Magnolia Market (9780310330585)

by Christie, Judy

  “I won’t roll over the way I did on the boutique. We’ll get Magnolia Market.”

  Kathleen glanced at the clock. “I need to make a phone call. I’m taking Howie for a walk.”

  Avery, lips pursed, watched her head out the back door. What was she up to? Was the hassle with the market too much? Or was there trouble with her daughter?

  Davis still stood at the counter, sipping on a cup of coffee.

  “Bet you wished you’d gone straight to work today,” Avery said.

  “Are you kidding?” His mouth quirked into a half smile. “I’ve paid good money for movies that aren’t half as good as the show at this place.”

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with her. We’re keyed up about our offer, but she’s been jumping up every few minutes.”

  He shrugged. “She’s probably nervous.”

  “I suppose.” Avery sighed and pointed to the parking lot. “Just what we need. Another visitor in a fancy car.”

  “I’d better get going.” Davis snapped his fingers. “One of my customers said you should look into one of those local foundation grants. Some of them help small businesses trying to fix up neighborhoods.”

  “Oh, Davis! That’s a great idea,” Avery called as he walked away. “Thanks for your encouragement. And for protecting me from your aunt.”

  He was still laughing when he reached the door, then paused to hold it open for the approaching woman. “Hi. Welcome to the loony bin.”

  “Davis!” Avery chuckled, but he seemed focused on the customer. Thora Fairfield.

  A curious smile crossed Thora’s face when she looked up at Davis. She wore a pair of jeans and a blue-and-white striped long-sleeved T-shirt under a red-denim jacket. She had aged well. And she didn’t belong here, as she hadn’t belonged in the midst of Avery’s marriage.

  But Davis didn’t seem to share that sentiment. When she walked past him, he turned and opened his eyes wide, throwing Avery an “okay?” sign. For a second, she thought he was going to follow her into the store.

  Thora looked around the market and headed for the counter. “No wonder the asking price has gone up. This place looks great.”

  Avery stood by the register. “Don’t let the mighty Creswell hear that. He’s not patient with people who disagree with him.”

  “So I’ve learned.”

  It was hard not to stare at Thora’s solemn face, to wonder why Cres had chosen her. But that was a waste of effort now. “I’m guessing you aren’t here for lunch,” she said instead.

  Thora inhaled. “It smells good, but no.” She kept looking around.

  Avery scooted from around the counter, going face-to-face with the woman who stood about six inches shorter than she did. They stood for a split second, then Thora spoke.

  “I want to apologize.”

  Avery studied her, expecting a rush of victory. But the words didn’t bring the expected satisfaction. She had moved on.

  But she couldn’t make it quite that easy, so she assumed the look she gave when customers picked over baked goods and didn’t make a purchase. She didn’t speak.

  “I made a terrible mistake in getting involved with Cres.” Thora chewed on her bottom lip. “And I’ve been a coward. I should have called you when he died.”

  The refrigerator case hummed, and Avery didn’t blink.

  “I was a kid when I first went out with Cres.”

  Enough is enough. “Got it. You were young and stupid. Weren’t we all?”

  “Will you forgive me?”

  Avery shrugged. “I suppose.”

  “You’re supposed to make this harder. Make me squirm.”

  Avery exhaled. “Did you really have to come here?”

  Thora touched the base of her neck, the white-gold bracelet sliding almost to her elbow.

  Avery reached out and tapped it. “Why do you still wear this?”

  “I don’t know.” She took a step back. “I guess it’s a tangible reminder of a day when things seemed happier.”

  “A child isn’t tangible enough?”

  Thora took another step back. “So you did see Beau last week.”

  Beau. He not only has a face, he has a name.

  “That’s why you came here today, isn’t it?”

  “Partly,” Thora said. “I beg you not to say anything. I’ll do whatever you ask.”

  “Don’t his grandparents have a right to know?”

  “Yes.” She met Avery’s gaze. “But I’m afraid they’ll try to control his life the way they did Cres’s. I couldn’t bear it.”

  “So you went to work for Creswell? That’s logical.”

  “I want to get to know them, maybe see if time does heal. I even saw Evangeline socially once.” Thora gave a quick shake of her head. “Not the right approach.”

  “What about your son’s uncle? Any child would be blessed to have Ross in his life. He still hurts over Cres, and Beau might help him move on.”

  “I regret that the most,” Thora said, “other than what I did to you.”

  “A baby’s a mighty big secret to keep in a small town.”

  “I live in Shreveport, and Beau stays with his grandparents while I’m at work.” She fidgeted with the bracelet. “He’s never been to Samford, and we’re staying in more after . . . after we ran into you that night.”

  “Doesn’t sound like much of a life.”

  “Anywhere with Beau is good.” The love on Thora’s face was almost dazzling. “I’m amazed every day that something so pure could have come out of the ugliest thing I’ve ever done.”

  “It’s your decision,” Avery said after a moment. “I won’t tell.”

  The same words she had said to Creswell Sr.

  The back door to the store opened, and Howie gave a welcoming bark before darting into the storeroom. “We’re b-a-a-a-ck,” Kathleen called out and then stopped. “I didn’t know we had a customer. Need any help?”

  “She’s not a customer.”

  Kathleen raised her eyebrows.

  “This is Thora Fairfield.”

  “I see.” Kathleen shot Avery a quick look, her expression furious. She stopped by the register. “I’ll handle things here if you want to . . . I don’t know. Talk in private? Run her over with your car?”

  Thora surrendered a tiny smile. “I came to apologize.”

  “You’re like one of those sports stars,” Kathleen scoffed. “The ones who beg forgiveness because they got caught.”

  “Avery, could you and I have this conversation alone?” Thora’s voice rose.

  “Afraid not. Kathleen and I are a team.”

  Kathleen nodded. “Let me guess. You didn’t know Cres and Avery were engaged when you started going out.”

  “I didn’t!”

  “And our wedding conveniently skipped your mind too? Because as I recall, you were there wearing one of your red dresses. And obviously you kept seeing him.” Avery glanced at Kathleen. “Her son’s name is Beau.”

  “Cute.”

  Thora’s face flushed. “When I was in law school, Cres came to New Orleans on business.”

  “He did that a lot,” Avery said.

  “My boyfriend had dumped me—”

  “How convenient,” Kathleen muttered.

  “I agreed to have dinner. He told me you were separated.”

  “Do you want to listen to this, Avery?” Kathleen frowned.

  Thora continued before Avery could answer. “I knew it was a mistake before the evening was over. We had words, and he left.” She looked down at her hands. “An hour later he was killed.”

  Avery’s eyes widened. All these years she had begrudged Thora sharing her husband’s last moments. “You weren’t there?”

  She shook her head, her lips pursed. “I was at my apartment when Creswell called.”

  “Of course.” Avery’s stomach flopped.

  “Now that you’ve tossed your burden on my friend’s shoulders, how about leaving?” Kathleen said. “We’re expecting paying customers.” />
  “You’re fortunate to have a friend like her, Avery. I won’t come here again.”

  “That’s a good idea.” Avery nodded. “But, for what it’s worth, I’ve forgiven you.”

  “A real good idea,” Kathleen said. “Have a nice day.”

  Thora walked through the door, then paused by the new trash can on the edge of the parking lot. She slipped the bracelet from her wrist, dropped it in, got in her car, then drove off.

  Avery flinched and headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?” Kathleen yelled.

  “Do you know how many children in Haiti that bracelet can help?”

  Chapter 37

  On Monday, Martha peered out the back window of the Brown Beast as though released from prison. Getting her in the car had been a chore, but seeing her in the rearview mirror, Avery was glad she had made the effort.

  “I wish spring would get here.” Martha’s voice was shaky.

  “It won’t be long now.” Avery gave a small laugh. “A little more daylight would sure make those early mornings easier.”

  “Running the store is hard, isn’t it? But you meet the nicest people.”

  “You certainly do.” Customers were eager for someone to listen. Avery had discovered how much she enjoyed being on the other end of a conversation.

  “We may need to stay open later this summer, Bill,” Martha said. “Customers stay out later when it’s light outside.”

  Avery shot a look into the backseat and then at Bill, who had insisted on sitting up front. “You’ve changed your mind?”

  “Don’t worry,” Martha said. “We’ll keep you on, won’t we, Bill?”

  “I’ll think about it.” He looked at Avery and lowered his voice. “She’s not herself since that heart attack.” He tapped his temple. “That hospital stay really took it out of her. Sometimes she’s perfect, and then she gets confused. She can’t remember that you made an offer.”

  “I didn’t realize . . .”

  “Comes with getting old, I reckon. The doctors say she might have a touch of dementia. Most folks don’t notice.” Bill cleared his throat. “But I still don’t know why you wanted to give us a danged tour.”

  “I don’t want you to have regrets.”

  “Do I need to take an ad out in the newspaper? I’ve told you, Kathleen, Bud, T. J., Greg . . . My regret is not becoming a city employee like my brother. Steady paycheck and health insurance. Good hours. Martha could’ve been an art teacher, and we might have found a way to have a baby. Even adopted.” He rubbed his chin. “She’s good with kids and a good artist. We made a mistake when we bought the market.”

  Something twisted in Avery’s stomach. Are we making a mistake? Is this a bad idea?

  “Magnolia Market was not a mistake,” Martha said. “We had a lot of good years there.”

  “Thanks for sharing it with me,” Avery said.

  “You’ve been a big help this past month.” Bill wiped at his eyes.

  Avery noticed the signs of his fatigue. He had lost weight, and the wrinkles on his face reminded her of the hound dog on a childhood cartoon.

  “Let’s go on.” He coughed. “Might as well get a last look at the old place.”

  “Did you know we’re moving to Hot Springs?” Martha asked. “With both of us getting old, we’re going to—” She stopped. “What’s it called, Bill?”

  “Assisted living. Someone else will do all the work for a change.”

  “Greggie’s taking care of things,” Martha said. “He’s such a good boy.”

  Bill let out a sigh. “Greg’s a greedy con man,” he said in a low, angry voice. “He tried to put us in a nursing home in Samford.”

  “I’ve always loved this part of town,” Martha said as they approached the light at Trumpet and Vine. “It has such character.”

  She beamed as Avery pulled the station wagon into the parking lot. “You didn’t tell me we put up a new sign.”

  “Remember, sweetheart? Bud carved it.” Bill swiped at his eyes again and turned to look out the other window. “Martha drew that magnolia logo when we first bought the store.”

  A lump grew in Avery’s throat. “It’s lovely.”

  “Pull up there.” He gestured to the front door. “But keep your foot on the brake.”

  “I’m still not quite sure how—”

  Martha chuckled. “That’s not the first time this store’s been run into—”

  “Martha,” Bill said, “stop your yapping.”

  “You said you were going to tell her.”

  “I said ‘one of these days.’ That’s not today.” He opened the car door before Avery put the car into Park and used his cane to lift himself. “Let’s get this over with. I want to get home in time to watch the news.”

  Helping Martha out of the car took both of them. “Put your hand on my arm, and take it slow. Avery’s got your walker.”

  “I’ll take your other arm,” Avery said, but Martha shook her head, not speaking.

  “Pork chop, you’re not having a spell, are you?” Bill murmured.

  Pork chop?

  “No, Crawdaddy. I’m taking it all in.” She patted Bill’s hand. “It looks almost like it did when we first bought it.”

  Bill covered her hand with his, in the crook of his arm. “You were a young filly. Told me I’d better treat you right or you’d go back to your mama and daddy.”

  “I did a time or two, didn’t I?” Martha’s weak chuckle had turned into a full laugh. “But you always wooed me back.”

  Avery picked at her fingernails, a habit she had given up in high school. This was as uncomfortable as her bridal shower at the country club.

  “I hope you don’t expect me to carry you over that threshold, Martha, because I don’t have that in me.”

  “Phooey,” Martha said. “You could do it in a New York minute, but I don’t want you down in your back.”

  Bill gave a laugh. “Let’s go see what Miss Fancy-pants has done to the place.”

  Avery bolted to the door and held the screen while pushing open the main door. “Kathleen, we’re here.”

  “Howdy, everybody.” Greg stepped out of the back. “Took y’all long enough.” He eyed Avery. “Store was locked up when I got here with a note on the door. Some kind of shop help this one is!”

  Avery frowned and dug the beat-up cell phone out of her purse. Sure enough, there was a text message: JOB-INTERVIEW EMERGENCY. HORRIBLE TIMING. STORE LOCKED. BACK SOON. SOOOO SORRY. XOXO KM.

  Greg walked over to kiss Martha on the cheek and shake hands with Bill.

  “I told you not to come here again.” Bill guided Martha to the old desk chair behind the counter.

  Greg ambled to the soft-drink cooler. “You’re making a big mistake. Creswell Broussard is willing to beat any other offer.” Greg glanced at Avery. “This is a prime piece of real estate, and you’re tying it up for years in some lame lease deal.”

  Avery halted in front of the counter and started to speak. But then she closed her mouth. With Bill and Martha in their old seats, she felt like she had walked into someone’s living room without knocking.

  Bill’s eyes were focused on Martha, who braced herself against the counter as she rose. She could have been meeting an old friend after a long separation. She waddled out from behind the counter, holding onto it as she moved. “Everything’s so clean. It smells good too.”

  “You left things in great shape,” Avery said. “You and Bill built a good business here.”

  “Is this where we shop, Bill?” Martha stopped to rub her hand on the glass.

  “No, dear, this is our store.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” With excruciating slowness, she made her way back to where Bill stood.

  Avery fought back tears as Bill eased Martha into the old desk chair, but then he opened the cash register and thumbed through the money. “Doesn’t look like my nephew has been in the till this time.”

  Greg’s eyes widened. “You’d better deposit thos
e. You don’t want that kind of cash lying around.”

  Bill shook his head and placed the money back into the drawer, then closed it with a ding. “This is Avery’s store now.”

  “So you own this place?” Martha looked across the counter at Avery. “I can tell you love it.”

  “Very much.” Avery swallowed, while Greg moved closer to the register.

  “Creswell Broussard is willing to beat Avery’s offer. It would be an outright sale—none of this lease-to-own rigmarole. You could get your hands on more money sooner.”

  Bill sat on his stool, the place he sat the first time Avery had ever seen him. He picked up his big ring of keys from the counter, rubbing the door key with his fingers. “Don’t you mean you could get your hands on more money sooner?”

  Greg scowled.

  Martha put her hand up on the brass keys of the cash register. “This nice lady is going to buy it.” She gave Avery a bright smile. “She works for us. Have you met her, Greggie?”

  “She’s a good one.” Bill put his hand on Martha’s shoulder. “Pork chop, you ready to go home?”

  Martha stood, clinging to Bill’s arm. “I’ll be ready as soon as I make the biscuits.”

  “I’ll take care of those, Martha,” Avery said, her voice soft. And she dashed her hand at the tears that trickled down her cheek.

  Chapter 38

  May I help—?” Avery stopped midquestion.

  Kathleen beamed as Avery’s flushed we’re-out-of-biscuits-already? look disappeared. If Prince William and his wife, Kate, had walked through that door, Avery could not have looked more astonished—or thrilled.

  “Surprise!” Kathleen said.

  But Avery was already running—how did she do that in those heels?—into her father’s arms. “Daddy? What? How?” And then she quit talking and settled into his arms, tears pouring down her face.

  “Happy birthday a month late, baby girl.” Morris sniffed. And he hugged her again, causing tears to pop into Kathleen’s eyes. “You look wonderful—and so happy.” He wiped his eyes.

  When Morris Theriot had exited the airplane, Kathleen was certain she had made a mistake. Expecting an old preacher with stooped shoulders and gray hair, she nearly walked past the man striding off with the gait of an athlete.