Stacy M. Jones
Saints & Sinners Ball
Harper & Hattie Magical Mystery
First published by Stacy M. Jones 2019
Copyright © 2019 by Stacy M. Jones
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Stacy M. Jones asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
Stacy M. Jones has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.
Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.
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For Kelley –
25 years of amazing friendship
Contents
Acknowledgement
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
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Three
Chapter Sixty-Four
Chapter Sixty-Five
Chapter Sixty-Six
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Chapter Sixty-Eight
About the Author
Also by Stacy M. Jones
Acknowledgement
Saints & Sinners Ball would not have been created without a wonderful creative team working with me. A special thanks to Sharon Aponte with Chick & a Mouse Graphic Design for the great cover, and Dj Hendrickson for her invaluable editing and suggestions. And to all my readers and those who continue to support me on this journey – thank you. You make writing these stories a joy.
Chapter One
The moment Harper Ryan crossed the bridge over the Mississippi River, connecting Tennessee to Arkansas, the stress left her shoulders. She had been driving for two days. The first night she made it from Manhattan to Bristol, Virginia. Today, she had been traversing the long length of Tennessee. She had flown to Nashville before but had never traveled the length of the state. It was long and boring. She had another two and a half hours to Little Rock – her final destination.
While Harper had learned to drive as most kids did around age sixteen, she never had much use for it in Manhattan. She had a driver or took a cab. On a rare occasion when Harper was younger, she had taken the subway. Her father, Maxwell Ryan, had chastised her for that decision so she never took the subway as an adult. If she was being honest with herself, Harper’s father chastised her about nearly all of her decisions.
He’d been the one who had given her the brand-new Land Rover when he had sternly suggested she leave Manhattan. Without realizing it, he had handed Harper the keys to her freedom. He had told Harper she should leave to take some time to think about how she disgraced the family. Really, Harper finally felt like she had been let out of her cage. She had to admit though, driving this far all alone had been a challenge. She was readjusting to being behind the wheel, but she certainly didn’t feel confident.
The Ryans were a wealthy upper eastside Manhattan family going back generations. They owned Charlotte, a national lifestyle magazine. Harper had been the editor-in-chief of her family’s more than one-hundred-year-old publication until she was fired by her father for bringing scandal on their good name.
Truth was, it wasn’t Harper’s scandal. It was her husband, now ex-husband, Nick, who had the affair and gotten tied in with the mob. It was Harper who had cooperated with the FBI and kept her good name and her family’s intact. What did she have to show for it?
Not a damn thing. She lost nearly all her friends, her marriage, and her job.
Now here she was heading to live with her father’s sister, her beloved Aunt Hattie. Given the early death of Harper’s mother, Hattie was like a mom to her in many ways. They really only clashed on one main issue – Aunt Hattie was a psychic and fancied herself a witch. Not only fancied herself like that, but she owned a shop – Hattie’s Cauldron: Potions and Pastries. The shop did quite well, which surprised Harper to no end.
Hattie was charismatic though. If Harper really had to admit it, Hattie did have a special kind of magic. She knew more than a few things that Harper had no idea how she knew. From what Harper could tell Hattie always kept it positive, too. There were no hexing or negative spells – just all love, light and positivity, which Harper was in desperate need of.
Hattie had tried to convince Harper more than once that she had magic in her, too. That those magic and psychic abilities were a trait that ran down the female side of the Ryan family line. Harper wasn’t buying it. She was keeping her feet firmly grounded. Harper would try to be supportive of her aunt while she was at her house. But she sure the heck wasn’t going to get involved in all that. Harper planned to get back to her roots and write and take some time to reevaluate her life plan.
A couple of weeks to forty, this definitely wasn’t what she had envisioned for herself. Aunt Hattie kept telling her this was
the time for reinvention – “Like a phoenix rising from the ashes,” she said. Harper wished. She felt more like a half-dead pigeon tossed beneath a shrub in Central Park.
The rest of the drive passed quickly for Harper. She didn’t need to stop, and before she knew it, she was navigating the streets into her aunt’s neighborhood in the Heights. Memories of her time here as a little girl came flooding back. She loved to visit her aunt. The old house with its huge rooms and hardwood floors. Her aunt’s knick-knacks and colorful rooms, it was wondrous to her as a child. At home in Manhattan, everything had been so constrained and sterile.
Harper pulled partway into the wide driveway that ran the length of the left side of the house. She hit the brakes a little too hard and lurched forward, snapping her seatbelt in place. She’d have to work on her driving. She popped the SUV into park and looked up at the old Victorian house. It looked exactly the same.
The house was painted a gray-blue with white trim. The front porch wrapped around the sides. Harper remembered spending so much time on that porch in her youth, laying on the swing reading, playing with the dogs, and just relaxing from the hot afternoon sun.
Harper took a step out of the SUV, planted her feet on southern ground, and breathed in the fresh air. The weather was mild. She pulled off her cardigan and adjusted her shirt underneath. Looking around, she didn’t see her aunt, but she did see a man on a ladder on the side of the house.
“Excuse me,” Harper called out, walking up the driveway toward him. He had tan cargo pants on and a blue flannel work shirt. A baseball cap covered his head and shielded part of his face from her view. She assumed he worked for her aunt, which was perfect because she didn’t know how she could carry in all her stuff herself.
Approaching the ladder, she looked up and asked brazenly, “Do you think you can stop doing that and help me with my luggage?”
The man gave a hearty laugh. He didn’t turn to look at her. He kept right on working on the window he was installing. Speaking over his shoulder, sarcastically he asked, “Do I look like a bellhop to you?”
Chapter Two
Harper stepped back, unsure of what to say. She looked up at him, wondering if he was joking, but more importantly, if he was going to stop what he was doing and assist her. He didn’t. He just kept hammering the window frame. She tried to interrupt between each bang of the hammer but couldn’t get the words out.
Finally, Harper cleared her throat and said sternly, “I could use your assistance. I’m Hattie’s niece. I’m sure she would approve if you spent a few minutes helping me. We will compensate you for it.”
The man stopped what he was doing and turned to look down at Harper. She wasn’t sure if she was more struck by how annoyed he looked or how handsome he was.
He climbed down the ladder and firmly planted his feet on the ground. He turned to face her for the first time. They stood nearly eye-to-eye. Harper was about five-foot-seven, and he couldn’t have been more than an inch taller. His dark smooth skin was complimented by dark brown soulful eyes. He appraised her, and it made Harper intensely uncomfortable. Although she was fully dressed, she felt naked under his gaze.
Finally, he asked curiously, “What makes you think I work for your aunt?”
“Well,” Harper started and gestured up to the window, “you’re clearly doing work. I know my aunt must need help around here. I just assumed you were her hired help.”
“That was your first mistake. You assumed,” he said with a smirk. “Hattie said you were a bit full of yourself.”
Harper was taken aback. “I can assure you my aunt said no such thing,” she barked, indignant to think this man knew anything about her.
The man just stood his ground, looking at her. He didn’t flinch.
Harper took in his staunch demeanor and realized quickly she wasn’t a match for him. She softened and asked sheepishly, “Did she really say that?”
The man tipped his head back and looked to the sky. He laughed again loudly. Looking back at her with a wide smile, he said, “No, of course not. I’m just getting a rise out of you. You must be Harper. I’m Jackson. I live across the street. I was just helping your aunt fix a few windows.”
Harper nodded, looking up at his craftmanship. It was pretty good.
Jackson cautioned, “You probably shouldn’t assume everyone is the hired help. This isn’t Manhattan. Some of us are just neighborly.”
Duly chastised, Harper conceded. “It’s good of you to help her. Is she around?”
“She’s at the shop. She left me the key to let you in.” He pulled the key from his pocket and handed it to her.
Harper accepted it and tried to ignore the feeling that spread through her when his hand touched hers. She looked at him quizzically. “You must know my aunt well for her to have given you a key?”
Jackson nodded. “Your aunt and I became fast friends when I moved in a few months ago. I stop in to her shop usually once a day. She feeds me dinner sometimes, and I help around here with what I can. I’m fairly new in town. Your aunt has been a good friend to me.”
Harper smiled. “She’s like that.” Harper turned and looked back at her SUV. “Well, I better start bringing in my stuff. Thanks for the key.”
Harper walked back down the driveway, wondering how she was ever going to get all her stuff into the house by herself. She opened the back part of her SUV and looked at all her things. She wasn’t sure if she was happy to be rid of so much stuff or found it pathetic that all she owned was reduced to what could fit into the SUV. She did have some larger furniture pieces she didn’t want to part with in storage in Manhattan, but really, what she was looking at was all she had.
Harper was so lost in thought she didn’t hear Jackson approach. He called to her, “I didn’t say I wouldn’t help you.”
“Oh, I just assumed…” Harper trailed off.
“There you go assuming again,” Jackson teased. His smile revealed perfectly straight white teeth with a slight gap between the front top two teeth that made his smile sexier in Harper’s opinion.
“I appreciate that. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get everything in myself.”
Jackson looked at her boxes and designer suitcases. He started pulling items out. “Well, don’t go thinking I’m nice or anything. Your aunt would hex me if I didn’t offer to assist.”
Harper pulled back and looked at him. A bit astounded that this sensible-seeming man could believe in all that, she asked, “Don’t tell me you believe in all that magic nonsense?”
“Do I believe your aunt would actually hex me,” Jackson asked rhetorically, “no, definitely not. She’s too sweet for that. But I do think intuition and intent is a real thing. Who’s to say someone can’t be a bit psychic or put enough good energy into the world to make positive things happen?”
“I just think it’s all a bit silly,” Harper explained as she started pulling boxes out and setting them on the ground.
“Front or side door?” Jackson asked, looking up at the house. He had two boxes stacked on top of each other.
“Front. We can put them in the front hall and then get them upstairs.”
Jackson nodded, and Harper trailed after him with boxes in hand.
As they climbed the front porch steps, she said, “What do you do for work?”
“I’m retired,” Jackson said curtly.
“Retired?” Harped asked. “You look so young. Tech millionaire?”
“Not even close,” Jackson said and then explained, “Army Colonel. I retired after thirty years a few months ago.”
“Impressive,” Harper said aloud, even though she hadn’t meant to.
He raised his eyebrows at her. “Don’t go being impressed. I don’t need anyone falling in love with me.”
Chapter Three
Harper just stood on the porch with boxes in hand and her mouth wide open. “I, uh…” Harper tried to respond and failed. He was infuriating.
Jackson laughed at her. He got the front door open and t
hey entered. Hattie’s two Golden Retrievers, Sparkle and Shine, came running up to them. Jackson navigated around them, setting the boxes down in the center hallway near the wide staircase that was in the middle of the home on the left.
He patted each of the dogs, scratching their heads and talking to them like they were old pals. He turned to Harper and said, “Chill out. I was kidding you. You’re really easy to get a rise out of, you know? You’re too serious.”
“Most of the men I’ve known have been very serious. I’m not used to being teased like that.”
Jackson watched her. “Just relax, and we’ll get along fine.”
They spent the next hour unpacking Harper’s SUV and moving the boxes, suitcases and bags up to the second floor. Hattie had told Harper to take her old room. It had a lovely window seat on the front and the right side was rounded to accommodate the home’s turret design. When Harper was little, Hattie had used the rounded space with its big wide windows as a reading nook. Harper hoped to do the same.
After the last of her stuff was in the room, Harper turned to Jackson. “I appreciate the help. Is there any way I can repay you?”
“No, I’m happy to help,” he said. “Now I need to get back to fixing those windows. The Saints & Sinners Ball is here next week, and your aunt needs the place in shape.”
“Saints & Sinners Ball?” Harper asked, unsure of what Jackson meant.
Jackson shrugged. “As I said, I’m new in town, too. From what I hear, it’s the society event of the season. Your aunt hosted it last year and is doing it again this year. It’s on Fat Tuesday. You know Mardi Gras. Hattie has big tents arriving in a few days for the backyard and the caterer. I’m surprised she didn’t tell you about it.”
“I’m not,” Harper said and rolled her eyes. “I was coming here to escape events like that. Hattie knows that. I’m sure she knew if she told me, I would have delayed my arrival.”
“Just give it a chance,” Jackson encouraged. “Little Rock is different from Manhattan. The people, too.” He headed towards her door but turned back. “Hattie told me a little about what you just went through. It’s hard right now, I know. It gets easier, I promise.”
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