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The man grew up in Eatonton on a dairy farm over an hour away from Atlanta where he worked. The fool commuted every day. It was a source of contention. He wanted to live in Eatonton after we got married, but I wanted to be closer to the hospital and civilization. Don’t get me wrong, I loved going to visit Eatonton any chance I got. He had a sweet little place near his parents. And his momma and daddy were the kindest, most down-to-earth people I had ever known. I felt terrible that I never said goodbye to them in person. I sent his momma a note telling her I loved her and I was sorry things didn’t work out.
I mourned the loss of her almost as much as her son. She had mothered me in a way I had never known. She thought everything I did was wonderful, even when I put my elbows on the table and had two pieces of her pecan pie. She never reminded me about manners or expectations. She loved me for me and because I loved her son. “Many women have loved him for what they could see, but only you have loved him for who he is,” she used to say. He did have a pretty exterior. A little too pretty, based on his indiscretion. I’d wondered if the brunette was the only one.
Macey opened the back-office door and popped her pretty head in. My mind welcomed the distraction.
“Hey, Shelby, Marlowe and I have finished restyling the mannequins in the display window. Come and look.”
I was always excited and pleased to see what they came up with. Macey and Marlowe, Emma’s identical twin sisters, originally ran the boutique, but they weren’t all that business savvy. Unfortunately for them, Mr. Carrington was, so he decided the best course of action was to sell the store. Part of the deal when I agreed to purchase it was that I kept Macey and Marlowe on as employees. We had to work out some kinks at first. I knew it was hard for them to give up control and their hefty salaries, but as it was my name and livelihood on the line now, I had to take charge.
Macey and Marlowe knew fashion, but they didn’t know anything about making a business plan or sticking to it. I may have decided to get a master’s degree in nursing, but I minored in business. It was the compromise I made with my parents when I told them I wanted to be a midwife. They thought I would “outgrow” the silly notion and come to my senses. They agreed to hold off on grooming me to become the heir of Hobbs Inc., which owned over a hundred Hobbs Eye Centers across the country. More like they were waiting for me to marry a metaphorical crown prince to do the honor. Preferably someone we could merge dynasties with. That way my husband could rule the business world while I took over Momma’s socialite duties and charities. From the age of eighteen, I was paraded around on the meat market of the future CEO’s of America. I had my fair share of interest, even a proposal or two, but I knew I would only ever marry for love.
My parents may have had my entire life planned out for me, but I was never letting them choose my husband. It made them hate Ryder even more—not only did he not have the right credentials, but he made me see I didn’t want the life of a Hobbs or a Duchane, two influential families brought together by greed and a lust for power. According to Momma, I didn’t need to worry about it now because until I came to my senses and sold the boutique—or as Momma called it, a waste of time—I would not be inheriting Hobbs Inc. They could keep it all, as far as I was concerned.
I stood from my desk with an encouraging smile, happy to think about anything but Ryder or my parents. “Show me what you got.”
Macey flashed me her beautiful smile and led the way.
Marlowe was climbing out of the display window when we approached. She brushed back her long ebony hair and adjusted her crocheted halter top, the same one we sold in the store. She looked stunning in it. I’d had the sisters model several of the pieces we sold in the store and plastered them all over our social media pages. It brought in plenty of men. I was sad to say how many of them left with items for their girlfriends or wives after they undressed the twins with their eyes. I was beginning to think that Aspen, one of the friends I had acquired from being friends with Emma, was right—most men were vile pigs. Her favorite thing to say to me was, “At least you found out he was a douche bag before you married the jerk and had a child with him.” There was that.
