Page 93 of Sundown Somewhere

HUX

“Have you seen the marble waterfall islands? Gaaah, they’re gorgeous…” Dolly titters, her voice wafting out of the open kitchen window onto the large back porch of my parents’ house. “Only problem with them is that you can’t really do a built-in range with them. Which is probably okay in the long run, because then you don’t have to worry about putting the hood above the island and all that.”

“Careful or this little white dream house of yours is going to end up nothing more than a kitchen with some bedrooms,” Willa jokes.

“What’s your point?”

I hold back my snicker, not wanting to give away my position on the deck, or the fact that I’m clearly eavesdropping on their conversation. My insides squeeze as the two of them burst into giggles, the sound comforting and welcoming, even if not unfamiliar.

As the only girl in a family full of boys, Willa was always excited to have Dolly around growing up, viewing her as the older sister she’d been “cheated” out of. On more than one occasion, my baby sister tried to convince me that I should ask Dolly out as a teenager—make her a Hayes and actually her sister. Having her here for Sunday dinner with the family at Magnolia Manor is the next step toward that last part.

I hope.

As far as white houses go, Magnolia Manor isn’t exactly what one would call small. It did have to house nine of us for a number of years. Sitting pretty in the middle of large, rolling acres, just down the road from the family’s original plantation house, it’s Mama’s dream home. Our father built it for her shortly after they got married, since neither of them wanted to live in what is now referred to as Hayes House, which is used as housing for our seasonal workers.

“We can understand and respect history without celebrating it,” Auggie always says when asked why he doesn’t live in the massive antebellum house that his ancestor built with his Civil War fortune.

Instead, he built this place, a bright white, Victorian house with wraparound porch, large back deck, and built-in planters to fulfill Miss Belle’s dream. She named it Magnolia Manor after the region of Georgia that Hickory Hills sits in—and proudly points out that she named our home long before a TV network made another home with a similar name a household name.

I have no idea if this is the house that inspired Dolly’s love of white houses or not, but what I do know is that my parents’ story is what inspired my own secret fantasy of wanting to build that dream for her. Something that until a few weeks ago I thought I’d be doing for her to live in with someone else.

Shifting, I try to silently move the Adirondack chair I’m in closer to the window to hear a little better. But short of picking it up and placing it right under the window, this is about as good as it’s getting. So I lean over, trying to be inconspicuous, hoping my father, Milo, and Nash over at the grill don’t catch on.

“Can I ask you something?” Dolly’s voice goes serious, hushing a little so I have to strain to hear.

There’s a pause, albeit brief, but even through the exterior wall of the house I can see my sister’s face—brow scrunched, lips pursed to one side, the mix of skepticism and curiosity taking over.

“Not if you’re going to make me defend you not catering any of my wedding events again,” Willa comments. “You are family and you’re not going to be working that weekend. You’re going to attend this event and enjoy it, damn it.”

“No, that’s not it. Although it is about Nash.”

Hold the phone—Dolly wants to talk about Nash? That doesn’t make any sense. My sister’s fiancé is a regular customer at the diner though, so maybe that has something to do with it.

“My Nash?” Willa asks, sounding just as surprised as I am.

I lean in, straining even more to hear.

“Yeah. Well, specifically about your shift from…into…” Dolly trails off, not knowing how to finish her sentence. Can’t blame her there. None of us really know exactly how to define Willa and Nash.

“Hate-fucking frenemies to happily ever after?”

Okay, that works.

“Yes.”

“What do you want to know?”

My heart stops waiting for Dolly’s answer, mind running wild with questions about why she is curious. About what kind of answer or advice she’s looking for. This isn’t idle small talk between the two of them to fill the time while Dolly preps side dishes for the chicken we’re grilling. No, there is something deeper here.

“Was it…weird? Risking it all?”

Willa scoffs. “Well, Nash and I did everything the hard way, so…weird isn’t exactly the word I’d go with. But, he’s my person, and no matter what, he’s worth it. It’s him and me against the world.”

“I just⁠—”

A pork rind hits me, stealing my attention and pulling me away from the nearby conversation.

“Hux!” Milo calls.