The Magnolia Sisters Page 9

  “Stop distracting me. I’m pretending to care.” Avery ignored both Carrie and Gray, even when she felt them share a look behind her back.

  She’d never admit it, but she did care. It was infuriating to have her emotions manipulated by a financially strapped dance teacher and her students, but Avery couldn’t help it.

  Of course she still didn’t believe she could help Josie. Maybe that explained the tears that pricked the backs of her eyes when the final students, three awkward and lovely preteen girls, took their bows.

  As the parents clapped, Josie glided toward Avery with a triumphant smile. “Well?” she demanded. “Weren’t they magnificent?”

  “Yes,” Avery said simply. Maybe she wouldn’t have chosen the word magnificent to describe the dancers, but the show of solidarity and the attempt to sway her from a path she hadn’t chosen was something to behold.

  “Does this make you change your mind about selling the building?” Josie asked, her tone so hopeful it made Avery’s heart lurch.

  The children had followed their beloved teacher, and Avery felt her cheeks burn as everyone in the room seemed to hold a collective breath waiting for her answer.

  “I can’t... There isn’t...” She shook her head. “I don’t—”

  “We don’t have a plan yet,” Carrie said, jumping to her feet and taking Avery’s hand. “But Avery, Meredith and I are working on one. Our father loved this town, and Avery already sees how special it is.”

  “I don’t,” Avery protested, teeth grinding at the gasps of horror that went up around her at those blasphemous words. “I do see that Magnolia is special,” she amended. “But I’m not—”

  “Ready to give up on Dad’s dream just yet,” Carrie supplied.

  Avery pinched the back of Carrie’s arm so hard the other woman yelped.

  “Thank you,” Josie said, wiping tears from her eyes. “I know you’ll think of a way to save us. It’s what your father would have wanted.”

  “I’m not anyone’s savior,” Avery said quickly. “Clearly neither was Niall. Despite what Carrie has led you to believe—”

  “Can I pet your cow?” a girl asked, moving forward.

  “She’s a dog,” Avery clarified.

  Spot wriggled and licked the child’s hand as she rubbed her freckled nose.

  “She’s cute,” another girl said, joining her friend.

  A moment later, Avery was surrounded. She cringed as the dancers pummeled her with questions and invitations for Spot to have playdates with their various pets.

  “Dogs don’t do playdates,” she muttered, eyes narrowing at the sound of Gray’s deep chuckle next to her. She sent him a desperate glance. “Help me.”

  “Looks like you and Spot have got this one covered,” he answered, moving away from the sea of pink tulle.

  Spot was shockingly in her element, so animated Avery wondered if the dog might have a heart attack from all the excitement. She lowered the animal to the wood floor, and Spot did her back-flop trick, much to the delight of the pint-sized ballerinas.

  “Come to the gallery when you’re finished here,” Carrie said, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “We’ll work on a plan.”

  “The plan is selling the buildings.”

  “Good luck with that,” Carrie offered, then made her way out of the crowd.

  Luck was just what she needed, Avery thought, wincing as several dancers shrieked when Spot let out a loud dog fart.

  Luck and a giant bottle of headache medicine.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  GRAY CLENCHED AND unclenched his fists as he sat in the upscale waiting room of the medical office in downtown Raleigh.

  “She shouldn’t be too much longer,” the receptionist offered with an apologetic smile. “Are you sure I can’t get you a bottle of water?”

  “I’m fine, Tammy. Thanks.” Tammy Brooks had been his ex-wife’s receptionist since Stacy started her practice. Although loyal to her boss, Tammy had always been kind to Gray, even through the tensest moments of the divorce. She was also unfailingly kind to Violet, who often spent time waiting for Stacy to finish with clients.

  “It’s Voss, if that makes a difference.”

  Gray didn’t bother to hide his confusion. “Should it?”

  “She pays a lot of money for it. People say it’s really fresh and clean like...”

  “Water?” he prompted.

  Tammy grinned. “I guess.”

  “I’m partial to tap water,” he admitted.

  “Then let me get you a glass of tap water.”

  He gritted his teeth, then flashed a smile. “You’re a sweetheart. A glass of plain old tap would be great.”

  The slim redhead jumped up like she’d just been handed the Olympic torch. “How about ice?”

  “Your call,” he told her and she disappeared down the hall toward the break room.

  He leaned back in his chair and studied the photographs that lined the wall on the opposite side of the waiting room. Various portraits of his ex-wife, several of them with clients and two outdoors in a local park with Violet. The images displayed a maternal warmth he was surprised Stacy managed to muster, even for the camera.

  No, that wasn’t fair. Stacy could be wonderful when she set her mind to it. Gray had fallen for her fast and hard when they’d first met. He’d been a newly minted firefighter in Raleigh, out celebrating with his buddies and she was part of a bachelorette party at the same bar. With her dark hair, pale skin and luminescent blue eyes, she’d been one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. She’d held herself apart from her friends and the other patrons, and Gray had wanted her instantly, much like a coveted toy just out of reach.

  Stacy was seven years older than him, a new doctor in town and intent on becoming the most sought-after dermatologist in North Carolina. Her ambition fascinated him. Although he understood he was just a physical diversion for her, he hadn’t cared. His mom had warned him as a kid not to grasp for a life above his station, and he should have heeded her advice. But within a month, Stacy was pregnant and Gray had been all too happy to marry her and start their future together.

  His parents had been married until his dad was killed on the job by a random bullet. From what Gray remembered, his father had loved being a cop, but his devotion to the force had led to a marriage fraught with turmoil. Gray’s parents had fought and manipulated one another, their relationship vacillating between random moments of pure bliss to long spans of flaring tempers. As a young boy, he’d grown used to the feeling of his stomach in knots. His mother had loved his dad, but it was a sort of dysfunctional love that wore at them both. Then, after a tragic altercation during a routine traffic stop, Gray’s father was gone and they never had the chance at any kind of future.

  Gray wanted to create something better in his own marriage, even if its start had been unplanned. It soon became clear that he and Violet weren’t the life Stacy wanted. He resisted her pleas to go to work for her father’s insurance firm. His career as a firefighter and passion for the job meant nothing to her. It often felt like being a mother to Violet meant just as little.

  He tried to understand. Her dad had given her the capital to start her own practice and she devoted all of her time and energy to building her client base. Well, not all of her time. When Violet was three, Gray discovered Stacy was having an affair with the architect who’d designed her office space. He filed for divorce a week later.

  It might have been a relief to them both, and he’d believed her when she told him she wanted to be partners in co-parenting. Hollywood types might be the experts on “conscious uncoupling” but Gray had been determined to create a harmonious relationship with his ex for the sake of their daughter. Only Stacy wasn’t always a good mother. She ignored Violet a fair bit of the time, forgetting to pick her up on their scheduled weekends, or dragging her to speaking engagements or private
Botox parties in the city’s wealthier neighborhoods.

  So Gray was working on a plan to go back to court and file for sole custody. He didn’t want to keep Stacy from her daughter, but he needed to protect Violet.

  “Here’s that water.” Tammy handed him a tall glass.

  “Thanks.”

  “Are we out of Voss?” Stacy asked as she entered the waiting room from her office.

  “He wanted tap,” Tammy answered, then retreated behind her desk.

  “Figures,” his ex-wife muttered.

  Gray placed the glass on the table in front of him, trying not to let his mouth gape open as he stood. “What the hell happened to your face?”

  Stacy looked like she’d been on the losing end of a fight with Mike Tyson in his heyday. Her entire face was swollen and red, with dark bruises shadowing both of her eyes.

  Her lips pressed together. At least he thought that was what happened. He couldn’t be quite sure.

  “I don’t have any more clients for the week so I did a couple of nonsurgical treatments on myself.”

  “You did that to yourself on purpose?” He couldn’t hide his disbelief.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Gray. This isn’t the end result. Within forty-eight hours the swelling will go down and I’ll look ten years younger.”

  “You don’t need it, Stacy.”

  “I’m almost thirty-six.”

  “And still gorgeous,” he told her. He might not like his ex-wife, but no one could deny her beauty.

  She stared at him for several moments before shaking her head. “It’s a shame you have no ambition. We could have been something special.”

  He laughed without humor. “Once upon a time, I thought we were.”

  She took a step back as if he’d thrown a punch, then steadied herself. “What do you want?”

  “I’d like to keep Violet this weekend.”

  “She’s scheduled to be with me.”

  “I realize that, but tomorrow is the kickoff for Summer Fair in Magnolia. It’s the last big festival of the season. Her Dragonfly troupe is marching in the parade. She wants to be a part of it.”

  “No,” Stacy said without hesitation.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t have to give you a reason.”

  “This isn’t about me, Stace.”

  “Of course not. It’s about your precious town.”

  “She wants to be with her friends. I’ll bring her to you in the afternoon if that’s what it will take. I’m not asking for much.”

  “You could have called or texted about this.”

  True, but he knew she never would have entertained the idea of letting him change the custody schedule unless he subjected himself to a decent amount of groveling. That was easier to do in person.

  “Please, Stacy. I’ll make it up to you. If you need to adjust the calendar or want an extra weekend, we can work it out.”

  “Violet and I had plans for the weekend.”

  Liar, he wanted to shout. Stacy almost always slept late on weekends. Violet would often call him from her mother’s phone while she ate a bowl of cereal in front of the television.

  “Please,” he said again.

  “I’ll think about it,” she finally relented. “Right now I want to go home and put my feet up. I’ll text you later.”

  The urge to argue almost overwhelmed him. But Stacy liked a fight too much to give her that satisfaction. Gray hated fighting. It reminded him of his parents.

  “Thank you for considering it,” he said, making the gratitude in his tone overt. “I hope your face...” He ran a hand through his hair, still baffled by the lengths women went through to preserve their youth. “Turns out the way you want.”

  “It will,” she answered with a shrill laugh. “I’m the best.”

  “Of course.” He nodded. “I’ll wait to hear from you. Thanks for the water, Tammy.”

  “Sure thing,” the receptionist called.

  He didn’t even care that the other woman had witnessed him begging his ex-wife for something she should be willing to freely give. Hell, Stacy could have offered to bring Violet to the parade if the schedule was so important to her.

  His stomach knotted and churned as he walked toward his truck, parked at the end of the block. The late-summer heat wave had finally broken. The unseasonable temperatures gave way to a pleasant cool front accompanied by a gentle breeze.

  He’d lived in Raleigh for several years, having packed his beater truck to hightail it out of Magnolia as soon as he’d turned eighteen. At that point small-town life had been like a heavy wool blanket, oppressive and scratchy, weighing him down and chafing at his younger self. Then Violet was born, and suddenly he understood the appeal of a close-knit community.

  Even his relationship with his mother had changed, softening in a way he never could have expected. He appreciated what she’d sacrificed for him and his brother growing up. Life and an unhappy marriage had molded her into the woman he’d known and resented all through his childhood.

  Parenthood was a great equalizer.

  So when his marriage imploded, it had been the most natural thing in the world to return to Magnolia. As a single dad, he needed the support of a community. He needed to know he wasn’t alone.

  His hometown was only forty minutes from Raleigh, but it felt like a world away. It also felt like the place he belonged, and he was grateful to the people who had known him forever for taking his daughter into their hearts.

  Nothing was more important than Violet and her happiness.

  Which was why he forced himself to take several deep breaths and then climb into his truck. As much as he wanted to stalk back to Stacy’s office, picking a fight that would end with both of them going for blood, that kind of verbal sparring would do nothing for his girl. He hoped his ex would see her way to agreeing to the parade. But if she didn’t, he’d get Violet through the disappointment. He’d make it okay for her because she was everything to him.

  * * *

  “WHAT HAVE YOU done to that dog?”

  Avery looked down at Spot, who was nosing around one of the planters of colorful flowers outside the gallery on Saturday morning, then smiled up at Meredith, who approached from around the corner. Avery could feel the stares from the people beginning to line the street along the parade route. She kept her focus on Meredith and Spot.

  “I gave her a makeover.”

  “She’s a dog,” Meredith muttered. “Not a fashion model.”

  “I think she looks cute,” Carrie offered from where she stood in the gallery’s doorway. “Like Olivia the Pig.” Carrie edged back to allow Avery and Meredith to enter the empty space.

  Carrie wore a long sundress with a pattern of lavender hyacinths splashed across the front. With her hair gently curling around her shoulders, she looked like a perfect Southern belle. Carrie belonged in Magnolia. Meredith, with her fitted T-shirt, cargo pants and boots, seemed far too nineties grunge throwback for the quaint small town, and Avery didn’t know how to behave in a place where everyone knew her business.

  She’d dressed in a pair of tailored viscose trousers and a silk blouse. Her rationale for the formal outfit was that she should show the people of Magnolia she was a professional. She had her life together and couldn’t be swayed in her plan for the inheritance by tiny dancers or personal sob stories or anything of that ilk. But as she’d hurried to the gallery, past families and couples streaming into downtown to kick off the weekend’s festival, she realized her formal clothes would only make more glaringly obvious what she already knew. She didn’t belong here and her father hadn’t wanted her to be a part of his life or his precious town.

  The gallery lights were off, although morning sun streamed in from the oversized windows facing the street.

  “You said she needed more confidence,” Avery told Meredith. “
A new wardrobe can do that for people. It’s a fact.”

  “She’s. A. Dog.” Meredith bent down to pet the animal, and Spot did her usual flop and roll routine.

  Avery had driven over to Raleigh yesterday afternoon, needing to escape her current reality in a way she couldn’t manage in Magnolia. She wasn’t sure what was so comforting about the anonymity of a big-box store, but wandering the aisles of a familiar layout had calmed her more than she could have imagined. And when she’d ambled into the pet supply section, something had taken over. She’d bought Spot a pink collar studded with rhinestones and a matching leash. She’d also picked up a fuzzy gray dog bed and hadn’t been able to resist grabbing a couple of the adorable doggy outfits.

  In her old life, Avery shopped with as much efficiency and purpose as she did everything else. She had her groceries delivered, ordered expensive hair products and makeup from an online retailer, and shopped four times a year at the high-end shopping mall near her apartment for seasonal wardrobe updates.

  Meandering through a home goods section, selecting colorful towels and washcloths to take back to her sister’s apartment, was a comforting indulgence.

  Maybe this explained why the children’s clothing industry was booming. Shopping was a universal language of love for mothers everywhere. She’d been more excited about her purchases for a dog that wasn’t even hers than she’d been last year when she’d stumbled upon a perfect Vera Wang sheath dress on sale in her size.

  She’d also grabbed a pink-handled brush and a package of colorful hair ties that would be perfect for Violet. But when she’d gotten back to the guesthouse and unpacked her car, her retail therapy session made her feel weak and embarrassed. She’d shoved the brush and hair ties into a drawer in the bathroom, then put the bags with the rest of her purchases into the closet. Magnolia was a temporary stop for her, not a place to call home.

  As much as her endorphins had gone into overdrive during her shopping excursion, the letdown was a real kick in the shins.

  But this morning she couldn’t help herself from dressing Spot in one of the outfits. The dog had stayed remarkably calm as Avery’d tugged the soft cotton over her head and popped her stubby legs through the armholes.