Magnolia Market (9780310330585)

  “Is that home?”

  “Not anymore. My father’s a missionary in Haiti. My mother died when I was in high school. Cancer.” The words made her stomach roil. With her mother dead and her father gone, she had allowed herself to be sucked into Cres’s world much too fast. When they got engaged, she imagined Evangeline as a surrogate mom, someone to fill the gap in her heart. Talk about wishful thinking.

  “And the husband? I take it you got a divorce.”

  “He was killed a year ago.”

  “You’re a widow? Oh, child.” Kathleen’s fingers gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles were white. “Illness?”

  “Evangeline, his mother, blames me. He looked the wrong way on a one-way street and stepped off a curb.”

  “And you saw it happen?” Horror filled Kathleen’s voice.

  She shook her head. “I wasn’t with him.”

  T. J. set up sawhorses in the market parking lot and pulled lumber from the bed of his pickup. He had promised Martha and Bill he would shore up his crude patch job and order replacement glass to repair the storefront.

  He looked at the scar on the building. What had the building looked like when it was built? Avery’s car had pulled the hideous metal siding loose across the front, revealing traditional wood underneath. Perhaps there were photographs somewhere.

  “That Broussard gal did a number on us, didn’t she?” Bill came out of the store wearing an old-fashioned butcher’s apron and his regular scowl.

  T. J. nodded. “That’s quite a chunk. Thank goodness no one was seriously injured.”

  “No one except me and Martha.”

  “You were hurt?” He swung to look at Bill.

  “Our buyer backed out when he saw the damage. I’ll have that girl’s hide.”

  “It was an accident, Bill. There were dozens of wrecks around town that day.”

  “She should have been more careful. We worked for months on that deal, and now it’s gone.” He snapped his gnarled fingers. “Just like that. That fellow said he hadn’t realized the liability that came with a store like this.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “Martha has her heart set on retiring in Hot Springs. Now what are we going to do?”

  “Things have a way of working out.” T. J. reached for his toolbox. “Maybe there’s a better buyer out there.”

  “No, sir. We’re going to get a big settlement and shut this place down. Make those fat cats pay.”

  “I’m not sure Avery has access to money like that.”

  “Someone will bail her out. That’s what rich people do.”

  T. J. wished Bud, easygoing with wisdom to spare, would show up. “Maybe you can work something out with her.”

  Bill scowled. “Your head’s been turned by her pretty face. That woman is as flaky as they come.”

  “Aren’t you being a little tough? She lost her husband in a tragic accident.”

  “I know, I know,” Bill said. “That story was the talk of the store for a month or more. But that doesn’t give her the right to plow into us.”

  Rubbing his eyes, T. J. kept his face expressionless. “We’ve all made mistakes. She seems like the type to take care of it.”

  “How do you know so much about her?”

  “Her brother-in-law and my half brother, Marsh Cameron, are friends. Our families have known each other a long time.”

  “She grew up here?”

  He shook his head. “I was in Seattle when she moved here. About the time she married Cres Broussard.”

  Bill’s upper lip curled. “I never cared for him. Thought too high of himself, if you ask me.”

  “You knew him?” Cres didn’t seem like the kind of guy to frequent a corner store.

  “Came in a few times with another pretty gal. Must’ve been before he snagged Avery.”

  T. J. strapped on his tool belt. This conversation had gone further than he intended. “I’d better get to work.”

  “And I’d better get back to the biscuit counter.”

  Lord, help me. Doing the right thing was harder than he expected.

  “Is that guy everywhere?” Avery said under her breath and pointed. “Looks like Bill’s hired someone to fix that hole.”

  Kathleen pulled into a parking place a few spots away from where T. J. worked. “Not just someone. That good-looking carpenter who gave us a ride after the wreck. What a sweetie.”

  “I think it’s creepy.” But her protest was mostly an attempt to convince herself. T. J. had shown more care for her in a couple of days than Cres had their entire last three years of marriage. “That repair work’s a positive sign, though, right?”

  Kathleen put the car in Park and made a production of turning off the engine. “Maybe it means Bill’s moved past the furious stage.”

  Avery reached for the door handle and stopped. “This is my problem. I’ll work it out.”

  “Like I told you—”

  “I know, I know. Bill’s insurance agent says you shouldn’t have left your car running. But I’m the one who hit the gas instead of the brake.”

  “It was icy. You slid.”

  Avery quirked her head. “Are you defending me?”

  “Most certainly not. You screwed up big-time. You were annoyed and not paying attention.”

  “Thanks for the ride.” Avery clenched her teeth. “I’ll call as soon as I get your money.”

  With her lips pressed together, Kathleen nodded. “Sure.”

  “I’m not a loser.”

  “Don’t drag it out too long. I get paid this week, but I don’t have a lot stuck back.”

  “Who does?” Avery stepped out, her suede boots sinking into muddy slush.

  With her head down, she walked toward the market door, forced to step around T. J. and his sawhorse. He wore a plaid flannel shirt, a pair of jeans, and work boots. His back was to her, and he was cutting a piece of plywood with a power saw. As she passed, he took a pencil from behind his ear, scratched a mark on a board, and positioned the saw again.

  Her shadow fell across the work, and he looked up. “Hey.” His attention moved to her muddy boots.

  She put her hand to her hair jammed under a felt hat, a few strands sticking out.

  “Glad to see you’re all right. You were awfully upset when you took off.”

  “No kidding.”

  He stepped toward her. “I came by your house, but there weren’t any lights on.”

  “Are you spying on me?”

  T. J. laughed, a pleasant sound. “I was about to ask you the same thing. I didn’t expect to see you back here today.” His eyes widened, and he lowered his voice. “Prepare yourself.”

  “It’s about time you showed up.” Bill’s voice was so close that Avery jumped. “These repairs will cost an arm and a leg.” Putting his hands in his pockets, he looked like a garden gnome. “And that don’t include mental distress and loss of business. My nephew estimates—”

  “Loss of business?” Avery swallowed.

  “We’ve had half the traffic we normally have on a weekday.”

  “The weather’s been awful. School’s out and most of the businesses in town are closed.” Avery tapped the sawhorse. “You didn’t miss a day of sales.”

  “We missed the only sale that mattered—your mistake cost us the sale of our store.”

  She pulled off the hat, her head sweating, and fanned her face. Her hair tumbled to her shoulders. She was a mess.

  T. J. took a step closer. “Why don’t y’all go inside and discuss this over coffee? Avery probably needs a few more details, and you look like you could use a chair, Bill.”

  Eyeing her as though she were rabid, Bill didn’t say anything.

  T. J. drew in a breath and unplugged the saw. “I’ll go with you.” He steered Avery toward the door.

  Bill stopped before they entered. “See?” He tapped on the glass. A For Sale by Owner sign was taped to the inner door. “You ruined it.”

  Avery gawked at T. J. “What is he
talking about?”

  “Their buyer backed out yesterday.” He gestured at the gash in the wall. “He didn’t want to deal with situations like this.”

  “I’ll talk to him. I can reimburse him for any expenses he incurs because of this.” Somehow.

  “Too late,” Bill said. “He made an offer this morning on another property over on Lake Bistineau.”

  “That was fast,” T. J. said.

  “He couldn’t have wrapped up a deal yet,” Avery said. “Didn’t you have a contract?”

  Bill tapped the by Owner part of the sign. “I took him at his word. I didn’t know some maniac was going to crash into my store.” He pushed open the door. “And you’re going to pay.”

  Chapter 8

  What a disaster. This situation had escalated faster than Cres had lost interest in their marriage. Avery pulled a bottle of water out of the cooler and put her money on the counter.

  Martha shuffled over to the register and rang up the sale. “Bill doesn’t mean any harm,” she said, her voice apologetic. “The insurance man says these things take time, but at our age, you don’t have much time. Bill’s getting older, and he doesn’t want to admit it.”

  “Oh, now . . .” Avery didn’t know what to say, grateful that Bill had disappeared out the front door after his most recent diatribe against insurance companies, the weather, and her.

  “We needed this sale to go through to move up to Hot Springs.”

  After taking a sip of the water, Avery replaced the cap with care. “Is that where your children are?”

  Martha’s face drooped. “The Lord didn’t bless us with children. Our customers have been our family.”

  “And brothers and sisters?”

  “We’re not close.” The regret in her voice was clear. “They didn’t approve of me marrying Bill.”

  Imagine that.

  “Over the years we went our own way.” Martha wiped the counter with a dingy cloth. “How about you? Any children?”

  Avery uncapped the water and took a long swig before shaking her head. “My husband and I were waiting until we had more money in the bank.” She gripped the water bottle so hard it made a snapping noise. “If I had known what was going to happen . . .” She didn’t finish the sentence because she wasn’t sure the words were true. Should I have tried to talk Cres into having a child? The question was one of many that haunted her.

  “You husband passed away, right? Accident somewhere, wasn’t it?”

  Looking at the clock, Avery nodded.

  Martha made a tsking noise. “Such sadness, him dying on that golfing trip.” She patted Avery’s smooth, young hand with her chapped, bony fingers, veins popping up against the thin skin. “Poor thing, you not being with him at the end.”

  Avery nodded again.

  Martha leaned into the counter. “A child would have been a comfort.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” It was hard to respond.

  “Not having a child changed my Bill. He wanted a boy from the day we married, but it wasn’t meant to be. We only have Bill’s brother’s oldest boy. Haven’t seen much of him through the years, but he’s pushing us to sell.”

  “He probably wants to spend time with you.” Avery tried not to pity the poor family members who had to deal with Bill.

  “Or to spend what money we have. He and his wife have hit a rough patch, and we’ve been helping out. It was easier when we had a buyer.” She raised and lowered her stooped shoulders.

  “I, uh, need to reach Kathleen, that woman I ran into. Do you happen to know where she works?”

  “Certainly. She’s been coming in here for years.” Martha dialed from a list tacked to the wall and stretched the cord from the old phone over the counter. Avery felt like she was attached to a rubber band that might snap at any moment.

  She exhaled when Kathleen picked up. “Dixie Metals. Mr. Barnhill’s office.”

  “Kathleen? This is Avery, the woman who ran into you.”

  “I know who you are, but in case you didn’t notice, some of us have to work. Good-bye.”

  “Wait! Please. This won’t take long.”

  “That’s what you said both days you made me late for work.”

  “I’m at the market,” Avery whispered. “Bill’s threatening to sue both of us. Things are escalating.”

  “Insurance companies handle that. I don’t have time for this.”

  “He’s planning to ruin our credit, post our pictures in the store—you name it.”

  “Avery.”

  “Says he’ll put a lien on your house if we don’t clear this up. His face is redder than your hair.”

  “Haven’t the adjustors contacted him?”

  “He told them he wanted money, not more questions, and hung up.” Avery’s voice was pitched higher now. “Martha’s weaker than usual, and Bill says the wreck killed their business. He yelled at me at the top of his lungs, with customers in the store.”

  “Maybe that’s why his business is declining.” Kathleen let out a long sigh. “I’ll come by when I get off work.”

  “Thank you.” There was a second of silence. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

  “You owe me a biscuit,” she replied gruffly.

  Avery handed Martha the phone and straightened a shelf of peanut-butter crackers and various nuts. She tried not to look at the haphazard mess that remained from her wreck. Canned goods had been shoved to one side, and a pile of broken glass remained, swept into a pile, the broom abandoned. A piece of string outlined the area like a crime scene. The Keep Out sign was scrawled in blue ink, in shaky handwriting.

  Dust had gathered in the store’s corners, most shelves were sparsely filled, and a medley of signs was stuck on various surfaces with yellowing tape.

  Martha picked up the ragged white cloth and wiped the counter. “We should have sold years ago, but this store was our life.” She gripped the stainless-steel edge on the linoleum-covered counter. “Now we need the money. I don’t think Bill can last much longer.”

  Avery buried her face in her hands for a moment. Neither of the pair looked healthy. She looked at the jumble of merchandise on the floor. “At least I can help clean that mess up.”

  Opening and closing a wrinkled hand, Martha peered down at it as though it belonged to someone else. Her eyes had a glazed look.

  “I don’t know what else to do.” Avery’s agitation grew. “I don’t even have a car. If you’ll give me the buyer’s name, I’ll tell him this was my fault.” Avery pointed to the patched wall. “We can text him a photo of the work.”

  “Oh no.” Martha snapped back to attention. “He was madder than Bill was when New Coke came out. He told us not to contact him again, that the accident nullified the deal.” She let out a puff of air. “Between you and me, I think he was looking for a reason to back out so he could buy that bait shop.”

  Through the door, Avery could see Bill propped against a truck, his face still crimson. She followed the direction of his hands where T. J. and a man wearing khaki pants and a khaki shirt stood. The trio looked toward the building front, Bill frowning. “Who’s that other guy?” Avery asked.

  Martha turned toward the door and smiled. “Bud Cameron. One of the finest men I’ve ever known. And what a craftsman.” She swayed as she looked more closely. “If T. J. and Bud can’t calm Bill down, nothing can.”

  Bill scowled and shook his finger at the boarded-up hole.

  This looked like a nothing can day to Avery.

  His voice rose, and T. J. let down the tailgate of his truck, patted it for Bill to sit down, and climbed up next to him. Bud, who looked about fifty, leaned on one arm against the truck. Avery couldn’t hear what they were saying, but T. J. looked as patient as her father when he dealt with an irate church member.

  “I heard you lost your job at that fancy dress shop.”

  Tearing her gaze from T. J.’s smile, Avery nodded. “I planned to buy that business, but the owner backed out.” She released an awkward chuckle. “Sort of
the reverse of what happened to you.”

  Martha picked up her rag and wiped the counter again. “Aren’t you kin to those people, the Broussards?”

  “They’re my husband’s family.”

  “Doesn’t that make them your family too?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Life always is. But his parents letting you down?” She shook her head, rubbing the counter harder.

  Avery searched for words. “My father taught me that things work out if we trust God.”

  “With the store open six days, we haven’t been churchgoers, but I listen on the radio. I agree that everything happens for a reason.”

  “Amen,” Avery said with a small smile. “Although the reason isn’t always what I hoped it might be.”

  “So he’s a religious man, your father?”

  “He’s a missionary in Haiti.” Her heart swelled. “He has such love for those in need.”

  “I could never do something like that.” Martha chuckled, but it sounded more like a wheeze. “I like my air-conditioning too much—and I don’t like bugs.”

  A large water bug ran from the edge of the counter as though she had summoned it, scooting underneath a rack of chips. Avery glanced at the clock again.

  “Does he collect money like that man on the radio?”

  “No. Money’s tight, but he doesn’t need much. I’ve been fortunate to be able to help.” Until now.

  “It’s harder and harder to make ends meet.” Martha waved at the store. “This place has been our bread and butter for nearly fifty years, and look at it. If it weren’t for the biscuit business, we’d have shut our doors a long time ago.”

  “They seem popular.” Avery shifted from foot to foot. Not that I have ever had one.

  “That’s my great-grandmother’s recipe from down in Natchitoches Parish. It’s been handed down for four generations.”

  Avery smiled politely. “I bet your nephew is happy to have that in the family.”

  “He doesn’t care about sentimental things.” Martha gave her head a shake, her hand trembling.

  “I’m keeping you from your work. I should start cleaning up while I wait for Kathleen.”