No place like home, p.1
No Place Like Home, page 1
praise for no place like home
Sweet entertaining story! No Place Like Home by Betsy St. Amant brings us back to Magnolia Bay and her entertaining cast of characters. A captivating, page-turning story of friendship and second chances. Honesty, overcoming misperceptions about their families, humor, friendship, funny banter, and a sweet romance kept me turning pages late into the night.
JEANNE, GOODREADS
Another fantastic read. No Place Like Home involves former school rivals, a circus, and secrets. The storyline was engaging, heartwarming, and captivating.
ALLYSON, GOODREADS
Magnolia Bay is a place that I would like to visit not only for the food but also for the wonderful people there! I love that we get to see characters from the previous book and learn more about characters, especially Cade this time. Reading about an aerialist and a circus was so interesting!
LAURA, GOODREADS
no place like home
MAGNOLIA BAY | BOOK TWO
BETSY ST. AMANT
contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Acknowledgments
About Betsy St. Amant
Connect with Sunrise
Magnolia Bay
Audrey - I’m so proud of you and the way you fly. Thanks for asking me to write a book starring an aerialist. This one is for you.
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
one
If a guy had to eat a few frog legs to save the family legacy, Cade Landry better find a bib.
Still…“Frog leg food truck, you say?” Cade leaned back in his desk chair in the mayor’s office building in downtown Magnolia Bay and propped his brown Sperrys on the desk. The phone cord snagged against the overflowing bin of papers awaiting his attention, knocking half the stack onto a red folder that teetered before dropping. More papers fluttered to their freedom.
He closed his eyes—would that make the mess go away?—as the Cajun drawl continued in his ear.
“That’s right. I heard about that Magnolia Days festival you got going on end of the month, thought we could snag a spot.” The man, who’d introduced himself as Bruno and who Cade imagined had to be tanned and burly, cleared his throat. “Best in Louisiana, we are.”
“Uh-huh.” Was that a flex though? How many frog leg restaurants could there even be on the mainland?
Then again…Cade squinted at the open spreadsheet of vendors thus far committed to Magnolia Days—and at the multiple empty rows that had been full just two years ago. Before the hurricane. Before the annual festival had taken a nosedive and, with it, the much-needed funding for his beloved city still undergoing storm restoration.
Could he afford to be picky? His secret weapon for the festival had ghosted his emails. Two months and still no answer. Cade reached over and clicked refresh on his computer, hoping for a miracle.
Nope.
And now he was going to be late to meet with the balloon arch lady. “Listen, Mr.…”
“Guidry. Bruno Guidry, at your service.” Clang.
That sounded like a stockpot lid. Was he cooking the legs as they spoke? Cade grimaced, fighting the irrational urge to pinch his nose shut. “Look, I’m sure they’re great—as far as frog legs go—but I’m looking for crawfish meat pies. Shrimp tacos. Cajun biscuits. Beignets.”
“Tell you what,” Bruno said. Clang-clang. “Why don’t you come up to New Orleans for a tastin’?”
Cade swallowed, smoothed the front of his fitted button-down. “Um…”
His office door, cracked as usual so it didn’t jam when summer heat swelled the wood, swung all the way open to reveal his father’s secretary, Pearl. She fanned herself with an envelope as she clutched the neck of her floral blouse with her free hand. “Miley is here.”
Without waiting for an invitation, Miley Mitchell, the twenty-something barista from Chug a Mug, pressed past Cade’s overheated receptionist and plopped into the chair adjacent his desk. She wore fishnet leggings under denim shorts, an oversized men’s button-down with the sleeves rolled up, and a sullen expression. He jotted the word latte on a notepad—the coffee would be good today.
But probably not the pending conversation.
He raised his eyebrows at her as he leaned back in his chair. “What now?”
Clang. “No, you don’t have to come now. Anytime next week works.”
“Oh, sorry. Not you, Bruno.” Cade held up a finger at Miley as Pearl slipped back into the hallway. “I’m actually not sure I can get to New Orleans at all—”
“He can’t. He’s busy.” Miley cupped her hands and talked loudly toward the receiver. “Fixing potholes.”
“No, we don’t sell tadpoles.” Bruno sounded confused. “Frog legs don’t work that way.”
Oh, for Pete’s sake. Cade’s feet hit the floor as he lurched forward. “Just a second, Bruno. I’m putting you on a brief hold.” Not pole. Or hole. He jabbed the red button on the phone base and gave Miley his full attention. “You were saying?”
A second line rang. His cell buzzed. Cade ignored both.
Miley gestured, black nail polish contrasting her white skin. “I sent in a request to meet with you.”
He looked at his chaotic desk. “When?”
She hiked a dark eyebrow. “This mess is organized by date?”
Fair point. He rummaged a little, carefully. Miley leaned over and rescued the red folder from the floor. “Man. You need an assistant.”
He snorted as he continued to fruitlessly dig. “I am the assistant.” The framed diploma on the wall behind Miley taunted him—Yale Law. Ha. And look at him now. Working for Dad, being the face of Magnolia Bay. He’d probably shaken more hands and kissed more babies than his mayor father.
“I can’t find it.” Giving up, Cade reached in the top desk drawer and rustled around for the bag of M&Ms he’d stashed. At least he knew where those were. “I don’t know why my father thought making me town director was a good idea.”
Miley thumbed through the folder’s contents. “It was a good idea—three years ago. Maybe you’ve outgrown the job.” She narrowed her eyes. “Sort of like your workload has outgrown your desk.”
“I like my job.” Besides, the only place to go in small-town politics was up. And he certainly wouldn’t be taking on the role of mayor anytime soon. He ripped the bag of candy and palmed a cluster into his mouth. “The festival is just…a lot. More pressure this year.”
“Found it.” Miley tossed the folder toward him. It landed on his desk calendar, which still showed last month. “There’s a chocolate stain on the corner.”
That was probably from the Twix he’d inhaled last week while crunching numbers—more red than black. He picked up the meeting request. “What’s the big deal? We’ve always had potholes.” The phone blinked, indicating Frog Legs still waited for an answer. And he’d never gotten a quote for the extra festival chairs. Had he confirmed the porta-potties?
Miley snapped her fingers in front of her own face. “Hey, right here. Focus.”
He zeroed in, though the blinking red light of the phone still teased his peripheral. So many things to do. The festival was in less than a month. He fisted another bite of candy, chewed fast.
“Have you seriously not noticed the potholes have gotten worse?” Miley crossed her arms over her chest. “Take a walk and check them out sometime. That storm last month apparently finished what the hurricane started. And let’s just say my dad’s not happy about the crater in front of Chug a Mug. He says it’s deterring customers.”
Miley’s mood swings were more likely the cause of that. Still, Mr. Mitchell, the wayfaring owner of the coffee shop who occasionally swooped into the Bay to see Miley, was not someone you wanted to disappoint. Cade sighed. “You know what’s ironic?”
Miley lifted one shoulder. “A duck that can’t swim?”
“Well, sure.” He pointed at her with the bag of candy. “But more so, the fact that everyone seems to need something that costs money, but asking for it is taking me away from planning the event that is going to bring in that money.” He squinted at her. “Are you too young to know Alanis Morissette?”
She squinted back. “I feel like this is a trick question.”
“Forget it. She has song about irony.” Cade reached up and loosened his tie. “I am that song right now.”
Miley rolled her eyes. “Regardless, Dad wants it handled. He keeps saying ‘Tell whoever’s in charge down there to make it top priority.’” She walked two fingers up the air on an invisible ladder.
Cade shrugged. “I’ll see what I can do, but as you pointed out, the re are a lot of potholes in Magnolia Bay.”
“That could comfortably house a family of four?”
“I’m just saying I can’t guarantee yours will be fixed first—or any of them right now. We’re trying to earn money, not spend more of it.”
“You really think people are going to come to Magnolia Days this year?” Miley’s nose ring glistened, mocking him as much as her tone. But the girl had never been cruel, just brutally honest.
He eyed the phone, the frantic flashing starting to match his heart rate. “I have a plan.”
“Hope it’s not buried on your desk.”
It might be the only thing that wasn’t. Cade threw the empty candy bag into the trashcan full of gum wrappers and crinkled chip bags. “We’re having a special event this year to go along with all the food trucks and face-painting and vendors. A big draw to get people’s attention, put Magnolia Bay back on the map.”
The intercom on the phone released a burst of static, then Pearl’s voice squawked. “Cade, some exotic animal sanctuary is on line two.”
Miley slid her hand down her face. “Is that your plan? Monkeys and bearded dragons?”
“No.” Cade mashed the intercom button. “Pearl, I told that guy he couldn’t come—too much liability. Get rid of him.”
“Get rid of who?” An offended Australian accent sounded from the speaker. “Me?”
Oh brother. “One moment.” Cade jabbed the mute button. “Look, Miley. I’ll fix it, I promise.” He’d fix the hole. He’d fix the town budget. He’d fix everything.
“How exactly are you going to fix…this?” She waved one hand toward his desk that now strongly resembled what he’d imagine an office supply store would look like if a bomb went off.
“Easy. We’re going to host a Cajun Circus.” He smiled, waiting for Miley’s grin of approval.
He only got a blank stare. “A what?”
Okay, not what he had hoped. It would work…right? Cade stood. “Cajun Circus. You know—clowns. Juggling. Aerial acts. Hoops of fire.” He spread his arms wide like a game show host. “All with a Southern flair.”
She frowned. “What’s aerial?”
“Like Cirque de Soleil. Where they perform those flips and elaborate moves on strips of colored fabric hanging from the ceiling?”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“I’m sure it is. But it’s also impressive. You probably don’t remember Rosalyn Dupree—you’re younger than us. She and I went to school together. We kind of had a back-and-forth rivalry thing.” Cade waved one hand in the air, as if it was no big deal. As if Rosalyn wasn’t a combination of his best and worst memories. As if she wasn’t the one ghosting his emails. “She’s made a pretty big name for herself in the industry—even internationally.”
Miley crossed her arms again. “That’s your plan to save Magnolia Bay? Your old high school rival and clowns?”
“To save Magnolia Days,” he corrected. “And hopefully Magnolia Days will help save the town.”
“There won’t be a town to save if the potholes get much bigger.” Miley tossed the comment like a grenade, then left with a stomp of ankle boots.
Oh well. At least she’d left annoyed, which meant Cade was still on for his latte later.
He took his seat, picked up the desk phone, and noticed the exotic animal sanctuary had hung up. Oops. Though now he wouldn’t have to try to tell him no. He clicked the line for Frog Legs, instead. “Sorry about that hold, Bruno.”
Even the man’s laugh held a Cajun accent. “No problem. Already fried up another batch.”
Cade winced. “Perfect.”
“So you’re coming, then?”
“I…well.” Why was it so hard to say no? Cade didn’t want frog legs. He didn’t want to even try frog legs. And he doubted the rest of the Bay felt any differently. But they needed vendors. “I’ll think about it.”
Clang. “Trust me, boy, you can’t just think about my unique Cajun seasoning blend. You must taste it.”
This guy wasn’t giving up. Cade ran a hand over his face, his five o’clock shadow coming in early. Did stress grow hair faster? “Okay, yes. I’ll be there sometime next week.”
As Cade hung up, his cell buzzed with an incoming text—another food truck vendor canceling. Ugh. He winced, then scrolled up to the texts he’d ignored during Miley’s visit. A form response to his dancing poodle inquiry, another from his father asking if he’d finished his third quarter projections yet. Also one containing Mama D’s Wordle score.
Buzz. Great. Now Miley, sending several emojis in a row of a family of four, a house…and a knife.
How had he ended up here, again? Cade’s gaze landed once more on the diploma on the wall, highlighted by the afternoon sun streaming through the window, and his chest tightened. Oh yeah. That was how. Was he going to be able to pull this off? The festival, the circus. Without Rosalyn or a special act—something impressive—he’d just end up with his fishing buddy Owen walking on stilts. Hardly marketing worthy.
His heartbeat accelerated. He couldn’t fail.
Pearl sounded on the intercom. “Cade, there’s a visitor for you.”
“Not now!” Oh, he hadn’t meant to snap. But breathing was still difficult, and who had decided to squeeze his head between their hands? His vision blurred.
A blonde head poked into his office. “Bad time?”
He looked up with a start. Rosalyn Dupree.
Rosalyn?
Cade blinked rapidly, but the golden-haired woman, dressed in a white linen top and paper bag shorts leaning one slim shoulder against his doorframe, didn’t dissipate. She’d showed up. Here. Back in Magnolia Bay.
He opened his mouth, then shut it.
“Guess so.” Rosalyn winced, green eyes crinkling as she tucked wavy tresses behind her ears. “Sorry.”
“Wait!” Cade leaped to his feet, finally finding his tongue. His manners.
But the door had already shut behind her.
She shouldn’t have come. Her mother was wrong.
Rosalyn rushed past the secretary—Pearl, she’d said?—and kept her head ducked, hair curtaining the side of her face as she hurried to the elevator. Don’t talk to me, don’t talk to me…
“Where are you going, honey?”
Shoot. She couldn’t be rude.
She forced a smile, turned to see the kind older woman posed with a stapler in hand, brow wrinkled. A desk fan hummed atop a tower of file folders next to a Chug a Mug coffee cup.
Where was Rosalyn going? Wasn’t that the million-dollar question. “Just…away.” She punched the elevator button with a shaky hand. Away…backward…in circles. Pick one.
Down the hall, the door to Cade’s office rattled. Despite her mother’s assurance, he had not been happy to see her—and why would he be, after she’d ignored his email asking her to perform at Magnolia Days. She hadn’t meant to ignore it, of course. It’d simply fallen off her radar after a skim-read a few months ago. Before…well, before a lot of things.
Her gaze darted to the bandage wrapped around her knee. She’d have hidden it under yoga pants, but after so many years touring abroad, she’d forgotten how hot it got here in the Bay. Plus, she’d come home to heal. Physically and mentally.
Emotionally might be asking for too much.
The AC hummed and she tapped her sandaled foot, willing the elevator door to open. She’d been back in town several days now, and her mom had kept not-so-subtly leaving a flyer advertising “Magnolia Days’ First Ever Cajun Circus—Details to Come” strategically around the house until she’d taken the bait.
“What’s this?” Rosalyn had asked earlier that morning, watching her mother blend a smoothie.
