studied Carrie. “Or twelve.”
“Dylan’s back,” she explained. “I need coffee and a dozen mimosas.”
Avery’s blue eyes widened. “Dylan Scott, the developer who bought your art last month at the showing?”
Meredith nudged the sophisticated blonde. “I think in this situation, the pock-addled Dylan who broke our girl’s heart is a more apt description.”
Carrie clenched her hands at the thought of her body’s reaction to Dylan last night. “I highly doubt there’s one pockmark on his entire perfect body.” She drew in a slow breath and glanced around, embarrassment filling her cheeks with heat as she took in the curious stares of the other customers. “How loud was that?”
Meredith ran a hand through her chin-length bob, her pert nose scrunching like she’d smelled something funny. “I don’t think they heard you across the street, if that helps.”
“I wish the floor would open up and swallow me whole.”
“I used to wish that for you back in high school,” Meredith offered. Although Meredith was a townie like Carrie and only a year younger in school, neither had known they were sisters until their father’s death. But Meredith recently revealed that she’d discovered her mother’s affair with Niall when she was only five, shortly before her mom left town. She’d grown up with a single dad and two older brothers and had hated Carrie for the elevated status everyone had perceived her to enjoy.
Carrie hadn’t known anything but the life she’d had with her eccentric father and overprotective mother. She came to realize shamefully late what a farce their image as a happy family had been. Ever since her father’s death, people in town looked at her with a mix of pity and sympathy that made her skin crawl, although being with her sisters made her braver than she could be on her own.
Still, she didn’t like to draw attention to herself and kept her gaze on the polished tabletop as the waitress filled their coffee cups.
“Everything okay here, girls?” she asked.
“All good,” Avery assured her in a tone that said “mind your own business.” Would anyone actually heed a subtle warning in Magnolia when they could smell fresh gossip in the air? Carrie appreciated Avery for trying.
Avery had only come to Magnolia for the reading of their father’s will, although she’d ended up finding a home—and falling in love—once she got there.
“Maybe he’s home for the holidays,” Meredith suggested when the waitress walked away after taking their order of food and a round of mimosas.
“Christmas is five weeks away.” Carrie dumped a load of sugar and a generous amount of creamer into her coffee. “He told me he’s buying the buildings Bobby Hawthorne owns downtown.”
Avery and Meredith didn’t look much alike but offered twin expressions of disbelief.
“Why haven’t we heard about this?” Avery sipped her coffee. “Mal should have—”
“There’s some kind of confidentiality agreement as part of the deal.” Carrie shook her head. “I don’t understand the details, but he said he didn’t want us to derail it like we did when he wanted to buy Niall’s property.”
“Our property,” Avery clarified.
“Your property, actually.” Carrie had been devastated when she’d first learned that her father had willed his beloved art gallery and the adjacent buildings to the daughter he’d never actually met. It had felt like a slap in the face since Carrie had been the one to devote her life to his career. She’d been his assistant, as well as his daughter, tamping down her own artistic ambitions to fully cater to his.
She’d confused loyalty for love. In the end, her father had viewed her as little more than a poorly paid servant. In return she’d given up everything and been left with nothing to show for it.
“We’ve already gone through that,” Avery said. “It doesn’t matter what the will said. Decisions about the estate come from the three of us together.”
“I know,” Carrie agreed. “I’m tired. Ignore me.”
“I tried that most of my life.” Meredith chuckled when Carrie stuck out her tongue. “Look where it got me.”
Carrie gulped down a swig of coffee, needing the caffeine to work its magic. She’d tossed and turned most of the night after her confrontation with Dylan.
“How am I going to get rid of him?” she asked, her voice little more than a plaintive whine.
Avery reached out and covered Carrie’s hand with hers. “Is it really so bad that he’s here? It’s been ten years. Maybe you won’t see him much.”
“He’s here to take over the town,” she said without emotion, “and destroy whatever he thinks is