The Merriest Magnolia (Magnolia Sisters #2) - Michelle Major Page 0,74

kind of second coming. “I doubt anyone wants to see my current art.”

“Yes, they do,” Avery argued. “Especially if we market the event the right way.”

“Your dad might have been a critical hack most of his career,” Phil Wainright from the hardware store said, “but he’s still famous. People will be curious to know whether you’re going to carry on the family tradition. Think of the publicity you got from the show of your old stuff, and we hardly did anything to market that but announce it on the town Facebook page.” His words earned nods of agreement from the group, making Carrie unsure of whether to laugh or cry.

Without thinking about it, she shifted nearer to Dylan. She should be angry with him. His encouragement had inspired her to begin painting for real again. She hadn’t even realized she missed it before he came back into her life. She hadn’t realized she missed a lot of things before his return.

“We need to keep our attention focused on the task in front of us,” he told the group as he stepped in front of her like some kind of buffer against a storm. “Let’s get these lights going and show the crowds who attend the festival a great time and then we’ll focus on what comes next.”

Carrie appreciated the reprieve from being the center of attention, even if something about the way he spoke about the future made her hackles rise. She ignored the clang of warning bells sounding in her brain. Dylan was here. True to his word, it felt like he was giving her and the other volunteers a chance to prove they had Magnolia on the right track.

If they stayed the course, things would keep moving forward with tourism and, hopefully, they’d forget about the idea of her doing a show. She should want to embrace the opportunity, but as much as painting filled her heart, the thought of putting her work out for public consumption remained a terrifying prospect. Her old high school paintings had been easy enough to display, especially when the sales had helped raise the money to pay off a few overdue bills and buy supplies for the paint-and-sip business.

But her new work felt different, more personal. In truth, it terrified her to think of sharing it publicly. There would be no way to prevent comparisons to her father, and Carrie had watched him struggle for years dealing with his career. The constant pressure to do more, sell more, be more to everyone. It was one thing to give her all to help Magnolia succeed. She imagined putting that much effort into a career as an artist might feel like constantly walking around with no clothes on.

Tamping down the panic that threatened to overtake her, she followed as Malcolm led the group across the street toward the center of the town square. She’d deal with the harsh reality of what it meant to truly embrace her art after the holidays. Carrie held her breath as he placed a hand on the control panel the electricians had set up behind the main bandstand.

He flipped the switch and for a moment the entire square was flooded with light. Thousands of light strands twinkled from where they’d been strung across the wide expanse of park, around the trunks of trees and along the perimeter of the square. Every building that bordered the park was lit in festive colors. Overhead there was a canopy of light in the shape of Santa in his sleigh, complete with reindeer and a giant bag of toys.

Tears sprang to Carrie’s eyes as the lights danced like stars overhead and all around them. She heard the rumble of the snowmaking machine and seconds later flurries gathered in the air around them. The effect was everything she’d imagined and more.

A collective gasp went up from their group. It was like a holiday fairy tale for a few seconds. Then it all went dark.

* * *

“THE LIGHTS WERE overkill anyway,” Stuart Moore, the crotchety owner of the bookstore, told Carrie as he awkwardly patted her shoulder. “People don’t want to be wearing sunglasses at night.”

She gave a halfhearted laugh at his attempt to make her feel better. Even to her own ears it sounded just this side of hysterical.

“We’ll fix this,” Avery assured her.

“It’s a disaster,” Carrie murmured, pressing two fingers to her pounding heart. “I shouldn’t have gone so crazy with the lights.”

Her plan for the biggest light display on the coast seemed