On Monday, Martha peered out the back window of the Brown Beast as though released from prison. Getting her in the car had been a chore, but seeing her in the rearview mirror, Avery was glad she had made the effort.
“I wish spring would get here.” Martha’s voice was shaky.
“It won’t be long now.” Avery gave a small laugh. “A little more daylight would sure make those early mornings easier.”
“Running the store is hard, isn’t it? But you meet the nicest people.”
“You certainly do.” Customers were eager for someone to listen. Avery had discovered how much she enjoyed being on the other end of a conversation.
“We may need to stay open later this summer, Bill,” Martha said. “Customers stay out later when it’s light outside.”
Avery shot a look into the backseat and then at Bill, who had insisted on sitting up front. “You’ve changed your mind?”
“Don’t worry,” Martha said. “We’ll keep you on, won’t we, Bill?”
“I’ll think about it.” He looked at Avery and lowered his voice. “She’s not herself since that heart attack.” He tapped his temple. “That hospital stay really took it out of her. Sometimes she’s perfect, and then she gets confused. She can’t remember that you made an offer.”
“I didn’t realize . . .”
“Comes with getting old, I reckon. The doctors say she might have a touch of dementia. Most folks don’t notice.” Bill cleared his throat. “But I still don’t know why you wanted to give us a danged tour.”
“I don’t want you to have regrets.”
“Do I need to take an ad out in the newspaper? I’ve told you, Kathleen, Bud, T. J., Greg . . . My regret is not becoming a city employee like my brother. Steady paycheck and health insurance. Good hours. Martha could’ve been an art teacher, and we might have found a way to have a baby. Even adopted.” He rubbed his chin. “She’s good with kids and a good artist. We made a mistake when we bought the market.”
Something twisted in Avery’s stomach. Are we making a mistake? Is this a bad idea?
“Magnolia Market was not a mistake,” Martha said. “We had a lot of good years there.”
“Thanks for sharing it with me,” Avery said.
“You’ve been a big help this past month.” Bill wiped at his eyes.
Avery noticed the signs of his fatigue. He had lost weight, and the wrinkles on his face reminded her of the hound dog on a childhood cartoon.
“Let’s go on.” He coughed. “Might as well get a last look at the old place.”
“Did you know we’re moving to Hot Springs?” Martha asked. “With both of us getting old, we’re going to—” She stopped. “What’s it called, Bill?”
“Assisted living. Someone else will do all the work for a change.”
“Greggie’s taking care of things,” Martha said. “He’s such a good boy.”
Bill let out a sigh. “Greg’s a greedy con man,” he said in a low, angry voice. “He tried to put us in a nursing home in Samford.”
“I’ve always loved this part of town,” Martha said as they approached the light at Trumpet and Vine. “It has such character.”
She beamed as Avery pulled the station wagon into the parking lot. “You didn’t tell me we put up a new sign.”
“Remember, sweetheart? Bud carved it.” Bill swiped at his eyes again and turned to look out the other window. “Martha drew that magnolia logo when we first bought the store.”
A lump grew in Avery’s throat. “It’s lovely.”
“Pull up there.” He gestured to the front door. “But keep your foot on the brake.”
“I’m still not quite sure how—”
Martha chuckled. “That’s not the first time this store’s been run into—”
“Martha,” Bill said, “stop your yapping.”
“You said you were going to tell her.”
“I said ‘one of these days.’ That’s not today.” He opened the car door before Avery put the car into Park and used his cane to lift himself. “Let’s get this over with. I want to get home in time to watch the news.”
Helping Martha out of the car took both of them. “Put your hand on my arm, and take it slow. Avery’s got your walker.”
“I’ll take your other arm,” Avery said, but Martha shook her head, not speaking.
“Pork chop, you’re not having a spell, are you?” Bill murmured.
Pork chop?
“No, Crawdaddy. I’m taking it all in.” She patted Bill’s hand. “It looks almost like it did when we first bought it.”
Bill covered her hand with his, in the crook of his arm. “You were a young filly. Told me I’d better treat you right or you’d go back to your mama and daddy.”
“I did a time or two, didn’t I?” Martha’s weak chuckle had turned into a full laugh. “But you always wooed me back.”
Avery picked at her fingernails, a habit she had given up in high school. This was as uncomfortable as her bridal shower at the country club.
“I hope you don’t expect me to carry you over that threshold, Martha, because I don’t have that in me.”
“Phooey,” Martha said. “You could do it in a New York minute, but I don’t want you down in your back.”
Bill gave a laugh. “Let’s go see what Miss Fancy-pants has done to the place.”
Avery bolted to the door and held the screen while pushing open the main door. “Kathleen, we’re here.”
“Howdy, everybody.” Greg stepped out of the back. “Took y’all long enough.” He eyed Avery. “Store was locked up when I got here with a note on the door. Some kind of shop help this one is!”
Avery frowned and dug the beat-up cell phone out of her purse. Sure enough, there was a text message: JOB-INTERVIEW EMERGENCY. HORRIBLE TIMING. STORE LOCKED. BACK SOON. SOOOO SORRY. XOXO KM.
Greg walked over to kiss Martha on the cheek and shake hands with Bill.
“I told you not to come here again.” Bill guided Martha to the old desk chair behind the counter.
Greg ambled to the soft-drink cooler. “You’re making a big mistake. Creswell Broussard is willing to beat any other offer.” Greg glanced at Avery. “This is a prime piece of real estate, and you’re tying it up for years in some lame lease deal.”
Avery halted in front of the counter and started to speak. But then she closed her mouth. With Bill and Martha in their old seats, she felt like she had walked into someone’s living room without knocking.
Bill’s eyes were focused on Martha, who braced herself against the counter as she rose. She could have been meeting an old friend after a long separation. She waddled out from behind the counter, holding onto it as she moved. “Everything’s so clean. It smells good too.”
“You left things in great shape,” Avery said. “You and Bill built a good business here.”
“Is this where we shop, Bill?” Martha stopped to rub her hand on the glass.
“No, dear, this is our store.”
“Oh, that’s right.” With excruciating slowness, she made her way back to where Bill stood.
Avery fought back tears as Bill eased Martha into the old desk chair, but then he opened the cash register and thumbed through the money. “Doesn’t look like my nephew has been in the till this time.”
Greg’s eyes widened. “You’d better deposit those. You don’t want that kind of cash lying around.”
Bill shook his head and placed the money back into the drawer, then closed it with a ding. “This is Avery’s store now.”
“So you own this place?” Martha looked across the counter at Avery. “I can tell you love it.”
“Very much.” Avery swallowed, while Greg moved closer to the register.
“Creswell Broussard is willing to beat Avery’s offer. It would be an outright sale—none of this lease-to-own rigmarole. You could get your hands on more money sooner.”
Bill sat on his stool, the place he sat the first time Avery had ever seen him. He picked up his big ring of keys from the counter, rubbing the door key with his fingers. “Don’t you mean you could get your hands on more money sooner?”
Greg scowled.
Martha put her hand up on the brass keys of the cash register. “This nice lady is going to buy it.” She gave Avery a bright smile. “She works for us. Have you met her, Greggie?”
“She’s a good one.” Bill put his hand on Martha’s shoulder. “Pork chop, you ready to go home?”
Martha stood, clinging to Bill’s arm. “I’ll be ready as soon as I make the biscuits.”
“I’ll take care of those, Martha,” Avery said, her voice soft. And she dashed her hand at the tears that trickled down her cheek.