A Southern Charms Cozy Potluck Box Set

by Bella Falls

  I stared down the long and darkening roadway towards town. “Any chance you can put me on the fairy path?” Any shortcut would be appreciated so that I didn’t arrive a hot, sweaty mess from all the walking.

  Gossamer kissed Flint on the cheek as he meandered back to his seat and dug into the plate of food. “Sure thing, honey. On one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  She scrunched her nose. “You let me spruce you up a bit. You look…a little road weary.”

  My hands went straight to my hair. If it looked as bad as it felt, it might take some serious magic to help. Wearing a helmet did as much damage to its condition as the heavy humidity. “Is it that bad?”

  Gossamer nodded. “And maybe a little change to your clothes. Just a temporary one. Long enough for you to—”

  “Go to the ball?” I finished, clapping my hands in mock excitement. “Oh thank you, Fairy Godmother, thank you. Does it change back at the stroke of midnight?”

  Flint choked on a piece of chicken as he tried not to laugh. Gossamer placed her hands on her hips, her wings quivering in agitation. “No, Miss Sass. At best maybe an hour or two.” With a flourish of her hand, a pink wand appeared, and more pink dust whirled in the night breeze. She lifted an eyebrow in my direction as if waiting for permission.

  After a sigh, I acquiesced. “Go ahead. Bibbity Bobbity get ‘er done.”

  A current of wind swirled around me, and my body tingled from the potent magic of the tiny fairy. It tickled like mini feathers poking me all over. When the sensation ceased, I looked down at her results. Instead of a sweat-stained T-shirt, a pink and white checkered peasant blouse flattered my curves. A clean pair of jeans that fit like a glove replaced my older ones. I wiggled my toes free from the boots now clad in some sandals. My pink toenails practically sparkled all on their own. Patting my head, I no longer felt an untamed mess.

  “Thanks for not putting me in heels.” I winked at Gossamer. “Love the color.”

  “It’s my signature hue. Now come on. Park your bike, and I’ll open the path for you.”

  I wheeled Old Joe to a safe place behind the gatehouse. Taking out the keys and shoving them in my pocket, I opened one of the saddlebags and tugged out a smaller leather backpack, slinging it over my shoulder.

  “That’s all you’re taking with you?” Gossamer asked.

  I shrugged. “I left with very little, and I’m returning with pretty much what I’ve got on me.” I looked down at the glamour of new clothes. “Well, sort of.”

  Waving her wand again, a pink vertical line formed in the air and straight down to the ground. With her hand, she dug her fingers into the line until it ripped open. The sound of laughter, talking, and music floated through. The familiar sight of the end of Main Street right before the park shimmered on the other side.

  In a soft voice, Gossamer urged me. “Come on, Charli. You don’t want to miss your homecoming.”

  Doubt crept into my gut, and I questioned my choice. Once through, there would be no turning back. Literally. Unless I wanted to walk the few miles all the way back to the border. As the night grew dark. Alone. Well, me, a few hundred cicadas, and whatever else lurked in the woods.

  A cool breeze blew across my face, the moss in the trees bending to its will. Balling my fists, I did my best to summon my courage. Was I a Goodwin or was I a mouse? I ignored that tiny voice in the back of my head telling me that I was indeed small and squeaky with big ears and a long tail. Faking every ounce of bravery, I plastered a smile on my face, told that voice to shush, and walked toward the fairy’s shortcut.

  Right behind the rip in the air stood a large wooden sign in peeling white paint. Its old-fashioned black lettering needed a touch-up. But it loomed there like a grand announcement…or a big warning.

  Welcome Home to Honeysuckle Hollow

  Stepping onto the path, I hesitated as something on the sign caught my eye, goosebumps breaking out all over.

  Did the population number on the sign just tick up by one?

  Chapter Two

  Chills followed the goosebumps as the distance I traveled from one place to another folded into the difference of one step, my internal balance faltering for a second. Choosing the fairy path always gave me the heebie-jeebies, which is why I hardly ever used it despite having friends who offered.

  With footing on solid ground, I turned in place, taking in the familiar scenery. Stores lined the sides of Main Street, their darkened windows hiding what was waiting inside for the daylight. Fairy lights hung in strands across the street, giving off an otherworldly glow. Someone had added strings of mason jars with different hues of glows inside each of them. Everything underneath reflected their colors like they were lit up by psychedelic fireflies.

  “Charli, wait up.” Gossamer flitted to my side. “I gotta get some more sweet tea to bring back to my Flinty.”

  I pointed at the lights. “Did you help with the decorations?”

  “Just the pink ones,” she nodded.

  “They’re nice.” My thoughts buried themselves in the past.

  We walked down to the far end of Main Street, a heavy silence growing between us. The noise of the town’s population grew with every stride, and my pace slowed.

  With a tiny huff, Gossamer flew ahead of me and turned around, her body bobbing up and down in the air in front of me. “Listen, sugar pie. You gotta face the music at some point. Might as well be tonight when everyone’s full of food and fun. Plus, you got a limited time to show off my masterpiece.” She flourished her hand at my ensemble.

  I wiped the beads of sweat off the top of my lip with the back of my hand. “I know.” The unspoken but hung in the air between us.

  My fairy friend shrugged. “Well, I wanna get back to my husband sooner rather than later.” She flew over and hugged me around the neck. “Let me be the first to officially welcome you back. Good luck with whatever you choose to do.” She disappeared into the distant crowd, a cloud of pink sparkles left in her wake.

  Be brave, be brave, set the cadence for my feet to move forward, one in front of the other. At the last second, I turned left down an alley instead of heading to the opening of the park. The music grew louder as I worked my way toward the light at the end. I’d still make it to the park, but perhaps to a less conspicuous side of it.

  When brick gave way to grass, I pushed through a few bushes and onto a cement walkway, wending my way around the curves and past abandoned benches. My eyes sought out the activities of the big party.

  Every year, our little town took its Founders’ Day celebrations so seriously that the events stretched it out to an entire week of things to do and participate in. Everyone looked forward to the First Night because it allowed us all to mill around, eat food we all prepared, and in general remember that we’re a community that supports each other first and foremost. My choosing to return on this particular night had less to do with fate or coincidence than I wanted to admit.

  The squawk of a crow startled me out of my sentimental reveries, and a figure moved in my direction. Adrenaline rushed through me. “Who goes there?”

  All fear blasted away at the sound of a friendly guffaw. An even more familiar voice cheered me. “My dear, I think it would be more appropriate for me to ask you that question. Seems like you’re practically a stranger, skulking over here in the dark rather than addressing your kinfolk and friends. Come on over here and give your old Uncle Tipper a squeeze.”

  An older man dressed in a seersucker suit and bowtie with a stomach as big as Santa’s and a countenance like Colonel Sanders stepped into the light of an overhead lamp and opened up his arms, the crow on his shoulder flapping its wings to keep balance.

  With relieved enthusiasm, I wrapped up the kindly man in my arms and gave in to the warmth of his tight embrace. “Hey, Uncle Tip. How ya been?”

  He rocked me back and forth. “Been missing you, Charli Bird. You flew so far, far, far away. It’s good to hold you again.”

  That nickna
me shot an arrow straight through my heart. Only a select approved few ever dared to use it. Anybody else who tried got smacked with a light hex or hand at the least.

  “I think I missed this place in a small corner of my soul,” I muffled into his shoulder. “I definitely missed you, too, Uncle Tipper.” After a few more seconds, he released me when his crow chirped an annoyed caw. “And I missed you, too, you old bird.”

  “Biddy here’s been my one companion who tolerates my shenanigans since you left. No one wants me to have any fun anymore. No getting away with anything. Someone’s always watching. They’re all gunning for me, I just know it. And they forget…I know things. Things that are worth knowing.” He shook his finger in the air, his eyes darting back and forth. When they landed on me again, he paused his ramblings and swallowed.

  With a clearing of his throat, his entire face dropped its wild concern, a mask of carefree indifference returning. “Now give me your hand, darlin’.” Holding onto it, he held me captive under his intense scrutiny. “I’ve been missing my red bowtie. You know, the one with the tiny white polka dots. As a walking, talking divining rod, I’m hoping you can make my day and at least give me some general whereabouts to check.”

  If it had been anyone else in town to come right out and ask me to use my magic for a dog and pony show, I’d tell them they could search where the sun didn’t shine. But because Uncle Tipper would always be one of my favorite people, I risked the little energy store I had.

  With a sigh, I gave in. “You know the drill. Concentrate on that particular object. Help me find what you most want.” Closing my eyes, I waited.

  Sparks exploded in the dark, and the color red came into foggy view. Like turning a dial to find the right radio station frequency, I tilted my head and concentrated, drawing on Tipper’s desire to pull the picture of the object into clearer focus.

  “It’s laying somewhere. On the floor. A wooden floor. In the shadows. Underneath…a bed.” Concentrating, I willed the brightened vision to sharpen and zoom out. “Next to something. A shoe…no…heels. Red stilettos. Blood red. And next to that, something delicate and lacy with a tiny satin red bow—” I gasped and opened my eyes.

  Tipper practically vibrated with glee. “No need to fill in the rest. I know exactly where it is.” He kissed my cheek. “Thank you, my dear. Seems like your time away has been put to good use. Don’t remember your gift being as sharp before. And now for your reward.” He positioned my hand in front me with purpose.

  With a wave of his fingers, a cool glass of liquid appeared with a small pop. The ice tinkled as I attempted not to drop it.

  He smiled in satisfaction. “There. Now that’s true hospitality. I hate to see anyone without a drink in their hand.” With a snap, a glass materialized in his own grip.

  I raised my cup to him. “As long as the drinks were unclaimed, I appreciate it.”

  His left eyebrow rose, and his lip curled up at the side.

  “Tipper, you didn’t steal these from someone did you?” My gut already knew the answer.

  “My ungrateful niece, your Aunt Nora, and her even ungrateful-er daughter, darling Clementine, can fetch new ones.” He looked wistful as he looked me in the eyes. “Your mom really was the best of the Walker bunch since…well, me.” He tousled my hair. “And my present company ain’t so bad either.” Biddy squawked and nodded her head.

  As much as I appreciated the drink and needed the sugar after the little use of my gift, if Uncle Tipper was bouncing from ideas to crazy accusations to stealing things with magic, perhaps others weren’t entirely in the wrong to watch his so-called shenanigans. No telling what else he’d been up to.

  Reaching inside his jacket, Tipper fumbled around until he pulled out his desired object, a silver flask. “Aha. Now it’s a party.” Unscrewing the cap, he poured some of its contents into his cup. He shook the container in front of me. “Care to partake?”

  To ward him off, I brought the drink to my lips. Sweet tea with a floral bouquet. Nowhere else on earth used honeysuckle flowers to sweeten its tea as they did here. Another marker of home. “No, thank you. I’m good with it as it is.”

  He tilted his head. “You sure?” His chin gestured toward the crowds, a loud voice echoing off the nearby buildings to gather everyone for an announcement.

  Kissing him on the cheek, I smiled at his signature scent of bay rum aftershave. “I am. Any consequences of my choices are mine to bear. Better to face them dead on and get them over with.”

  Uncle Tipper cupped my chin with his free hand. “My dear girl, you couldn’t remind me more of your mother Raylene, our beloved sunshine, any more if you tried.”

  A single tear ran down my cheek, and he brushed it away with his thumb. “That’s the best thing anybody has ever said to me,” my voice broke in a cracked whisper.

  He patted my cheek and took a sip of his spiked drink, the ice tinkling in the cup. When he glanced back at me, tears rimmed his own eyes. “What am I going to do when I’m gone? Who’s going to take my place?”

  No good could come from dredging up old complications and inherited problems.

  I reached out to take away his drink. “You’ve got lots of kinfolk left. And not all of them are as much trouble as me.”

  He maneuvered out of reach, protecting his libation and sniffing. “You’re right, of course.” Taking a long swig, he smacked his lips. “Besides, I don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon. I’m the oldest representative of the Walker side of the founding families. If they want to stop me, they’ll have to do it over my dead body.” He shook a fist at the moon with enough force that his crow flew off her perch on his shoulder and lighted on top of the lamppost. With a mania I'd yet to experience with him, his eyes widened.

  Concern coursed through me. “Of course they will, Tipper. Now, are you gonna escort me to the party?”

  With his fingers, he smoothed over his mustache. “If you will pardon me, I think I shall go hunting for some pretty prey tonight. I hear the Widow Macintosh is like a sweet apple, ripe and ready for the picking these days.”

  “Ever the heartbreaker. You be careful out there.” I crashed into him for one last hug, a little of his spiked concoction splashing on my arm. Out of all people in the town to run into first, I’d definitely won the lottery so far. Maybe my luck would continue.

  He patted my back and released me. With a chivalrous bow and a tiny salute, he bid me adieu. “Come on, you old Biddy. We’ve got things to do.” His crow flew down and landed on his shoulder.

  I watched him walk away, my spirits lifted with his jubilance. He’d always been a little touched, as we liked to call it, but I’d never seen him so agitated before. Another mystery I’d have to solve once I got settled.

  The commotion from the announcer beckoned me from the shadows. Downing the rest of the tea and pulling my shoulders back, I started the march to join the rest of the crowd.

  A hand on my shoulder stopped my progression, the grip tightening until I winced. The deep voice from behind startled me, and I dropped my glass.

  “I should arrest you right where you stand, Charlotte Vivian Goodwin.”

  Chapter Three

  “You’d have to catch me first.” No way would I let this guy get the upper hand.

  “Already have,” he insisted.

  A stomp on the foot and an elbow into the gut got me released. I ran across the grass, but my pursuer caught me too soon. He picked me up, crushing me with his arms until my feet flailed in the air. “Give up?”

  I nodded, and he put me down on the ground. As my foot lifted to stomp again, his fingers dug into my sides with furious purpose. Uncontrolled giggles stole my breath. “Cut. It. Out.”

  “Not until you give in,” he said. “Do you?”

  My sides hurt from the pressure of the tickling. “No.”

  “Give in.”

  “No.”

  “You’re so stubborn, Charli Bird.” His fingers increased their intensity until it was too much to take. />
  “Okay, okay. I give. I surrender.” Holding my hands in the air, I gasped for breath.

  The strong arms released me and spun me around to face him. “You are such a brat and pain in a unicorn’s backside. Some things never change, do they, sis?” My older brother wrapped me up in a fierce hug.

  “Hey, Matty D.” My eyes fluttered shut, the comfort of his embrace washing away months of self-enforced loneliness and pining for family.

  It took him long minutes before he let me go. With a sigh and a deep inhale, he pushed me back to look at me. “You should have let us know you were coming.”

  “Didn’t know myself,” I lied. “You look so official in your warden’s uniform. You’re on duty tonight?”

  He straightened with pride. “I volunteered so I could have the night off for the barn dance. Plus, nothing really out of the ordinary to catch my eye. If you don’t count Uncle Tipper.”

  “Yeah, he’s out there stumbling around in the night, looking for some woman to woo. But there’s something up with him. You’re gonna have to fill me in.”

  My brother looped his thumbs in his belt buckles. “There’s also the surprise return of a runaway.”

  My stomach dropped. “Can’t be a runaway at my age. I just…left. You know why.” A pebble on the ground looked so interesting that it needed my full attention.

  “Hey, I missed Dad. Mom as well. Don’t you think there were more of us hurting than only you?” Pain and resentment rolled off him like a heavy wave. He pursed his lips and shook his head. Blowing out a hard breath, he relaxed. “But that doesn’t matter right now. I’m glad to see you, Birdy. You look surprisingly good.”

  “Don’t call me that.” I smacked his arm. “Not my doing. Ran into Gossamer at the border. What’s really under here is a sight to behold. So how about you escort me to the party while I look more like a supermodel than like road kill. With you in uniform, maybe people won’t stare at me too much.”