“Not too fast,” Gray cautioned, ruffling her hair. “You saw what just happened to Carrie out there.”
“Yeah,” Violet agreed, “but she’s not very good.” She hitched a thumb at Avery. “She’s not, either, so don’t feel bad.”
Avery gave a mock gasp of horror. “Just for that comment I’m not going to let you win when we race.”
The girl did a hair toss worthy of a Hollywood starlet. “I’ll bet you a week of garbage duty that I win.”
Avery stuck out her hand to shake. “And when I win, you owe me a weekend of watching Hannah Montana reruns.”
Violet giggled and shook Avery’s hand. “I’d do that anyway, although it’s weird how much you like Hannah Montana.”
“Excuse me,” Avery said with mock formality to Carrie and Dylan. “I have some five-year-old butt to kick.”
The two of them headed for the rink’s entrance and the look of pure adoration on Gray’s face as he watched made Carrie’s heart squeeze.
“The bets are their newest thing,” he said with a shake of his head. “I can’t tell which one of them loves the competition more.”
“Does it worry you?” Dylan said. “I know Avery isn’t... I mean...that doesn’t seem like traditional motherly behavior.”
“Tradition is overrated,” Gray said. “And in my mind, anything that works is fair game in parenting these days. The rules keep changing, you know? We’re making our own as we go along.” He grinned. “I need to get out there. It’s not going to be pretty when Violet beats her. My kid is a powerhouse skater.”
He moved away, and Dylan hopped over the guardrail, but Carrie shook her head as he reached for her. Instead, she skated on her own to the exit.
“Just so you know,” she told him as they unlaced their skates, “Avery wouldn’t change a thing about Violet’s spunky personality. She loves that girl to the moon and back and has every intention of raising her to be a complete badass.”
“What about the mom?”
“They’re navigating that, although she isn’t as involved as Gray would like.” She shrugged. “Like he said, they’re making their own rules.”
“You and your sisters are the same way. Did you think that when you first learned about them that you’d become as close as you are?”
“Good Lord, no.” She shoved her feet into the boots she’d chosen for the day and stood, grateful for the feeling of balance on solid ground. “Avery was one thing but a stranger was almost easier to deal with than Meredith. She hated me in high school and didn’t exactly hide that fact.”
“Talk about spunky.” He took her hand again, waving at Sam as they walked toward the booths that lined the far end of the town square. The air had just enough chill to make her feel like Christmas was really right around the corner. “I hung out with Meredith’s brothers, although neither one of them liked trouble the way I did. Meredith was always trying to tag along.” He sighed. “She turned out okay.”
Carrie laughed. “More than okay,” she said and stepped in front of him, turning so her body just grazed the front of his. “So did you, by the way.”
His eyes rolled toward the blue sky. “I have money. That doesn’t mean I turned out okay.”
“Dylan, stop.” She reached up and placed her hand against his cheek. “I know this is about Sam. You’re doing a good job with him.”
“How do you know?” He covered her hand with his as if afraid she’d pull away.
She smiled and said simply, “He looks happy.”
“Looks can be deceiving, especially in this crazy age of social media perfection. I read an article last night on the potential negative effect of too much social media on a developing brain.”
Her grin widened. “What made you read something like that?”
“I want to make sure Sam doesn’t overdo it. He has online accounts and plays video games with his friends. There’s no way in hell I’m letting that stuff impact his mental health.”
“You just proved my point.” She leaned in and kissed him. “You’re trying. Like Gray said, there are no hard and fast rules anymore, but you keep trying.”
“He lost his parents,” Dylan whispered. “How can I ever make up for that?”
“You don’t have to. All you have to do is be there for him.”
“That feels insufficient.”
“It’s more than enough,” she promised.
“I spent way too much on Christmas presents,” he said as they began walking again. “I might not care about the holiday, but I want it to be good for him.”
“Christmas isn’t about material gifts.”
“Tell that to your vendors today.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Have you been to the gallery?” he asked, starting to turn down a path that led to that corner of downtown.
“I need to check on the hot chocolate supply,” she lied.
He tugged her forward. “If you could handle roller skating, you can make an appearance to see how people are responding to your paintings.”
She fought against the rise of her raging imposter syndrome. “It might be easier to flay my skin off with a rusty knife.”
“I’ll be with you the whole time. You’ve got this, Carrie.”
His words and steady presence eased some of her anxiety. She could tell herself all day that the people this morning were just being nice about supporting her art.
“Mal said that my dad would have been proud.” She kept her steps in time with Dylan’s even though she wanted to slow down as they approached the crowded sidewalk. “But I know he would have hated it.”
“He’s not here,” Dylan reminded her. “And this isn’t about him. Don’t let the past be a road map for your present.”
“Right,” she agreed. “This is about me. Finally.”
They entered the gallery and immediately all eyes turned toward Carrie. Lindy Walker, the retired librarian whom she’d hired to look after the gallery for the day, rushed forward.
“They can’t stop talking about you,” she said, grabbing Carrie’s hand in hers.
Carrie blinked. “Who?”
“Everyone.” The older woman shook her head. “But you don’t have prices on the paintings. I tried calling you, but it went straight to voice mail and you didn’t respond to my texts.”
“My phone was on silent,” Carrie answered. “I didn’t realize... I put them up to share because it felt important for me, not because I wanted to make money.”
“But are they for sale?” a man asked.
He was someone Carrie didn’t recognize, holding several bulky shopping bags. “My wife and I drove down from Virginia for the weekend. She’s into Christmas crafts of every sort. I thought I was going to spend my day following her like an unpaid lackey. But your exhibit makes the trip worth it.”
“Thank you. Yes, the paintings are for sale. Or they will be as soon as I figure out that part.”
She spent the next hour talking to potential customers who were all so excited about her art that it made her throat nearly clog with emotion. At some point Dylan slipped away after dropping a kiss on top of her head and promising he’d see her later.
A wild tangle of hope and fear bloomed inside Carrie. She’d put her work out into the world, like sending a child off to the first day of school, wondering if her precious baby would make friends or sit alone in the corner. If the response from the people in the gallery now was any indication, her future and the possibility of making a success of her art, had never looked brighter.
CHAPTER TWENTY
CARRIE WALKED INTO Sunnyside Bakery on the morning of Christmas Eve, humming “All I Want For Christmas” under her breath. She was hosting her sisters along with Dylan and Sam, the Wainrights—Phil, Lily and her fiancé, Garrett, as well as Shae Delich and her parents for dinner later that night after the
Christmas Eve service. It would be cozy in her small rental, but she loved the idea of filling her home with friends and family.
The five days since the festival had been the happiest she could remember. The event had, by all accounts, been a huge success. According to the mayor, local businesses brought in more revenue in one weekend than in the previous holiday season in its entirety. Everyone Carrie’d spoken to had enjoyed the events she’d worked so hard to plan, and the renewed energy she felt within the town made all the hours of effort worth it.
Meredith had adopted out every animal she’d brought to the festival, which was amazing although Carrie’s house felt a bit too quiet without any fosters in residence at the moment.
Maybe it was time for her to think of adopting a pet of her own, one that got along with Daisy and Barnaby, of course. Her relationship with Dylan had shifted and deepened once again.
She’d been afraid that her proclamation of love would push him away. Although they hadn’t discussed those three little words and he hadn’t said them back to her, the way he held her close at night, like he never wanted to let her go, made her heart sing.
“I’ve got your pies ready,” Mary Ellen said when she caught sight of Carrie. The pastry counter was crowded with a long line of customers picking up last-minute treats for the holiday. Sunnyside had remained popular even when the town’s future seemed bleak, but there was a new energy within the cozy walls.
“Are you sure I can’t convince you to join us?” she asked as she took the brown paper sack from the woman. “It’s casual and I made an extra lasagna. There’s plenty to go around.”
Mary Ellen smiled. “Thank you, but I’m heading to Charlotte after the bakery closes to spend the night with my daughter and her family. My grand babies are two and four now. I want to be there for Christmas morning.”
“It must be hard not seeing them all the time.”
“Yes, but I was telling Danielle about all the new potential in Magnolia. And if it works out with one of the companies looking at the town for its headquarters, things will really change around here. She said they might even consider moving when the kids start school. She wants a real community feel for raising the girls.”
Carrie gave Mary Ellen a quick hug, joy rushing through her. This was exactly what she wanted for Magnolia, rebuilding the town in a thoughtful way that attracted young families and economic momentum.
She turned to leave then spotted Sam sitting at a table on his own, slouched over his phone with a scowl on his face.
“Hey, buddy,” she said as she approached.
He glanced up from the screen, and then his gaze darted away from hers, almost guiltily. “Dylan’s not here.”
“I see that. Merry Christmas Eve.” She took the seat across from him without waiting to be invited, doubting he would ask her to join him.
“Yeah,” he mumbled. “You, too.”
“I’m just picking up dessert for tonight. We’re going to have quite a feast.”
“Cool.”
He sounded about as enthused as he would be to a forced march through a hurricane. Carrie tried not to take offense.
“Shae will be there with her parents.”
“I heard. She messaged me.”
Carrie reached out and placed two fingers on the edge of his phone, moving it down to the top of the table. “Is everything okay, Sam?”
“Yeah, why?” He chewed on his bottom lip.
“Does Dylan know you’re here? He mentioned that you two were going to the beach today.”
“Yeah, but later.” His shoulders hunched up toward his ears. “If he has time after his stupid meeting.”
Curiosity pricked along Carrie’s spine. “What meeting?”
“He probably doesn’t want me to talk about his plans because he knows they make him look like a butt head.”
“Harsh,” she whispered, an unsettled feeling overtaking her curiosity. “It seems like whatever the meeting’s about is upsetting you. Does it have something to do with your parents?”
Sam shook his head emphatically, then pushed back a lock of too-long hair that flopped across his forehead. “It doesn’t matter what Dylan says. My dad would have never let this happen. He could be a jerk, but he cared about things other than the company.”
“Dylan cares about more than business,” she assured the boy. “He loves you and...” She stopped short of claiming he loved her. He cared about her and she thought he might actually be falling for her again, but it felt like bad luck to give voice to that delicate hope.
“Everyone is going to hate him and probably me when he tears down the old factory along with half of downtown.”
Carrie’s breath caught in her throat, but she forced her expression to remain neutral. “That’s not going to happen. The festival was a success and we all see that the town is on the right track. I’m sure you’ve heard about the company that wants to buy the old factory. I think we’re going to have more businesses moving to downtown, as well. We have a meeting scheduled after the holidays. Dylan will see that he has options besides his plans for a luxury renovation.”
“It will be too late,” Sam said. “He’s out at the factory now and he’s going to sign a partnership agreement with some other creepy developer. I saw the contract on the kitchen table this morning.”
“You must have been mistaken,” she told the teenager even as panic snaked across her skin.
“I hated it here at the start and did some stupid stuff, but I’ve found better friends. Two of them have families who have lived here since the town was founded. They don’t have a ton of money and if everything gets all jacked up expensive, I don’t know what’s going to happen to them. Other than people are going to turn on me.”
“No one will turn on you.” She reached out to pat the boy’s hand, but he yanked it away.
“Dylan told me about your dad. How he was a big shot in town because of his art, and then when he didn’t have money, he only pretended to be a big shot.”
“Yes,” she said slowly.
“Were your friends still your friends when everything changed for you?”
Carrie pressed two fingers to her chest as memories from her childhood assailed her. “I didn’t have many friends to begin with,” she admitted.
“Why not?” Sam asked, inclining his head.
“I didn’t fit in.”
“Because...” he prompted, and she realized she hadn’t given the boy enough credit. He understood way too much about her past and the potential parallels to his own life.
“Because my family had money. It set us apart from most people in Magnolia. And when my dad lost it all, things got even worse.”
“That’s what’s going to happen to me.” Sam didn’t sound angry, just resigned. She hated that acceptance because it reminded her of herself at his age. “In my other schools in Boston, almost all of the kids had rich parents or at least they pretended to have these fabulous lives. When my parents died and my life wasn’t perfect, I was like a leper or something. Like if they hung out with me some of my crappy life might rub off on them. Here no one cares.”
“People care,” Carrie insisted.
“Not in a bad way,” he clarified. “But they’ll care if the guy who’s my stupid guardian changes everything.”
“I don’t understand.”
“He made a promise to my dad about the company and how it’s my legacy. Now he thinks he needs to make it huge, so I have all kinds of money or security or whatever. I don’t even want the dumb company. I’m going to study art, like you.”
“I wish I’d had the courage to do that in college,” she told him even as her mind raced with what he’d revealed about Dylan’s plans. “I was a business major and took a few art classes without my dad knowing about it.”
“That’s what Dylan said when he was lecturing me this morning. Art
is fine for a hobby but I’m going to need to get serious about my future.”
Another dagger to Carrie’s heart. Not only had Dylan broken his promise to give her vision for Magnolia a chance, apparently, all his talk about her making a career of her art was just lies, as well. He might think it was good enough for her living in Magnolia, but he wanted more for Sam.
More than the town. More than she could offer.
Just as she’d always known.
* * *
“I THOUGHT WE were done with changes to the contract,” Steven Ross told Dylan as they stood in the factory parking lot. To Dylan’s shock, his potential partner had driven down to Magnolia after receiving Dylan’s response that Scott Development had a few additional line items to revise in their agreement. “But whatever it takes at this point. I’ll have my lawyers review your updates, and then we can both sign and move on from negotiations to making money in this godforsaken town. It’s going to be huge.”
“Call me after the New Year,” Dylan said automatically. “Give your people the holidays without bending over backward.”
Steven let out a disbelieving laugh. “Who are you and what have you done with Dylan Scott?”
Dylan didn’t bother to answer, only rolled his eyes.
“I’m serious,” the other man insisted, adjusting his mirrored Ray-Ban sunglasses. “I know this is our first deal together, but I expected more from what Wiley had said about you. You’ll barely return one of my calls let alone push through his contract.”
“You’re getting in on the bottom floor of a redevelopment that’s going to be a model for introducing premier housing and retail space to a small-town demographic. This could lead to opportunities around the country. How can you want more?”
“I want the guy your cousin told me about, the baller who worked with single-minded determination. Why should either of us give a rat’s ass about our people working over the holidays? That’s why we pay them, and money is the bottom line.”
Aggravation burned in Dylan like the brand from a hot poker. Steven’s development company was one of the most successful in the Boston area. The fact that he wanted to partner with Dylan in Magnolia was a huge achievement. Wiley had been the one to work this end of the company, and Dylan knew he had big shoes to fill.
The Merriest Magnolia Page 23