Magnolia Bride

by Tara Randel

  “Sorry. Not the best word choice.”

  She nodded again, still unable to speak.

  “If you want things to be better, like they were in the old days, maybe shake your marriage up? Be spontaneous. Mysterious. Totally unpredictable, unlike good-girl Lanie.”

  “I...” Confusion, then interest, spurred her to ask, “How would I do that?”

  Lanie knew her sister had spent years keeping the impulsive side of herself under control and helping Lanie now would be a conflict.

  “I could give you a pointer or two.”

  Relief flooded her. “Really?”

  “Sure, I would. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” She angled her brows at Nealy. “Sure you wouldn’t consider moving back here? Think of the mischief we could get into. We’ve missed out on so many years together, you, Juliet and me.”

  “Speaking of Juliet, she called me last night. She’s still pretty mum about what’s going on with her, but she assured me she’s fine.”

  “Do you believe her?”

  “She didn’t sound nearly as upset as when she left town. Hopefully she’s figuring things out.”

  “When she gets back, we’ll have a girls’ night out.”

  “I love the idea of being closer to you both, but right now staying in Cypress Pointe doesn’t fit into my life. I have a job in L.A., remember?”

  Yeah, she did. “Then I’m thankful for whatever you can do to help me.”

  “Hey, that’s what sisters do.” Nealy stood and dropped her empty cup in a nearby trash can. “And speaking of jobs, are you still thinking of running for mayor?”

  Lanie threw her cup away and the two started walking down Main Street. “I haven’t dismissed the idea.”

  “Even if David doesn’t want you to?”

  She nodded.

  Nealy shrugged, her eyes wide as she stared at her. “That’ll get his attention for sure.”

  “Especially since I’d be running against one of the partners in his law firm.”

  “Ha! That’s definitely one way to shake up your marriage. Not sure it’s the best, but...”

  Lanie grinned. “Sometimes I can think out of the box.”

  Nealy threw an arm around Lanie and hugged her close. “At last, another Grainger who sees the appeal of drawing outside the lines. Welcome to the club.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE NEXT MORNING, Nealy stared at an estimate to update the storefront and swallowed hard.

  “Call me when you’ve made your decision,” the contractor said as he gathered up his papers.

  “Sure,” she said, taking the business card the man offered. “Not gonna happen,” she grumbled as he walked away.

  Both estimates were more than Nealy expected. Grandmother had left her a budget, one that now squeaked. Nealy dealt with events going over budget all the time and still managed to whittle down the expenses to make the client happy. She could do the same for Grandmother, even if it meant cutting into the nest egg she’d squirreled away over the years.

  She wandered back into the shop and was greeted by the rich aroma of coffee. Time to try her hand at some of the smaller projects around here. See what happened. If she could take care of some of these indoor jobs, she’d keep costs down. She executed major events, how hard could a few repairs be? Like any job, all she needed was a well-thought-out plan. Since planning happened to be her bread and butter, she decided it was now or never.

  She found a small toolbox pushed way back under the counter filled with the basics: hammer, screwdriver, tape measure. She’d seen a ladder in the closet. All the tools she needed. When Sierra arrived for her shift, Nealy went out front to replace the blown bulb in one of the overhead light fixtures. Easy peasy.

  Five minutes later, Nealy walked to the counter, a broken fixture in her hand.

  Sierra, attending to an empty coffeepot, looked over her shoulder at Nealy. Her eyes went wide at the mangled piece of metal. “I don’t think the fixture is supposed to come off the wall.”

  “Ya think?” Nealy tossed the mess into the garbage. “You should see the wires hanging out of the wall.”

  “Call the electrician?”

  Nealy cringed, mentally tallying the expense. “Yep.”

  Sierra pointed to the hallway. “The toilet paper holder in the restroom is loose. Shouldn’t be hard to fix.”

  Determined to make up for the light fixture, Nealy grabbed the screwdriver and strode to the bathroom. The toilet paper holder hung at a forty-five-degree angle, as if the screws were barely secured to the wall. All she had to do was tighten a few screws, right? She tightened one side, but had trouble getting the screws to stay put on the other. The more she turned the screwdriver, the bigger the holes got. The bigger the holes got, the looser the holder became until the entire thing fell from the wall.

  “You have got to be kidding me.”

  Conceding defeat, she set the roll of toilet paper on top of the toilet tank. The holder needed to be positioned in a new spot on the wall and the holes needed to be spackled and painted. Since today’s track record pretty much stank, she decided to fight this battle another day. Or hire someone else to do the job.

  In her head, she heard a great big ka-ching as more money slipped away.

  “How’d it go?” Sierra asked when Nealy returned to the front of the shop.

  Nealy held up the holder. “Don’t ask.”

  “Should I call a plumber?”

  “No. I’ll get my brother-in-law or someone to fix it.”

  “Okay.” Sierra glanced around the room. “What now?”

  Nealy marched over to the counter. “You know what? I’ll take the pictures off the wall. I think I can handle this.”

  She crossed to where her grandmother had hung the framed photographs Nealy sent her, a little embarrassed at how prominently they were featured. She’d meant for only her grandmother to enjoy the pictures, not framed for all of the whole of Cypress Pointe to see. As she took each one off the wall, she smiled at the memories.

  When she started doing small, niche events, never in a million years had she imagined she’d meet Hollywood legends, let alone work with some of them. She’d met one of her closest friends this way, celebrity chef Jenna Monroe. During a fund-raising event for a cancer research charity, Jenna was scheduled to do a private cooking session for a select group who had pledged extra-large donations. Nealy was tasked as her gofer for the day. They’d worked well together, and continued their conversation long after Jenna’s demonstration was over. Hungry after the hours spent at the event, they went for sushi and became fast friends.

  Once she removed the photos from the wall, Nealy took the hammer and began removing the nails. She’d gotten a few out when Sierra squealed. Thinking Sierra might have hurt herself, Nealy jumped. Consequently, the hammer shifted in her hand and chipped a huge chunk of paint from the drywall.

  “What’s wrong?” Nealy blurted.

  “Huh?” Sierra looked up from her phone. “My boyfriend texted me. He has a surprise for me tonight. I guess I got excited.”

  “Sierra, seriously, put the phone away. I can understand the lure of true love, but the boy can wait till you finish your shift.”

  “Fine.” Sierra dropped her phone into her purse.

  Nealy stood with her hands on her hips, examining the rather noticeable paint chip. Good thing she planned on painting anyway. As she removed the last nail from the wall without mishap, she turned to find Dane and Max Sanders standing behind her, arms crossed, grinning ear to ear.

  A warm flush covered her cheeks. “What?”

  “I liked the pictures,” Max informed her. “Especially the one with you and the tall blond guy. I got the impression you two were engaged until your grandmother corrected me.”

&nb
sp; She scoffed. “Engaged? To a famous movie star? Wow. So not me.”

  Dane’s smile grew wider.

  She looked at Max. “You thought I was engaged?”

  “That’s what it looked like.”

  A while back, she’d been talking to her grandmother about Sam, and she mentioned she hoped they might get serious, maybe even engaged. Wishful thinking. She and Sam couldn’t even find time to have dinner, let alone decide to get married.

  Max shrugged. Then he focused on the wall. “Why is there a hole?”

  “It’s not a hole. And, um, the hammer slipped.”

  Dane grinned. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “You should see the bathroom.”

  The corner of Dane’s mouth quirked.

  She scowled at him.

  “The Grainger family’s strong suit isn’t manual labor,” Dane explained to Max.

  “Gotta give it to Nealy, though. At least she tried,” Max said.

  Nealy wagged a finger at Dane. “I’ll have you know the Graingers are good at plenty of other things.”

  “Like jumping in feetfirst without looking? Oh, wait, that’s your talent. Still, a little impulsive there, Nealy?”

  She bristled. “Not anymore.”

  A knowing grin curved his lips.

  Her stomach flipped at the “yeah, right” look on his face. Who was she kidding? He knew her reckless streak better than anyone, considering he’d been by her side most of those times. Staying out after curfew. Spray painting graffiti on a seawall down by the beach. Borrowing her dad’s car without his permission—borrowing, since she refused to believe it was actual theft. They hadn’t always thought things through.

  “So what are you guys doing here?”

  “I had a meeting scheduled with Max at his office, but he suggested we move to Cuppa Joe.” Dane nodded at the wall. “We didn’t expect to be entertained.”

  She noticed the briefcases both men were carrying. She blinked, having a hard time reconciling these two serious businessmen with the two teenage scoundrels she remembered. They had all pulled their lives together, which made her wonder if she and Dane would have been successful if they’d stayed married. Sure, it would have been tough, holding down a job while going to college and maintaining a home, but she’d been determined to put her heart and soul into that marriage. Since Dane had destroyed the dream, she could only imagine and speculate as to how things would have ended up. Would they have rallied together? Or would the pressure have been too much to bear? She’d never know since Dane had taken the decision out of her hands.

  Would she ever get over his doing so? She glanced at his mischievous smile and wondered. Maybe it was time to try. Although she still didn’t trust herself around him.

  “Looks like you should stick to making coffee. I have to ask, though,” Dane said as a puzzled look crossed his face. “Why are there wires hanging out where the light fixture used to be?”

  Nealy’s face flushed again.

  “Ah. Another DIY.”

  “A mishap.”

  “Just like the bathroom,” Sierra chirped as she brought the men their coffee.

  Nealy sent the girl a death stare.

  “Well, you didn’t finish,” Sierra huffed.

  Gently placing the hammer on the counter, Nealy said, “I may be a teensy bit over my head.”

  Dane and Max exchanged amused glances.

  “I told you I’d be happy to help you,” Dane reminded her.

  “And as much as I don’t appreciate your offer, I decline. Again.”

  “He does know what he’s doing,” Max told her.

  “I don’t doubt his ability. It’s the principle. His connection to the Merchants’ Association makes him a traitor—going against my grandmother, the way he did.”

  “You don’t trust me? I’m wounded.”

  She made a point of ignoring him. “Max, I understand you sometimes do handy jobs for my grandmother. Any chance I can get you to help me? Besides the minor things inside the shop, I still have to do something about the outside appearance.”

  “Nealy, I’m afraid I don’t have time right now. I’m in and out of town on a big security job.”

  “Okay. Then can I ask your opinion?” She handed him the estimate from the contractor. “Do these figures look right?”

  Dane leaned over to glance at the piece of paper. “No kidding you want Max’s help.”

  “Looks a little high to me,” Max told her, handing back the paper.

  Her stomach sank.

  Max’s cell rang and he took the call, leaning away from Nealy and Dane to get some privacy.

  “You know,” Dane told her, coming to stand beside her, “I have an idea.”

  As he moved closer, a hint of intimacy deepened in his voice. Sparks arched between them with an urgency Nealy couldn’t ignore. But what happened if you played with fire? You got burned. Yet she couldn’t leave his side.

  “I know you’re temporarily filling in until Dorinda gets back, but a responsible business owner would take measures to assure a positive outcome to a problem. You need work done. Work you can’t handle alone or spend a lot of money on. I have the means and ability to do the work at a price you can’t refuse.”

  She regarded him with a wary expression. “Which is?”

  “An exchange for services rendered.”

  “Interesting.” She tapped her finger against her chin. “What are you proposing?”

  “You help me with the events booked at the hotel, since I have no coordinator, and I’ll make sure the storefront is what the Merchants’ Association wants without you having to shell out a dime.”

  “Barter our services?”

  “Hey, I’m not too proud to admit planning parties and ceremonies is not my strong suit. But construction is. In my capacity as president of the MA, I can pull permits pretty quickly since they’re after you to get this done.”

  A customer walked in. Nealy took a few minutes to pour a cup of coffee and chat up the lady before returning to him. The offer was out of the blue, but she wasn’t one to refuse a good deal. But work with Dane? The ultimate clincher.

  “So?” he asked. “What do you say to my offer?”

  She hesitated. His heartfelt request had her conscience reeling. Could she do this? With him?

  “Don’t make a rash decision here, Nealy. Working with me shouldn’t stop you from getting Cuppa Joe in shape and it will keep the Merchants’ Association out of your grandmother’s hair.”

  It sounded good, but... “Give me a day to think about it.”

  He nodded before joining Max, who had taken a seat at an empty table after finishing his call.

  To be honest, there was only one answer. Was she ready to deal with the consequences?

  * * *

  DANE WALKED TO his car, his business with Max concluded and his mind on Nealy and her reluctance to accept his offer. He didn’t blame her. The trust between them had been shattered. Now he had a way to show her he had her best interests at heart. For all he knew, his gesture might go toward finally healing the past.

  He pulled car keys from his pocket, noticing a man lounging against the front bumper of his BMW. Not just any man. His father, Rich Peterson.

  Even though his folks still lived in Cypress Pointe, Dane didn’t see them very often. Last time he’d talked to his dad, he’d told Dane he had a job at the marina. Dane hoped his father hadn’t lost his job. Again.

  “Dad. What are you doing here?”

  “Nice way to greet your old man.”

  Dane kept silent. The look on his father’s face said the man was spoiling for a fight.

  “What do you want?”

  “Who says I want anything? Can’t a man visit his son?”

 
Sure he could, if visiting was the real reason behind the visit. Dane knew better.

  “Just get to the point.”

  “You’re exactly like your mother. Always have an attitude.”

  “I assume this is about Mom?”

  “I need a loan. She wants one of those new electronic tablets and I’m short on cash right now.”

  What else was new? Short on cash and wanting something. Typical. Every time his mother made a request, his dad snapped to, hoping she might love him because he met her demands. Trouble was, no matter what his father did, she was never happy, always pushing him for more. And his dad always went along with her whims. So he came to Dane, asking for a loan, which he never repaid, or to crab about the pitfalls of his marriage.

  Deep down Dane resented how his father used him, but who was he to balk? From the time he was a teenager he’d done whatever he could to keep the family peace. First, by shielding Alex from the ugliness, then later, by allowing himself to be a pawn in his parents’ game. When he was younger, he thought he was helping to keep them all together. Now he realized the enabling had gone on too long. Just like the annulment of his marriage, he’d thought he’d come up with the right decision by mediating for his parents. Now he questioned his actions.

  “Dad, she’ll survive without a tablet.”

  “You know how she gets.”

  Yeah, Dane knew.

  “Not right now.”

  His father stared at him before his eyes got mean. “You’re saying no?”

  “Look, if you want to get Mom a gift, use your money. I can’t give you any more.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since I’m tired of you coming to me when you want a handout. I’m not responsible for you two.”

  His father looked confused. “You always help.”

  “And that’s a problem. Maybe it’s time you took a good hard look at your life and make some changes.”

  “Why would I?”

  That was the sad part. His father didn’t see the circular path he was on as anything but normal. And Dane had contributed to his delusions.

  “Buying Mom stuff isn’t going to make her any happier.”