by Becki Willis
Home Again: Starting Over
The Sisters, Texas Mystery Series, Book 4
By Becki Willis
Copyright ©2016 by Becki Willis
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be copied, shared, or reproduced without written consent of the author.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, businesses, and interaction with these people and places are purely fictional and a figment of the writer’s imagination.
Books by Becki Willis
He Kills Me, He Kills Me Not
Forgotten Boxes
Mirrors Don’t Lie Series
The Girl from Her Mirror, Book 1
Mirror, Mirror on Her Wall, Book 2
Light from Her Mirror, Book 3
The Sisters, Texas Mystery Series
Chicken Scratch, Book 1
When the Stars Fall, Book 2
Stipulations and Complications, Book 3
Home Again: Starting Over, Book 4
Spring 2017: Genny’s Ballad, Book 5
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Home Again: Starting Over
The Sisters, Texas Mystery Series, Book 4
Books by Becki Willis
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Author’s Note:
About the Author
CHAPTER ONE
Curls of smoke swirled upward. A small gust of wind stirred the night air, breathing life into the tiny flame. It flickered with uncertainty, hovering somewhere between extinction and survival.
The dry grasses surrounding it—parched from another Texas summer with too little rain—begged the light to survive. Teased it to come forward and dance within their brittle blades. Coaxed it to leap from one dry stem to another.
The tiny flame grew braver. Stronger.
No longer wavering, the flickering light decided to live.
In no time at all, an entire dry field had burst into flame.
***
According to Granny Bert, August in Texas wasn’t for wimps. “It’s what separates the real Texans from the wannabes,” she insisted. “I’m thinking of putting in a hot tub, just so I can cool off every morning. Folks who can’t handle the humidity don’t deserve the title of Texan.”
On days like today, Madison Reynolds wondered if she secretly fell into that undeserving category. Her clothes clung to her like a second skin, stuck in places that would make a virgin blush. After spending good money on a fashionable new cut, her brown hair hung limp and lifeless on the ends, while frizzing around her face in tiny corkscrews. Moisture gathered on her upper lip to mimic a bad mustache.
Humidity was not her friend.
Madison stepped into the blast of dense morning air, immediately mourning the air-conditioned comfort of her car. She waited for the fog to clear from her sunglasses and the breath to return to her lungs.
“This has been a miserable summer,” she grumbled aloud. With the twins in Dallas and Brash off in a dozen directions fulfilling his duties as All-American hero, she spent most of the summer alone.
“Okay, you can stop feeling sorry for yourself.” Madison gave herself the pep talk as she entered the blessed cool air of Lone Star Law Offices. “The heat index is down to a hundred and ten, so there’s hope that summer will eventually end. You decided what tile to use in the downstairs laundry room and the library is almost completed. You pick the kids up this weekend. And you have an actual client again. Things are looking up.”
That new client was Attorney Shawn Bryant. After the unexpected death of his secretary last month, the lawyer hired Madison’s small firm, In a Pinch Professional Services, to organize his office.
Buoyed by her own encouraging words, Madison tackled the scattered files atop the desk. It was her job to decipher and revamp the late Gloria Jeffers’ unique filing system. After three days of filing, she still was not done.
Her cell phone rang, flashing a familiar number across the screen. Madison fanned herself as she greeted her caller, still wilted after the short walk from the car to the office. “Hey, Gen, what’s up?”
Madison could hear bubbles of excitement in her best friend’s voice. “You are never going to believe this!”
“Oh?” She kept her response low key, knowing the announcement could go either way. With Genny, it could mean anything from discovering a new recipe to hitting the Texas Lotto jackpot. Genesis Baker was one of those rare and special people who found pleasure in most all aspects of life.
“I have a new job for you, and you’ll never guess who it is with! Are you ready for this?” Too excited to wait for Maddy’s answer, she gushed, “None other than Carson Elliot!”
Madison’s mouth twisted in thought as she tried to place the name. “I’ve heard that name before. Who is he, again?”
Genny’s voice morphed into a falsetto of jaunty sophistication. “Only the Sisters’ most suave and debonair citizen. Our very own version of Fred Astaire.”
“Oh, yes, right. The dance instructor. So what’s the job?”
“He didn’t say. That’s why we’re meeting him at his house this afternoon.”
“We?”
There was a slight hesitation before her friend answered. “He asked that I come along.”
“He did?” It wasn’t that she doubted her friend’s word, but it was an odd request.
“Welllll,” Genny said, drawing the word out dubiously, “he said he hoped to see me again very soon, as he handed me directions to his house. I think he just assumed I would bring you.”
“I guess since I don’t have an office, he assumes I don’t have a car, either,” Madison scoffed.
Genny was quick to assure her, “You know you are welcome to your booth here for as long as you like.”
Until now, that back booth at her friend’s restaurant had been her official unofficial office space. Not the best in terms of confidentiality for her clients, but the only thing she could afford.
“And while I do appreciate your generous offer, conducting business from the back booth of a very busy restaurant is not quite the vibe I’m going for.”
Genny ignored the sarcasm with her customary optimism. “Your office will be done soon. Nick and Kiki are in here eating. Before the fans got wind of it and swarmed the place, I overheard them saying your office is all but done. Then all hell broke loose when Kaci Gill and Latricia Jefferson burst through the door and rushed over to Kiki, begging for her autograph.” There was a great noise in the background, followed by Genny’s exaggerated groan. “Oh, great. Now a news crew has shown up. I gotta go, but call me later, okay? We need to be at the dance studio around four.”
As her friend hung up the phone, Madison’s answer was a weary sigh.
Life in Juliet and Naomi, Texas—collectively known as The Sisters—had forever changed when she signed that contract. Agreeing to be guinea pig for a new home-makeover reality show was the only way she could afford renovating her aging Victorian and making it suitable for a modern-day fa
mily. The television show was an instant hit on national TV, thanks in part to Nick Vilardi and Kiki Paretta. The attention was great for businesses in the small towns, especially for Genny’s café where much of the off-site filming took place. But the fame, and the fans that came with it, made privacy an issue. Everyone wanted their own fifteen minutes of fame.
“Note to self,” she mumbled aloud. “The next time someone offers to remodel my home for free in exchange for doing a TV show, say no. Capital ‘N.’”
Madison hummed the alphabet song beneath her breath as she concentrated on filing. She had sung the song hundreds of times when the twins were still infants, hoping to give her children the advantage of knowing the basics long before kindergarten. Blake picked up on the string of letters early, but Bethani struggled with anything past ‘g.’ It hardly helped that her speech was slurred and most of her words were in gibberish. Her twin brother often had to translate for her, relaying her thoughts to those around them; how he understood was anyone’s guess. It was probably one of those uncanny twin things.
Tears misted her eyes. Without Blake and Bethani racing through the house, Granny Bert’s old craftsman seemed empty and sad. There was no fighting over the television remote, no arguing about who rode shotgun. Madison found it oddly depressing to flip through the channels at her own leisure. She never thought she would miss going grocery shopping, either, but without her fifteen-year-old son there eating his way through the summer, she had only been to the grocery store once in the past two weeks.
She picked up her phone to text them, asking how things were going in Dallas. She knew both enjoyed visiting with their old friends; not so much with their grandparents.
Not for the first time, she wondered if she had done the right thing by letting Blake and Bethani go for a visit. True, Annette and Charles were their grandparents, and loved the children in their own small, selfish way. In turn, the twins loved the staid older couple in their own open, selfless way. Kids were like that. They loved unconditionally, even when grownups did not deserve it.
Annette Reynolds made no secret of the fact that she disapproved of Madison’s life choices. To be completely accurate, she disapproved of Madison. Period. Her latest contention was her daughter-in-law’s involvement with a lowly reality show. She pretended it was concern for the twins, claiming national fame exposed them to potential dangers and sexual perverts. But Maddy knew the real reason Annette objected; she felt such common behavior besmirched the memory of her beloved son and the holy Reynolds name.
Madison gave a mirthless snicker. Grayson had done enough to ruin their good name, long before his untimely death last November. Having an affair wasn’t even the worst of it. Cheating clients out of their hard-earned money, dodging the IRS, and burning through their life savings had been the greater evil.
Her phone binged with a reply from Blake.
You’re still coming Friday, right?
She wrote back with, Of course.
Bethani weighed in on the group text. I’m helping with the decorations for Saturday. Sort of. Grandmother hired a party planner, but she’s letting me do some of the table arrangements.
Madison’s mouth turned downward.
How big is this party going to be? she typed.
Pretty huge. You know Grandmother.
Unfortunately, she did. With rumors that the IRS was looking into Gray’s business dealings, Annette combatted the slight to their family name the only way she knew how; she was hosting a party. A gala, to be more accurate. She was throwing an extravagant event for Dallas’ elite, while throwing a huge amount of cash at a local charity. All in Gray’s honor, of course.
Can we go out for pizza before the party? They’ll have those tiny little appetizers and dainty portions for dinner. This from Blake.
Madison smiled and typed back her reply. We’ll see. I would hate to see you starve.
Her phone binged again with his answer. She could practically hear the whine. You have no idea. It’s pretty bad. Headed out now with Toby. Stopping to grab a burger before we meet the rest of the guys for movie and dinner. Gotta go. LYB.
Madison laughed aloud. It sounded just like her son. Love you bunches, too. Beth, what are you doing tonight?
She could imagine her daughter’s shrug. Guess we’ll go to the mall.
Did she detect a bit of boredom in her daughter’s lack-luster reply? As little as a year ago, going to the mall had been the highlight of the teen’s existence. That was before they moved to Juliet. Before she had tried out for cheerleader and made a new best friend, one who preferred sports and riding horses over movie theaters and malls. Was Bethani truly missing her new life in The Sisters, or was Maddy reading too much into this? She typed a positive reply.
I saw Megan today. She really misses you. She can’t wait for you to come home.
There was a long pause before the teenager answered. Where did you see her?
Madison knew what she was asking. She wanted to know if it had been in the presence of her best friend’s father. Maddy’s mouth dipped into another frown.
Sadly enough, seeing Megan had nothing to do with Brash. Between his football camp for underprivileged youth and several law enforcement conferences, Maddy had hardly seen the police chief over the summer.
She typed out a reply to her daughter. She came by to visit and to bring back your blue-striped top. I think she’s just lonely, with her best friend and her dad both out of town.
There. That should put her fears to rest.
After a few more brief messages, they both signed off and Madison turned her full attention back to work.
When she reached the bottom folder on the stack, she noticed the missing tab. A quick search still left her empty handed. After a moment of hesitation, Madison flipped the folder open. One glance told her that it housed an assortment of files, none of them pertaining to the same client. Most of them did not even share the same initial.
“Oh, Miss Gloria, what did you do?” she groaned aloud. The entire filing system had been a disaster, and now this. What if all the folders were as unorganized and haphazard as this one was? The thought of going through each and every folder was terrifying.
Madison talked herself down off the ledge. “Maybe you put all these in one folder, thinking you would sort through them later,” she reckoned. “Maybe this was your time-saving method at the end of the day.” A long-suffering sigh escaped her. “No matter. It’s up to me to sort them out.”
Madison laid the files on the desk to sort them alphabetically. It would make finding their proper homes that much easier. She had barely started when Shawn Bryant called, asking her to locate and bring a particular file to him at the County Courthouse in Riverton.
She scooped the papers back into the folder and stashed the entire mess away for later, deciding this was as good a stopping point as any. Genny had that appointment lined up for her this afternoon with a new client. If she stopped now, she had plenty of time to find and deliver the needed papers and still make their four o’clock meeting. She would sort the files when she returned on Monday.
Assuming, of course, that she survived the weekend in Dallas.
CHAPTER TWO
“So tell me. Why the fascination with Carson Elliot?” Madison asked, somewhat amused by Genny’s excitement. Her friend all but bounced up and down as they turned onto the highway and headed south.
“Are you kidding me? Have you ever seen the man?”
“Not that I am aware of.”
“I’d say he’s in his mid-sixties, but very well preserved, if you know what I mean. Dark hair, dark skin. I think he must have some Italian or Latino background.” Genny flexed her mouth as she pondered his heritage.
“Doesn’t sound like anyone I’ve seen around town. What kind of dance does he teach?”
“You name it, he teaches it. That I am aware of, he offers ballroom dancing, ballet, artistic expression, country line dancing, and modern dance.” She ticked each one off on her fingers. “Th
e man is a genius.”
“That’s quite a range! Where did this guy come from?”
Genny shrugged. “He’s a bit mysterious about his past. I know he was in the Army and stationed overseas when he fell in love with an exotic dancer. She’s the one who taught him to appreciate dance. He came home minus the girl, studied the art form, and glided his way to fame. He once danced on Broadway, you know. A few years ago he left the Big Apple and came home to Texas. I’m not sure how he settled on The Sisters, but we can always ask.” She flashed a dimpled smile.
Madison chuckled at her friend’s obvious fascination with the man. “I’m sure you will. What else do you know about him? And how do you know all this?”
“Word of mouth, internet.” Another flash of dimples with the guilty admission, “Google search.”
“You’re really impressed with this guy, aren’t you?”
“He’s very interesting. Did you know he taught lessons for several people who appeared on Dancing with Dreams?”
“I’ve never watched the show,” Madison admitted.
“Not even when John Paul Nobles was on it?” Genny knew Madison had harbored a crush on the movie star since their high school days.
“Not even then. I told you, I don’t like reality shows.”
“And yet you are the star of this summer’s most popular reality series.”
Madison rolled her eyes at the irony and muttered, “Figure that one out.”
Genesis brushed aside her friend’s scornful attitude. “I watch Dancing with Dreams all the time. Carson Elliot was even a judge one season.”
“So is the guy married? Single? Gay?”
“Single. Actually, he was seeing Gloria Jeffers.”
“Miss Gloria, the one who just died? The one who worked for the law office?” She and her filing system were the only reason Madison currently drew a paycheck from Lone Star Law.
“That’s the one.”
“I only met Miss Gloria a time or two, but I thought she was quite a bit older. Her hair was solid white.”