The Summer of Sunshine and Margot Read online

  The Baxter sisters have only ever had one another—until one fateful summer when Sunshine and Margot turn disastrous luck into destiny...

  Etiquette coach Margot Baxter knows precisely how to manage wayward clients...until she comes face-to-exquisite-face with Bianca, an aging movie star notorious for her shock-and-awe tactics. Schooling Bianca on the fine art of behaving like a diplomat’s wife is the greatest challenge of Margot’s career. Soon secrets unravel that bring them closer together and force Margot to confront the truth: change doesn’t just happen. She has to be brave enough to demand the life—and love—she’s always wanted.

  For years, Sunshine has been the good-time sister, abandoning jobs to chase after dreams that will never come true. No more. She refuses to be “that girl” again. This time, she’ll finish college and dedicate herself to her future. And she 100 percent will not let her life get derailed by a man again...no matter how tempting that man may be.

  Master storyteller Susan Mallery weaves threads of family drama, wit, heart and a wish-you-were-there setting into one of the most satisfying books of the year!

  Praise for Susan Mallery

  “Susan Mallery never disappoints and with Daughters of the Bride she is at her storytelling best.”

  —Debbie Macomber, #1 New York Times bestselling author

  “Heartfelt, funny, and utterly charming all the way through!”

  —Susan Elizabeth Phillips, New York Times bestselling author, on Daughters of the Bride

  “A compelling contemporary fairy tale that culminates in a satisfyingly happy ending. Readers will snap up this escapist summer read.”

  —Booklist on When We Found Home

  “Mallery is the master of blending emotionally believable characters in realistic situations. Her engaging and comically touching Mischief Bay series continues to satisfy lovers of women’s fiction.”

  —Library Journal on A Million Little Things

  “The characters will have you crying, laughing, and falling in love.... Another brilliantly well-written story.”

  —San Francisco Book Review on The Friends We Keep, 5 stars

  “It’s not just a tale of how true friendship can lift you up, but also how change is an integral part of life.... Fans of Jodi Picoult, Debbie Macomber, and Elin Hilderbrand will assuredly fall for The Girls of Mischief Bay.”

  —Bookreporter

  “An emotional and humorous look at the bonds between the women in an endearingly flawed family.”

  —Kirkus Reviews on Sisters Like Us

  “Mallery brings her signature humor and style to this moving story of strong women who help each other deal with realistic challenges, a tale as appealing as the fiction of Debbie Macomber and Anne Tyler.”

  —Booklist on California Girls

  Also by Susan Mallery

  California Girls

  When We Found Home

  Secrets of the Tulip Sisters

  Daughters of the Bride

  Happily Inc

  Not Quite Over You

  Why Not Tonight

  Second Chance Girl

  You Say It First

  Mischief Bay

  Sisters Like Us

  A Million Little Things

  The Friends We Keep

  The Girls of Mischief Bay

  For a complete list of titles available from Susan Mallery, please visit www.susanmallery.com.

  Susan Mallery

  The Summer of Sunshine & Margot

  Susan Mallery is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of novels about the relationships that define women’s lives—family, friendship and romance. Library Journal says, “Mallery is the master of blending emotionally believable characters in realistic situations,” and readers seem to agree—forty million copies of her books have been sold worldwide. Her warm, humorous stories make the world a happier place to live.

  Susan grew up in California and now lives in Seattle with her husband. She’s passionate about animal welfare, especially that of the two ragdoll cats and adorable poodle who think of her as Mom.

  Visit Susan online at susanmallery.com.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Reader Discussion Guide

  Author’s Note

  Questions for Discussion

  Margot’s Shortcut Coq Au Vin

  Chapter One

  Social interactions fell into two categories—easy or awkward. Easy was knowing what to say and do, and how to act. Easy was witty small talk or an elegant compliment. Awkward social interactions, on the other hand, were things like sneezing in your host’s face or stepping on the cat or spilling red wine on a white carpet. Or any carpet, for that matter. Margot Baxter prided herself on knowing how to make any situation fall into the easy category. Professionally, of course. In her professional life, she totally kicked butt. Personally—not so much. If she was being completely honest, she would have to admit that on most days her personal life fell firmly in the awkward category, which was why she never mixed business and pleasure and rarely bothered with pleasure at all. If it wasn’t going to go well, why waste the time?

  But work was different. Work was where the magic happened and she was the one behind the curtain, moving all the levers. Not in a bad way, she added silently. It was just that she was about empowering her clients—helping them realize it was all about confidence, and sometimes finding confidence required a little help.

  She turned onto the street where her nav system directed her, then blinked twice as she stared at the huge double gates stretching across a freeway-wide driveway. She’d been told the private residence had originally been a monastery built in the 1800s, but she hadn’t expected it to be so huge. She’d been thinking more “extra-big house with a guest cottage and maybe a small orchard.” What she faced instead was a three-story, Spanish-style former church/monastery with two turrets, acres of gardens and an actual parking lot for at least a dozen cars.

  “Who are these people?” she asked out loud, even though she already knew the answer. Before interviewing a potential client, she always did her research. Overdid it, some would say, a criticism she could live with. Margot liked being thorough. And on time. And tidy. And, according to some, annoying.

  Margot pressed the call button on the electronic pad mounted perpendicular to the gate and waited until a surprisingly clear voice said, “May I help you?”

  “I’m Margot Baxter. I have an appointment with Mr. Alec Mcnicol.”

  “Yes, Ms. Baxter. He’s expecting you.”

  The gates opened smoothly and Margot drove through onto the compound. She parked in one of the marked spots, then took a moment to breat
he and collect her thoughts.

  She could do this, she told herself. She was good at her job. She liked helping people. Everything was going to be fine. She was a professional, she was trained and she was calm. Calm-ish, she added silently, then reached for the glasses she’d put on the seat next to her briefcase.

  Margot stepped out of her car and smoothed the front of her slightly too-big jacket. The outfit—gray suit, sensible pumps, minimal makeup—was designed to make her appear professional and competent. The glasses, while unnecessary, did a lot to add gravitas to her appearance. She was thirty-one, but in shorts and a concert T-shirt, she could pass for nineteen. Even more depressing, in said shorts and T-shirt, she looked ditzy and incompetent and just a little bit dumb, and that didn’t reassure anyone.

  She walked up the stone path to the enormous front door. Although she knew nothing about Spanish architecture, she wanted to trace the heavy carved wood doors where angels watched over Christ as he carried the cross toward a hill. Yup, the big-as-a-stadium building really had once been a monastery and apparently the monks had been sincere in their worship.

  Before she could get her fill of the amazing craftsmanship, the doors opened and a tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired man nodded at her.

  “Ms. Baxter? I’m Alec Mcnicol. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Thank you.”

  She stepped inside and they shook hands. She had a brief impression of two-story ceilings and intricate stained glass windows before Alec was leading her down a hallway into a large office lined with bookshelves and framed maps of lands long forgotten.

  She did her best not to gawk at her surroundings. While she was used to working with the rich and famous, this was different. The books made her want to inhale deeply to capture their musty smell and the maps had her itching to trace a path along the Silk Road.

  She’d taken a step to do just that when her host cleared his throat.

  She glanced at him and smiled. “Sorry. Your office is incredible. The maps are hand drawn?”

  He looked slightly startled, his eyebrows coming together in an attractive frown. “They are.”

  She looked at them one last time. If she got the job, she would have to ask permission to study the framed drawings. She reluctantly pulled her attention away from the distractions around her and took a seat across from him at the wide desk.

  When he was settled, he said, “As I explained on the phone, you’re here to help my mother.”

  “Yes, Mr.—”

  “Please call me Alec.”

  She nodded. “I’m Margot, and yes, I understand she will be my client.”

  “Excellent. She and I decided it would be easier if I conducted the preliminary interview to see if you and she are suited.”

  “Of course.”

  Margot relaxed. Hiring someone like her was often stressful. Her services were only required when something had gone very wrong in a person’s life. Or if the potential client was anticipating something going wrong. Or was overwhelmed. Very few people looked around at their happiest moment and thought, Hey, I should find someone to teach me social etiquette and how not to be odd/uncomfortable/weird or just plain nervous. There was always a trigger that made a client realize he or she needed Margot’s services and it rarely grew out of an uplifting event.

  Alec glanced at the papers on his desk. They were arranged in neat piles, which Margot appreciated. How could anyone find anything on a messy desk? Her boss, a man whose desk was always covered with folders and notes and half-eaten sandwiches, was forever sending her articles on how messy desks were a sign of creativity and intelligence, but Margot would not be swayed in her opinion. Disorder was just plain wrong.

  “You know who my mother is?” Alec asked, his voice more resigned than curious.

  Margot filed away the tone to review later. The dynamic between mother and son could be significant to her work.

  “I do. Bianca Wray was born in 1960. Her father died when she was an infant and she was raised by her mother until she was twelve.” Margot frowned. “Why she was put in foster care isn’t clear, but that’s where she ended up.”

  She flashed Alec a smile. “She was literally discovered while drinking a milk shake with her girlfriends, propagating the myth that in Los Angeles anyone, at any moment, is just one lucky break away from being famous.”

  “You’ve discovered my deepest wish in life,” Alec said drily.

  “Mine, too,” Margot said, allowing her mouth to curve slightly at the corners. “After a career in modeling, your mother turned to acting. She preferred quirky roles to the obvious ingenue parts that would have helped her have a more successful career. She had one son—you—when she was twenty-four. She and your father, a Swiss banker, never married, but you were close to both your parents.”

  As she spoke, she sensed tension in Alec’s shoulders as if he were uncomfortable with her reciting the facts of his personal life. He might not be her client, but he was her client’s son and therefore of note, she thought, but didn’t bother explaining herself. Her methods were excellent and if he couldn’t see that, then this was not the job for her.

  “Bianca is a free spirit, and despite facing her sixtieth birthday, is still considered a beauty. She acts in the occasional project. From what I could see, there doesn’t seem to be a pattern in why she chooses the roles she does. She enjoys remodeling homes and has made a lot of money flipping upscale houses. She gives generously to charity and has had many lovers in her life, but has never married. She is currently dating a man named Wesley Goswick-Chance. Mr. Goswick-Chance is the youngest son of an English earl. His parents divorced when he was an infant and he grew up in both England and the small European country of Cardigania. He is currently their senior attaché to the United States. He is stationed at the consulate here in Los Angeles.”

  There was a lot more she could have mentioned about Alec’s mother. There was the time Bianca had been presenting at the Academy Awards and had dropped her dress on national television. Or her sex tapes that, back in the 1990s, had been quite the scandal, although they were fairly tame by today’s standards. Bianca was a colorful protestor, a woman who slept with kings, movie stars, artists and, according to some gossip that was never confirmed, had once had a torrid affair with the wife of the world’s largest yacht builder. While Margot would never admit it to anyone, she was equally intrigued and terrified by the idea of working with Bianca.

  “That was very thorough,” Alec said with a sigh. “And thank you for not mentioning all the salacious bits I’m sure your research uncovered.”

  Margot nodded. “Of course.”

  He looked at her. His eyes were very nice—dark, with thick lashes. She could see traces of his mother in his appearance—the eyes she’d admired, the curve of his mouth.

  “My mother has recently accepted a proposal of marriage,” Alec said, his voice stiff. “From Wesley. He’s a nice enough man and he makes her happy, so I have no objection to the union.”

  Margot waited quietly, not showing her surprise. How unexpected that, after sixty years and countless lovers, Bianca had finally gotten engaged.

  Alec’s gaze was steady. “If Wesley were a shipping magnate or a movie star, there wouldn’t be an issue. But he is a diplomat and as such, he moves in the kind of circles that will not be very accepting of my mother’s somewhat, ah, eccentric ways.”

  “She wants to learn how to fit in.”

  “Yes. To be clear, hiring you was her idea, not mine. I’m not pushing her into anything. She’s worried that her impulsive behavior will be a problem for Wesley and she claims she loves him enough to want to change for him.”

  “What do you think?” Margot asked.

  Alec hesitated, his gaze shifting from hers. “I believe most people are who they are. Asking Bianca to be a staid, polite and unobtrusive person is like asking the sun to shine less brightly. Ambi
tious, but unlikely.”

  She’d wondered if he would say it was wrong for Wesley to not accept his fiancée as she was. Interesting that Alec had gone in a different direction. “You’re saying she can’t change.”

  “I’m saying it’s improbable.” He returned his attention to her and leaned forward. “My mother is funny, charming and generous to a fault. I’m confident you will enjoy her company but if you take this job thinking you’re going to succeed, I’m concerned you’ll be very disappointed.”

  Margot smiled. “You’re warning me off?”

  “I’m suggesting you consider the possibility of failure.”

  “Which only makes me want to take the job more, Alec, if for no other reason than to prove myself.”

  “Not my intent, but I can see how it would happen.”

  He relaxed as he spoke. Margot found herself as curious about her client’s son as she was about her client. She’d done preliminary research on Alec, in the context of him being Bianca’s only family. She knew that Alec was a scholar who studied ancient texts. When he’d inherited the monastery nearly six years ago, he’d done extensive remodeling, turning much of the space into a research center for the study of obscure written works. He was reclusive, had never married and was rarely photographed. A few people had described him as stodgy and boring, but she knew they were wrong on both counts. Alec was a man who kept tight control over his emotions—a trait she could respect. To her mind, order was a kind of meditation that should be embraced by all.

  “Shall we?” he asked, coming to his feet.

  She rose as well and followed him out of the office and down a long hallway that opened onto the grounds. The hallway ceiling was fifteen feet high and all hand-carved wood. The stone floor was smooth and she could see faint grooves from the thousands of feet that had walked this same path. She wanted to ask about the history of the monastery and what it was like to live here. She wanted to know if sometimes, in the quiet of those hours after midnight, he heard the whispered echoes of so many prayers. Margot didn’t consider herself religious but she admired those who were. Faith must be a wonderful thing. She was just a little too pragmatic to believe that any divine force was going to help her with her life. As such, she believed in being self-reliant.