Chapter 3
Chapter Three
I was sitting at the bar at the Embassy, waiting for Belinda to show up while I stared at the stage where I’d first sung with Colt. The night I’d stumbled upon my second dead body. Poor Walter Frey. I may not have pulled the trigger that time, but I’d killed him all the same—if he hadn’t agreed to meet me here, he might still be alive.
Maybe I needed to get the hell out of Franklin. Bad memories haunted me everywhere I looked.
Finishing off my drink, I thumped the glass onto the bar. “I have the worst damn luck in this town.”
“Are you sure it’s just the town?” Belinda asked as she sat on the stool next to me. “What are you drinking?”
“Long Island iced tea. Seemed better than doing straight shots.”
“So the objective is to get really drunk?” she asked in her sweet voice. If anyone else had spoken to me in that tone, I’d have suspected poison behind the honey, but Belinda was genuinely the sweetest person I knew. Life hadn’t been kind to her, and my asshole of a brother hadn’t been either, but she was a good, sweet person by nature, and that always shone through. So I accepted her and her overall goodness, and she accepted me, ugly warts and all. Win-win. She and Roy were getting a divorce, thank God, but she’d assured me she would always be my sister.
I shrugged and flagged down the bartender.
“I’ll take another and whatever she’s having,” I said, gesturing to Belinda.
“Cosmo,” Belinda said, turning on her stool to get a good look at me as the bartender walked off to make our drinks. “How many have you had?”
“Two.”
Her voice rose in surprise. “Since you called me?”
“I’ve had a shitty year.”
She leaned her arm against the counter, saying sympathetically, “I know.” Glancing around, she said, “Where’s Colt?”
“I don’t need a babysitter, Belinda.”
“I never said you did. I was just asking.”
I frowned. “He’s working the Hawkins Financial corporate dinner with the Belles.”
“Then what are you doing here drinking? Did Tilly finally fire you?” she said with a laugh.
“Sort of,” I muttered as the bartender slid my drink across the counter.
“What?” She leaned closer. “I was only teasing. What on earth happened?”
I pushed out a sigh. “She didn’t exactly fire me, but she has to hide me in the back. When we’re serving plated dinners, that’s fine, I don’t think I’m too good to be part of the kitchen staff, but when there’s a buffet like tonight, there’s nothing to do. It was a matter of hiding me from the financial planners who might not take kindly to Brian Steele’s daughter being in the room.”
“Oh, Magnolia.”
“She didn’t want me to go, and I was too stubborn to see it. But I need the money, and it doesn’t feel right to collect a paycheck for doing nothing. It was a stupid mistake. I took some dirty pans out back to the van, and Mo Barker was there waiting to ask me questions.”
Her forehead wrinkled, but then her eyes lit up with horrified understanding. “One of the hosts from that stupid podcast?”
“One and the same.” I picked up the glass and took a sip of my drink, my face feeling pleasantly numb. “Things did not go well. Colt came out blazing, defending me. Then Tilly showed up to see what the ruckus was about, and Mo started in on her. When we got inside, Tilly told me to leave, and a few of the people attending the dinner witnessed her meltdown. She was horrified.” I forced myself to look her in the eye. “I hurt her, Belinda. Just by being there, I hurt her.”
“No,” Belinda said, reaching over to put a hand on my arm. “I’m sure you didn’t.”
“She hated that woman sniffing around, and Mo had a microphone, so I’m sure everything we said will be played on next week’s episode.” I leaned my face into my hands. “They’ll show Colt cussing up a blue streak and Tilly…” I thought back to what Tilly had said.
“What did they get out of Tilly?” Belinda asked.
“Not much,” I said, my head feeling fuzzy. “She told them I didn’t give interviews. Then Mo asked her to give an interview herself since she was close to Momma. We started walking away, but Tilly kind of froze when Mo said she’d heard Tilly and Momma were really close.”
Belinda’s face went blank.
“What?” I asked, fear clutching my heart. “Why do you look like that?”
“Do you think that podcast woman was insinuating Tilly and your momma were… very close?”
“Of course they were very close,” I said with a snort. “They were always together. They were like sisters.”
“They weren’t anything like sisters, Magnolia,” Belinda said. “They were the opposite of sisters.”
“How can you say that?” I asked, shaking my head. The room spun and I realized I was already drunk. What the hell? When had I become such a lightweight? Then again, I was on my third drink in a half hour. “They loved each other.”
“Exactly,” she said, drawing the word out as if I were slow-witted. Right now I was, but her meaning finally penetrated.
“ What? ”
But deep down, I’d known. My mother and Tilly had been lovers. And now Molly and Mo were about to make their relationship out to be something salacious to gain more subscribers.
“You never guessed?” Belinda asked.
Sighing, I rested my forehead on my hand. “Yeah, but I thought maybe I was seeing things that weren’t there.”
“I have no actual proof,” Belinda said, “but I saw them together. They loved each other.”
Belinda had been part of my mother’s life for several years before I’d come back from New York, and Momma had loved Belinda. My sister-in-law would know better than me.
Just one more reminder of how fucked up my life was.
“What are you doin’ here, Magnolia?” she asked in a soft voice.
“I don’t know anymore,” I said, sitting up, and picked up my glass again. “Gettin’ shit-faced, I guess.”
“Why? Because you were ambushed by the podcast woman?”
“Yes. And because I’m tired of living like this.”
“Like what?” she asked with worry in her eyes.
“Like I’m a prisoner in my own head.”
She wrapped an arm around my back and leaned her head against mine, cheek to cheek. “I wish I could take some of this from you.”
Lots of people said things like that just because it sounded good, but Belinda actually meant it. If she could, she would likely take it all.
I turned to face her, our noses inches apart.
“Why do you like me?” I asked, realizing there were two of her this close.
She leaned back, and when she spoke, there was only one of her saying, “How on earth can you ask me that?”
“You’re so nice and I’m a bitch, not to mention, I’m a mess.”
“We’re all messes, Magnolia. I’m not sure if you noticed, but life is messy.”
My eyes welled with tears.
“So now that we’ve got that nonsense cleared up, why are you really here?”
I shook my head and took a long pull from my drink. If only I could tell her. If only I understood. All I knew was that I was desperately unhappy, and I had no idea how to fix it.
I took a deep breath and told her what I knew to be true. “Tripp Tucker might be dead, but he’s haunting every minute of my life. And now those stupid podcasters are stalking me.”
“Owen might have some ideas about how to handle them,” Belinda said.
My brows shot up. “Owen Frasier?”
“That’s the one.”
Owen Frasier had been a detective with the Franklin Police Department, but he’d quit during the serial killer mess. I knew he had formed his own security company. Belinda had moved into his apartment complex after she’d left my brother, but I hadn’t realized they were friendly. “Are you two seeing each other?”
Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. “Only casually.”
“Define casually,” I said, eager to latch on to any topic other than my pathetic life. Plus, this was the first time Belinda had gone out with someone since kicking my brother to the curb.
She shrugged, her blush spreading. “He’s a really nice guy.”
Owen and I hadn’t hit it off at first. I’d suspected him of something unsavory, and God knew he’d thought the same of me. Ultimately, we’d worked together to unmask the serial killer, but we’d had our own agendas. I’d wanted to save myself, and Owen had wanted to clear the name and reputation of his uncle, who’d been vilified for his “mishandling” of my father’s disappearance. Of course, we’d both also wanted to stop Tripp from killing again. He’d kept secrets, but so had I. I didn’t hold a grudge against him, but I knew Colt did.
“You didn’t tell me because of Colt,” I said.
“It’s a little awkward,” she admitted. “I wanted to wait and see before I told you.”
“So I guess the fact that you’re telling me now means things are going well?” Warmth spread through me as I took in her smile, her happy eyes.
“Yeah.”
“You deserve love, Belinda,” I said. “You deserve someone who’s amazing to you.”
She glanced down. “Thanks. It’s not love, but we’re having fun for now.”
“And is he amazing to you?”
She was practically glowing with happiness. “Yeah.”
My brother had been emotionally and physically abusive. Part of me had worried she might end up in another unhealthy relationship after leaving him—people had their patterns, after all—but Owen didn’t strike me as an abuser. Of course, I’m sure scores of people would say the same thing about my brother.
She turned serious. “Magnolia, I’m sure Owen can help with the podcast people.”
“Since his job is security now, I’m sure he could,” I said, “but I can’t exactly afford him. Not with Roy freezing all of Momma’s assets. Which makes me feel even worse that Tilly’s paying me, and I’m practically worthless.”
“You’re not worthless,” she asserted.
“But I’m not Momma.”
She grinned. “No one is, and while I loved Lila like a mother, that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”
I laughed.
“Tilly understands.”
“I know she does,” I said, sobering again. “I almost wish she didn’t. Then I wouldn’t feel so guilty, because bottom line, Southern Belles is hurting right now, and Tilly can’t afford to keep paying me for doing a half-ass job.”
“You don’t do a half-ass job,” she insisted.
“Maybe not, but there’s no disputing I’m only doing half a job.” I propped my elbow on the counter and rested my cheek on my hand. “I need to find something else, but no one wants to hire me. I’m too big of a distraction. I need to find a job where I can work at home.”
“That sounds like an absolutely terrible idea,” Belinda said. “Stuck in Colt’s tiny apartment all the time? That would make things worse.”
I suspected she was right. “I’m not sure what else to do.”
“Maybe you need to get away from Franklin for a while.”
I flinched. “You want me to leave?”
“No, of course not. I’m just saying you should take a long vacation somewhere. Try to let things die down. People stare at you here because you’ve been in the local news so much. Give them some time to forget.”
“While that sounds great,” I said, “can I remind you that I don’t have the money to take a vacation?”
“I can lend you the money.”
I vigorously shook my head, nearly falling off my stool. “No.”
“Magnolia, you can pay me back once the will issue with Roy is settled.”
“That could take years.”
“It’s okay.”
“If Roy is fighting me on Momma’s will, surely he’s fighting you on the divorce, which means you don’t have much money to spare either.”
She grimaced. “Surprisingly, he’s not.”
“Huh. So it’s personal.” I wasn’t sure why I was surprised. While Roy had admitted that he loved me, he’d spent most of his life hating me too. Sure, he’d shown up with Belinda to save me from Tripp Tucker and our father, but I suspected part of him resented me for it.
“I’m sorry,” she said, looking even guiltier.
“Don’t be sorry that he’s not making your life hell anymore. He already dragged you through enough misery during your marriage.”
“He made your life hell too.”
I shrugged, trying to make a show of not caring. “Not as much as yours.”
“It’s not a competition.”
No. It definitely wasn’t.
“Why are you here, Magnolia?” she asked again. “This bar is packed full of the sixtysomethings crowd, not to mention it’s where you were supposed to meet Walter Frey that night. There are other places we could have gone.”
I made a face. “You remembered that, huh?”
“Yeah. Is that why you’re here?”
“No,” I said, another wave of melancholy washing over me. “This is the first place Colt and I sang together.”
Her brows knitted in confusion.
“He was singing here the night I was supposed to meet Walter Frey. The police were questioning people, and I was about to lose my mind with worry, thinking they’d pin it on me as soon as they found out I was supposed to meet him. Colt pulled me up on stage and let them believe I was there to sing with him.” I shrugged. “He also figured it would help calm me down. It was one of the first times he showed me that his self-centered-asshole routine was a big act. Turned out Colt Austin was a big softie.”
It was when we’d realized how great we sounded together, and that song—“Need You Now”—was still one of my favorites. We’d fit together on stage that night. That’s what made this so hard.
She gasped. “You’re thinking about leaving him.”
I wasn’t surprised she’d figured me out. She’d become pretty good at reading me too.
When I didn’t deny it, she cried out, “Magnolia!”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I haven’t made a decision yet.”
“Don’t you think you should both make that decision?”
“He’ll never say we should split up if he thinks I’m in any kind of danger.”
“He loves you, Magnolia. Anyone can see it plain as day.”
“Just because he loves me doesn’t mean he should be stuck with the mess that I’ve become. He shouldn’t have to be haunted by Tripp Tucker’s ghost too.”
She paused. “Do you love him ?”
Tears streamed down my cheeks. “More than I ever thought it possible to love someone, and it’s because I love him that I want to save him from this. Save him from me .”
“Don’t make a rash decision,” she finally said, her forehead creasing into a frown. “Real love is too precious to throw away.”
I knew that all too well, but I felt the need to save him anyway.