Chapter 45
Chapter forty-five
MAGNOLIA
St. Patrick’s Day in Savannah had come and gone, and the city was sweltering on the brink of another summer. It had been almost a year since Lee had come back, and life as we knew it was shook to the core, finally having unraveled at the seams.
Though a part of me felt sorry for the loss of income during one of Savannah’s biggest party months, I’d remained hopeful for better days ahead.
In the dead of night, Sutton and I had just left a long evening at Eunice Wilder’s house. Sutton had catered the affair with her new catering company, Savannah’s Sweethearts, and I was her bartender on call.
“That was a weird party,” Sutton mused, ripping off her chef’s coat as we walked down Jones Street. “Who throws a party to celebrate National Coconut Cream Pie Day?”
I laughed, peering in the darkened windows of some of Savannah’s booming businesses, now sleeping after a hard day of tourist placating.
I paused in front of an old building, looking it up and down.
“I think she was trying to give us business, Sutton,” I laughed, shoving my face against the window, pointing to the for sale sign.
“This is the third one you’ve stopped at this week, Mags. It was an antique shop. It won’t have a kitchen.”
I shrugged, and we carried on down the street to her condo, my temporary home, linked arm in arm.
“You’ll find it,” she said, breaking the silence. “And it will be perfect.”
Since we’d been back, every time I stopped when I saw a for sale sign in a window, I’d done extensive research on the building. But nothing felt right. Nothing gave me the vibes I wanted for my new bar.
Or if it did, my new business partner would just find something else to nitpick. Mostly trivial things, like not being zoned for liquor, or like tonight, that it didn’t have a kitchen.
More often than not, she’d tell me she felt spirits inside, insisting that we couldn’t run a successful business if we were too busy being haunted.
“Think his tour is done? Lee, I mean,” I asked quietly, as we turned the corner to our street.
“Who else would we be talking about? Stop obsessing,” she chuckled.
We crawled the stairs to Sutton’s condo on historic Oglethorpe Ave.
The place had Sutton written all over it—bright throw pillows that didn’t match but somehow worked, oversized candles that smelled like heaven, cookbooks all over the place, and walls crammed with artsy prints she’d collected over the years.
My things were scattered here and there—my favorite mug on the counter, my boots kicked off by the door, Pickle, glaring ominously at us from her perch on top of the kitchen cabinets—but all they felt out of place, like I didn’t quite belong.
I was grateful, of course. Sutton had opened her home to me without a second thought, and I didn’t take that lightly.
But after living alone for so long, I missed having a space that was mine, a place where I could be still and sort through the chaos in my head.
As much as I loved Sutton, her constant energy could feel like too much when all I wanted was to sit in silence and figure out what came next.
“What about something like this? I could buy the whole building, and most of these places have retail or restaurant space below?”
“Where are you going to get that money? Sorry, where are we going to get that money?”
I shrugged. “It might take some time, but it will happen someday.”
I woke up the next morning and ran out for coffee and pastries. Sutton was off working a dry baby shower, which meant I had the day off. I’d planned on looking for a great space somewhere, possibly close to Charlie, but the vibe didn’t feel right.
Munching on a danish and slowly walking through Chatham Square, I heard my name bellowed from behind me.
“Now wait up for me, darlin’. You know an old woman can’t walk that fast.”
“Good morning, Eunice,” I said, kissing her cheek. “How are we today?”
As much as the sight of her still gave me somewhat of a panic attack, like her eldest son was going to come out of a bush and light me on fire—or worse, ask me to take him back—as time went on and we spent more time together, I felt some of that fog lifting.
“Just fine, just fine. Wanna take a bench with me? I’d like to chat with you about something.”
I nodded and presented her a bag with a fresh pastry to see if she wanted a nosh while we talked.
“I just left B. Matthews, otherwise I would. But thank you. You really are so kind, even though I know my boys destroyed you.”
A few months ago, that might have struck me like a hatchet to the heart, but today, I just shrugged and took a seat next to her, listening as I sipped on my coffee.
“Before Dane scooted off to who knows where with that trollop, Vance and I were talking with his realtor friend Joseph. You know that good ole’ Christian boy who frequently hangs out at the titty bars?”
I spit my coffee into Eunice Wilder’s lap.
“Did you just say titty? On a Sunday?”
“Now, it’s a new era. If I learned anything from our whole ordeal, it’s that when you try and keep things shoved into a mold where it doesn’t belong, it combusts. So shit, fuck, titty, and then some, darlin’.”
I stared at her with my jaw hitting my knees for a solid thirty seconds. I couldn’t believe what my ears were hearing, and frankly, they were burning. “So, what about Joseph, frequenter of the less finer establishments here in town?” I finally asked.
“Well, as I said before Dane and what’s her face absconded, Vance and I were fixin’ to buy you two a house, just down the street from us on Jones.” She kept her eyes trained in her lap, which was now covered in my coffee, and wouldn’t meet my eye.
She knew what my reaction was going to be.
“You’re not giving me anything,” I said it quickly and sternly, and I meant every word. I wasn’t taking anything from the Wilder family ever again.
“It was once a bed and breakfast. It’s zoned for a liquor license and has a commercial kitchen. We thought, someday, you and Dane would restore it and that it could be your project—you know, when Dane eventually got you to loosen your grip on O’Malley’s.”
I nodded. “I’m glad to finally hear someone admit it.”
“I didn’t really know. Not until after everything came to light, at any rate. Vance and I were going through some of Dane’s files. He had an investor from Atlanta looking at the space to build high-rise condos and commercial space below.”
“Oh, I know,” I laughed. “I appreciate you, Eunice, but I can’t let you give me this property.”
Her head snapped up. “Oh, sweetheart, no. I wouldn’t dare insult you like that. You’d lease—to own—and you’d be responsible for all of the renovations.”
She stood to go, bending down to give me a kiss on the cheek, and I smiled up at her. I knew I didn’t have to give her an answer right then and there, and it warmed me to know that she was self-aware enough not to just hand me something.
Because I wasn’t taking anything from anyone anymore.
“I don’t know how I’d come up with the money for the restoration, though.”
Eunice turned back around and smiled. “You’ve been named President of the Wilder Family Trust as of this morning.
What’s now back in there—securely—is yours.
Vance filed Cole’s death certificate and his will, which now makes you the sole owner of whatever is left of O’Malley’s.
The land it stands on, the insurance pay out, everything is yours now, and everything that Dane fraudulently signed with Cole’s name is now null and void.
You also have the personal shares leftover from Vance, myself, and, of course, from Lee.
That money’s yours, Magnolia. Whether you’re a true Wilder or not, you’re still a part of this family. ”
She tucked her purse under her arm and scooted through the square, not looking back at me once.
***
I crashed Sutton’s baby shower, and when she saw me burst into the kitchen of a family I’d never seen before a day in my life, she threw a cookie sheet down on the marble countertop and growled at me.
“That look on your face. I don’t like it, Magnolia. It’s got Wilder drama written all over it, and I don’t have time right now!”
“Girl, do you need help? Why don’t you let me take over whatever this is,” I quipped, gesturing to the pile of burned shards lingering on the counter.
She threw her arms up in the air and yelped. “I feel like I’ve lost my mojo! Ever since Ryan left Savannah and I left LaMonte’s, it’s like I have no one to impress!”
“Wait, you were trying to impress Ryan? Never mind. Let’s save that.
Sutton, you’re one of the most talented chefs in the entire city.
When you left LaMonte’s, restaurants scrambled to try and get you to come on staff.
Pass me that gouda. Honestly, you only need to impress yourself at this point. The rest of us know what’s up.”
She shrugged and leaned back on the sink. “Those are cookies, Magnolia. You’re putting gouda on gluten-free cookies.”
We both let out a series of wild cackles followed by long belly laughs. When I composed myself, I walked over and wrapped her in a hug.
“What did you need to tell me? Seriously, if Lee is back…” She sighed into my embrace.
“He’s not. It’s nothing. Let’s get this situated and go grab a drink when you’re done.”
“Thanks for stopping by,” she said quietly, fixing up a charcuterie plate as I made my way to the door. “Sometimes I forget what it’s like to have you all to myself. I’m really thankful for your help.”
“I hope so, girlfriend, because I’m going to be needing yours real soon.”