The Magnolia Sisters (Magnolia Sisters #1) - Michelle Major Page 0,15

only instead of the walls being formed by rocks they were made from paper and miscellaneous household items.

“I can’t.” Carrie shook her head. “First, it would kill Dad for everyone to know this is what his life had come to at the end. I don’t expect you to understand, but he was a proud man.”

“It’s difficult to kill someone who’s already dead,” Avery couldn’t help but point out.

“Besides,” Carrie continued as if Avery hadn’t spoken, “I’ve found journal entries and sketches tucked into every pile I went through. Those need to be saved and preserved.”

“Why?” Avery reached out to run her fingers along the edge of a stack of decades-old Life magazines. Suddenly her mother’s antiseptically clean condo didn’t seem so awful. Carrie claimed Niall had only developed this problem recently, but he’d probably always been a hoarder at heart. Maybe her half sister hadn’t lived the charmed life Avery wanted to resent her for after all.

“His work was important. It might not have been appreciated during his lifetime, but Niall Reed’s legacy will endure.”

“I never met the guy,” Avery said softly, “but I can imagine those words coming out of his mouth.”

Carrie’s nostrils flared and she turned and disappeared into the next room. Avery followed her into the kitchen. At least that room was somewhat clean. Vitamin bottles of all shapes and sizes littered the counter, but there were no dirty dishes filling the sink or rotting food left out to draw bugs.

“They aren’t his words.” Carrie pulled two glasses from the cabinet. The ice maker in the refrigerator scraped for several seconds before dispensing cubes into first one and then the other. “No one knows more about his art than me. I can tell you he’ll be remembered.”

“Great,” Avery agreed. “Maybe his art will increase in value posthumously, and we’ll be able to afford to fix up the place before we sell.”

“I’m not selling.” Carrie handed her a glass of water with a little more force than necessary.

“It’s not up to you.”

“Or you,” her sister shot back. “You don’t know anything about him or this place. Or me.”

The long sip of water Avery took felt cool on her throat. Cool and clean, a contrast to the heavy weight of this house. “I’m working on that.” She tipped her glass in Carrie’s direction. “I heard you were an artist.”

“Who told you that?”

“Is it true that your dad—our dad—discouraged you because you had too much talent?”

Carrie barked out a laugh. “You’re a real piece of work. You come careening into town with a massive chip on your shoulders, and suddenly you want to know everything.”

“I want to know about you.” The words were as much of a shock to Avery as they seemed to be for Carrie. She did want to know. This place—her history—was like a puzzle she couldn’t quite piece together. She didn’t want to believe it had anything to do with the yearning to belong that had always been her darkest secret. If Niall hadn’t wanted to acknowledge all three of his daughters when he was alive, why had he thrown them together in this way as part of his will?

“I took art classes in high school,” Carrie said, wiping an invisible crumb from the counter. “Like lots of other kids. There was nothing special about me.”

Avery knew the other woman was lying but didn’t push the subject. There was plenty of time for that. Time. The concept felt unfamiliar in Magnolia. In her old life, Avery stalked time like a ruthless predator, always trying to get the upper hand. Work more. Work harder. Prove that she deserved the success that came her way.

“If you say so. Tell me about the beach ranch and why it’s so special to Meredith.”

Carrie closed her eyes for a moment, pain shifting across her features like the waning light of afternoon making its way across the grass.

Avery started to take a step forward before stopping herself. “What’s wrong?”

“It must have been horrible not to know who your father was,” she said after a moment. “I can’t imagine why Niall and your mother