The Merriest Magnolia (Magnolia Sisters #2) - Michelle Major Page 0,72

“Is that what I have to look forward to with Barnaby?”

Meredith flashed a cheeky grin. “He’s a kitten so you have tons of fun ahead of you. Unwound toilet paper rolls...shredded curtains...being climbed like a jungle gym.”

“Fantastic,” Dylan muttered. “Can’t wait. I’ll see you at his next vet appointment.”

He turned to go but Meredith stopped him with a hand on his arm. He looked down at her fingers, noticing that they were the same elegant shape as Carrie’s. Did Avery have the same hands as her two sisters? Was this a trait they shared from their father’s DNA?

She quickly pulled away her hand. “I’m joking about the bad behavior. Get a scratching post and some interactive cat toys. Call if you run into an issue. I just want you to know you’re doing a good thing with the animals. Not just for them but for Sam, too. Studies have shown that pet ownership is good for a person’s emotional and physical health. Daisy and Barnaby will give him something to think about other than himself and what he’s been through. And unconditional love. Everyone needs love.”

“I don’t,” Dylan answered automatically. He’d learned too many hard lessons about how love led to pain. “But I get what you’re saying about the kid. Just no more animals.”

“Fish are easy,” Meredith said, tapping one finger against her chin.

“No more,” he repeated with an eye roll and she laughed.

He left the rescue with a feeling of lightness in his chest that he didn’t understand or appreciate. He had no desire to make friends with people in Magnolia, and certainly not Carrie’s sister. He might not consider himself the enemy, but it was better if other people did. Then there would be no surprises if and when he hurt them.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CARRIE RUSHED DOWN the stairs into the conference room of the town hall building, where the business owners’ meeting was already underway.

First, she’d totally blown off last week’s dinner with her sisters and the two town council members, and tonight she was twenty minutes late. As a rule, Carrie was never late but she’d been painting for hours and lost track of the time. Again.

Returning from Dylan’s house, she’d only managed a few fitful hours of sleep before giving up. In the second bedroom of her rental, she’d picked up a paintbrush and put it to the canvas set up on her easel without much conscious thought. Years ago art had been both her escape and a path to emotional freedom. It was strange that it played the same role for her now, like slipping back into a comfortable pair of shoes.

She’d continued to paint as the light from the window went from shades of gray and pink to the bright morning sunshine and throughout the day. She hadn’t stopped for food or to go to the bathroom, propelled by some force she barely understood.

“I’m here,” she announced as if her arrival wasn’t obvious.

“Nice to see you, Carrie,” the mayor announced from where he stood at the podium in the front of the room. “We were about to adjourn to the square to test the lights before things really get rolling tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. The biggest weekend of the festival—her festival—kicked off in earnest tomorrow with the elaborate LED and twinkle light displays she’d installed to be synchronized with a soundtrack of holiday carols, along with a twenty-minute snow show. And she’d blown off her entire to-do list in order to spend the day working on a new canvas. What was wrong with her?

She smiled and kept her head held high as the members of the committee filed past her on their way out the door, ignoring the strange looks she got from almost every person, including her sisters. She hadn’t seen Dylan yet but the way the little hairs on the back of her neck stood on end told her he was in the room.

“Is everything all right, dear?” Josie Trumbell seemed genuinely worried as she looked Carrie over from head to toe.

“I’m fine,” Carrie answered and tried not to cringe as she glanced down at herself. The faded sweatshirt she wore was wrinkled and splattered with paint specks and the bulky boots she’d shoved her feet into were a glaring contrast to the patterned leggings she wore. She smiled at Josie and swiped a hand at the front of her shirt.

“Don’t bother,” Avery said, coming to stand next to her. “Your cheeks are streaked, as well. Embrace the eccentric artist mantle, sis. It looks good