Southern Magic Thanksgiving

by Amy Boyles

  Uh-oh. This was going very bad.

  “I’m sure it’s horrible,” Cordelia said. “It’s probably not any good.”

  Amelia rubbed Carmen’s shoulder. “None of us are going to eat it. We’re not traitors. In fact”—she lifted it from the table and marched to the kitchen—“I’m throwing it away.”

  An idea flashed bright and white in my head. I hooked an arm around Carmen. “Tell you what, cuz, tomorrow I’ll take a look and see who’s actually going into the new shop and find out if you’re really in trouble or not.”

  Carmen nibbled her bottom lip. “Think it’ll help?”

  “Sure,” Betty said. “We’ll blackmail folks and keep ’em at your place.”

  Finally Carmen cracked a smile. “You don’t have to.”

  I hugged my cousin. “I’m happy to help. You’ll see. It won’t be nearly as big a problem as you think.”

  But it was a big problem. Huge, in fact. It was the morning of Thanksgiving Eve. I know that’s not a thing like Christmas Eve, but you know it’s still kind of a holiday.

  Folks were flooding into Magnolia Cove to visit family. The holidays are a big deal. More folks present meant more traffic and more witches looking for familiars.

  The whole shebang means I must work my tail ragged to keep up with the commotion in my shop.

  Anyway, that’s where we were—Cordelia, Amelia, Mattie and I. We were inside Familiar Place stalking the Sweet Witch because I had a great view of the store from my front windows.

  “Oh my gosh, is that Sylvia Spirits?” Amelia said.

  Sure enough, Sylvia Spirits, owner of Charming Conical Caps, was heading into the new bakery.

  “She loves Carmen’s treats,” Cordelia said.

  Mattie licked her paw. “Ain’t nothin’ like a shiny new diamond to steal a woman’s attention.”

  I frowned. “Are you calling the shop a diamond?”

  “It’s a trinket, ain’t it? New and fabulous. Folks are going to check it out.”

  “And bankrupting Carmen in the meantime,” Cordelia said.

  Amelia gave our cousin a look filled with shock. “Are you actually worried about Carmen?”

  “Of course I’m worried. I don’t want our cousin to suffer. Why?” she said in a grouchy voice.

  “It’s just so strange of you to be concerned and not bored out of your mind.”

  Cordelia jabbed Amelia in the arm.

  “Ouch,” Amelia said.

  “I can be nice,” Cordelia said.

  “Pretty sure that’s case in point that you’ve got a mean streak,” I said.

  Cordelia glared at me but said nothing. Instead she threw up her hands. “Okay, what do y’all want? For me to blow sunshine and rainbows out of my butt?”

  “Yes,” Amelia said. “That would be pretty cool.”

  “It might kill me,” Cordelia said.

  I laughed. I grabbed my Styrofoam cup of sweet tea and sipped. It was sweet but missing something. I riffled through my purse.

  “Crap, I’m out of jelly beans.”

  “I’m sure Carmen has some,” Cordelia said.

  “Yeah, and she could probably use the business.”

  I eyed the steady stream of folks spilling from the Sweet Witch. Anyone and everyone was taking a turn going in and out. It was so busy I was surprised that folks weren’t tailgating out of their pickup trucks while they waited to buy a pie.

  Just kidding. But it was busy.

  I was about to enter Carmen’s store, Marshmallow Magic, when a tall man wearing a white apron flew out of the Sweet Witch. He didn’t actually fly, but that was certainly something you could expect in Magnolia Cove. You know, with the whole town being full of witches and all.

  He was tall with a mop of brown hair. He took one step forward and paused, seeming to think better of his decision. He whirled around, yanked open the door and yelled, “Move your garbage from my back door! I won’t tell y’all again!”

  He slammed the door and turned away, heading around the corner.

  My heart raced from watching the interaction. “Who was that?”

  Amelia’s eyes widened to saucers. “That’s Parker Moody. Owns Magical Moonshine.”

  “Magical Moonshine?” I said.

  She nodded. “It’s fairly new. I haven’t been in, but apparently he gives free tastings.”

  “What’s the moonshine supposed to do?” Cordelia said. “Give you magical beer goggles?”

  I laughed. It was an old joke that beer goggles made anyone look good. Which meant if you were tipsy enough and it was New Year’s Eve, even a homeless man would look good enough to smooch for good luck.

  Yuck.

  “Not everyone’s been taken with the Sweet Witch. Wonder what she did to tick Parker off,” I murmured.

  We entered Carmen’s shop. The shop was quiet as a funeral wake with a side buffet filled with food.

  I mean, y’all, you could have heard half a pin drop.

  “Morning.” Carmen’s voice finally filled the void of silence.

  “Morning,” I said.

  My cousins exchanged greetings as I wandered the store. The place was jam-packed with goodies for the holidays—pumpkin pies, pumpkin cookies, pumpkin meringues. Everything was either pie or pumpkin shaped. There were pumpkin cream cheese Swiss rolls, turkey cookies—literally a mountain of delicious sugar that was ready to be bought and devoured by half of town.

  But no one was buying.

  “I came for some jelly beans,” I said.

  Carmen flashed me a gorgeous smile. “I’ve got brand-new fall flavors, just for you, Pepper.”

  Delight sparked in me. Childlike glee filled me from head to foot. Yes, over jelly beans. I loved them so.

  Carmen pointed to a wire rack. “I made pumpkin spiced, cranberry, cornbread dressing if you want something more savory. There’s apple pie, cinnamon latte and even honey cake.”

  I picked a cellophane bag filled with darkly colored red, green and yellow beans. “Wow, you’ve outdone yourself. Those sound delicious. How much for two bags?”

  Carmen waved me away. “On the house.”

  I frowned. “No. I want to pay for it.”

  For goodness’ sake, Carmen’s store was empty. I didn’t want her business to go belly up because I didn’t buy a bag of jelly beans. Yes, I know that was silly and stupid, but I wanted to contribute.

  Carmen’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “I know what you’re thinking. That you want to pay. I want you to, but not with money.”

  Cordelia and Amelia drifted over to us. I shot them a glance, but both my cousins hitched their shoulders. They didn’t know what Carmen was talking about any more than I did.

  Mattie the Cat jumped up on the windowsill. She gave me a bored stare before proceeding to clean her face.

  “What do you mean, Carmen?” I said.

  She hesitated.

  Mattie spoke up. “What your cousin is afraid to say is that she wants y’all to go on over to that shop and snoop around, find out what the big deal is.”

  Amelia’s eyes flashed to Carmen. “You want us to spy?”

  “Yep,” Carmen said. “It would be awesome if you did.”

  I dropped the jelly beans in my purse and flashed Carmen a huge smile. “Why, cuz, we’d be happy to.”

  THREE

  By the time we reached the Sweet Witch—and I’m talking it was only a few seconds later—the line wound out the door. We stood amid a throng of locals.

  “I feel like a traitor,” Amelia said.

  “We’re spying,” Cordelia whispered.

  Amelia clapped lightly with glee. “You mean we’re like secret agents? Like that Jack Ryan guy on that television show?”

  “Just like it,” Cordelia said with a heavy dollop of sarcasm.

  While they chatted, I watched the folks leaving. They were all smiling. Like really grinning wide and holding doors for each other and letting one another go first and stuff.

  “Everyone’s in a goo
d mood,” I murmured.

  “Spirit of giving,” Amelia said over my shoulder. “Tomorrow is Thanksgiving.”

  “And today is the turkey hunt,” Cordelia said. “They’re probably in a good mood because of that.”

  “Maybe,” I said.

  When we finally got inside, Cindy Lou Hoo—or Lori Lou, I should say—greeted us with a wide smile.

  “Welcome, y’all. Pepper, it’s so good to see you.” She wiggled her fashionably black-lacquered nails at me. “What can I get for y’all today?”

  I scanned the cases of pies and tarts, cookies, cupcakes and muffins. “What’s the best thing on the menu?”

  “Well, that would be the pumpkin pie, of course.”

  The voice came from beside the case. I glanced at it, but no one was standing there. At least, no one who was my height or taller. My gaze drifted down until it rested on a bunny rabbit.

  A bunny rabbit. In a bakery.

  The rabbit, dressed in a green waistcoat, hopped around to the front of the case. “Like I said, the best thing is the pumpkin pie.”

  “Oh my God, is that a talking rabbit?” Amelia said.

  “No, it’s a talking monkey,” Cordelia replied.

  Amelia shot our cousin a look that should’ve burned her to a crisp. “I was only wondering.”

  Lori Lou gestured to the rabbit. “Y’all, this is Collinsworth. He’s my work rabbit.”

  “Work rabbit?” I said.

  “Yes,” Collinsworth said in a distinctly British accent. “I help Lori Lou and Becky Ray with whatever they need.” He bowed. “I’m generally their official sniffer, but I often do other things for them, like guide them down the street and make sure they don’t trip on stones.”

  “But you’re not blind,” Amelia said to Lori Lou. “You don’t look blind.”

  Lori Lou smiled vacantly and pointed to the animal license on the board. “He’s my helper rabbit. I have needs other than sight that Collinsworth assists with.”

  “And who’s Becky Ray?”

  Right on cue a thick woman with her hair tucked beneath a chef’s hat appeared from the back carrying a tray of cheesecakes. She dropped them on the counter and dusted her hands.

  Lori Lou wrapped an arm around the woman’s shoulders. “This is Becky Ray, my sister.”

  “Hey,” Becky Ray said in a deep, uninterested voice.

  Lori Lou patted her shoulders. “Becky’s not much for talk. She’s more the workhorse of the business.”

  “Could y’all please hurry it up? I’ve got somewhere to be.”

  Cordelia, Amelia and I turned our heads at a snail’s pace to the left. Standing behind us, tapping his foot impatiently, stood a fashionably dressed thirtyish man in a tweed jacket.

  “Dicky Downy,” Cordelia said. “I didn’t know you liked sweets so much that you had to return to Magnolia Cove once a year to bless us with your presence.”

  Dicky Downy stared blankly at my cousin. “I just moved back.” Dicky’s gaze swept to me. He was good-looking but clearly full of himself.

  Collinsworth the Rabbit hopped on the counter. I almost vomited. I had rabbits at the store. Sold them, in fact, as familiars, and they could poop, y’all. Breed and poop. That’s what rabbits did best. Just watching Collinsworth in his waistcoat hopping around on counters in his bare feet was enough to make the acid in my stomach curdle to cottage cheese.

  “I have Mr. Downy’s order right here,” Collinsworth said. “I believe it was a pecan pie.”

  Dicky stepped forward, arms outstretched. “That’s right.” He took the box and moved away. Then he stopped and stepped forward. “Hey, I didn’t order a chocolate bat on it.”

  Lori Lou, her face bright with angst, leaned over the counter. “That’s how we make it. You ordered the specialty, I think.”

  He frowned. “Yeah. It better taste okay or else I’ll be back.”

  “It’ll taste wonderful,” Collinsworth said. “Perfect.”

  Dicky Downy gave me and my cousins the once-over. His gaze snagged on Amelia, and something tweaked in his eyes. “Good to see y’all again. Be running into you around town.”

  Amelia audibly swallowed. “Sure thing, Dicky.”

  Dicky vanished out the door, and I stepped forward. “Just give us a pumpkin pie. That’ll be perfect.”

  Collinsworth wrapped up a pie with his furry little paws. We paid and left, going the long way around so no one noticed us running straight back to Carmen’s store to taste test the sample.

  It sort of worked. We entered Familiar Place, sneaked out the back and into Carmen’s. I almost felt bad about keeping my shop closed half the morning, but it would be fine. I’d open for the afternoon. Hopefully some folks would enter and I’d be able to match a witch with his or her familiar.

  Carmen was ready with forks. She handed me a sweet tea that she’d made, and I dropped several of my new flavors of jelly beans in. I waited for a few to dissolve and sipped.

  Hmmm. Apple and cinnamon tea—heaven in Styrofoam.

  “So how was it in there?” Carmen asked.

  Amelia gestured wildly. “Let me tell you, it was crazy.”

  Carmen quirked an interested brow. “How?”

  Amelia nudged my elbow. “Tell her, Pepper.”

  “What? Why me? Why should I tell her?”

  “Because,” Cordelia said smoothly, “you’ll actually make sense. Amelia will flail around and screw up the story. She’ll get all flustered.”

  Amelia nodded. “For once I agree with Cordelia.”

  “Um, okay, well…it was busy.”

  Mattie jumped on a chair. “They got a cotton-pickin’ helper rabbit in there who wears clothes and speaks with a fake British accent.”

  Cordelia burst into laughter. She knuckled a tear from her eyes. “I’m so glad someone had the eggs to say it.”

  Carmen dropped a fork. It clattered on the counter. “You’re kidding me. A rabbit?”

  “Yes,” I said, “I think it’s part of the appeal of the place. A British-accented rabbit dishing up pie and country speak like he knows anything about Magnolia Cove.”

  “Oh, and that’s not all,” Amelia said. “Dicky Downy’s back in town.”

  Carmen’s brows shot to peaks. “Dicky Downy? You’re kidding.”

  I made a stop gesture. “Okay, y’all. What’s the big deal about Dicky Downy?”

  Carmen coiled her arms over her breasts and sank onto one hip. “When we were growing up, Dicky Downy was the richest kid in town. Threw the biggest parties when his parents were gone, which was like every other weekend. He had a habit of also selling things on the side.”

  “Pot?” I said. I mean, all the cool kids in high school—at least all the rich ones—always seemed to have a side hustle of drug dealing. Don’t ask me how it worked out that way, but it generally did.

  “He didn’t sell drugs,” Carmen said. “He sold magic spells.”

  “What kind of spells?” I said.

  “Love potions,” Amelia said.

  Cordelia leaned a hip against the counter. “And from the look of things, whatever love spell he cast on Amelia all those years ago is still going strong.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Amelia said, sniffing.

  Cordelia scoffed. “Right. He looked you up and down like you were a frozen popsicle in the middle of the desert.”

  “What flavor?” Amelia said, “because I really don’t want to be something boring like cherry. I’m thinking more of a mango-tangerine combo.”

  “Sure,” Cordelia said, “mango-tango, whatever you want.”

  “Thang is,” Mattie said, butting in, “that Dicky guy wasn’t supposed to be selling love potions. It’s illegal.”

  I frowned. “Why?”

  Mattie blinked slowly. “Because it’s wrong to tamper with people’s emotions. You make someone fall in love with you, and they might do just about anythin’—marry you, give you all their money, commit murder.”

  An unsettling f
eeling gripped my throat and squeezed. “Commit murder?”

  “Yep,” Carmen said. “So love potions are illegal.”

  “Has someone done that before?” I said. “Committed murder because of that?”

  “Supposedly,” Amelia said. “So that’s why it’s illegal. Anyway, Dicky Downy is back.”

  “And the hormones are running wild in Magnolia Cove,” Cordelia said.

  “Will you be nice?” Amelia fumed. Her fists were tight at her sides.

  Cordelia rolled her eyes but said nothing. Carmen took the silence as her cue to cut into the pie. She opened the lid and didn’t bother to slice and serve. Instead she dug her fork right on in and popped a chunk into her mouth.

  Cordelia and Amelia did the same. I, however, knowing that the upcoming weekend would bring nothing but food, food and more glorious food, abstained from stuffing my face full of the enemy’s pie.

  Cordelia and Amelia chewed, tipping their heads side to side as they deciphered the dessert.

  “It’s good,” Amelia said, “but not great.”

  Cordelia chewed a little more. “Yeah, it’s good. Could use a little more spice—maybe some nutmeg.”

  Carmen didn’t say anything; instead she kept chewing and forking, popping another piece in her mouth.

  “You know,” Cordelia said, “you’re right, Amelia.”

  “About what?” she answered, licking pumpkin from her fork.

  “About the fact that I’ve been a real nut buster lately.”

  “Lately?”

  “Don’t push it,” Cordelia warned.

  “Is that an apology?” Amelia said.

  Cordelia shrugged. “I could be nicer, is all.”

  “I’ll believe it when I see it,” Amelia said.

  So would I. I loved Cordelia, but she sure as heck was sarcastic as all get-out. I knew she loved Amelia, but she was pretty hard on our cousin, never cutting her a break.

  Amelia stared at the pie. “Like I said, it’s missing something. I think it needs a bit more nutmeg.” She dropped her fork. Apparently one bite had been enough for her.

  Carmen pursed her lips and nodded slightly. “Yep, that’s what I think, too. That’s why I scrapped that recipe.”

  We stared at each other. I was the first to speak. “What’re you talking about? Scrapped the recipe?”