the customer, her tone both conciliatory and commanding. “Come on, sweetie,” she said to Lily, a gentle hand on her back. “You go take a break in my office. We’ll deal with things out here.”
Lily should have argued. This was her mess, after all. But she could feel the weight of a dozen eyes upon her, a restaurant full of strangers and people she considered friends bearing witness to her breakdown.
With a sniff, she nodded and straightened. “I’m so sorry,” she said to the man who’d spoken. She must have looked even more pathetic than she realized because he appeared embarrassed that he’d voiced a complaint.
“It’s fine,” he muttered.
She ruffled the hair of the boy who’d caused her to trip. His head was down as his mother chided him in hushed tones for not being able to sit still. “That was on me, buddy,” she told him. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He stole a glance in her direction and then nodded and picked up his fork.
Lily managed a smile for the kid’s mother, then hurried through the tables and past the counter, doing her best not to make eye contact with anyone. From her peripheral vision, she saw Garrett Dawes watching her.
Insult to injury. That seemed to be her current lot in life.
Lily pulled her cell phone out of the front pocket of her apron as she entered Mary Jo’s cramped office. File cabinets and boxes of paper napkins and plastic straws—no saving the turtles in this rundown corner of LA—lined the walls.
In the span of an hour, since she’d taken that first call from her sister Helena, Lily had received six texts. Four from her oldest sister and two additional from Meg, the middle Wainright sister.
She didn’t know how to respond to their increasingly insistent messages. She wanted to delete the messages, pretend that she wasn’t about to come face-to-face with all of the ways she’d failed in her life, especially compared to her successful, upwardly mobile siblings.
But there was no choice. No use making excuses or wishing things could be different. With jerky movements, she typed in a response to the two of them.
I’ll be in Magnolia by the weekend.
Anxiety rolled through her gut as she hit Send, and she flipped the phone onto the desk and sank down in the worn leather office chair. She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, hoping that would make the pounding in her head subside.
As if anything could make this moment better.
Lily Wainright was going home.
CHAPTER TWO
“WHAT’S GOING ON, HON?”
Mary Jo walked into the office a few minutes later and shut the door. Luckily, Mary Jo Marsh was as tiny as she was strong-willed, so there was room for both of them in the cluttered space.
“I’m leaving,” Lily said quietly, even as a scream tried to rise up inside her. She swallowed then swallowed again, determined to hold herself together. Of all the challenges she’d faced since moving to California, why did returning to her hometown near the North Carolina coast feel like the most insurmountable?
“Okay,” Mary Jo answered with a frown. She grabbed a Diet Dr Pepper from the tiny fridge in the corner and offered a can to Lily, who declined. “Take the rest of the day and even tomorrow if you need it. Life has pelted you with a lot of lemons, and you’ve been downing so much lemonade it’s a wonder your eyeballs aren’t floating. I’ll find someone to cover your shifts so—”
“For good,” Lily clarified. “I’m going back to my hometown.”
Mary Jo paused with the can of soda halfway to her mouth. “Is that so?” she asked, her tone carefully measured.
Lily tried and failed to offer a smile, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “My sister called this morning. Dad fell and broke his hip. He’s scheduled for surgery and needs someone there to help with his recovery.”
The older woman shook her head. “Don’t they have healthcare workers in Magpie?”
“Magnolia,” Lily corrected her. “My father still lives in the house where he grew up. He and my mom bought it from my grandparents when they got married. He’s run the family’s hardware business for almost forty years now. He’s proud and stubborn and I can’t imagine him letting someone outside of the family help him.”
“Your sisters—”
“Have lives of their own.” Lily rolled her shoulders against the shame that coursed through her when she thought of how little she’d accomplished in her own life. “They have jobs and husbands and kids and neither