by Bella Falls
Stopping at a large store window, I glanced inside Life’s A Stitch. A few women sat around, knitting and talking in one corner. The store worker had her back turned to us, helping someone pick out needlepoint or cross stitch floss. But the quilt on display hanging on the back wall squeezed my heart, knowing who’d made the pattern and stitched it. After ringing up the customer, the woman who worked there glanced up at Mason and me watching from the sidewalk. She gestured for us to come in.
My feet stayed rooted where I stood. A part of me longed to go into the store that had so much of my own life sewn up into it. But a bigger piece of my heart wasn’t ready.
“I’ll wait for you here if you want to go in,” Mason offered.
I shook my head at both him and Ms. Patty Lou, the current owner. She waved back at me with a sad smile and joined the knitting group.
“No, that’s okay. I’m not ready yet.”
“What does a person have to do to get ready for a store like that?” Mason joked.
My eyes darted to the ground, and I willed the pool of tears forming in my eyes not to spill. “It was my mom’s store. Well, hers and Patty Lou’s together. I practically grew up in there.”
Mason emitted a small sound of sympathy but coughed to cover it up. “So, you can sew?” He took a few steps away from the store, allowing me to follow in my own time.
“Nope. I’m horrible at it.”
“Knit?”
“I tried once. What came out of my efforts might have been a scarf. If it had ended up about three times as wide as I made it.” I smiled despite the sadness still sitting in my chest. “And I don’t quilt or do needlework patterns. But I loved watching my mom do stuff. She was amazing.”
No chance of catching the tear that escaped. I wiped my cheek and sniffed. “What about your mom? Did she do any handiwork like that?”
His confident gait faltered. “No. Not that I know of.” His face darkened.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to get too personal with you.” Stupid me, ruining my plans with him before I got started.
“You didn’t say anything to apologize for. I just don’t tell people.” He picked at a scab on his arm and blew out his breath. “I don’t know if my mother sewed or anything. I didn’t grow up with her.”
“Oh.” The air around us thickened with nerves.
“I didn’t grow up with a father, either. So when my powers showed up in a regular foster home, you can imagine what it did to my childhood.”
My fingers itched to hug him and reassure the hurting child inside him. I figured the biggest surprise of the day would be that I had a Death Curse working through me. Who knew that Mason Clairmont sharing a piece of himself would be the bigger bomb.
“How’d you manage?” I asked. “Gah, sorry. Don’t mind my nosy self. I’ll just take it with me inside.”
He reached out and took my hand. “No. It’s fine. A social worker who was also a witch showed up. I guess there are those out there that look for specific problems like I was. She got me placed in a home with other witches, and I got the care that I needed.”
But what about love? I wondered to myself. Giving him the space to continue or end, I remained quiet. When a couple of people passed us with polite recognition but curious eyes watching our hands, he released me and cleared his throat. We moseyed forward again, but the moment of sharing passed.
I pointed at my friend heading to the Harvest Moon Cafe. “That there’s Flint. He works the front gate to the town and helps his brother with his gardening service. Come on.” Unsure if Mason would follow, I headed for the only restaurant in town.
“But we already ate a big breakfast.” He crossed the street behind me.
Before we entered, I addressed him. “Now, the best advice I can give you is to keep your mouth shut, your ears open, and whatever you do, eat every last bite of whatever they put in front of you.”
The jangle of the bells on the door marked our entrance. Since it was mid-morning, not too many people populated the cafe. But enough of the usual suspects were there that it might turn into an effective lesson. I steered him to the stools at the counter.
“Why, Charli Goodwin. Welcome home, girl. You’re lookin’…well, it’s so good to see you,” gushed Sassy. Her wings fluttered, and she bounced up and down in the air, her green hair pulled back into a ponytail swinging in enthusiasm.
Under my breath, I leaned into Mason. “You weren’t kidding when you told me I didn’t look good, were you?”
“You look just fine now,” he whispered back, his lips forming a rare grin. The man had the straightest teeth I’d ever seen. The smile did something to his face that struck me in the strangest of ways.
“Blythe isn’t working until tonight, if you’re looking for her. But first, introduce me to your boyfriend.” She hovered close to him.
“Sassafras, this is Mason Clairmont. Detective Mason Clairmont. Not my boyfriend. I’m sure you’ve seen him around before. Mason, this is Sassy.” The small fairy needed to back off a few clicks.
She batted her eyes. “Oh, I didn’t recognize you. You’ve got a real nice smile, Mason.” Placing a menu in front of him, she continued ignoring me. “Order anything you want from here and it’s yours.”
My eyes rolled so hard to the back of my head that they threatened to get stuck there. “I’ll take a piece of pie and a cup of coffee, please, Sass.”
She waved her hand at me as if to dismiss my request and leaned her elbows on the counter in front of Mason. “And for you?”
“The same.” Relief washed over me, hearing the return of his cold demeanor.
“What kind of pie you got?” I asked, almost waving a hand in front of her face.
“The usual. Pecan, chocolate chess, banana cream. Nobody makes a better pie than me. My crusts are the absolute best, and the fillings will make you want to marry me.” She dared to wink at the detective.
The statement about her baking skills might be close to the truth, but her delivery stomped on my goodwill. “Sassy here is the Queen of Flaky for sure. Get us two slices of pecan, please.”
Sassy shot me a look to kill and hovered closer, touching Mason on the hand. “You sure you want the same, honey? I’m waiting on a delivery of strawberries from Boyd if you care to stick around.”
He slipped away from her touch. “Yep. Pecan pie. Please and thank you.”
Mr. Steve, the owner and cook, poked his head through the window to the kitchen. “Sassy, finish taking their orders and get back here.”
With a pout, she promised to be back in a flash. For all I cared, she could take a quick walk off the end of a pier. Or fly herself there. Whatever, she needed to keep her wings and her winks to herself. Bless her heart and hex her tiny hiney.
“Well, my first lesson to you was to be friendly to everyone. Maybe more to some than others.” I regretted my words the second they left my mouth, hating that I sounded like a jealous girlfriend.
Flint caught my eye and waved me over to join him. I hopped down from the stool. “Here’s lesson two. Keep your ears open.”
I greeted the gnome and the group of retirees that sat at a table in front of the window, holding court. They all welcomed me back with smiles and handshakes.
Flint patted my arm. “Did Matt tell you that he came to get Old Joe?”
The motorcycle. I’d completely forgotten about it. “No. I didn’t see it parked at the house.”
“That’s the thing. It won’t start again. Nothing we did could make it work. My guess is he took it down to Leland’s for him to work on it.”
“So what you’re saying is that I drove that bike into the ground?” Matt might hate me for that considering I’d claimed our father’s treasure for myself in my grand escape.
“Hey, it brought you back in one piece. And Leland and his son are miracle workers when it comes to figuring out the combo of spellwork and mechanics.” Flint picked up his coffee mug. “So, is it true that you’re the last person to see Tipper?”
&nbs
p; The rest of the retirees stopped their conversation and tuned into my reply. Heck, all movement in the entire place ceased in order to eavesdrop. I gave them a few details but withheld a lot more.
“I heard that Tipper’d won a big card game, and that’s what got him dead,” one of the gentlemen offered.
The guy next to him shook his head. “No, he was against making changes to the town council. You know that man wouldn’t switch out his underwear if he could get away with it in polite company.”
“Shush, Henry,” the man next to him chastised. “My apologies, Miss Charli, for his crudeness. But they’re all wrong. I heard tell that someone was challenging his right to his land.”
Henry shook his head. “Nah. It actually has somethin’ to do about changes to his will and who inherits.”
The accusations stirred up the talk until they all argued with arms gesticulating and voices getting louder. With a wave, I extricated myself from the heated discussion and returned to my seat at the counter where the pie, coffee, and Mason waited for me.
He made notes in a small notepad. “I see what you mean.”
Taking a forkful of pecan pie, I smiled. “You get more flies with honey. And you get more gossip by knowing people and letting them chew your ears off.” The pie couldn’t hold a candle to Nana’s. The mouthful of sweetness tasted like victory in more ways than one.
“Chances are they’re wrong.” Mason put his pad away and took a bite of pie under Sassy’s watchful eye. He nodded at her in approval, and her wings quivered in absolute jubilation.
Ignoring her, I tried not to talk with my mouth full. “But they might not be, and now you’ve got some possibilities that maybe you didn’t have beforehand.”
He chewed on his second bite. “Maybe one.”
Flint slapped the table, interrupting everyone. “I’m telling you, it’s the drink that took him. That man drank like the rest of us breathe air.”
Henry waved a finger at his friend. “Well, duh. But that doesn’t mean it killed him. His drinking more likely preserved him than killed him.”
As the volume of the debate lowered, the last accusation bounced around in my head. No one paid attention when Tipper got tipsy. We all expected that of him, so giving that detail any importance never occurred to me. Until now.
“We gotta go,” I whispered to Mason, trying not to look conspicuous.
The bells on the door chimed, and everyone stopped to greet the gargantuan being that walked in. Big Willie West, the town sheriff, strutted to the counter and sat down next to Mason, his massive amounts of hair sticking out of every crack and crevice of his uniform.
“Well, well. It’s good to see you takin’ an interest in our community, Detective. And Sassy here makes the absolute best pies, ain’t that right, Miss Sass?” His boisterous voice boomed throughout the entire place.
“Yes, sir.” Mason returned to his professional manners, ignoring my light tapping on his leg underneath the counter.
“I’ve just come in to get the lay of the land. See what’s what with Tipper. But looks like maybe you beat me to it since you seem to be getting quite cozy with Miss Goodwin there.” He leaned back in his stool to look around Mason at me. “Been quite a welcome home, wouldn’t you say, Charli?”
“That it has been, Sheriff,” I agreed.
“Hey, now that you’re back, I’ve got a list of things the missus swears I’ve misplaced somewhere. Any chance you’d be able to help me out? If you can get me even a foot outta the doghouse, I’d be mighty obliged.” Big Willie looked down greedily at the three pieces of pie that Sassy placed in front of him.
Sliding off the stool, I nodded. “Not a problem, Sheriff. I can make arrangements to help you later. But right now, we’ve got to be going.” We needed less talk and more walk.
Sassy pouted again. “So soon? But we just got the strawberries in for me to get started on tonight’s pies for the contest. Why don’t you stay to have a taste?” I was pretty sure her offer didn’t extend to me.
Big Willie slammed his enormous fist on the counter, making everything and everybody jump. “That’s right. I forgot we were switching the fair to tonight.” He slapped Mason on the back hard enough to make the detective cough. “You know, son, you should represent the wardens this year.”
“Represent? For what?” The priceless look of surprise on Mason’s face made me sad I didn’t have a camera on me.
“In the pie eating contest. Not only will you get to consume as much of Sassy’s fine strawberry cream pies as you can eat but you’ll also be doing the department a favor by ingratiating yourself with the locals. That’s a win-win in my book.” Big Willie paused long enough to pick up a slice of pie and take a generous bite. “Sassy girl, you’ve outdone yourself.”
I tugged on Mason’s sleeve as he attempted to protest. No didn’t exist for the sheriff. Also, we had things to do if my new revelations were true. My efforts to save the detective went to waste, and Mason worked his way into the direct line of fire.
Big Willie narrowed his eyes. “Boy, you may have been a big shot from wherever you came from. And you may think you’ve got more experience than an old Southerner like me. But around these parts, you’re a guppy amongst the big bass. Got me?”
Mason’s shoulders slumped a tiny bit, but he straightened his back. “Yes, sir.”
Bits of crust and pie filling dotted Big Willie’s smile, and crumbs stuck in his shaggy beard. “Good. Then I’m sure I’ll be seeing you in attendance at tonight’s big shindig.”
The bells on the door tinkled when we left. Outside, the humidity clung to our skin, and the sun beat down hot on the pavement.
“I think I’ll head back to the station.” Mason’s whole mood dropped.
“Don’t,” I implored, wanting to give him a good reason to stay. “We haven’t gotten nearly any good information yet. And there’s something I need to tell you.”
He put his hands in his pocket. “You can gather what you can on your own. I’ll go back and organize all my notes.”
“You can’t let him get to you. He’s a decent guy.”
“Big Foot, you mean.”
My eyes widened. “Don’t let him catch you calling him that. He’s a Sasquatch. And on that note, do yourself a favor and stop treating everyone like they have to live up to whatever they are.”
He shot me a quizzical look. “What are you talking about?”
Holding up my hand, I counted off his offenses. “When you talked to Dash at my house, you treated him like he should already be behind bars for being a werewolf.”
Mason stuck his chin up. “I have my reasons.”
I narrowed my eyes. “He’s not even a werewolf. He’s a shifter. And he’s right, there’s a difference.”
He smirked. “Since you seem like an expert on Dash and his being a wolf something, I won’t say anything.”
Heat rose in my cheeks. “Don’t. Because then you called out all the vampires in town. I don’t care what your reasons were. You could have done it in a more subtle way rather than treating them like suspects in a lineup. At this rate, you’re going to alienate every single citizen here.” I took a breath to list another thing he’d done wrong.
“You’re right,” he interrupted, holding up his hands in surrender. “You’re right, Charli.”
My mouth hung open, but the words died on my tongue. Having that man admit that I was right made me forget for a second that my arm had started to throb a little harder again.
About the time I gathered enough brain matter to continue, I spotted Linsey zooming in on the two of us. “Oh, pixie poop.”
“Hey,” Mason pointed at me. “That sounds a little prejudiced, too. And dirty.”
Speaking to him out of the side of my mouth, I pulled him in the opposite direction of Lily’s pesky younger sister. “It can’t be dirty. I’ve heard it’s full of glitter.”
“Charli,” Linsey called out. “Just the person I wanted to see. Hello to you, too, Detective. Fancy run
nin’ into the two of you. Together.” Her eyes sparkled with mirth.
“What can I do you for, Lins? We’re kind of busy.” Whatever she wanted, she’d better not ask me—
“Is it true that you found Tipper’s dead body? And that you might somehow be involved in his death?” The reporter wannabe batted her eyes at me with faked innocence.
Mason placed a protective hand on my shoulder. “Miss Goodwin is not at liberty to say anything at this moment as she is a part of an active investigation. If you want answers, come to the station. And there, you’ll get the same response. We are not officially commenting on the nature of Mr. Walker’s passing at this time.”
Linsey didn’t take the response as final. “When you say that she’s a part of the investigation, does it mean that Charli is a suspect or that she’s helping you solve it?”
“Isn’t there a pile of letters waiting for your extensive and knowledgeable advice at the newspaper?” I asked through gritted teeth.
Linsey looked between the two of us and finally gave up. “Well, if you won’t give me a quote, maybe DK will print the article I’ve written up about your infamous return to Honeysuckle, Charli. Got a quote for that?”
One step closed the gap between us girls. “Sure.”
“Charli,” Mason warned.
I held a finger up at him. “Print this. I’m officially happy to be back in Honeysuckle Hollow, my true home.” Whipping around, I took a few steps away.
“You plannin’ on sticking around this time?” she shouted after me.
The true answer to that question weighed on me. It no longer mattered if I wanted to live in Honeysuckle. It mattered whether or not I got the chance to.
“As long as I’m alive,” I managed. Mason brushed the back of my arm with his hand.
“Thanks for your time,” Linsey uttered.
Making sure Mason didn’t notice as we walked away, I glanced behind us and found her watching us with interest. With my middle finger, I flipped her off and left her in the dust.
When we got some distance between us and the pest, Mason ventured to speak again. “Are you going to tell me what we’re so busy doing?”