don’t care.”
“Why? Il Rigatone served over two hundred cheesy breadsticks. It’s a great restaurant, Dylan. You need to understand that Magnolia doesn’t need to be burned to the ground and rebuilt from scratch. Yes, the town relied on my father’s reputation and kowtowed to his whims for too long. But we’re changing that.”
“I’m going to change things,” he argued, forcing himself not to react to the disappointment in her eyes. “We’re going to put this place on the map.”
“For all the wrong reasons.”
“As an upscale destination. How is that wrong?”
“Because it’s already a great place to live and visit.”
“How would you know whether it is or not?” he demanded, running a hand through his hair. “You haven’t lived anywhere else. Remember when we had dreams to see the world together? You’ve been stuck here for too long to have any perspective beyond your provincial life.”
He swallowed back a groan when her breath caught. “I’m not provincial,” she said quietly.
“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
Her shoulders stiffened. “You no longer have the power to hurt me,” she told him and, once again, his body reacted to her show of strength. He just wished when she took a stand it didn’t have to be against him.
“Christmas is all about fake community spirit. I’m not interested in selling tourists a false sense of joy. That was Niall’s domain. I deliver real-life dreams.”
He could almost feel the tension bristling from her. “Then why agree to help with the festival?”
“The mayor volunteered me.”
“You know even rich people like Christmas?” She threw up her hands. “It’s not as if you can abolish the season from town.”
“But I don’t have to buy into all the phony fa-la-la-ing.”
“It isn’t phony,” she insisted. “The holiday spirit is real, especially in Magnolia. Even Sam can see that.”
“Don’t bring him into it.” Dylan glanced up at the ceiling. The boy’s bedroom was directly above the kitchen.
“Sam has agreed to help me,” Carrie reminded him through clenched teeth. “We’re all supposed to work together. It could be good for the two of you. Bring you closer.”
“I got a dog. I’ve scooped all the poop so far. Isn’t that enough?”
A chuckle burst from her mouth, surprising them both, and he smiled in response. He loved hearing her laughter, even if it was at his expense.
“I’ll be at the high school tomorrow afternoon,” she said after a moment. “There are a few other kids from the art department helping with backdrops for the festival. I hope Sam will join us. You should come, too.”
“You’re really dedicated to this idea of a perfect holiday town.”
“I’m dedicated to helping Magnolia succeed.”
“What about your own success?” He heard water running from upstairs and knew Sam would join them shortly. But he needed to press Carrie on this.
“I get a lot of satisfaction from working for the greater good.”
“Maybe you haven’t changed as much as I thought,” he said casually.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her sea-green eyes narrowed.
“Sam told you the paintings I bought now hang in the buildings I own in Boston. They’re good, Carrie. Better than good. But they’re also from a decade ago. What are you painting now?”
“I’m kind of busy trying to save the town and all that,” she muttered. “I’m still painting. The work is just...”
“Don’t talk to me about the frivolous art you do during the painting parties. Those are fine for regular people who just want to dabble in art or feel like they’ve created something fun with friends. You have actual talent.”
She stared at him for a long moment then glanced away, her breath hitching. He knew he’d struck a nerve. She’d always been sensitive about her ability. Another strike against Niall Reed in Dylan’s opinion. What kind of father dismissed his daughter’s talent because he knew it would eclipse his own?
Parents were supposed to build their kids up, not tear them down. Although he knew there were plenty of parents who did just the opposite. His mom and dad fell into that category. Although they hadn’t so much torn him down as they’d made it clear from the start, he had little to offer and it wasn’t worth trying. When the expectations on a kid were so low as to almost scrape the ground, he got used to clawing his way from the bottom of the pack.
But Dylan wasn’t the same as Carrie. Yes, he’d gotten out of Magnolia and made a success of himself, thanks in large part to the chance his uncle had given him and