Warm Nights in Magnolia Bay by Babette Jongh (best fantasy books to read TXT) 📕

Whether or not it was, and whether or not he was actually to blame, he knew that he didn’t deserve Abby’s gratitude or approval. He cupped her face in his hands and studied the beautiful colors in her eyes. “We’ve got to go.”

She blushed and looked down at the tile floor. “You’re right. I’m procrastinating.”

He moved aside and let her pass. “The rest of your stuff is in my bedroom. I’m gonna take a shower while you get dressed.”

“Okay, thanks.” She touched his arm. “You have no idea how much this means to me—all your help, everything you’re doing.”

“It’s nothing.” Less than nothing if she ever found out that he might have been responsible for this mess. He changed the subject to get some sense of control over the situation. “We’ve got to leave here in half an hour, at the latest, so we can pay the bills and get to the courthouse on time. Make sure you’re ready.”

She leaned forward and kissed him gently, caressing his cheek as she turned away. “I’ll be ready. And I know you don’t like to be thanked, but I want you to know that I won’t forget this. I owe you one.”

He returned her kiss, hoping this wasn’t the last time she’d let him touch her. Whether this situation was his fault or not, he knew he had to make it right. Reva might benefit from having to move if the price was right, but if it happened against her will because of him, this budding relationship with Abby would wither and die. And he realized—not too late, he hoped—that his relationship with Abby meant more to him than he could’ve ever dreamed.

* * *

The courtroom was packed when Abby and Quinn walked in and settled at one end of a row of the church-style bench seats, leaving Abby’s folded scooter beside their pew. They sat on the hard, uncomfortable bench holding hands, their fingers intertwined and both their palms sweating with anxiety.

They had arrived a half hour early because Abby had hoped to get some information by speaking informally with some of the city council members—one of whom was the town’s veterinarian, Mack McNeil. She had sent him a text earlier but hadn’t heard back.

But apparently, the town hall meeting and the day’s court docket were scheduled with little time to spare between the two, so Abby’s plan to mingle before the event wasn’t going to happen. A few well-dressed people came in quietly and sat in the rows of padded chairs that would normally be reserved for a trial jury. Probably they were city council members; she knew that for sure when Mack came in and sat in that partitioned-off area. He looked down surreptitiously at his cell phone and didn’t seem to notice that Abby and Quinn were sitting there. She started to text him again, when a text from Reva popped up onto the screen.

Abby texted back but didn’t share any of the drama. Hopefully, it would be over soon and she could avoid mentioning it at all.

The day’s docket wound down, and one by one, the ne’er-do-wells of Magnolia Bay shuffled up to the judge and repented their sins so the judge could pass judgment on them. Most walked away with a plan for supervised personal improvement; some were led through the back door of the courtroom on their way to incarceration.

Finally, the judge and the lawyers and their clients left the room. After that, a thin stream of townspeople who’d been waiting outside trickled in and started filling the church-pew seating. Quinn stiffened beside her, and she looked at him in surprise. “What?” she mouthed.

He shook his head and whispered back. “Nothing.”

Though the courtroom wasn’t the setting of an official court proceeding any longer, the place exuded a feeling of sanctity in which normal tones weren’t welcome except from the chosen few who stood behind the podium.

Her phone buzzed with an incoming text. It was from Mack:

Just saw your text. Does Reva know about this?

No, and I hope she never has to find out, so please don’t tell her. I don’t know what’s going on or why. Do you?

Just found out when I got here and saw the agenda. Don’t know any details.

Abby couldn’t tell whether Mack knew she was in the courtroom or not. He still hadn’t looked up.

A tall black woman wearing a beige dress and a multicolored silk scarf with matching earrings stepped up to the podium. She opened a leather-bound folder on the podium, adjusted the microphone, and leaned forward to speak into it.

“Good evening,” she began in a strong, confident voice. She introduced herself as Tammy Goodson, the president of the city council, before reading the agenda for the meeting. The controversy over Bayside Barn would be dead last on the agenda.

Plenty of time to work up a hefty case of extreme anxiety.

Abby barely heard most of what went on; people got up and talked, then sat down again. About an hour into the proceedings, she was biting her nails and halfway listening when a plastic-looking Ken-doll sort of guy in a Miami Vice suit with a collarless shirt got up and stood at the podium. He gave a speech about the city’s desperate need to bring in tourism dollars by developing unused marshland along the bay. Which of course, as a big-shot New Orleans contractor, he could oversee if the city would buy the land and then bankroll his operation. A snort of derision escaped Abby’s throat before she knew she had formed an opinion.

Someone from a hardwood seat in front of them stood and agreed with Miami Vice Ken-doll about the lucrative potential of bayside restaurants and bars and marinas.

Someone else got up and preached about the impact of waterfront development on the marshland ecosystem. A few people clapped, and Abby joined in.

Tammy took the podium and gave an eloquent speech about the history of Bayside Barn and its place in the community. She waved a sheaf of stapled-together