He didn’t like being compared to his cousin, not that he had any doubt that he’d come up short. But he’d lost his passion for this potential partnership. Just as Carrie’d predicted, this town and its damn holiday spirt had gotten to him.
Corrupted him. Ruined his focus.
Ruined him for anything but the satisfaction he got from making her smile.
She definitely wouldn’t be happy when she found out about this deal and what it meant for the factory and his downtown plans.
That was part of the reason he wanted to wait until the New Year to finalize everything. It would give him more time to explain it to her in a way she’d understand.
He had no choice but to go forward with his original plan, despite how things had gone with the festival. Despite their agreement.
He’d made a promise to his cousin to take care of Sam, and that meant growing the business that would eventually belong to him.
Wiley would have loved this deal in the same way Dylan had when he’d first conceived it. Surely his enthusiasm would return once he could put Christmas and all of the cloying small-town spirit behind him.
The New Year would bring a fresh start and a clean slate.
This was his, no matter what anyone thought of it.
“Nothing’s going to happen down here until January,” he said, ignoring the other man’s frown. “Go home and enjoy the holiday.”
“My ex-wife has the kids for Christmas,” Steven said. “Elizabeth flew to Chicago to see her family. I’m going to be swiping right on a couple of my fave dating apps. You wouldn’t believe how many lonely chicks are out there on a major holiday.”
Dylan’s stomach rolled. “Probably not. Sounds, um...interesting. You do realize you’re engaged?”
“No ring on my finger yet,” Steven said with a deep chuckle. “I know having a teenager in the house might be cramping your style. Wiley had mentioned sending Sam to boarding school at one point. My son went to a prep academy in upstate New York. Best thing we ever did for him.”
“Wiley never said anything to me about boarding school.”
“I think he wanted more freedom for him and Kay. Kids are a time suck.”
The guy was truly a jackass. “Speaking of time,” Dylan said, backing away. “I need to get back to town.”
“We’ll talk soon.” Steven headed for his sleek Mercedes.
Dylan opened the door of his SUV then paused as a car came barreling down the gravel driveway that led to the factory, and Carrie’s silver Volvo station wagon came into view.
He took a few steps forward then stopped when she didn’t slow down as she approached. What the hell was going on?
“You okay?” Steven asked as he pulled up beside Dylan.
“Fine. It’s my girlfriend. Probably needs me to pick up something for dinner tonight before the grocery store closes.”
“She takes dinner seriously,” the other man said with a laugh then drove out of the parking lot.
The Volvo lurched to a stop. “Who was that?” Carrie demanded as she got out and stalked toward him.
“Just a business associate,” he said, ignoring the guilt that roared through his gut. “I needed some advice and he was in the area. Is everything okay?”
“I saw Sam in town just now.”
“Oh, hell. What did he get into now?” Dylan pulled his phone from his back pocket, ready to punch in the boy’s number. “If he’s causing trouble on—”
“Sam isn’t the problem.” Carrie stepped forward, jabbed a finger into Dylan’s chest. “You are.”
“I told you I’d take care of wine for tonight.” Dylan checked the time on his phone. He remembered the holidays being stressful for Kay when she hosted big gatherings. Wiley would joke about needing to stay clear of her path, so Dylan wanted to believe this was part of the territory and it was a coincidence that she’d sought him out at the textile mill. Once everyone showed up and she saw how happy they were, things would get better. “I still have an hour before the liquor store closes. Plenty of time. I won’t let you down.”
“You already have,” she said, her hand dropping to her side. “Why did you have a business meeting at the factory on Christmas Eve, Dylan?”
“I told you he was driving through town. I know I should be with Sam today, but—”
“I know about the partnership deal.”
He closed his eyes for a moment as he tried to process her words. This wasn’t how he’d wanted her to find out. The timing couldn’t have been worse. He shook his head. “Sam wasn’t supposed to say anything yet.”
“Did you expect him to lie for you?” she asked, her tone ice-cold as if they were in the Arctic tundra and not the temperate Carolina coast.
“Don’t make this a bigger deal than it is,” he insisted. “You know my plan.”
“I thought you’d stay true to your word.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “The festival was a success. We proved to you that Magnolia can be revitalized without changing the fabric of the town. There are options, Dylan. Companies have taken notice. Young families are excited about living here.”
“I’m not denying things went well. You did a great job, Carrie.”
“Don’t patronize me.”
“I’m not trying to,” he assured her, an uncomfortable sensation he didn’t quite understand fluttering through his belly. This was no different than any other economically stagnated community that Scott Development had redeveloped. He hadn’t helped build his uncle’s company into a multimillion-dollar venture by allowing emotions to rule the day. “But my plan will take this town so much further than you can even imagine. I made a promise to Sam’s father.”
“You made promises to me, too.”
He hated the hitch in her voice, the accusation that told him he’d screwed things up simply by being himself and doing what he needed to. He didn’t want to hurt her. It was why he’d tried to put off signing the contract until after the New Year. Get through the holidays and then he could make her understand.
Now he had less than twenty-four hours until Christmas and the whole thing was blowing up in his face.
“It will be fine,” he said, reaching for her. “Probably better for you in the long run.”
She shrugged away his touch as her green eyes widened, a storm swirling in their depths. “Excuse me?”
The ground shifted underneath him. Not literally of course, but some seismic movement he couldn’t describe. It rocked him to his core. He knew this moment was important, but all he could think to do was bluster through and hope Carrie would prove herself to be the generous soul he knew and let him off the hook. Even if he didn’t deserve it.
“Yes,” he continued, swallowing back the idea that he was feeding her a complete line of bull. “This will benefit you, as well.” He’d learned in negotiations that conviction was half the battle. Maybe more.
If he could convince her, he could win the day. Win everything. He could keep his promise to both his cousin and Carrie without changing the man he’d become. He didn’t even know how to begin the thought of transforming.
“I just spent the better part of the past several months working on a specific vision for this town. You’re going to undo most of that with one signature. How is that good for me?”
“You need customers for your art. People who have money and are willing to spend it. You need to cultivate a devoted following the way your dad did in his heyday. I’m going to be bringing that to Magnolia. Money. Exclusivity.”
“At the expense of the community,” she reminded him. “We want people who will make Magnolia their home and visitors who can appreciate the charm and serenity a small town has to offer.”
Guilt spiked again but he clamped an invisible muzzle over it. Emotions had no place in business. His way of doing business had worked for so long now. It was the model his uncle an
d cousin had created within the company that gave Dylan his first taste of belonging. What good did all that small-town charm do if it didn’t pay the bills? Allowing emotions means vulnerability and that meant pain. He’d learned to live without emotions since he left Magnolia.
He could finally prove he wasn’t the troubled, worthless kid he’d been by changing this town into something better.
“The community will adapt on its own or be forced to change.”
“This place is special. I don’t care about rich patrons. That’s not why I paint.”
“Or maybe you want to take over your dad’s position in the town?” he suggested, grasping at anything to make her stop this gentle assault that stung like the bite of a whip. “You have talent, Carrie. Everyone knows that now. If things are managed right, you’re going to be a huge success, bigger than Niall ever was.”
“That’s not why I paint,” she repeated, her tone steely.
“It’s a good perk and will get you and your sisters out of the financial mess he put you in. This change in the town will only help with that. You and I can work together. You’ll see. This will be even better than your vision. I know I’m right.”
“It’s funny that you bring up my father, because you sound like him.”
“I do not,” he protested.
“Oh, yes.” She held her arms wide. “Niall Reed was the original ‘Father Knows Best.’ For his career. For Magnolia. For me.” She shook her head. “Even when his vision sent his life and everything around it spiraling down the toilet, he never wavered. He never let other people’s needs get in the way of his own desires.” She sniffed. “I shouldn’t be surprised things went this way. I was bound to have daddy issues. I guess since we didn’t get to play them out ten years ago, it had to end like this.”
“Nothing is ending. It’s a beginning. For both of us. You said yourself that you don’t want the responsibility that people around here have put on you. Yes, your dad made big mistakes. But they’re his. I’m doing this for both of us.”
“Lying to me and this community?”
“It isn’t that.”
“Sam had a different opinion when I talked to him.”
“This is for Sam most of all. He can have the best of both worlds. The benefit of small-town life and making sure the company will be as strong as I can make it.”
“He wants to pursue art,” she said like they were discussing what to have for dinner.
Except it felt like this might be his last supper. “Fine,” he agreed. “I don’t care if he takes art classes. But his future is the business. His family’s company.”
“And if that isn’t what he wants?”
“He’s a kid. He doesn’t know what he wants. His father had a plan, and it’s my job to execute it.”
“Nothing about these weeks in Magnolia changed anything for you.”
“Are you joking? I’ve shown more holiday spirit in the past month than I have in years. I’m fully invested in all this Christmas crap. I stayed up last night wrapping Sam’s gifts until almost midnight. I even found the new video game he wanted on a bootleg website and paid more money than I care to admit on shipping. I’m like the second coming of Kris Kringle.”
“Christmas isn’t about spending money. You’ve missed the whole point.”
“Spoken like someone who was never poor,” he spat, then hated himself when her eyes flashed with pain. “The best thing I can do for Sam is to make sure his future’s secure. This isn’t personal, Carrie. It’s business.”
“Bad business,” she murmured.
“What do you want me to do?”
She smiled, and he had a sudden flash of memory. She’d given him that same sad smile when she’d walked away from him ten years ago. He couldn’t believe it. He refused to believe this was ending. Not when he was trying to do the right thing. If only she’d open her eyes and see it.
“If you have to ask, there’s nothing to be done.”
“Carrie.”
“I’ll see you tonight.”
“Is it better if I don’t come to dinner?”
“You’re not getting off the hook that easily, Dylan.” Her smile suddenly vanished, replaced by the fierceness he’d seen in her when he’d seen her walking that first night. When he couldn’t have imagined all that had transpired over the past several weeks. “You and Sam will have your time at the beach. Join us for Christmas Eve service and then dinner at my house. You won’t say a word to him or to anyone about this deal for the factory.”
“Is that really—”
“It’s necessary,” she interrupted. “I haven’t worked this hard to make Christmas in Magnolia perfect only to have it wrecked now.”
“I’m not trying to wreck anything.”
“Then I hope you’re a better actor than you are a friend,” she said.
The words felt like a knife to his gut. “What about after tonight?”
Her chin trembled and she looked away. “Nope. Not going there. If I think about that, I’ll lose it. We get through Christmas Eve like everything is right as rain. Channel your inner Chevy Chase. We’re going to be the ‘jolliest bunch of—well, you know—this side of the nuthouse.’”
She walked away on those parting words and Dylan watched her car disappear out of the parking lot, wondering how his life had gone to hell so quickly.
It was like ten years ago all over again. Maybe he’d done it on purpose. Or on purpose without realizing that was what was happening. He’d never believed he deserved the kind of happiness he’d found with Carrie, and now he’d proven it to both of them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CARRIE IGNORED THE doorbell as it rang insistently on Christmas Day.
She glanced at the clock. Two in the afternoon. Which meant she only had ten more hours to get through and this infernal holiday would be officially over.
The cheery decorations she’d put out around her house seemed to mock her. A trio of snowmen stared at her from their place on the bookshelf, tiny button eyes silently judging her for her pathetic broken heart.
The doorbell rang again, followed by a loud banging.
“Open up,” Avery called from the other side. “Or I’ll make Gray come over here and do his fireman routine to bust in.”
“Go away,” Carrie shouted from the sofa, where she’d been sprawled since early that morning binge-watching any show that was holiday themed. “Go have a Merry stinkin’ Christmas somewhere else.”
“We’re not leaving,” Meredith shouted back. “And I don’t need Gray. I can bust down this door all on my own.”
As if to prove her point, the door rattled on its hinges.
“Are you crazy?” Carrie yelled but got up off the couch and headed for the door.
“Not as crazy as you’ve been acting since yesterday,” Avery said when Carrie opened it. “We know about Dylan and his development partner.” Both women pushed past Carrie into the house.
“He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone.”
“Sam messaged Shae after he got home last night,” Meredith explained. “She called me this morning. It all makes sense now—the vibe from last night was faker than a pro wrestling match.”
“I thought dinner was fine,” Carrie lied. She’d done her best to get through the evening, buoyed by the festive moods of everyone other than Dylan, Sam and herself. But it had been a struggle and she realized she’d been a fool to think her sisters wouldn’t notice.
Avery wrapped her arms around Carrie’s shoulders. “You should have told us.”
“It would have ruined the day for everyone. I didn’t want that.” She stayed stiff in her sister’s embrace, afraid if she let herself do anything but buffer the heartache, she might never recover.
“You’re not alone,” Avery said gently. “You don’t have to take on everything by yourself.”
; “There’s nothing to take on,” she insisted as she pulled away. “Dylan won. He’s doing the thing I’d tried to stop. Magnolia is going to become a haven for the wealthy. It’s not what any of us wanted, but we can’t stop him. We’ll make sure it’s not the end of the world as we know it.”
“Sam told Shae that Dylan isn’t going to officially sign until after the New Year. We can try to convince the companies interested in Magnolia to sweeten their offer for a lease or outright purchase of the factory and adjacent land from Dylan. We’ll ask residents to protest his plans and make sure the town council is ready to deny permits or approval of whatever he submits. We don’t have to give up without a fight.”
“I don’t want to fight,” Carrie said, her shoulders slouching under the weight of her disappointment. “Dylan told me I’m holding on to some sort of antiquated vision of the town. Perhaps I’m more like Niall than I want to admit?”
Meredith snorted. “You’re nothing like Niall and everyone knows it. That was a low blow, even for Dylan.”
“I’m going to give him a piece of my mind the next time I see him.” Avery’s eyes narrowed. “If he thinks he can get away with—”
“Stop.” Carrie shook her head. “I don’t want this—any of it. I’m going to New York City.”
Both Avery and Meredith stilled. They exchanged looks with each other before their gazes landed back on Carrie.
“For good?” Meredith asked after a moment.
Carrie swallowed around the ball of anxiety that had risen in her throat when she’d made the declaration. She hadn’t, in fact, been planning to go to the city. Not until she’d said the words out loud.
“I’m not sure.” She glanced down at the fuzzy pink robe she wore, brushed a piece of dried cereal off the front. “Another gallery owner called a few days after the festival. Someone who was here took photos of my work and texted him. He wants to meet and talk about representation and he sounds even more serious than the woman who reached out after the newspaper article. That felt like she wanted the notoriety I bring with me. This man seems interested in me.”
The Merriest Magnolia Page 24