Charmingly Yours (A Morning Glory #1)
ALSO BY LIZ TALLEY
Home in Magnolia Bend
The Sweetest September
Sweet Talking Man
Sweet Southern Nights
New Orleans’ Ladies
The Spirit of Christmas
His Uptown Girl
His Brown-Eyed Girl
His Forever Girl
Bayou Bridge
Waters Run Deep
Under the Autumn Sky
The Road to Bayou Bridge
Oak Stand
Vegas Two-Step
The Way to Texas
A Little Texas
A Taste of Texas
A Touch of Scarlet
Novellas and Anthologies
The Nerd Who Loved Me
“Hotter in Atlanta”
“Kiss Me, Cowboy” in Cowboys for Christmas with Kim Law & Terri Osburn
A Wrong Bed for Christmas with Kimberly Van Meter
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2016 Amy Rogers Talley
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781503949683
ISBN-10: 1503949680
Cover design by Laura Klynstra
To the town that made me who I am—Minden, Louisiana. I can’t say Morning Glory is exactly like my hometown, but since it’s filled with character, warmth, and busybodies, it’s not too far off. Thanks for raising me right, Minden.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Acknowledgments
Sneak Peek: Perfectly Charming
About the Author
Chapter One
The last communication of Rosemary Reynolds’s oldest friend lay innocently in the center of the table, half resting on torn polka-dotted wrapping paper, addressed to “My Girls” in the same girlish hoop-dee-loop script Lacy Guthrie had perfected on the back cover of her math notebook in the seventh grade.
“So who’s gonna open it?” Eden Voorhees asked, swiping at her eyes, smearing the designer mascara she’d borrowed from Rosemary earlier that morning as they dressed for the funeral.
Rosemary sat in the coffee shop with her two remaining best friends, headachy from the tears she’d shed for the past three hours. No. The past three days.
After the last guest had tossed a soggy tissue into the trash at Fulbright’s Funeral Parlor, she, Eden, and Jess gave their farewells to Lacy’s mother and headed somewhere where they didn’t have to fake smile and nod when someone said how good Lacy looked.
How in all that was holy could Lacy look good? She was dead. Could anyone associate “good” with that?
Rosemary glanced over at Jess Culpepper, who stared at the envelope, eyes dry, chin out. Unflappable Jess. Rosemary had wanted to dissolve into great heaving sobs when she’d realized who’d left the wrapped present, but she was slap out of tears. She’d flooded the funeral and graveside service, unable to stop the sobs, snot, and total heartache at the thought Lacy would never call her again to complain about Mr. Sneed’s bad breath . . . or slide onto the bench seat of Earline, the Guthries’ old Ford truck, flipping down the mirror to fix her lipstick.
Lacy was plain gone.
But with a dramatic flourish that shouldn’t have surprised Rosemary, Lacy had left a gift for her three best friends under the counter of the Lazy Frog coffee shop, which sat in the heart of the square of Morning Glory, friendliest city in Mississippi. Or so the sign welcoming visitors into the small town sitting slightly east of Jackson read. The medium-size box had been wrapped in cheerful multicolored polka-dotted paper with an orange satin bow. Orange had always been Lacy’s signature color.
“You do it,” Eden said, sliding the envelope to Rosemary. Unless she was in the spotlight at the community theater, Eden preferred to take the backseat, bringing little attention to herself.
“Why me?” Rosemary asked, sliding it back.
“Jesus, give it here,” Jess said, picking up the envelope, tearing off an end, and blowing into it. Until that moment, Rosemary hadn’t known her friend’s preferred method of opening letters.
Weird.
As a surgical nurse, Jess was the perfect person to rip off the proverbial bandage. Unfolding the letter within, Jess swiped at her nose with the back of her hand. If they’d not just attended Lacy’s funeral, Rosemary might have teased her friend about her lack of sterility, but today wasn’t a day for jokes. Today wasn’t a day for much of anything. Jess cleared her throat. “Okay. Here goes.”
Eden glanced away, her sleek, dark hair falling over half her face, obscuring her emotions. Ever since Eden had lost her older brother in an offshore platform accident, she didn’t deal well with death.
Heck, who dealt well with death? Maybe undertakers? Had to be part of the job description. Wanted: a person who doesn’t mind death . . . or the smell of carnations.
“Dear Eden, Jess, and Rosemary,” Jess read, her voice cracking. The paper trembled as she struggled to maintain her emotional distance.
“I know you’re sitting there wondering what in the heck I’m thinking sending you a letter from the great beyond. Great beyond. Sounds spooky, doesn’t it? But anyway, I know my mother probably kept y’all out of the hospital room. You know Connie, she’s a control freak and probably had some crazy rule about family only.”
Eden snorted. “Got that woman pegged, doesn’t she?”
Jess grunted, obviously still peeved at Lacy’s mother, but continued. “Thing is, Mom never realized family’s not about blood. My true family started the day we walked into Mr. Meyer’s homeroom at Morning Glory Junior High. Go Mavs!”
Mr. Meyer’s homeroom. That’s where it had all begun. Rosemary remembered what Lacy had been wearing that morning. She’d laid out her first-day-of-school outfit a week before—new jeans that flared at the ankle, platform flip-flops, and a tight T-shirt that said, LITTLE MISS TROUBLE. Clueless Mr. Meyer had let them sit where they wanted, and somehow the four girls had ended up at the same table.
“I’m Lacy,” she’d said, chewing on a piece of hair she’d painted purple with the hair mascara she’d scored when visiting her grandmother that summer. “Both Rosemary and I went to Prestwood Academy, but we’re totally not snobby. So don’t worry. We won’t bite.”
That’s how Lacy was. She’d never met a stranger.
“I’m Jess,” the tall girl said, her stare direct even at age twelve. “This is Eden. We went to Richards Elementary.”
“I know,” Lacy said, eyeing the obviously cheap shirt Eden wore, but not in a mean way. Just assessing. “I mean, if you didn’t go to Prestwoo
d, you had to go to Richards, right? So far I’m not totally impressed with MGJH. You know, we should stick together at lunch.”
“You want to eat lunch with us?” Eden asked, looking over at Jess as if to ask permission.
“Sure,” Lacy said with a big smile. “I’m so tired of hanging with the same people. Except for Rosemary, of course. She’s always been my BFF.”
Jess cocked her head. “You don’t know us.”
Lacy laughed. “But I will. We’re going to be lifelong friends. See? We fit one another. Like on Sex and the City. Do y’all watch?”
“No,” Jess said, shooting a cryptic look at Eden. The two girls were obviously taken aback by Lacy’s cheerful determination.
“Oh my God, it’s like the coolest show,” Lacy said, sliding a glance toward a cute boy who’d walked in late. She smiled at him with her eyes. “It’s about four women in NYC. I’m like Samantha. She’s super confident and outspoken. Rosemary’s prissy like Charlotte, but she has to be because of her mother.”
“I do not,” Rosemary huffed.
Lacy had merely given her that knowing look.
“Just because she made me wear this,” Rosemary said, sweeping a hand down the pristine dress her mother had ordered from the Neiman Marcus catalog. “I didn’t want to, you know.”
“It’s okay, Rose. I like Charlotte. She’s optimistic. So that leaves Miranda and Carrie. And my powers of deduction tell me you two are a good fit. Yay.” Lacy clapped her hands excitedly.
“Isn’t that show rated R or something?” Eden asked.
“Of course. My mom thinks I’m recording Dawson’s Creek, which I totally am. But I also record SATC. Y’all can come over and watch. Okay?”
Lacy didn’t wait for an answer. She simply started putting contact paper on her notebook, like her decree was final. They’d all be friends, assuming a particular role. They’d balance one another out, wipe one another’s tears, celebrate first kisses, and join *NSYNC’s fan club.
And they had. Except for Eden. She’d refused to join the fan club.
Jess set the letter down on the table, drawing Rosemary back to the present. Her friend picked up her latte, sloshing some over the side but not bothering to wipe the spill. “Jesus.”
The owner of the Lazy Frog, Sassy Grigsby, made a little mewling sound and blew into a paper napkin. She sat behind the counter in a too-tight navy dress, watching them with sad eyes. Just minutes before, Sassy had approached the table the girls had claimed their sophomore year of high school—the day Kyle Hannah broke up with Eden and they all commiserated with brownies and hot chocolate—and set the wrapped box in the center of the table. Sassy had backed away, almost apologetic, retreating to the sanctity of the coffee bar, where she continued to weep.
Picking up the letter again, Jess swallowed and read, “You three were the sisters I never had, and this is probably so strange, but I want to ask something of you.”
For a few seconds, Jess read silently.
“Stop doing that,” Eden said, tapping the table.
Jess ignored Eden, her lips moving as she read, her eyes widening.
“What?” Rosemary asked.
Jess lowered the letter and pulled the box toward her, rooting inside.
“What are you doing?” Eden asked, pulling one of the box flaps, causing the box to slip from Jess’s fingers.
Jess tugged it back, tossing out tissue paper, finally withdrawing a small pouch covered in paisley whorls. She handed the pouch to Rosemary. The weight sank into her curved palm like an omen.
“Do I open it?” Rosemary asked.
Jess shook her head and returned to the letter. “As you know, my biggest dream was to see the world. Ever since I was little, I wanted to see the things I’d read about in picture books. Going to Paris was the highlight of my life and I’d been saving to go to Australia and New Zealand . . . and, well, that won’t happen now.”
“This is horrible,” Eden whispered.
Rosemary nodded, testing the weight of the small jewelry bag in her hand, knowing what it was, hurting all the same.
“But I realized at some point,” Jess continued, the letter still quivering in her hand, “that you all have dreams, too, so I decided my last wish would be to help you to have the things you want. I’ve written each of you a letter and given you a little help to make something good happen in your life. In the bag you’ll find the second part of my wish—completing my charm bracelet. Once you have found what you’re looking for, choose a charm and attach it to the bracelet. When our bracelet is complete, find someone who has no hope left and give the bracelet to her. I’ll take care of the rest.”
“What does that even mean?” Eden asked.
Rosemary felt strange butterflies in her stomach. Lacy had set something in motion, something Rosemary couldn’t quite get a hold on. The whole thing felt mystical . . . as if Lacy knew something they didn’t.
Jess cleared her throat and flipped the letter over. “I believe in magic and happy endings . . . even though I may not have gotten one. And I believe in you. I love each of you and I will be watching. Hopefully from heaven ’cause y’all know I HATE to be hot. Hugs and cute bugs, Lacy.”
The letter fell from Jess’s fingertips, revealing the small ladybugs drawn around Lacy’s signature, the same ones she’d drawn around her name since junior high. “Jesus . . . why did she do this? Only Lacy would be this melodramatic. Only Lacy—” But Jess couldn’t finish. She turned away from them, struggling against grief.
This past year had been hard for Jess. In September her husband, Benton, had come home with flowers and news he was leaving her so he could have “experiences”—i.e., sleep with other women. Jess and Benton had been together since freshman year of high school. Always part of a team, Jess found herself living in a new apartment, struggling to find the confident woman she’d once been. Lacy’s death had been extraordinarily hard on her.
Rosemary untied the strings of the bag and allowed the contents to slide into her open palm.
Lacy’s silver charm bracelet that her grandmother had given her on her tenth birthday lay in her palm. Eight charms were attached, each one oohed and ahhed over by the three girls when Lacy had added it. Rosemary had always loved the alligator Lacy had bought when she visited her cousin in New Orleans. But there was also a cowboy boot from Dallas and the treasured Eiffel Tower from Paris. Lacy had also attached a megaphone from her cheerleading days at Morning Glory High School, claiming that was one of her favorite places to have visited. Several other sentimental charms gleamed in Rosemary’s hand, and she brushed the small silver frog Lacy’s biological father had sent from Brazil. The man hadn’t even come to his daughter’s funeral. He’d given up his life in Morning Glory years ago for a younger woman, a beachside apartment, and a new life in South America. Lacy had kept the frog on her bracelet anyway.
What kind of man didn’t come to his daughter’s funeral? Rosemary didn’t have words for someone like him.
“I get why she left us letters—that’s so Lacy—but I don’t understand why she left us her charm bracelet,” Eden said, reaching over and pushing the Eiffel Tower erect. Three empty links remained. “Why should we have to complete it? And how do we find someone with no hope?”
Jess reached in the box and passed out the individual letters. “I guess she explains in these letters.”
Rosemary glanced down at the envelope in her hand, her emotions racing from sadness to anger . . . and back again. Why had this happened to Lacy? Why did she have to die and leave them? Nothing made sense today . . . and she had no idea how to feel about this last act by the girl who’d left bite marks on Rosemary’s arm the first day of preschool.
“Do we open our letters now?” Eden asked.
Jess shook her head. “I don’t want to do it here. I can’t.”
Rosemary nodded, curling her fingers around the charm bracelet. “That’s fine. She separated the letters for a reason.”
“But she wanted us to do th
is . . . whatever this is.” Eden pulled the strap off the back of her chair and slid the letter into the depths of her purse.
Jess nodded. “Whatever she wanted us to do, we do.”
Rosemary knew things weren’t as simple as that, because she’d known Lacy longest and best. Lacy saw the world through orange-colored glasses—she’d never liked any shade of pink—and whatever she deemed good and right, she would make happen. Wasn’t the four girls’ tight friendship a testament to Lacy’s determination? Whatever last bequest she’d given her friends would be something spun in fantasy, cut free from the roots of practicality. Like a ballad from days of old, Lacy would send them on a quest.
And as crazy as all this was, Rosemary would do it. Because Lacy couldn’t.
Rosemary placed the bracelet back into the cloth bag. “I’ll keep the bracelet until we read our letters, and, yeah, if we can do what she wants, we’ll do it.”
“So meet back tomorrow?” Jess asked arching an eyebrow.
“I can’t come until after six. Gary’s bitching about my taking the last few days off. He acts like I’ve been lolling about on a beach or something,” Eden grumbled, running a finger under her thick lower eyelashes framing vivid blue eyes.
“He’s an ass,” Jess muttered . . . the same thing she always said whenever Eden mentioned the regional manager of Penny Pinchers, the discount store where Eden worked.
“Yeah, but he’s an ass I have to stare at twice a week. He’ll be in tomorrow to go over my inventory reports and ‘accidentally’ brush against me.”
“You should quit,” Rosemary said.
“I should do a great many things, Rose, but I have Mama to think about. Managing Penny Pinchers gives me the right hours and health insurance.” Eden’s face was resigned. As it always was. Eden hadn’t gotten what she wanted from life. Instead of heading off to college like her friends, she’d stayed home, working to make ends meet, never complaining as she took care of the mother who’d never been much of a mother to her.
“I know, but it feels good to say it,” Rosemary said, scooting her chair back. “I need to check on the shop. Mama’s frying chicken for Basil’s birthday, if either of you want to come.”