The Summer of New Beginnings: A Magnolia Grove Novel

by Bette Lee Crosby

  “I’ll finish up and meet you there,” Tom said as Meghan flew by his office.

  As soon as she was out the door, he called Doc Anderson.

  “We’re all set,” he said. “I’m bringing it over now.”

  Anderson laughed. “Well, hurry it up! I’m dressed and ready to go.”

  The weather in Magnolia Grove could be iffy in December. There had been years when onlookers bundled themselves in wool mufflers and hurried off minutes after the last song was sung. But this year was pleasantly warm.

  Meghan changed into a colorful Christmas sweater and winter-white slacks, and Tracy dressed Lucas in the elf suit he’d worn for the picture.

  “Hurry up, girls,” Lila called up the stairs.

  “What’s the rush?” Meghan said. “It’s early. The tree lighting doesn’t start for another hour.”

  “I want to get a spot in the front row.” Lila shrugged on a sweater and jingled her car keys.

  “I agree,” Tracy chimed in. “Lucas won’t see a thing if we get stuck in the back row. Remember that Christmas when Daddy stopped at the gas station and—”

  “Okay, okay. Spare me the details.” Meghan trailed out the door behind her mama and Tracy.

  When they arrived at the square, Tom was already there. So were Phoebe and Charles. Over by the bandstand, Bruce Prendergast was glad-handing a few businessmen, but once he spotted Lila, he gave a wide grin and hurried across to greet her. Only a handful of other spectators circled the square.

  Tom greeted Meghan with a kiss, then led everyone to a spot he deemed perfect. It was directly across from the stand where the dignitaries and newspaper reporters sat. From there you could see the tree perfectly and in the distance the steeple of the Good Shepherd Church.

  Emily and her husband arrived a few minutes later, and Tom waved them over. Behind Emily were several families from Baker Street, and before long, the square was ringed with onlookers standing three and four deep.

  “See,” Lila whispered. “It’s a good thing we got here early.”

  They had barely finished greeting friends and neighbors when the choir from Saint Michael’s arrived. By then every seat on the dignitaries’ platform was occupied. Councilman Hennessy stood and stepped to the microphone.

  “Ladies, gentlemen, children of all ages, welcome to the annual Magnolia Grove Christmas tree lighting . . . ”

  He rambled on for a few minutes, saying it had been an honor to serve as chairman of this year’s tree committee and thanking everyone who made the event possible. With a wave of his hand, he gave the signal, and the Saint Michael’s choir broke into song.

  After a medley of “Joy to the World,” “Jingle Bells,” and a number of other songs, the mayor stepped to the microphone. As he spoke about the town’s growth and a bright future for its businesses, Tom nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other. It seemed an interminably long time, but finally the mayor threw the switch, and the tree came alive with colored lights.

  “Y’all be sure to stay around now,” he said, “because there’s more music, and Santa is on his way.”

  In the distance, they could already hear Doc Anderson clanging his bell and hollering, “Ho, ho, ho.” When he rounded the corner and came into view, the Saint Michael’s choir broke into their rendition of “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town.” The kids grew wide-eyed, and everyone cheered.

  Well-padded and outfitted in the traditional red suit, Anderson made his way through the crowd, handing out candy canes and small toys. When he got to the spot where Meghan was standing, he gave an exceptionally jovial “Ho, ho, ho!”

  “Let’s see now, missy,” he said. “I think I just might have something in here for you . . . ”

  Meghan chuckled as he stood there rummaging through the pillowcase sack.

  “Ah, here it is.” He handed her a small package wrapped in shiny gold paper and tied with a red bow.

  Meghan took the box and turned it in her hand. There was no tag, no marking to show who it was from, or even whether it was actually meant for her. “Are you certain this is for me?” she asked.

  Doc Anderson gave a broad grin. “Oh, I’m very certain.” Placing a hand on his pillowed stomach, he gave a jolly laugh. “One of my elves made sure this gift was at the top of Santa’s list!”

  Meghan tugged the end of the bow, loosened the ribbon, and began to peel back the gold paper. Inside was a small square box, and atop the box a tiny label written in a familiar hand. It said, “To Meghan, with love, Tom.”

  She drew in a quick breath and turned to him.

  “Open it,” he said, grinning ear to ear.

  The crowd suddenly became silent, and it seemed all eyes were on Meghan. She lifted the lid, and a note folded over several times dropped into her palm. Beneath the folded paper, she saw the sparkle of a diamond.

  Her hand trembled as she unfolded the note, and as she began to read, a lump rose in her throat.

  “Read it aloud,” somebody shouted.

  She glanced up at Tom, and when he nodded his encouragement, she began to speak.

  “Meghan Briggs, I love you more than anything in this entire world. Please say you’ll marry me and be my partner for life. I will love you always, Tom.”

  Tears filled her eyes, and she lifted her face to his.

  “Yes,” she said in a whisper-thin voice.

  “What’d she say?” another voice shouted.

  “She said yes!” Tom hollered back. Then he circled his arm around her waist and bent to kiss her. Everyone cheered, and cameras began to flash.

  “I love you so very, very much,” he said as he took the ring from the box and slid it onto her finger. By some odd coincidence, it was the perfect size.

  The following Thursday, when the Magnolia Grove Weekly came out, the headline for the Living Well section read, SHE SAID YES! The article told of how Santa had delivered happiness to the town’s new veterinarian.

  Weeks later, when the excitement of the season had faded into sweet memories, Meghan sat on her bed leafing through the composition book that told of that marvelous night and the days that followed.

  That composition book was the only one that didn’t go into the box beneath her bed. It was tied with a white ribbon and kept by her bedside. In time she would add a sprig of pale-blue forget-me-nots to the ribbon and tuck it into the drawer on her side of the bed.

  Once a year, on December fifteenth, she would take it from the drawer, sit propped up in bed with Tom at her side, and read the pages she’d written. Reading the words and touching her finger to the photos taken that night, she could forever remember it exactly as it had been.

  Lila

  In the terrible time after George’s death, I wondered how I would make it from one day to the next. Back then I was certain I would never again know happiness, but here I am with my heart as full and joyous as any mother’s could be.

  Last summer Meghan married Tom. She’d planned a small family service at the Good Shepherd Church, but half the town showed up.

  Once I realized that Tom had invited everyone he knew, I started cooking up a storm. We set up tables in the backyard, and the crowd rivaled that of the annual tree lighting. Even though Meghan didn’t expect it to be such a party, that wasn’t the only surprise. The last one Tom kept to himself until their wedding day.

  He and Meghan walked down the aisle together, and when it came time to exchange the rings, he gave a low whistle. At first I thought maybe he’d forgotten to give Tracy the rings, but seconds later, Sox came trotting down the aisle with a little basket in his mouth. Needless to say, everyone in the church applauded.

  This weekend they’re off in Atlanta celebrating their anniversary and her certification. I don’t need to ask if Meghan’s happy working at the clinic—I can see it in her face and in the way her eyes sparkle when she talks about her patients. That’s what she calls them—patients. She still writes in her journals and does a lifestyle column for the Magnolia Grove Weekly. She claims tha
t although she’ll never follow in the footsteps of Henry W. Grady, she’s happier than she could have ever dreamed possible.

  Whatever worry Meghan once had about the Snip ’N’ Save is long gone. Tracy has taken over and is handling it beautifully. The odd thing is that such a responsibility doesn’t keep her tied to the computer the way it did Meghan. Somehow Tracy manages to find time to take Lucas to his therapy classes and spend an occasional evening with Gabriel. She claims they’re not a “thing,” but I’ve noticed the way he looks at her, so I imagine it’s only a matter of time.

  It seems that every day Lucas learns a new word. It’s because of Tracy. She sits him on her lap while she’s working at the computer and pulls up pictures for him to identify. When I tell her what a good job she’s done teaching Lucas to talk, she laughs and says we have Meghan to thank. Of course, Meghan claims it’s not her but Sox we should be thanking.

  Personally I’m thankful for every single one of them—Meghan, Tom, Tracy, Gabriel, Lucas, and yes, even Sox. Together we’re a wonderful family, and I don’t think there’s a mother in the world who can ask for anything more than that. The only piece missing is George.

  Meghan claims he’s not really gone, that he still watches over us. She believes George is the one who brought Sox into our lives.

  Thinking back on the miracles of that summer, I’m inclined to agree.

  Acknowledgments

  No successful novel is the work of a single person. Even the most skilled novelist is only as good as the people who support her. I am fortunate to be working with the Lake Union team, one that I consider the best in the business.

  First and foremost my heartfelt thanks go to my agent, Pamela Harty, for contacting me out of the blue and then so generously sharing her wisdom, advice, and guidance. In addition to her many virtues, she is patient beyond belief.

  I also owe a huge debt of gratitude to Danielle Marshall, Lake Union editorial director, for taking time to meet with me in the midst of a hectic conference schedule and for believing in me as much as I believe in myself.

  I am most fortunate to be working with Alicia Clancy, my editor. As a fellow Southerner and dog lover, she has taken this book to her heart and carefully given it all the attention I could possibly wish for. And to Lindsay Guzzardo, my developmental editor, I am extremely grateful for such insightful guidance and suggestions that helped me grow beyond myself. I could not have wished for a better partner on this journey.

  My utmost thanks also goes to Stacy Abrams, my copyeditor; Nicole Pomeroy, my production manager; and Sarah Vostok, my proofreader, for their attention to detail and thoughtful edits. And to my author relations manager, Gabriella Dumpit, for so carefully seeing this project through to completion and welcoming me as she has to the Lake Union team.

  To Ekta Garg and Coral Russell, I give my heartfelt thanks for their constant support and unending friendship. I would be lost without such wonderful friends.

  I also owe a huge debt of gratitude to the ladies of my BFF Clubhouse, loyal fans, friends, and followers who buy my books, share them with friends, and take time to write reviews. Without such fans, my stories would grow dusty on the shelf.

  Lastly, I am thankful beyond words for my husband, Dick, who puts up with my crazy hours, irrational thinking, and late or nonexistent dinners. He is my rock, the foundation of my day-to-day existence. From the very start, he believed in me, believed that I could fly, that I could reach up and touch a star; not only did he believe but he also gave me the place and the means by which to do so. For this I will be eternally grateful. I would not be who I am without Dick, for he is and will always be my greatest blessing.

  About the Author

  Photo © 2017 Brian Adams Photography

  Bette Lee Crosby is the USA Today bestselling author of eighteen novels, including Spare Change and the Wyattsville series. She has been the recipient of the Royal Palm Literary Award, Reviewer’s Choice Award, FPA President’s Book Award, International Book Award, and Next Generation Indie Award, among many others. Her 2016 novel, Baby Girl, was named Best Chick Lit of the Year by Huffington Post. She laughingly admits to being a night owl and a workaholic, claiming that her guilty pleasure is late-night chats with fans and friends on Facebook and Goodreads. To learn more about Bette Lee Crosby’s work, stop by her website at www.betteleecrosby.com or visit her Amazon Author Page.