The Magnolia Sisters (Magnolia Sisters #1) - Michelle Major Page 0,6
rise. Not that she expected a warm welcome, but she wasn’t ready to be run out of town so soon.
“No. I just assumed you had a life to return to.”
“I...I mean... Of course I have a life.” Avery willed away the color she felt rising to her cheeks. “But I can take some time away from it. You don’t know what it was like to grow up thinking your father was a nameless one-night stand. I might hate Niall Reed for not claiming me, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s part of who I am.”
“You could come by his house,” Carrie offered, then clasped a hand to her mouth. “Meredith’s house now, although it still doesn’t make any sense that he left it to her.”
“You lived with your dad?”
Carrie let out a delicate snort. “Not for a few years. I’ve been staying there since he died while I work on cleaning it out. Dad became a bit of a pack rat recently. Do you need a place to stay?”
“Yes,” Avery admitted, “but it isn’t going to be at Niall’s house. That’s too weird for me right now.”
“I can give you the keys to my apartment. It’s a carriage house, actually. I still have my stuff there, but you can use it while you’re in town.”
“Why would you do that? You don’t even know me.”
“You’re my sister,” Carrie said simply.
Oh.
Unfamiliar emotion clogged Avery’s throat. “That’s a concept that will take some getting used to, I suppose.”
“Give me your phone and I’ll put the address into it. I don’t ever lock the place. Crime isn’t really an issue in Magnolia.”
Avery automatically pulled the phone from her purse but hesitated before handing it to Carrie.
“If that’s still too much,” Carrie told her, “I can recommend a couple of hotels nearby.”
An image of the statement from Avery’s dwindling bank account filled her mind. “I appreciate you letting me stay there,” she said as she gave the other woman—her sister—the phone.
* * *
“VIOLET, I KNOW you’re in here.”
Grayson Atwell glanced around the quiet carriage house at the back of his property as he entered later that evening.
“I’m not,” a tiny voice called out from the far side of the couch.
Gray ran a hand through his hair and threw a longing glance at the refrigerator sitting in the small kitchenette. Carrie kept it stocked with his favorite brand of beer, and he could use one right now.
His shift had been hectic, but he’d agreed to a few hours of overtime because his ex-wife was supposed to pick up their daughter from school for an overnight at her house. Stacy hadn’t shown, and his mom had stayed with Violet until he’d found someone to cover the rest of his shift.
True to form, Stacy hadn’t answered any of his calls or returned his messages demanding to know what the hell she was thinking flaking out on their five-year-old daughter. He’d finally gotten a terse text from her as he pulled into the driveway minutes earlier. She’d had an emergency at the office.
He didn’t bother to wonder what constituted an emergency for a cosmetic dermatologist. This wasn’t the first time she’d made plans with Violet only to cancel at the last minute or not show at all. It was the clichéd trauma of children from divorced families everywhere, and it burned like acid in his gut that his daughter had to deal with it.
His mom meant well but had the unfortunate—if understandable—habit of talking trash about his ex to Violet. Gray knew his daughter was hurt by her mother’s callous treatment, but she was still loyal to her mom. Nana’s reminders of how much Stacy didn’t care only hurt her more.
Violet often retreated to the carriage house behind the two-story Victorian he’d bought after the divorce. Carrie Reed, his easygoing tenant, always made the girl feel better. From baking cookies to painting nails, Carrie had an effortless way of distracting Violet from the pain of her mother’s indifference.
But Carrie had been staying at her childhood home for the past week, so Gray