“You are family,” he’d said, and proceeded to steamroll his way through every obstacle that I had faced.
When all was said and done, he’d terrified my ex who had caused Willow and me nothing but pain, found me an excellent realtor, and had hired the best damn attorney money could buy. Now my child was safe. My mother’s house was sold, and her medical bills were paid off from the sale. I was free to get the hell out of Louisiana, far away from nasty gossip and bad memories. I was finally able to start my life over in Missouri.
It was risky. Probably the craziest thing I’d ever done…but desperate times called for desperate measures.
Truth be told, I could work almost anywhere. As an event coordinator, or bridal consultant, I had that luxury. I had built a solid professional reputation for myself. I’d even landed some bigger events in Shreveport. I was confident that I could do the same up north. All I had to do was prove myself with my new cousin’s wedding that I’d been hired to coordinate.
It was probably a sympathy job, I knew. They’d asked me to take the job out of kindness, but I wouldn’t let them down. I squared my shoulders. They were about to learn that Magnolia Irene Parrish was a consummate professional. I could wrangle any bride and deal with any wedding crisis. My stomach gave a nasty pitch, and even as I told myself not to worry…I did anyway.
I’d get a second job in an office if need be. Hell, I’d work as a waitress until I established myself as an event coordinator in William’s Ford. But I’d pay my own way. I didn’t want to be beholden to my new-found family, and lord almighty, but Willow and I had fallen hip deep into family. From both my maternal grandmother—the Bishop’s, and grandfather—the Drake’s side of the tree.
After Thomas had left, I’d started emailing back and forth with the family bride, my third cousin, Autumn Bishop. We’d kept in touch over the past few months, and I was curious to meet her in person. After all, it was she who had started everything by finding an old strongbox that contained family papers, including my mother’s birth certificate, her adoption papers and photos.
While my mother Patricia had known her biological mother, Irene Bishop, throughout her life, it turned out that the rest of the Bishop family had been shocked to learn of my mother’s existence.
Autumn seemed nice enough, and she had assured me that my grandmother’s people were excited to meet me…and there was a mess of them.
First, there were the Drakes, my maternal grandfather’s biological family. They had the means to pay for us to move cross-country and had accomplished it in the blink of an eye. All that had been left for me to do was pack a few travel bags, gas up the car, and head north.
Now our journey was almost at an end. I took the first exit after crossing the bridge and in a few minutes found myself driving through the river town of William’s Ford, Missouri.
Picturesque was the word that came first to mind, and thankfully the streets were dry and clear. I passed a smattering of restaurants, banks and stores. I spied two national chain pharmacies, a massive grocery store, and the University campus on my left.
The winter-bare trees had a dusting of snow on their dark branches, and there were a few inches also blanketing the grass. While Willow cheered over the snow, I admired the fancy decorative street lights along the roads. I cruised along with the local traffic, following the directions of the GPS. I rolled my shoulders against the tension gathered there and drove into a gorgeous neighborhood filled with large Victorian-era homes.
The brick sidewalks were also clear, and I slowed down, enjoying the view of the pretty homes and the large trees. I tried to imagine what it would all look like in the spring. I spotted the Drake mansion, stopped my car in the middle of the street, and sat there like a rube. “Lord have mercy!”
The house truly was a mansion. Three stories of gray stone, the huge house sprawled out impressively. The grounds of the estate were large, ensuring that no neighbors were particularly close—save one. A tad off to one side, surrounded by trees, nestled a charming cottage built from brick and trimmed out with the same stone as the mansion.
“Look Willow, here’s the cottage.” I carefully eased into the driveway while my girl cheered. I took a deep breath, blew it out slowly and told myself to stay calm.
My cell began to ring, and Willow answered it. “Hello?”
“Willow, give me the phone.” I held out my hand.
“Hi Cousin Thomas!” Willow said. “We just got here. You have snow!”
How had he known we’d arrived? I wondered, then gave up waiting for her to give me my phone. I turned off the car and climbed out. The cold was a shocking slap to the senses. This Southern girl needed to thicken up her blood, I thought. Reaching quickly for my new winter coat, I shrugged it on and zipped it up. Willow was already unbuckling herself from the car seat as I walked around to the passenger side of the car.
“Did you hang up?” I asked as she tossed my phone aside and bounced out of the back seat.
“Cousin Thomas says he’s coming over to help us settle in.” Her breath made white clouds against the January air. “Mama, it’s cold!”
“Yes, darlin’ it is.” I immediately tried to zip her coat. “Willow, stand still.” I finally got the zipper pulled up, and as soon as I let go she took off for the nearest snow-covered surface.
Willow entertained herself by jumping in a pile of snow, as I retrieved my phone and purse. I grabbed Willow’s backpack and shut the door, heading to the trunk for
