Sam confirmed then looked toward Dylan. “You don’t like the cutesy vibe and want Magnolia to become some kind of snobby second coming of the Hamptons or wherever rich people want to hang out.”

  “Filter,” Dylan repeated.

  “You should talk,” Carrie said with a laugh.

  “Right?” Sam threw up his hands. “He’s the worst. You should hear him on the phone. My sheltered ears can barely understand half the words he says.”

  “Too much even for me to believe.” Carrie grinned at Sam.

  Dylan sighed. It was like herding cats getting these two to stay on topic. “My vision for the town is going to make it a premier destination on the East Coast.”

  “While sucking all the personality and charm out of it.”

  “Struggling to make ends meet is only charming in fairy tales,” Dylan told her. “You might not realize that because you breathed such rarified air growing up.”

  “I did not,” Carrie said through clenched teeth.

  Dylan wasn’t sure how he always managed to step in it with her but had to believe it was for the best. They both needed to remember they were on different sides in this situation.

  Sam laughed. “Who needs the filter now?”

  “If you’re done stirring the pot,” Dylan told him, “let’s go home. You’ll work with Carrie as a community service effort, and the two of you can plot to save this town from the nefarious mastermind.” He pointed a finger at his chest. “Me, in this case.”

  “Mastermind,” Carrie repeated with a laugh. “No lack of ego on this one.”

  Sam grinned and flipped his notebook closed. “Fine. I’m so excited for deli turkey and instant potatoes.”

  “I got a pie, too,” Dylan said when Carrie turned to him with a grimace. “And green beans. Give me a break. The grocery was cleaned out by the time we got there.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Sam rose from the drafting table. “You’ll feel guilty and then we can watch TV while we eat.”

  “You could come to my sister’s,” Carrie said suddenly, then placed a hand over her mouth like she was as shocked to hear herself make the offer as Dylan. “No pressure but there will be plenty of food and all of it will be better than what you have.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think—”

  “Okay,” Sam agreed.

  “You don’t like being social,” Dylan reminded the kid.

  “I like eating Thanksgiving dinner.” He glanced at Carrie. “Homemade mashed potatoes?”

  She nodded. “That’s the plan, along with a roast turkey, gravy, dressing and all the trimmings. I’m bringing the pies so I can vouch for dessert.”

  “If Dylan is too scared to go, I’m still in.”

  “I’m your family,” Dylan told the boy. “We stick together on holidays.”

  Sam’s smile vanished and Dylan realized his mistake. Way to remind the kid that he was saddled with a second-rate guardian instead of the parents and grandpa who’d loved him so well.

  “Wait.” Carrie held up a hand as she turned fully to Dylan. “Why would you be scared to come to Thanksgiving at Meredith’s?”

  “I’m not,” he said automatically.

  He leveled a “don’t you dare” look at Sam, who offered Carrie a smile so sweet it made Dylan’s teeth ache.

  “I heard him on a conference call yesterday talking about the Magnolia project. He said the three harpies fighting him on the plan were terrifying in a horror movie sort of way. I don’t know why he’d compare you to some oversize musical instrument.”

  “Great attention to detail,” Dylan said under his breath as Carrie gave an incredulous gasp. “Also...” He glared at Sam. “You shouldn’t have been home yesterday. If you hadn’t gotten suspended, you wouldn’t have been able to eavesdrop on my private conversation.”

  “Thank heavens he did,” Carrie announced.

  Dylan blinked. “You’re glad he got in trouble for vandalizing the school?”

  She shook her head. “I’m glad we discovered what an amazing artist Sam is and that he’s willing to volunteer to help with the winter carnival.” She smiled at the boy. “I’m also happy you’re coming to dinner tonight.” She narrowed her eyes at Dylan. “Both of you. Maybe my sisters and I will pull out our harps and do an impromptu concert.”

  Sam seemed to consider this. “Weird but kind of cool,” he agreed finally. “Especially if the music
will aggravate Dylan.”

  “Thanks, buddy.” Dylan touched Carrie’s wrist when she started to turn away. “This week was frustrating on a lot of different levels,” he explained. “Maybe you could refrain from mentioning my dumbass comment to your sisters?”

  “Bring a bottle of wine and be out at Last Acre for dinner at four,” she said by way of an answer. “Leave the instant potatoes and store-bought pie at home. Along with the attitude.”

  She and Sam walked toward the front door, setting up a time to meet again the following day. Emotion welled in Dylan’s throat as the surly teen smiled when she gave him a quick hug.

  Dylan would hang up his attitude and just about anything else if it meant seeing Sam smile more often.

  Well, anything but altering his plan for the town. That could wait. He didn’t imagine that the teenager’s obvious infatuation with Carrie could last indefinitely. Once Sam decided she was just like every other adult in his life—annoying and superfluous, Dylan could return to business as usual.

  He moved past her with a quiet thank-you, shock ricocheting through him when Carrie reached out and squeezed his hand.

  “He’s going to be okay,” she said softly.

  Damn if Dylan didn’t want to believe her.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “ARE THERE ANY other people we hate who you invited for dinner?” Meredith asked as she opened the oven door to check the temperature sensor on the turkey later that afternoon.

  Carrie took a generous sip of the white wine Avery had just poured for the three of them. “You two don’t hate Dylan. I do.”

  “We hate him on behalf of you,” Avery explained. “Hate by proxy.”

  “His company made an inordinately large donation to the Firefighters’ Relief Fund,” Gray said as he walked into the kitchen. “The chief announced it last night.”

  “You didn’t mention that,” Avery told her fiancé.

  “It would have made you grumpy,” Gray said with a shrug.

  Avery let out a disbelieving sniff. “Heck yes, that news would have put me in a bad mood. We don’t need that jerk greasing hands all over town, so people support his crappy plan.”

  Carrie’s heart pinched as Gray wrapped his arms around Avery and kissed the side of her neck. “I had my own plans last night that hinged on you being in a good mood.”

  Meredith picked up a dinner roll from the baking sheet cooling on the stove and lobbed it at the couple. Gray caught it then bit off a chunk.

  “This is a PG-rated event,” she told him. “Enough with the sexy times talk.”

  “You’re just jealous,” Avery said playfully.

  “Duh,” Meredith answered, earning laughs from all of them.

  Carrie took another drink of wine. She wasn’t exactly jealous of Avery and Gray. They were an adorable—if unlikely—couple. She simply wanted someone to love and adore her the way Gray did her sister. Was that really too much to ask?

  “Do you think he’ll convince people to back him because of his deep pockets?” she asked the room in general. “What if they don’t get that what he wants to do in town will change it and not in a good way? Money can have a big influence on opinions. Dad is a great example of that. He didn’t always have Magnolia’s best interests in mind, but everyone ignored it because of how much money he’d put into the town over the years.”

  “Things are different now,” Meredith said as she stirred the gravy.

  “I think the response from the guys at the station was more shock than anything else,” Gray said as he bent down to scoop up the little dog who sat whining at his feet.

  “Don’t feed her,” Avery warned.

  “It’s Thanksgiving,” Gray protested. “Spot wants to celebrate.”

  “She can have some gravy on her kibble later,” Avery conceded reluctantly. “Nothing more.”

  Carrie smiled as her sophisticated sister leaned in to drop a kiss on the top of the Chihuahua mix’s furry head. The mutt had been one of the dogs Meredith had taken in as part of the animal rescue she coordinated from the expansive beach property she’d rented from Niall.

  It baffled Carrie that he’d given Meredith an incredible deal on the property, but still never owned up to his true identity in her life. Each of the sisters had different thoughts on what they should do with the estate, although they were slowly coming to agreement on each of the separate holdings.

  The land near the beach was valuable, but the farm meant the world to Meredith. Her tough and sometimes crusty exterior protected a tender heart. Carrie was committed to holding on to the buildings downtown, feeling both loyal to and a responsibility for the business owners that had depended on her dad for so many years.

  The question was could she really help to turn this town into a small-town tourist mecca?

  “Why do you think Dylan made the donation to the fire station?” Avery asked Gray, pulling Carrie from her wandering musings.

  He shrugged. “I think he was making a statement about who he’d become in his time away from Magnolia. He wants to be seen as a major player, someone we should respect because he can use the resources at his disposal to our benefit. A lot of the guys remember him from when we were younger. He was a hell-raiser whose mission in life seemed to be causing chaos wherever he went. None of us thought he would amount to anything.” He shot Carrie a sheepish glance. “No offense to you.”

  “None taken,” she assured him. She was well aware of Dylan’s reputation back in the day. He hadn’t been like that with her, and in the naive way of teenage girls, she’d believed that made her special.

  In the end, not as special as her father’s bank account.

  The sound of the doorbell ringing followed by a chorus of dog barks interrupted the conversation.

  “They’re here,” she whispered, glancing first to Avery and then Meredith.

  “It’s nice that you invited them,” Avery said.

  “Yeah,” Meredith agreed, coming forward and giving Carrie a quick hug. “The kid shouldn’t have to eat deli turkey on Thanksgiving.”

  Carrie swallowed back her tumbling emotions and then moved through the house, Meredith’s three dogs plus Spot circling her legs like the official welcoming committee they were.

  She opened the front door, Dylan and Sam standing on the other side looking as uncomfortable as she felt. The pack of dogs tumbled out despite her best efforts to block them.

  “What the hell,” Dylan muttered as he stumbled back a step. Gracie, the massive German shepherd with only one ear, placed her paws on his chest and licked his chin.

  “Gracie, off,” Carrie commanded, secretly amused at seeing Dylan so obviously flummoxed. “Sorry,” she said, even though it was a lie. “I should have warned you that Meredith’s crew of animals is a little too friendly.”

  “Is this a zoo?” Sam asked, bending down to pet Spot as well as Marlin, the young bulldog.

  Buster, the three-legged lab hopped down the steps, lifted his leg on the tire of Dylan’s Porsche SUV then hobbled back toward the house.

  “Epic,” Sam said with a laugh at the same time Dylan groaned.

  “Meredith runs an animal rescue,” Carrie explained. “The three bigger dogs are the ones she’s adopted permanently and the little Chihuahua belongs to Avery.”

  “You could have mentioned that,” Dylan said tightly, and Carrie suddenly remembered that he’d never liked dogs after being bit by a neighborhood stray as a kid.

  “Sorry,” she said, and this time she meant it. She grabbed Gracie’s collar and herded her back into the house. “Don’t worry, though. They all have great temperaments and are well trained.”

  Dylan dusted the paw prints off the front of his navy sweater. “Clearly.”

  “I want a dog,” Sam said as he straightened.

  “You should talk to Meredith.”

  Dylan made a strang
led sound.

  “Or don’t,” Carrie amended. The boy rolled his eyes. He did that a lot. She supposed most teenagers were experts at eye rolling. She hadn’t been, of course. She hadn’t done anything to rebel or talk back, always her father’s perfect daughter. What a waste of effort.

  “Come on in,” she said, moving back from the doorway into the foyer of the old beach house. “I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

  Sam followed her, but Dylan hesitated. “I forgot the wine in the car,” he said when she gave him a questioning look. “Sam can go with you. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  She led the boy to the kitchen where her sisters and Gray welcomed him as if he was the honored guest. Gray’s five-year-old daughter, Violet, came in through the back door with Shae Delich, the high schooler who worked at the rescue for Meredith. Shae’s parents were on shift at the local hospital, so she was having Thanksgiving dinner with them before joining her mom and dad later.

  “Do you like goats?” Violet asked Sam, tugging on one of her braids.

  “Doesn’t everyone?” he responded without hesitation, and Carrie wanted to hug the boy. Violet didn’t have much of a filter and her big personality was sometimes a little much for people.

  Sam glanced at Shae, and Carrie noticed a blush stain his cheeks. The girl was in tenth grade and absolutely adorable. Sam might have a penchant for trouble, but he also had good taste in girls.

  “We still have some time before dinner is served,” Meredith said, patting Violet’s head. “You and Shae can take Sam out to the barn and introduce him to the animals.”

  “Sam is also interested in adopting a dog,” Carrie told her sister.

  “Dylan says no,” the boy muttered.

  “Leave that to me,” Meredith assured him. “The girls can show you the dogs we have here now, and we’ll talk later about what you’re looking for.”

  “I don’t think I can get one without his permission,” Sam said, almost apologetically.

  “I’ll help convince him,” Meredith promised. “Or we can have Carrie run interference for you.”