The Magnolia Sisters (Magnolia Sisters #1) - Michelle Major Page 0,4
AVERY WALKED THROUGH the door of The Reed Gallery later that afternoon, not sure what she expected to find but surprised just the same.
The space was clean and bright, with wide-plank floors and large windows looking out to Magnolia’s quiet main street. The walls were painted antique white with simple Craftsman trim around the high doorways. She could smell the scent of a candle burning, and soft music played from speakers built into the ceiling.
Somehow the place still seemed...sad. In his heyday, Niall Reed had been a force of nature and an expert at branding, turning out overtly nostalgic paintings of American life and cloyingly sentimental works of the country’s famed landscape. One particular critic had likened him to a sorry mix of Norman Rockwell, Thomas Kinkade and Barney, if the giant children’s television dinosaur learned to paint. It had seemed an odd combination but standing in front of a wall of canvases, Avery understood the comparison.
The scene depicted was the beach, maybe one on the North Carolina coast, although the colors and brushstrokes made it appear like something out of a dream. That had been Niall’s gift and shtick, depending on the viewpoint of the critic or consumer. A mother and daughter took center stage, holding hands and gazing at each other the way Avery had always wanted her mom to look at her. She resisted the sudden sentimentality squeezing her chest, feeling as if she’d somehow been coerced into the emotion.
“A lot of people get that dismissive curl to their lip when they first see his work.”
Avery turned as Carrie entered the open space, hands clasped tightly in front of her. Her prim and proper manner was at odds with the bohemian mode of dressing, and Avery was unable to get a true read on her new half sister. At one time, Avery had prided herself on her ability to assess a person’s character, but after the mess she’d made of her life, she no longer trusted her instincts.
“I don’t see what’s so special,” Avery admitted, moving closer to one of the paintings.
“He hadn’t done his best work for several years,” Carrie answered. “I can show you photos of some of his older pieces, the ones that made him a household name.”
“The ones that paid the bills?” Avery asked.
“For a long time, yes.” The tight line of Carrie’s mouth pursed even further. “I knew he’d made some bad investments but not the extent of the financial risks he’d taken.”
“You’re not to blame for that.” Avery shifted her gaze to study the willowy beauty. Carrie was tall and almost model thin, although it was somewhat difficult to discern her true figure under the shapeless clothes. Her features were classic—wide-set eyes and an upturned nose but Avery got the impression Carrie couldn’t see her own beauty.
A strange concept since Avery’s mom had long been an advocate for using whatever assets she had at hand to get ahead in life. Avery had been taught to wield her beauty like a blade, slicing through any obstacles to meet her end goal. It was all she’d known until the collateral damage she’d left in her wake became too much.
“I was his assistant, and in more recent years, his manager. He was the artist. My duty was to take care of the rest of his life. I failed.”
“Your father’s keeper,” Avery murmured, finding it difficult to muster the resentment she needed to remain emotionally uninvolved. Carrie already seemed so close to broken. Who was Avery to add to that?
She glanced from her sister to the far wall, on which hung a series of photographs of Niall Reed at different ages. Several of the photos showed him with Carrie, as a baby and then as she grew into a lanky girl with caramel-colored hair down to the middle of her back. Another featured Carrie in a cap and gown, Niall’s arm draped over her shoulder as he smiled proudly.
Anger came surging back, like a sudden riptide that pulled her under until she had trouble drawing in a breath. “So we find a buyer for the space and try to recoup some of the losses. Can you recommend a Realtor—”