Chapter 12
Grady likes to call his new place a condo, but it’s really a carriage house, a miniature redbrick home catty-corner to a traditional
house. Certainly no college rental.
It’s first thing Saturday morning, the beginning of Grady’s weekend with Hallie, and she and I climb the single wooden step.
Hallie raps on the front door. Her purple backpack is slung over her shoulder, the signal of her leaving that throws my body
into nauseating aches every time. It’s been more than half a year of splitting time, but watching her go won’t ever get easier.
After a second knock, Grady unlocks the door. When he pulls it open, he’s wearing only a robe. He slips out and closes the
door behind him.
“I wasn’t expecting y’all.” He smiles at Hallie, then his eyes dart back toward the door.
“I’m pretty sure today’s your day.” I pull out my phone and navigate to the email string between us. I hold it up when I find
it. “Here. It says today’s you.”
Hallie huffs. “I can just stay by myself. My friend Clara said her mom let her—”
“Nice try,” I say to Hallie. I turn to Grady and eye the door. “Is there something else you have going on today?” I’m kinder
than I care to be, but Hallie’s watching.
He rolls his lips, and I know in that moment it’s a someone , not a something , inside. “Sorry,” he says.
I lay my hand on Hallie’s shoulder and ask, “Feel like playing design intern, Hal? We’ve got Mr. Sam coming to the Daniel
House today.”
“Um, yes , Mom. Can I run the sander too?”
“I’m not sure Mr. Sam’s insurance covers seven-year-olds operating the machinery, but we will have jobs for you. Go wait in
the car, and I’ll be right there.”
Once she’s out of earshot I turn back to Grady. “I know you’re going to have your life, Grady, but if you have a weekend scheduled
with Hallie, you need to be there. You’re her dad. Be ready, and don’t stand her up. You know how important that is to me.”
I glance back at her, hanging out of the open car door, and I promise myself I won’t let him let her down like my own father
did to me.
“It won’t happen again,” Grady says.
I don’t believe him. It’s sad how different he is from the boy I once loved so dearly, but perhaps it was naive of me to think
the two of us could ever work in the first place.
Hallie calls, “Mommy! Let’s get to work!”
I turn and walk toward my daughter.
I climb in the car and take off, counting my lucky stars that my daughter is as head over heels for design work as I am (particularly
the grubby parts). Our destination is only a handful of slow-driven blocks away, then we pull up in front of the Daniel House.
I spot Sam’s truck a few cars down, and he’s waiting on the porch when we walk up.
“Do we have an extra set of hands today?” Sam asks, bending to meet Hallie’s eyes.
“Yes, sir.” She pops her hands on her hips and nods deeply. “I’m glad to help with anything that’s covered by insurance.”
Sam frowns in confusion.
“Yes, no heavy machinery for you today, Hal,” I say.
Sam nods. “Well then, while your mama and I talk shop, could you go around and find all the nails sticking out of the floor?
Here.” He hands her a roll of blue painter’s tape. “Stick a piece by each one you find. That way we can get them out before
we refinish.”
Hallie’s eyes go wide as she loops the tape onto her arm like a bracelet and skips off to begin her hunt.
“Thank you, Sam. Do you charge extra for the kid gloves? Because I’m happy to pay for it. Her dad had some mix-ups with his schedule.”
He chuckles. “Not for you, Ms. Mack. It seems like she’ll follow in your footsteps, take over your firm one day, perhaps?”
I make myself smile because I know Sam means well, but there’s nothing like the thought of Hallie following the well-trodden
path of my life to make my skin crawl. It’s exactly what Magnolia wanted for me (minus the absentee father part), and if there’s
one thing I’m determined to allow Hallie, it’s the freedom to make her own choices.
“She sure does love to join in,” I say. “But who knows? She changes her mind about most things every other day, so it’ll be
a while before we know if design will stick.”
“It’s the same with my nieces,” Sam says with a chuckle. “Give me a few minutes to measure and look over the floors, and then
we can chat?”
“Sure,” I say. “And you know you never have to wait for me to let you in. If I didn’t trust you by now, I’m not sure I ever
would.”
“I guess it’s the manners we got drilled into us all those years back,” he says.
I give him a look, and he knows I mean it when I say, “You and me both, my friend.”
Right as I step away and Sam disappears into the house, I know Magnolia’s ears must’ve been burning—even if she was referenced
only very indirectly—because her name lights up on the screen of my ringing phone.
“Mother, hi,” I say.
“When were you going to tell me?” Magnolia demands.
My mind goes straight to Exquisite Interiors. But how would she know? Maya and I are still setting up interviews with videographers—a
surprisingly sought-after bunch. Fitz wouldn’t have mentioned it, not that he talks to my mother.
“I’m sorry?” I ask.
“Grady.” She huffs. “He’s left the firm.”
I let out a breath. This I’d much prefer. This I’m prepared for.
“Oh yes. He decided after the big fellowship letdown that he was ready to leave the firm,” I say. “I understand his decision,
considering the whole his-ex-is-in-charge part.”
“And you didn’t think to mention it to me? I even said I was hoping the Daniel House would bring you two back together. Did
you keep it from me to make sure you got the job?”
“Mother, I—”
“Tell me, did you know before the job?” Magnolia asks.
“I’m sorry,” I say. It’s muscle memory to snap back into my years-old act. “I should’ve mentioned it before we took on the
work. I didn’t mean to break your trust or take advantage.”
Maybe it makes me a bad person, but I don’t feel sorry. This one single project, though lovely and something I’m grateful for, is also something any mother should be happy to pass on without any strings attached. It’s not like she could renovate it herself.
“Very right,” Magnolia says. “And it is taking advantage to mislead me like that.”
But would she have given me the job if she’d known Grady was done with the firm? Would she have punished me for his choice?
Would she have twisted this into another familiar quid pro quo to have her way with my life? I want to ask her all of these
things, but like her darling little Magnolia Junior, I won’t. I know how to play by her rules, and challenging her (or making a scene as she calls it) would only cause me personal and professional heartache.
I lean back against the paint-cracked siding. “It wasn’t my information to share, Mother. You’ve always taught me to be discreet.
As you say: ‘There’s nothing worse than being known as a busybody.’ I figured Delta would go to you right away with the news
anyway.”
Magnolia sucks in an outraged breath before continuing. “And that’s the other half of it! Grady didn’t even share the news
with his poor mother until she happened to walk into Ned’s office this morning and run into her very own son . He told her some story about things not being final yet, them still working things out, but she and I both knew that was
hogwash. The day he left the firm, he should’ve notified her—the work with Ned set or not.”
I gasp, hoping I’m selling it well.
“I know,” Magnolia says. “Poor Delta, she was completely blindsided. Not to mention, she was furious with Ned.”
“ Poor Delta.” Repeating phrases of my mother’s makes her feel like I’m on her side. “And sweet Ned. I’m sure he meant nothing by
it. Probably didn’t want to get Delta’s hopes up that Grady might be around more until they’d come to a real agreement.”
“Perhaps . She and I both think Grady knew she’d bust out the waterworks and ask him to stay at your firm. I think for her”—Magnolia
lets out a dramatic sigh—“and probably me, too, it feels like the final nail in the coffin on what we’ve always wanted: y’all
two together.”
“That final nail,” I say and throw in a yelp.
“It’s ghastly,” Magnolia says. “You should’ve told me. Consider this a directive to do so next time. It’s not gossiping when
it’s family.”
I don’t mention the fact that very little to do with Grady’s life (aside from our precious Hallie) is about to be any of my
business.
“Message received,” I say. “I guess Grady didn’t want to hurt his poor mama.” I shudder at the feeling of painting Grady in
such a generous light. “Though he does seem to favor Ned. I’m sure that hurts Delta too.”
“Precisely.” Magnolia’s tone has cooled, and I can tell we’re through the eye of this thing. “How’s everything at the house?
I’m glad you didn’t add on some garish outdoor wedding pergola to the back of the house. I was half expecting it in the blueprints.
Seems I was outvoted on blasting away the upstairs walls, but the blueprints were to the board’s liking overall.”
Sam approaches the front door, signaling he’s done. “I’m glad they were approved,” I say. “I kept things in the middle ground
as best I could—to account for everyone’s taste. But I’m here now with Sam Jacobs looking at the floor. Can I call you back
later tonight? He needs to give me the rundown.”
“Glad to hear things are progressing,” Magnolia says. “Tonight we’re doing a gala—houseboats for wounded warriors, I believe—so
let’s talk tomorrow. I’d like to set a date for my next site visit.”
“All right, Mother,” I say. “Sounds good.”
I end the call and make a mental note to remind her to dress appropriately for her visit. Maybe I’ll even need to require hard hats. Safety first, right?
I’m still smiling to myself at the idea of Magnolia’s blown-out hair being jammed into a dusty plastic helmet when I look
up at Sam. “Ready?”
Hallie bounds up behind him. “I’ve done thirty-four blue-tape dots!”
Sam gives Hallie a high five and turns back to me. “Yes, ready for next steps, but there’s also some bad news: I think we’ve
got rot.”