is it?"
"The festival planning board. They meet this afternoon, and I can't swing it in my schedule."
"You've been on the board every year though. Won't those ladies kick me out if I try to take your seat? They scare the bejesus out of me on a good day, I'd hate to cross them when it comes to this."
He scratched the side of his face. "It'll be good to get some fresh blood in that room. They do the same damn things every year. This year we finally grabbed one of the top sponsorships, so I think it's time you took over the reins."
"I can come with you, if you want," Magnolia interjected. "I'm sure Daddy could find a place for me on the planning committee."
I glanced at my dad, and he lifted his eyebrows. My parents loved Magnolia, and they thought the world of her momma. But like most people in Green Valley, we merely tolerated J.T. MacIntyre, the most recent chamber of commerce president. He could talk a snake into crutches, if he put his mind to it.
"It's all right. I know you've got a lot on your plate, Maggie," I said. Her eyes narrowed ohhhhh so slightly at my slip, and I felt it like she'd kneed me in the balls. "Sorry. Magnolia."
She must have felt my dad's curious stare, because she smiled big and bright, standing off my desk to give me a kiss on the cheek. "You know I haven't gone by that silly nickname since high school."
"I don't know how I dared to forget," I said with a smile.
That softened her. And for one second, like she'd lifted the blackout shades on a window, I got a glimpse of the girl I fell in love with when I was eighteen.
"Fine, but if you call me Maggie, then shall I call you by your high school nickname?"
My answering glare made her laugh under her breath, and I felt, deep inside me, something out of place click back into spot. She dropped a kiss on the top of my head after she stood to leave.
"What was your high school nickname?" my dad asked when she walked out of the office.
"It's not very original." I stood from my chair and gave a guilty glance at the brown bag before I tossed it into the garbage. I waited to answer until my dad was taking a sip of his coffee. "Junior year, the guys on the football team started calling me Fucker Haywood."
He choked, spitting coffee out onto the floor, before he gave me an incredulous look. "And you think that's appropriate?"
I slapped him on the back as I walked past. "You asked, sir. Now if you'll excuse me, you have coffee to clean up, and I have a meeting to get to."
Momma waved at me when I left the office, and I sighed contentedly the moment the sun hit my skin. Being cooped up in that office all day was starting to feel more and more like a punishment, the longer I did it. Shuffling papers instead of hiking trails, taking depositions instead of baiting a hook and reeling in a fish, sitting at a shiny desk or staring at a map on the ceiling instead of climbing up the side of some big ol’ rocks, that was my life.
Unless my mother became the oldest pregnant woman in the history of Tennessee, keeping Haywood and Haywood in the family fell squarely on my shoulders, no matter how badly my soul ached to be doing something else. Anything else, really.
The drive over to the community center went quickly, as traffic was light. Music played quietly on the radio in my truck, and as I slid my sunglasses off when I pulled my vehicle into a parking spot, I glanced at the empty passenger seat and smiled.
Briefly, I wondered what Angry Girl was up to today, and if she was on a mission to make anyone else in town cry.
From the open window of my truck, I heard two women laugh, and I glanced over to see Francine, and wouldn't you know it, Grace Buchanan, walking into the community center. Their arms were intertwined, and Angry Girl didn't look so angry this morning, given she was laughing heartily at whatever her aunt was saying.
I slipped from my truck, and slammed the door shut before jogging to catch up with them. Fran saw me approach, and a pleased smile split her face.
I lifted my chin in a nod. "Well now, if