Sweet Tea & Spells (A Southern Charms Cozy Mystery Book 3) Page 3

  Duke kept a watchful eye on me while the two older women clucked in the sheriff's face. If I could flip him off and get away with it, I would. But I didn't think I needed to escalate the situation.

  Big Willie waived his hairy hands and arms in front of him. “Now, wait a hot minute. If I'm understanding correctly, once the cake was brought to the tent and the chef presented it to you, it just exploded? I can understand why that would be disturbing, but unless you've got proof, I don't see how Miss Charli is involved.”

  I reiterated my innocence, but kept my lingering doubt to myself. Last I remembered, I was getting ready to blast Duke with a hex, but never finished my intent. And my anger was directed at him, not the cake. However, not one ounce of power had sparked inside of me when the cake went boom. Even after my confrontation with Damien where I absorbed some of the founders’ tree magic, the little extra that stayed within me didn't act on its own or on a whim. Did it?

  I examined my hands, flipping them over and wondering if my magic did have a mind of its own. If it did, it missed its target. Also, Duke would be cussin’ up a storm because I still wanted to hex his haughty hiney. Yet he stood there, enjoying the drama and stirring the pot, unaffected and unhexed.

  Shelby shuffled into the parlor unnoticed and tapped Clarice on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, ma'am. But I think I know what may have caused the trouble.”

  “Charlotte did,” spit Aunt Nora. “Wherever there’s trouble, there she is.” She looked down her narrow nose at me.

  Duke uncrossed his arms and frowned. “Shelby, now's not the time.”

  The young woman shook her head once at him and stood her ground. “You see, we visited the bakery you have here in town earlier this week when we came to prepare for today. They had the most interesting baked goods, but I was really fascinated by their cupcakes. I’m afraid that we may have taken a little too much inspiration from them, and perhaps someone associated with the bakery took issue with that.” She shot a meaningful glance in Duke's direction.

  The supposed chef stuttered in shock and swallowed hard. He cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his hair, regaining his composure. “It's not uncommon for chefs to find inspiration in many places. I think Shelby overstates that we took our cue from the quaint bakery you have here in town.”

  “There is nothing quaint about Sweet Tooths,” I protested. “It rocks. And you might get away with your explanation if you were talking solely about flavors. But everyone in town knows about my friend’s amazing talents and her frosting spells, especially for the popular butterfly cupcakes she sells out of every time she makes them,” I accused.

  The corner of Duke’s mouth crooked up. “Sounds to me like you’re suggesting that I copied her. Pretty strong words unless you have proof.”

  “In this room, it seems you don't need proof in order to try and get someone arrested for something they didn't do.” I stood up from the settee and faced off with Duke.

  Shelby raised her hand. “I-I think this is all my fault. I tried to warn him that it wasn't a good idea, but I made the cake and did my best to enchant the frosting.”

  Duke cut her off. “Shelby, you get back to the kitchen and let me handle this.”

  “Why don't you let the girl speak?” I asked with a raised voice.

  “All of this it is irrelevant,” Aunt Nora sputtered.

  Clementine uttered something so low that I couldn't understand her. “What did you say, Clem?”

  Her mother jumped to respond first. “She has nothing to say to you.”

  Clementine blinked and curled her fingers into fists. “Mother, I said that I didn't think Charli had anything to do with it.” She held her ground for less than a minute before her mother's withering glare wilted her.

  The room erupted. Clarice talked to Big Willie, and Aunt Nora went to her daughter to fuss at her. Duke held Shelby by her wrists, whispering something in her ear that made the poor girl tremble. I didn't know which fire to put out first.

  Fed up, I eyed the side door and wondered if they would come after me if I left now. The sight of Alison Kate entering the chaotic scene surprised me. My friend kept her eyes on the floor until she reached the middle of the room.

  “Excuse me,” she uttered in a low voice.

  Everyone ignored her, locked in their own verbal battles.

  I approached my friend. “Ali Kat, what are you doing here?”

  “I can't let you get in trouble for what happened. Especially since you didn't do anything,” she replied.

  I furrowed my brow. “I’m pretty sure I didn't. I mean, things have been a little different for me after that one night with Damien. But nothing out of control has happened.” Okay, a few glasses had shattered in the first days after the incident. But that hadn’t occurred in a while.

  Alison Kate took my hand in hers and squeezed. “But I know your aunt. And if Big Willie's here, then you must be in trouble.”

  I shrugged. “What’s new? Still, I can't completely vouch that I didn't do it. I definitely wanted to blow something up.” I glared over my friend's shoulder at Duke, who still berated Shelby.

  “I’ll take care of this.” Alison Kate cleared her throat and shouted to garner everyone's attention.

  Clarice turned to address my friend. “Is there something the matter, dear?”

  Alison Kate took a deep breath. “I first wanted to say how sorry I am. I didn't mean to ruin the end of your bridal shower. I'm especially sorry to you, Clementine.” She gestured at my cousin who nodded once.

  “What are you apologizing for?” asked Big Willie.

  Blowing out a breath, Alison Kate steadied herself. “Charli didn't blow up the cake. I did.”

  Shelby tore herself out of Duke's grasp and rushed to my friend. “I am so sorry. You were incredibly nice to talk to me about your baking and share with me what you were doing with your recipes, and it must've been a shock for you to see the cake today.”

  Clarice clutched the pearls around her neck. “Are you telling me that you stole Alison Kate’s recipe?” Her eyes darted to Duke’s.

  “If you had visited Sweet Tooths before, you might have seen some of Ali Kat’s incredible skills on display,” I explained to Tucker’s mother. “Instead, you gave the job to outsiders who didn’t think twice about plagiarizing.”

  Duke put on his slickest smile. “The better word is inspired. And it seems as if I’m the one who owes the apology for my worker who took it upon herself to steal this girl’s ideas. I can assure you, I will deal with her with the firmest of hands.”

  Shelby cringed, and I hated that she'd gotten caught in the crossfire of this whole thing. Whatever Duke had planned for her would be far worse than arresting her. We needed to shut the whole problem down as soon as possible.

  I addressed the sasquatch, who scratched his bewildered head. “Sheriff, am I under arrest?”

  Big Willie ignored Aunt Nora's pleading eyes. “No, not this time, Charli.”

  Hooking my arm around my friend’s shoulders, I pressed, “What about Alison Kate?” I turned my attention to Clarice. “Are you intending to press charges against her?”

  I knew that Tucker's mother valued reputation above anything else. If she insisted on arresting my friend, then the news would spread throughout town and everyone would know why Alison Kate blew up the cake. She would do better to let the whole thing become something of legend rather than gossip fodder.

  Clarice’s eyes softened. “I can see how it might affect you if you thought that something you created was copied. Although I cannot endorse whether or not this woman is guilty,” she nodded at Shelby, “I don't think there is any reason to arrest you for hurt feelings.”

  Alison's Kate's shoulders slumped in relief. “I’ll stay and help clean up,” she promised.

  Clarice agreed and mollified an annoyed Aunt Nora.

  Big Willie tipped his hat to take his leave, but I stopped everyone from moving. “What about Duke? I don't think he's as innocent as he’s cla
iming to be.”

  The sheriff blew out a breath. “Like he said, without clear evidence, there's not much I can do.”

  “And I said that I would deal with it on my own.” Duke shot daggers with his eyes in my direction. “Let's go, Shelby.” He grabbed the girl by the arm and forced her away from us.

  I squeezed Alison Kate around her shoulders. “Come on, I'll help you clean up.” When we got to the bottom of the porch stairs, the sound of feet following us made me stop. I turned around and found Clementine hot on her heels.

  “Clem, what's wrong?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” she said. “I thought I might help, too.”

  “But it's your shower, and it was me who ruined it,” protested Alison Kate.

  My cousin pondered the truth of my friend's words. “They'll be talking about this for years to come. It will be unforgettable, even though most of the time nobody notices me. And not too long after today, I get to marry the man I love. So I don't think anything was ruined except my chance to taste the cake. I thought maybe if I helped, you might let me try one of your cupcakes sometime.” She walked ahead of us toward the tent.

  Frosted fairy wings, my cousin surprised the heck out of me. Who knew that underneath her shy exterior beat the heart of a girl who wasn’t a total loss?

  Alison Kate gave me an impressed look and hooked her arm through mine. We practically skipped, following Clementine back to the tent.

  “Did you see that?” I asked my friend.

  “What?”

  I pointed at the sky. “I swear I saw a pig flyin’.”

  Chapter Four

  After a couple of days passed, I ventured back into polite society, answering a text from my brother and meeting him on Main Street. Other than a few odd glances and a couple of whispers behind hands, for the most part, the citizens of Honeysuckle went about their business.

  Maybe I should be embarrassed by the incident, even though it wasn't my fault. But I couldn't help the swell of pride knowing that my usually nicer friend got so angry that she blew up an entire cake. The fact that Clementine didn’t seem one bit angry and maybe was warming up to me after all these years made me smile at the gossipers instead of flipping them off.

  I approached my brother and his wife standing on the sidewalk. “Hey, Matty D. And Traci Jo, whadda ya know?”

  My very pregnant sister-in-law rubbed her swollen belly. “I’ll tell you what I know. Your niece likes to tap dance on my bladder ten thousand times a day. If she keeps this up, I should just move into our bathroom and never come out again.” She patted my brother's arm. “I’m gonna go across the street to the cafe. Come and get me when you're done.” With a walk that resembled more of a waddle, TJ crossed the street.

  My brother groaned. “I’ll bet you ten dollars that she's gonna order food after she uses the bathroom.” He shook his head. “Either my daughter is a black hole phenomenon or my wife's stomach is a bottomless pit. I can't keep up with her or her crazy cravings. Who wraps melon slices up in ham?”

  I chuckled. “I’m pretty sure the Italians do. That's not all that weird.”

  Matt shook his head. “What about peanut butter on pickles,” he challenged, scrunching up his face. “Or pineapple on everything. I'm not sure there's even enough of that fruit in our entire town to satisfy her.”

  “I like pineapple, especially on pizza.” I elbowed him. “And it's pretty good with ham, too.”

  Matt threw his hands up in the air. “You're just going to take her side, aren't you?”

  “Yep. Female solidarity, man.” I patted him on the shoulder, watching our reflection in the vacant storefront window. “Now, why did you ask me to meet you here? Don't tell me you found someone to rent the tiny space? Wasn't this the old Spell-A-Gram office?”

  Matt turned his attention to it and walked to the dirty window. He traced the worn lettering on the glass. “It hasn't been open in over fifty years. The space is so small that it would take a very special business to rent it. Probably why Uncle Tipper left it closed all this time.” He took out some keys from his pocket and unlocked the door.

  Sunlight streamed inside and lit up the darkened room covered in decades of dust and grime. The musty smell of the stirred stagnant air tickled my nose. Remnants of objects from days gone by remained on the walls, but other than that, the old store gave off a lonely and abandoned vibe.

  “So who's running this special business you say can fit in here?” I asked. I ran a finger down the wooden counter left over from the Spell-A-Gram days. Finding a rusted bell, I hit the top of it with my palm. It dinged clear and true despite its age, and I pictured some witch with a beehive rushing to help me send a message.

  Matt cleared his throat behind me. “I know the perfect business for this place.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah. Yours, Birdy.”

  I whipped around to catch him snickering at his own joke. He stood his ground with an intensely serious expression on his face.

  Panic and denial filled my chest. “Last I checked, I don't have a business to speak of. So, I don't know what's gotten into your head. Maybe you’re high on goblin fruit or something.”

  Matt took a steady step toward me. “Think about it, Charli. You can use your talents to make money. You've been helping everyone from Honeysuckle for free all these years. They can afford to pay you back.”

  I waved my hands in front of me. “No way. Nobody's gonna pay me for my magic.”

  He leaned against the counter. “That's a load of unicorn manure, and you know it, Bird. You can't do anything in this small town of ours without word getting around, and I know that a few people have approached you for your lost and found services. Frosted fairy wings, you carry a card around with you, don't you?” He pointed at my pocket.

  I didn't know how he knew, but I shoved my hand inside the fabric and touched the corner of the card that Horatio had made for me. The thick paper was wrinkled from sitting in my pocket all the time, and the corners were curled from me touching it, toying with the idea of setting myself up and placing a monetary value on my talents.

  I pulled out the worn card and flipped it in my fingers. “For the life of me, I can't seem to charge people. How do you determine what helping someone is worth?”

  Matt’s lips curled up in victory. “You can sit down with your friends and family and have them help you come up with rates for starters. Come on, it'll be good for you to have something to do. Some place to go outside of your house and Nana's. I know that Tipper left you some money to live off of, but aren't you getting bored?”

  The judgmental tone in his voice ruffled my feathers. “You put me in charge of managing the rental spaces on this side of Main Street,” I countered. “That's not nothing.”

  Matt pushed off the counter. “And I appreciate your help. With everything I've got going on between my pregnant wife and my warden duties, you're doing me a huge favor.”

  “And making a little bit of money.” My brother had worked with Ben to add my name as the property manager for the stores he now owned after inheriting them from Tipper’s will. For a small percentage of the rents I collected, I would work as the point person for the tenants.

  He grasped me by both shoulders, holding me still so I couldn’t ignore him. “It's about time you valued yourself. And this space is perfect since you don't have any goods here to sell. You could take down this counter and maybe paint the walls. A desk would go great here.”

  Matt let me go and walked about the small room, pointing and explaining with excitement. His enthusiasm was catching, and I began believing in the idea sooner than I thought I would.

  About the time I wanted to say yes, the thought of a former client popped in my head. “It's an interesting concept, Matt. But what am I supposed to do when someone like Timmy Belford wants me to find his lost puppy? How am I supposed to charge a little kid like him?”

  My brother flashed a wide grin. “I love your heart, Charli. That's the beauty of owning your own
business. You get to set the rules. What did he give you in return for finding his dog?”

  I thought back at how serious the little boy had been, handing me his payment. “An old tin full of buttons, a few rocks he'd found in the creek, and a treasured tin soldier. I gave him back the toy and made sure to return the container of buttons to his mom.” I threw up my hands. “So, you see? I can't run a business like that.”

  “Sure you can. Read me what that card in your hand says,” my brother demanded.

  My thumb brushed over the careful calligraphy. “Charli Goodwin. Lost & Found Services. For there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought. Fees to be determined on case basis.”

  Matt sniffed with satisfaction. “See? You determine what each case is worth. And that particular one was worth a handful of rocks. Maybe the next job would be worth a few dollars.”

  I wanted to grab onto the thrill of maybe something good coming out of all my years of frustration with being different, but the fear of failure stirred inside me. “I don’t know,” I stalled.

  My brother mumbled something about the stubbornness of Goodwin women. “Will you at least consider the idea?”

  I replaced the handwritten card into my pocket and pondered things. My brother wasn't wrong that I had time on my hands, especially with Dash and Mason gone. The rest of my friends had steady employment. Maybe if I kept myself busy, I could stay out of trouble.

  “I’ll think about it,” I acquiesced.

  Matt checked his watch. “Good.” Taking out his keys, he slipped one off and handed it to me. “Keep this for now. Maybe you can come back and think about it some more.”

  He ushered me out the door and locked the space. I pressed my nose to the dirty window and peered in, picturing what it would look like with me inside.

  “Come on, Charli. We have one more appointment to keep.” My brother waited for me to follow him.

  On our way down the sidewalk, a few teenagers ran past us, almost knocking me over. “Hey, watch where you're—”

  In a split second, my feet flew out from underneath me, and I fell on my behind. Another young man ran up to me and held out his hand. “I’m so sorry, Miss Charli. That slipping spell was meant for my brother.”