Chapter 32
Mags had dressed up for her evening out and was wearing a gold top that made her eyes glow even more than usual. And it revealed one smooth shoulder in a way that made me want to reveal a whole lot more.
“Is your ex-boyfriend still around?” I asked, stopping in front of her.
She gestured toward the door. “Um. He’s gone...” She trailed off, and I wasn’t sure what she meant, whether he was gone for good, or just in the next room. Either way, it didn’t matter.
The only thing that mattered was that she knew the way I felt about her.
Problem was, everyone was staring at us. Karen Smith and Bonnie Linton were standing just a few feet away, their gazes judgmental. Her ex-boyfriend had just been singing to her. Everyone in this room would think less of her just for talking to me. I was a Baxter, after all.
Only that wasn’t all I was. I’d always have my last name, but it didn’t define me. I was a unique individual who deserved to be judged by the things I did, not by how I looked, what I wore, or who my family happened to be.
Turning from Mags, I stepped up onto the stage where the band equipment was set up, and moved in front of one of the microphones. I tapped it with one finger, like I’d seen people do, and from the sound the tap made I figured it must be on.
Everyone was looking quizzically at me, wondering what I was doing. Maybe they expected me to start singing. I wasn’t used to public speaking, and my throat was tight with nerves.
“I’m Cy Baxter,” I said into the microphone, looking at all the familiar and curious faces around me. “Most of y’all know who my daddy was. He was an evil man, just like his daddy before him.”
The room had gone deathly silent, and everyone in it seemed to be gaping at me.
Clearing my throat, I kept talking. “My daddy used to sell drugs, and my brother is in prison. But I’m not like them, and it’s about time y’all stopped treating me that way. I’m using my daddy’s barn to grow golden oyster and enoki mushrooms, and I’m selling them to local restaurants.”
A man at the back of the room spoke up, his voice ringing out unexpectedly. “I’ve bought some of those mushrooms. They’re good quality.”
The man walked forward, emerging from the crowd. To my surprise, it was Mr. Johnson from the Crooked Creek Inn. He stroked his large, silver mustache, nodding around at everyone in the room. “Come for a meal at the Inn,” he said. “Order something with mushrooms in it, and y’all won’t be disappointed.”
“Thank you, Mr. Johnson.” I gave him a nod. “The reason I decided to come up here and announce all this is that my daddy’s dead and my brother won’t be coming back. The only Baxters who are left are me and my niece Gemma, and my sister Ruth, if she decides to come back from Nashville. And my niece and sister don’t deserve to be tainted by my daddy’s bad deeds. They’ve never done a thing wrong. They can’t help being related to my daddy.”
Some people were nodding, which was an encouraging sight. Magdalena smiled at me, which was even more encouraging. Her eyes were sparkling, and her expression seemed like she approved of what I was saying.
I smiled back at her. “Also,” I said into the microphone, “I’m fixing to ask Magdalena if I can take her out for dinner somewhere nice. I hope she’s going to say yes. And if she does, I don’t want anyone giving her any trouble about it.” I swept my gaze around the room once more. “If anyone has anything to say about me or my name, they should say it now, to me. Then they won’t be tempted to treat Magdalena with anything less than politeness.”
A woman’s voice rang out from the back of the crowd. “I thought she was dating Eric Storm?”
I craned my neck trying to see who had shouted, but it didn’t really matter. I answered anyway.
“I understand it might be confusing seeing as her ex-boyfriend was just here, singing to her,” I admitted. “But whatever she decides, it’s up to her. I’ve said everything I wanted to say.” I stepped off the stage, walking back to Mags.
“You’re going to ask me out?” Mags asked, raising her eyebrows. “That’s definitely the most unique dinner invitation I’ve ever had.”
I took her hand. “Well, what do you say, Brooklyn? Would you do me the honor of having dinner with me tomorrow night? Our first official date?”
A slow grin broke over her face. “Cy Baxter, I thought you’d never ask.”