A Southern Charms Cozy Potluck Box Set Page 42

  My cheeks blazed hot as a poker in a fire. The woman never let go of her anger and frustration that I turned down her precious prince. After all, Tucker had lowered himself to want to marry me in the first place. It didn’t take a psychic to know that Clarice and Aunt Nora shared the same disdain for me and belief that my status as a Goodwin was shaky at best.

  “Poor Clementine,” lamented Alison Kate.

  My cousin looked down at the ground, her own cheeks stained pink with embarrassment. She might not have been the intended mark, but she sure was a victim of Clarice’s point.

  I pushed a stray strand of hair out of my face. “I guess it doesn’t feel great to have your upcoming marriage treated like a business transaction.”

  My sympathy stretched only so far. The girl knew what she was doing. If Clementine had wanted to leave, she’d had multiple chances, yet she stayed standing in silent suffering despite being a pawn in whatever game the two mothers played.

  Unaware or uncaring, Clarice continued to hold court. “Today would not be possible without the wonderful catering from a new friend of my husband’s. Duke Aikens, come join us, please.”

  The smarmy chef stepped into the limelight of attention, smiling and winking. “Thank you, Mrs. Hawthorne, for the opportunity to share in this event.” He snaked a hand around Clementine’s waist. “It will be an honor to be a part of this beautiful bride’s special day.”

  I shuddered for my cousin, knowing how it felt to have Duke so close. The chef waited for Clarice to offer more words of praise for her son and the upcoming wedding. When she and Clementine’s mother became engrossed in the talk about the future and the attention of the room, he pulled my cousin closer and whispered something into her ear. When she tried to pull back, he hugged her tighter.

  I’d never been a huge fan of my cousin, but I couldn’t stand by and let that man say something only she could hear that made her flush deep red from her collarbone to her forehead. Because Clarice referenced her throughout her speech, Clementine was stuck in her predicament until her mother remembered she was the focus of the entire event and took my cousin’s hand to pull her out of the chef’s grasp and pose for a few photos.

  Duke stared at Clementine for an extra moment, and broke away with a wave to everyone else. He left the tent, but my cousin’s clear discomfort remained. When the two mothers thanked everyone for coming and invited them to stay for the cake, Clementine excused herself and scurried away.

  “I’ll be right back.” Without waiting for a response from my friends, I found a loose flap on the side of the tent. Ducking out, I walked toward the Hawthorne house, trying to spot my cousin.

  Clementine scampered away from the tent, and I followed behind her to the side door of the Hawthorne house, avoiding the chaotic entrance and exit of the waiters at the back. She rushed up the stairs before I could catch her, and I took the first couple of steps to follow.

  Now that I was inside the house, I didn't have a plan for what came next. Entering further into the domicile of my ex-fiancé's family made me uneasy. Once Clarice or Aunt Nora finally became aware of Clementine’s absence and came looking for her, they might trap me in a small area where they could attack me without repercussions. I felt sorry for my cousin, but I didn't care so much that I was willing to risk my own safety and sanity. Reversing my position, I decided to stay downstairs in the parlor to wait to check on her.

  A crash followed by loud yelling echoed down the hallway from the kitchen. The sound of Duke's displeasure filled the air. Curiosity won out over my sympathy, and I tiptoed toward the noise to listen in.

  Duke confronted a woman dressed in a chef's jacket covered in stains. “What did I tell you about messing stuff up today?” he shouted.

  The target for his venom cringed. “That wasn't my fault. The server dropped the tray when you barged into the kitchen,” she defended.

  He tightened his grip on her. “Shelby, I hope you're not trying to shift the blame of what goes on in that kitchen on me?”

  “No, Duke. I—”

  “Because nothing goes on around here that ain't in my best interest. That waiter could have gotten pizza all over my jacket.” He wiped his hands down his pristine coat, examining it.

  Shelby glanced at the stains covering hers. “It's not pizza. They’re tomato tartlets, mini versions of the regional take on tomato pie.”

  How did the supposed chef misidentify one of his delicious dishes? I loved tomato pie, but it didn’t take a genius to know that it looked nothing like a pizza.

  The female cook held up her hand to stop Duke from chastising her more. She helped a server place a bunch of food on a platter, paying attention to each piece and finishing them off with a spoonful of something green.

  With serious intent, she explained the dish to the waiter. “These are Rockabilly Oysters, my take on Oysters Rockefeller. They’ve got a celery root béchamel, pickled ham hock meat, and braised collards on them.”

  Duke checked out the second batch of oysters and lifted it to his nose to sniff it. “Don’t you mean my take? You seem to think that you’re in charge here and forget that it’s my name on the catering service.”

  Shelby ignored the man’s ego and plated more food. Insulted at her hard working attitude and her lack of response, he batted a poor pixie waiting for the next serving tray out of his way and leaned on the counter next to her.

  Crowding her space, he held her wrist in his. “Did you hear me? I don’t think you did.”

  Shelby winced, dropping the spoon she held. “I heard you,” she whispered, her eyes darting around to see who watched her humiliation.

  “Then what are you supposed to say when I allow you to work in my kitchen?” Duke pressed.

  The girl mumbled something and then covered a moan of pain while glancing at her wrist. “Yes, chef,” she replied with a shaky voice.

  Duke let her go, and she cradled her hand. “That’s better. I’m really disappointed in you, Shelby. You need to make sure you keep me happy because when I am, then you get to do what you love and you don’t get hurt. It’s a simple concept.”

  Anger rose in my chest at his treatment of the girl. If it were me, I’d dump the nearest pot of boiling hot food over his head and quit. Nobody deserved the abuse he gave her.

  Without looking up at him, Shelby continued working. She whispered instructions to the next server instead of giving them with authority.

  Duke backed off a step to let her finish the job, but he refused to shut up. “You know what keeps me happy? Food that makes the client want more. I don't care how you make it or what goes into it. It just has to be good enough for it to have my stamp and name on it.”

  “Yes, chef,” mumbled Shelby.

  Duke snagged food off the middle of a serving dish, messing up its presentation so that Shelby had to fix it. “It's too bad your sister doesn't have your talents in the kitchen. She knows how to keep me satisfied.” He sneered and popped the bite in his mouth.

  Shelby glanced up at him. “Half-sister.”

  Duke scoffed. “The better half. At least she doesn't waste her considerable talents and provides me with the juicy stuff. All you bring to the table is legitimacy. And I find that less and less necessary the more treasures your sister gathers.”

  With a couple of elaborate flourishes of his hands, a black notebook appeared out of nowhere, and he gripped it in his fingers. Opening it, he flipped the pages until he found what he wanted. “Look at everything your sister’s given me.” He shoved the book in Shelby's face. “She's worth double to me, and yet I'm stuck with you. Can't you for once just do what is expected and get it right?”

  Shelby hung her head in frustration. “Yes, Duke.”

  The young woman gripped the handle of the knife she held a little tighter and my stomach clenched. But I took no action to stop what I thought might be coming.

  Closing her eyes, Shelby pulled her arm back, loading it to spring. With a grunt, she thrust the pointed end at Duke’s stomach,
but he knocked the knife out of her hand before it touched him with a cruel snicker.

  “I don't have time for one of your tantrums, Shel. Even if you had succeeded in cutting me, you know the consequences wouldn’t be what you wanted anyway.” He caught her by the throat and slammed her against the nearby wall. “You are mine, and there is nothing in this world that will change it except my death, and that won't be happening any time soon with all the protection I have.”

  Shelby clutched at his hands, trying to breathe. I prepped a spell to help her, but he let go first. The young woman clutched at her reddened skin, coughing and catching her breath.

  Duke waved the black book in front of her face and chuckled. “But I do like it when you try. It means that I have more to do to kill your spirit, and you know how much I enjoy a challenge.” With a wave of his hands, the notebook disappeared. “It should be time for the cake soon. Is it prepared?”

  Shelby nodded. “It's ready, but I still don't think it's a good idea.” She pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket.

  Duke snatched it from her hands and read it over. “We just went over this. Your job isn't to think. Your job is to do what I say, and I'm telling you to make sure that cake is ready and then bring it to the tent. Wait until I’m there so that I can take the credit.”

  The young woman frowned but nodded in acceptance. She bent down to pick the knife off the floor. Duke sneered behind her back and lifted his foot as if to kick her, but thought better of it at the last second.

  When she stood, he grabbed her chin, squeezing her cheeks hard. “And Shelby?” He leaned his face into hers. “The spell better work right or you will receive the consequences I deem necessary tonight. Got that?”

  He didn't wait for her reply, and exited through the kitchen, barely missing another collision with a server and smacking another poor unsuspecting pixie out of his way.

  Dainty footsteps approached from behind me. “Cousin Charlotte? What are you doing here?” Clementine asked.

  Caught in the act of eavesdropping, I smoothed out my dress and shifted on my feet. “I came to check on you, Clem. I wanted to make sure you were okay after Clarice’s speech.” I didn't add on the extra horror of her dealing with Duke as well.

  My cousin cocked her head to the side in surprise, her eyes widening. “I…that’s so…” She took a deep breath and regained her composure. Taking on an almost perfect imitation of my aunt, she lifted her nose in the air. “I am perfectly fine, thank you. We should both be getting back to the party.”

  She made her way to the side door. Before she cleared the frame, she paused and turned her head to the side. “Thanks, Charli,” she called out and disappeared.

  To anyone who didn't know our family dynamics, they would have registered a polite interaction. But Clementine calling me by my nickname meant more, and I was glad I had followed my instincts to check on her.

  With Duke gone, Shelby's voice rang clear and true in the kitchen. She barked out orders like a good leader, and prepared her team to get the cake ready for the grand presentation. Maybe I could talk to the woman later and commiserate. Then again, she might not be pleased to know someone else had witnessed the humiliating altercation.

  I hustled back to the tent, and snuck through the side flap to rejoin my friends. Although they gave me the third degree over my absence, I dodged their questions about where I'd been, keeping my moment with Clementine between us cousins. With the commotion of the arrival of the day's special cake, I held onto the rest of the information about the fake chef for gossip fodder after the event.

  Duke allowed the servers to set up the cake and pulled out the piece of paper he’d snatched from Shelby from his pocket. He addressed the waiting crowd with a toothy smile. “And for the finale, my team and I bring you a masterpiece fit for a princess’s celebration. Our confection for the day is a three-tiered cake of vanilla with honeysuckle buttercream icing.”

  Alison Kate stiffened next to me. “Those are flavors that I put together for my cupcakes.”

  “It could be just a coincidence, Ali Kat.”I grasped my friend’s hand.

  She shook her head. “No, I don't think so. He raved about the frosting and made me identify the flavors in front of the woman he was with. I got the feeling that she was the one who understood baking. Not him.”

  My friend’s observation confirmed my suspicions from the conversation I’d overheard. While Duke took credit for the food, he didn't put in the work for it. For all I knew, he couldn't, relying solely on others. A man like that deserved to have his plans thwarted.

  Duke held up his hands to quiet the crowd. “And now, here's a little something extra from Duke's Delicious Dishes.” He made dramatic gestures with his fingers over the cake, and the surface came to life with unusual motion.

  “Oh, no,” exclaimed Alison Kate. “He wouldn’t.”

  With a grin, Duke spoke the words of intent he read from the paper. “May your love take flight with wings.”

  Tiny frosted wings exploded off of the cake and fluttered around the room in pale pastels, lighting on people like butterflies. Much like my devastated friend’s flying frosting spell she used on her own cupcakes.

  A few eyes turned in Alison Kate’s direction. A gentle murmur rustled across the room. Duke stood baffled, unsure why his trick didn't earn him loud applause.

  Anger for the betrayal of my friend, for the man's ill-treatment of women, and for the look on his face boiled inside me. The man earned the hex coming his way, and I had no doubt he deserved more.

  Lavender held me back by my shoulders. “Charli, no.”

  I yanked out of my friend’s grasp and raised my hand at the ready. “For the man who stands in the center of the room, hex his hiney with a—”

  Before I could finish, the beautiful cake and all of the flying frosting exploded into a million pieces.

  Chapter Three

  Aunt Nora paced in front of me in the parlor. “She did it. I know it was her,” she accused.

  The stiff settee underneath my accused behind creaked. I opened my mouth to protest, but my aunt cut me off.

  “She's always had it out to embarrass our family. It's not enough that she has her weird magic and flaunts it all over town. Now she has to ruin my darling Clementine’s bridal shower by blowing up the cake. It's too much.” Aunt Nora waved a lace handkerchief in front of her.

  Clarice tried to console the hysterical woman. “Now, now, Leonora. Charlotte is a bit unconventional, I'll grant you. But she can't think that disrupting a wedding event for our children would bring her anything but scorn.” Tucker’s mother patted my aunt on the shoulder.

  “I love it when you two talk like I’m not in the room.” My comment earned me icy glares, and the two women consoled each other with murmurs, no doubt planning my ultimate demise.

  Big Willie arrived and crashed his way into the house. “Here now, what's this I heard about an exploding cake? It better not be one of those spell pranks that’s happening all over Honeysuckle.” He took off his hat and scratched his shaggy head. “Some kid blasted me with a humid hair hex, and, dagnabbit, I looked like a hairy pom pom for a whole day.”

  Aunt Nora dragged him further into the room. She held him by his arm and pointed a finger at me. “Willie, I want you to arrest her.”

  My eyes widened. “Arrest? All that happened was a little bit of cake got on those nearest to the incident. I hardly think frosting stains are a reason to incarcerate someone. Besides, if you let me talk, I could tell you that I. Didn't. Do. It.”

  My aunt narrowed her eyes at me. “Is there anyone else in attendance at the shower who would have wanted to ruin the day other than you?” She didn't wait for me to answer. “Exactly. Arrest her,” she demanded with an added petulant stomp of her foot.

  Duke entered from the hallway and stood with my upset kin. “I don't know if the law needs to be brought into it, but a measure of compensation wouldn't go amiss. Maybe y'all can put your heads together and come up with a
figure that would appease the two of you,” he indicated at Aunt Nora and Clarice, “and I'm sure that Charli and I can come up with the way that she can pay me back.” He raised his eyebrow at me and licked his lips.

  “I changed my mind,” I said. “You can arrest me, Big Willie.”

  “That's Sheriff to you,” the Sasquatch replied. “And I'm not doing nothin’ till someone tells me what in the unicorn horn has gone on.”

  All three of us women jumped in at the same time, giving our own accounts of the entire event. Clementine stood to the side with her hands crossed, looking between her mother and her future mother-in-law without saying a word. Once in a while, her gaze flitted to me, but she kept her mouth sealed tight.

  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?