A Southern Charms Cozy Potluck Box Set

by Bella Falls

  “Move it, cat.”

  With feline indifference, he licked his paw and stretched longer. Stepping over him, I made my way to the staircase. On the way down, the little stinker bit my ankle and zoomed underneath me, almost causing me to fall to my death.

  “You better run before I hex your tail off, stupid cat,” I yelled after his tubby behind.

  “Don’t disparage my sweet boy,” Nana chastised as she met me at the bottom.

  “He bit me.” I stood in front of her, hands on my hips.

  “It’s his nature. You can’t fault someone for being who they are.” She cocked an eyebrow at me.

  “Yeah, but you didn’t have to name him after the God of Mischief as a kitten. No doubt that contributed to his natural state of being a little devil.”

  She mimicked my stance. “I don’t know. Seems to me you fit your name quite well. You sprouted wings and flew away, didn’t you?”

  “Nana,” I protested, not prepared to defend myself without some food in my belly.

  Her expression softened, and she opened her arms. “Thank goodness you found your way back, though. Now quit your sassin’ and give your old grandmother a squeeze.”

  She rocked me back and forth, and I clung to her with a wretched thirstiness, drinking in all the things that made her her. After Mom’s death, Nana took us in to help Dad and the two of us kids stay afloat from our sadness. Echoes of the life that we’d lived all those years here crashed against me. I didn’t notice the copious sobs racking my body until Nana forced a handkerchief into my hand. Its flimsiness made me laugh through my tears.

  “I don’t think this will get the job done,” I sniffed, lifting it to my face and taking in the scent of my grandmother’s perfume. “It’s too pretty to snot on.”

  Nana wiped the wetness from my cheeks with her fingers. “But that’s what it’s made for. So snot away.” Her knuckles dashed under her own eyes before she grabbed me by both shoulders.

  Her eyes examined me while her fingers squeezed my arms. She moved her hands up my neck and cupped my cheeks, tilting my head back, mumbling under her breath something unintelligible. When she cranked my head forward and got close enough that her nose almost touched mine while she stared into my eyes, the level of my discomfort broke my stunned paralysis.

  “Nana, whatcha doin’?” I asked through squished cheeks between her fingers.

  “Hmm, what?” She narrowed her eyes one last time before shaking her head and returning to her normal expression. “Oh, forgive me. Just checking to make sure you’re really here well and whole standing in front of me.”

  “O-o-kay.” Not for a second did I believe her lie, but hunger outweighed my curiosity. “Can we go eat?”

  Releasing me, she gave me another hard squeeze before patting my rump. “You go on into the dining room. I’m gonna open the front door.”

  “Why?”

  “It’ll make things easier. Now get.” She shooed me away with her hand.

  With tentative steps, I entered the formal dining room, the source of all the mouthwatering scents. The long oak table was covered with steaming dishes, a plate stacked with pancakes, pans of various ooey gooey baked goods, a mound of bacon and sausage piled high, a pot of coffee, a pitcher of orange juice, and another of Bloody Mary’s.

  “Pick your poison and dig in.” Nana gestured at the stack of plates at one end of the table. Her eyebrow raised as she watched me rubbing my sore arm again, so I stopped. With her lips pursed, she disappeared into the kitchen.

  I scooped some of everything onto a plate until some of it threatened to fall off. A piece of bacon hung out of my mouth as I poured my first cup of coffee.

  Nana clicked her tongue at me as she came back with a plate of hot corn fritters. “Oh, Charli. Don’t tell me you’ve lost your manners while you were away.”

  “There’s enough food here for all of Honeysuckle. I can’t eat all of this.” By my calculations, if I ate the rest of the pancake, there’d be room on my plate for a fritter plus a scoop of grits and sausage casserole. And a sticky cinnamon bun.

  “You let me worry about the food. You worry about fueling up. When your brother brought you to me two nights ago, you were dangerously close to needing Doc Andrews.”

  My mouth stopped in the middle of a syrupy bite. “Two nights ago?”

  Nana’s face softened. “Eat first. Talk later, darlin’.”

  Flashes of the night I returned to Honeysuckle Hollow popped into my head and disappeared. I tried to remember the specifics, but the images shimmered in and out of focus. Weird.

  A loud knock on the front doorway interrupted my confusion. “You want me to get that?”

  “No,” Nana said. “The door’s open. Whoever it is will figure out what to do. Now, make me some room. I’ve got more food to bring in.”

  Stuffing the cinnamon bun in my mouth and standing, I maneuvered a few dishes to make a hole right in front of me.

  Working on my mouthful, I took stock of the bounty on the table. “Nana, there’s enough here to feed an army of rabbit shifters.” The pounding grew in intensity.

  Nana’s head appeared again from the door to the kitchen. “Girl, watch what you say.” She disappeared again.

  The pounding had stopped and a deep voice echoed from the foyer. “Ms. Goodwin. You home?”

  My grandmother walked into the dining room carrying a stacked plate of biscuits and a china gravy boat, a smug smile perched on her lips. “In here,” she beckoned in a sing-song tone.

  The voice didn’t ring any bells. The generous bite of cinnamon bun currently residing in my mouth needed to disappear as fast as possible. Before I could swallow it all down, a tall, broad man filled the entire doorway to the room. His amber eyes ambled over the food all the way down the long table until they lit on me.

  Heat flooded my cheeks and flowed all the way down to my toes under his scrutiny. For a long second, he held his intense stare until he blew out a breath and shook his head.

  With a scowl on his face, he addressed my grandmother. “Wanted to let you know I’m here to continue working on your porch, ma’am.” His Southern drawl reverberated through me.

  “For the last time, you call me Ms. Vivi, please. Where are my manners? Let me introduce you to my granddaughter, Charlotte. Charli, this is Dashiel Channing. He’s new to Honeysuckle.”

  No kidding, Nana. “Pleased to meet you.” I stood up with typical grace, knocking my fork off my plate, and extended my hand.

  He shook it, but when he pulled away, he frowned while wiping what must have been sticky frosting from the bun on his jeans. “Pleasure.”

  “Dash, why don’t you make yourself a plate. There’s plenty, and the two of you can get acquainted while I bring out some more.” Nana’s tone dripped with honey as did her entire face until she looked at me. Her finger tapped her lips as she silently mouthed, “Wipe.”

  After the seconds it took to comprehend what she meant, I dabbed my napkin across my lips, looking in horror at the glob of white frosting left behind. Pixie poop. The fire in my cheeks could light the entire table on fire. I couldn’t even venture to peek at Dash to figure out what he must think of me.

  “No, thank you, Ms. Goodwin. I wanna get going on my work. Thanks for the offer.” His deep, growling voice both terrified and intrigued me at the same time. He nodded his head in my direction when I dared to peer back at him and disappeared.

  “Nana,” I hissed and threw my napkin at her. “You could have warned me.”

  She rearranged dishes to make more room. “Could’ve. But didn’t. Oh, sweet honeysuckle iced tea. Gird yourself.” She pointed at the foyer.

  A storm of commotion brewed in the other room as female voices roared with deafening magnitude. Nana’s friends and their granddaughters, my own gaggle of girlfriends, streamed into the dining room, holding dishes and supplies, finishing conversations as they set their offerings down on the table.

  “How are you feeling, honey?” asked Ada Atherton. “My
sweet-tempered grandbaby told me all about the engagement.”

  “Granny,” Blythe slammed her dish down on the table. “I thought I told you not to say anything.”

  “Well, it’s the talk of the whole dang town. It might as well be the topic of conversation at the table. Here. These are for you.” Mimosa Blackwood handed me a large bouquet of colorful blooms wrapped in tissue and cellophane from her store.

  “Those gerbera daisies are for cheerfulness,” Lavender explained. “No need to see your aura to know you could use some of that this morning.”

  Lily pouted. “I wanted yellow chrysanthemums to commemorate your sorry ex-fiancé. Slighted Love indeed. But Grandma and Lav insisted on daisies.”

  “Thanks, Ms. Mimsy. And both of you, too.” The flower wrappings with Mimsy’s Whimsies printed on them crinkled in my hands.

  “Here, let me put those in some water.” Nana grabbed them from me.

  Lily’s younger sister popped a piece of biscuit in her mouth and sat down without ceremony next to me. “So is it true that you found Tipper’s dead body?”

  The news of my great-uncle’s death bothered me. My brain searched for the answer but couldn’t find one, even though I knew in my bones I should be able to. Panic filled me to the brim.

  “Linsey,” her sister and cousin warned.

  The color in Linsey’s cheeks deepened. “What? It’s the biggest story going. If I could get the first scoop, maybe DK will let me do something more than just the Dear Delilah advice column for The Honeysuckle Holler. I’m sick of making up responses to stupid questions like what’s the best way to wash out hex marks. Dear Dingbat - The best way is not to get yourself hexed in the first place.”

  Blythe scowled at Lily’s younger sister. “That’s good advice. Shame you don’t take it yourself.” She wagged a finger at the offender in warning.

  My head tried to figure out what Linsey meant but nobody would look at me. “What’s she talking about? What happened to Uncle Tipper?” The pain in my right arm ached a little more.

  “Guess your spellcasting worked a little too well, Vivi?” asked Ida Mae Johnston as she placed a platter of scones on the table. “Getting a recipe down pat takes time for experimentation.”

  “And you would know all about getting the recipe just right, Meemaw. Here, Charli, why don’t you try one of her lavender and honeysuckle scones.” Alison Kate handed me one with an apologetic look. “I helped her bake them this morning.”

  Blythe rolled her eyes. “I don’t think that’s gonna solve anything right now.”

  I shut my eyes to the din of everyone talking and arguing back and forth around me but not to me. What had happened to Tipper? And why was I involved? A dull ache throbbed in my head as murky images attempted to break through the fog.

  The screen door slammed and my brother called out from the foyer. “Nana? Where are you?”

  My grandmother pinched the bridge of her nose. “In here, sugar pie.”

  Matt walked in and paused. “Didn’t know this was a party.” He looked at the table of food with longing but walked over to me. “Charli, I’m sorry, but I need you to come to the warden station with me.”

  “For what?” I stood up, my chair scraping on the floor.

  “I’ll explain on the way, so please just come and don’t ask questions right now.” He touched my shoulder.

  Nana fixed him in her gaze. “Young man, you will not come into this house and treat your sister like a common criminal. Please explain yourself.”

  “My fault entirely,” a strange man’s voice said. He stepped into the room. “I apologize for interrupting your meal, but we’ve given you more than enough time, and now your granddaughter needs to answer some questions. Deputy Warden Goodwin here is following my orders.”

  “And I told you two nights ago that as I fill the High Seat of the town council that she would answer your questions when she’s ready.” Nana stood tall, walking over to face the stranger head-on, more of a formidable force than an old lady. “I thought I’d made myself clear, Detective Clairmont. We don’t work this way here in Honeysuckle Hollow. A little politeness and consideration go a long way in a small town like ours.”

  All the girls pushed Matt out of the way and shielded me like a protective ring hiding me from sight, crossing their arms, while their grandmothers stood in solidarity behind mine.

  My brother pleaded with me. “Charli, please. The sooner you get this over with, the sooner you can come right back. I promise.”

  “Get through what? I have no idea what any of you are talking about.” The panic growing in my gut stirred up my confusion, and I rubbed my temples. Something locked away in my head needed to come out, but I couldn’t find the key to let it. The pang in my arm throbbed again. “I have to go.”

  Elbowing my friends out of the way, I bolted through the back doorway that led to the living room and ran through to the parlor into the foyer and toward the stairs.

  “Stop right there, Miss Goodwin,” demanded Detective Clairmont. “Under warden command.”

  My body halted at the foot of the stairs, unable to move. Indignant voices erupted as everyone questioned the man’s authority. Nana screamed that he had no right throwing a spell around in her house. Matt attempted to reason with his superior. The rest of the women henpecked him while I tried my best to budge.

  The screen door banged shut with enough force to stop everyone. “May I be of service, Ms. Goodwin?” Dash blocked the outside daylight with his hulking frame, his amber eyes flashing.

  “You will stay right where you are, werewolf,” Detective Clairmont ordered, contempt dripping off his words.

  “I’m a wolf shifter. There’s a difference.” The muscles in Dash’s jaw twitched, and his hands curled into fists. “Now let her go.”

  “You have nothing to do with any of this. If you want to keep it that way, you’ll get back to work.”

  “And if I don’t?” The shifter’s lip curled up in a snarl.

  “Then I’ll take you and Miss Goodwin down to the station and question both of you. Come to think of it, where exactly were you two nights ago? Can someone vouch for your whereabouts?”

  Nana walked forward and stood in between the two men. “Now that’s enough. Dash, I appreciate your presence, but maybe it would be best if you went back outside.” She placed a gentle hand on his chest.

  “No,” he refused. “Not until he lets Miss Charlotte go.”

  Matt stood next to Detective Clairmont. “Come on, Mason. This is going overboard. It sounds like she’s not going to be much help anyway until my Nana’s spellcraft wears off.”

  The detective sighed. With a snap, he broke the bond and my body slumped with the release of the invisible force. “And exactly when will that be?”

  Nana came over to hold me up. “When it does. Detective, do you have family? Any children of your own?”

  A shadow passed over his face like clouds in front of the sun. He caught himself and cleared his throat. “No. I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

  With a hug around my shoulders, my grandmother stood next to me. “If and when you do, you’ll understand the lengths you will go to take care of and protect your own. For now, you can get off my property. And I don’t want to have to report your actions here today, which could be seen as prejudicial rather than judicial.” She nodded her chin in Dash’s direction.

  Sheepish shame flashed on Detective Clairmont’s face for a brief second. “My apologies, Mr. Channing.” The frown in his lips spoke more than his words.

  Dash grunted in reluctant acceptance. His glowing eyes found mine, and a chill ran down my body. Except…was he checking on me or thinking he’d like to devour me with his great big teeth he must possess when he shifts? He released me from his gaze and walked outside after a polite bow of his head to my grandmother.

  The tension grew as thick as molasses, and all I wanted was to pull the quilt back over my head. “Detective Clairmont?” My quiet voice garnered th
e attention of everyone left standing.

  “Yes?”

  Rubbing my sore arm, I gave it my best shot. “I don’t remember what happened, but it sounds like you need me to. I promise, as soon as I do, I will come down to the station on my own. Will that suffice?”

  His attention dropped to my limb. “Has that been hurting you for long?”

  “Mason, is her promise enough?” asked Matt, standing up for me as much as he could.

  We all held our collective breath until he nodded. “Yes. As soon as your memory returns, make sure you fulfill your word.”

  Holding up three fingers, I put a bigger stamp on my promise. “Witch’s honor.”

  My friends gasped. “You don’t owe him that,” Blythe barked.

  “I’ll only get potentially hexed if I break my promise,” I reassured her. Looking straight at Mason Clairmont, I raised my eyebrow. “And I stand by my word.”

  Without saying anything or even uttering a polite apology or farewell, the detective turned on his heel and left. A heated exchange of words from outside drifted in through the screen door. The tension around us popped like a thin soap bubble, and I blew out all the air in my lungs, bending over and grabbing my knees.

  “Well done, Charli Bird.” My grandmother patted my back.

  Matt came over and ruffled my hair. “Nana, he means business. There’s more going on, and we need Charli to talk to us.”

  “Surely, that can wait,” she insisted.

  “Not for long,” he replied.

  “Oh for unicorn’s sake, don’t start that again.” Standing up straight, I crossed my arms. “Now, two things are gonna happen. Y’all are all going back in that dining room and stuff yourselves until we have to roll you out the door. And while you’re doing that, you’re gonna tell me what it is I’m supposed to be remembering.”

  After my stomach stuck out and my brain was crammed with so much info that both might burst, I fixed a plate of food, grabbed a glass of iced tea, and excused myself from the hubbub.