Chapter Sixteen

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

From the Kitchen of Verbena Fullbright

Did you forget to grease your pans before baking your cake? Don't go worrying. Tip the warm pan upside down and place a hot, damp towel on top of it for five minutes or so. The steamy reaction should have that cake sliding right out when you lift the pan and give it a little jiggle. Remember, hard rarely means impossible.

Tessa Jane

"There it is! Right there. Do you see it?" Addie let out a squeal and pulled her feet up onto the kitchen chair early Thursday morning.

She'd tucked the kittens, Stella and Lovebug, whom I'd nicknamed Lovey, into her chunky cardigan, as though protecting them from a giant beast and not a tiny house spider.

I had a paper cup in one hand, a take-out menu in the other as I stalked the tiny creature, grateful the dogs were outside and Miney and Moe were too lazy to hunt.

Definitely a bright side.

They were coming more and more frequently.

Like when Holden's Garage had called to tell me they noticed I had a small transmission fluid leak, and did I want them to fix it while they did the rest of the repairs on my car? If they hadn't found the leak, it could have resulted in a much bigger problem.

Another bright side was that if my granddaddy hadn't been so him , I'd never have gotten to see another side of my mama, a softer side, while she'd been here with us. To my great surprise, she'd stayed in her pajamas most of Sunday, before finally getting dressed in the late afternoon to head back to Savannah. Her terrible hangover probably had something to do with wardrobe choice, but still, it was remarkable.

The hangover was a result of meeting with Graham Doby, who'd driven her back here after she'd had a bit too much to drink during lunch. When she'd sobered up some, she spoke only a little about the interview, mostly saying she hoped in her tipsiness she hadn't revealed anything she shouldn't have.

Usually, Mama was a vault, but between her anger at Granddaddy and the alcohol, I was worried she might've kicked the fire ant mound, so to speak.

Granddaddy, for his part, had been quiet since the blowup at his party. Too quiet. His silence was unnerving.

"I'm not going to hurt you," I told the spider as I chased it across the kitchen.

"How is it so fast?" Addie asked, still perched on the chair.

"Probably because it has eight legs."

"That's it. I'm going to have nightmares."

Yet another bright side had come through Miss Ernie. If I hadn't been making cookies for her, she never would've told her dear friend Randie Beth Robinson about them. In turn, Randie Beth, who was the director for Hand to Heart, a local charitable foundation that focused on neighbors helping neighbors, ordered two hundred heart-shaped cookies to be included in gift bags for attendees of the group's Valentine's gala at the Celestial Hotel.

Though I'd been more than happy to take the order, there was no denying it's been challenging. I'd been working on cookies all week, staying up until the wee hours, and I still wasn't near done. At this point, I was glad the gala tickets were sold out, so I had an excuse not to go.

Addie wasn't going either. We were both looking forward to a quiet night at home—and lots of sleep. She'd also been working nights this past week, recording in the studio she'd set up in the barn, and we were both bone-tired.

Aunt Bean, who was never one to miss a party, had bought a ticket ages ago and already had her outfit pressed. I honestly didn't know where she found her energy.

"Please tell me you didn't lose sight of it," Addie said. "We'll have to burn the house down."

"Hold your matches, firebug. I see it. I just didn't want to startle him by approaching too quickly."

Addie laughed, bold and rich and velvety. "It's lucky you and your soft heart are here because it would've gotten the broom from me. And that probably would've been quite startling ."

My soft heart.

I'd healed so much during the time I'd spent here with Aunt Bean. With Addie. The Sugarbirds. But I wasn't fully back to where I wanted to be. I still felt the hardness every so often. Mostly when I thought of my grandfather—and also my work at the country club.

I had a little more than a week left before I had to return to Savannah, and I was kicking myself for not asking for two months off. Or at least until my birthday, at the end of the month. I'd been ignoring calls from my boss for days now—he wanted me to come back early. The old me would've jumped in the car after hearing the first voicemail. But the part of me still lingering in my shadow simply deleted the messages.

"Mind your legs now," I said to the spider as I dropped the cup over it. I carefully slid the menu underneath the cup, inch by cautious inch, trapping the spider safely inside. "You're going to be just fine."

Addie jumped up and opened the back door. She shivered as I passed by. "Please take him far away. Minnesota, maybe."

Laughing, I stepped outside. The dogs galloped over to sniff the cup, and I held it away from them. The ducks quacked from the pond, probably asking if I was bringing them a snack. I'd quickly learned that a couple of raspberries could get them where I needed them to go. Bribery, pure and simple. When I didn't head toward the pond, they spun their white bodies around, shook their tail feathers, and swam off.

I threw a glance at the quack shack. It still needed roofing tiles, a door, and some trim, so I knew Ty would be back soon. Despite him being extra busy these days, between running Ernie to doctor's visits and finishing up work on the bakery renovation, I'd somehow been seeing a lot of him lately. Limited snatches of time when he was working here or when I took Hambone over to visit Ernie. Just enough for small talk. For us to get to know each other as adults. For me to see that goodness glowing in him.

I carried the cup trap over to the forsythia bush in the side yard and let the spider loose among the tiny yellow buds. Music drifted from the big red barn, but I couldn't make out the song from this distance. I imagined Bean and Delilah and Willa Jo—who was full of grandchildren stories since returning from her vacation—frosting and decorating and boxing, getting ready for the stream of customers sure to arrive later this morning. Addie and I had an afternoon shift today, and I was hoping to find a way, yet again, to wiggle out of cake duty.

As I turned back around, my gaze went immediately to the starlight crater in the distance. Since I'd seen that sparkle from the attic window, I hadn't seen another.

The dogs ran around my feet as I went back inside the house, and I gave them lots of pets. Extra ones for Pepper, because she was going home today. Dare and Petal had returned from their honeymoon late last night, and he would be here this afternoon to collect Pepper. I tried to ignore the pit in my stomach at the thought of her leaving.

They followed me into the house and ran straight to Addie, who was back at the kitchen table, scrolling through her phone. They eagerly sniffed her sweater, then galloped into the living room after she showed them the sleeping kittens and patted their heads.

With thoughts of sparkly diamonds foremost in my mind, I sat and started a conversation I never thought I'd be having with Addie. "You know how Aunt Bean has always said the starlight will disappear if it's dug up? Do you know why she thinks that? Is its origin based on a specific incident? Or just family lore?"

She put her phone down as if sensing these weren't random questions. "Is this about building the gift shop and café? Because I thought the construction would be a good distance from the crater. Besides, I haven't decided yet if it's something I want to take on."

"No, no," I assured. "It's only that as far as I know, no one's ever done any real digging. Sure, a few shallow holes here and there by people who've sneaked onto the land, and of course, the soil samples taken by researchers. But not anything deep . How are we so sure the light will disappear?"

"I've only ever heard the same as you. I've never questioned it." She tipped her head. " Why are you questioning it?"

I wanted to tell her the truth about seeing the sparkle but didn't want to burden her with a secret. Especially after what she'd gone through with Sawyer, which had just about broken my heart to hear about.

I kept rubbing the edge of the table, and she tipped her head, an eyebrow raised as she waited for me to answer. Taking hold of my star pendant, I said, "I'm curious is all. Aunt Bean wants us to learn everything about the family businesses, right? I feel like this is something we should know. It's part of the starlight's history."

She reached for her pendant, too, clasping it tightly. After a moment, she said, "Do you think it's time we talk about why she wants us to learn everything? And why she has us taking inventory ? And why she's been rubbing her watch so much?" Her voice dropped low, real low, like she could barely say the words out loud. "How worried do you think we need to be about her health?"

I scratched my neck. Hives were popping up all over. We both knew why Aunt Bean was doing what she was doing. Addie and I were her next of kin. If something happened to Bean, it was likely we'd inherit her estate, including the bakery and the farmhouse—along with its entire inventory .

She wanted us to know what we'd be dealing with if she wasn't here. What decisions and choices would need to be made. But my brain simply refused to think about a time when she might be gone.

"Let's wait until after we get the results of tomorrow's MRI before we really start to worry, okay?" I said, wanting to live in the happy land of denial a little while longer.

"Okay." One of the kittens wiggled inside her sweater, and she let go of her pendant to readjust them. "But now you've made me curious about the starlight and digging, so I guess there's really only one thing for us to do."

"Grab a shovel?" I joked.

She laughed. "No. Ask Aunt Bean."

"Truth be told," Aunt Bean said, gently tapping her walking stick twice on the cement floor of the barn's kitchen later that afternoon, "I'm not sure if the story I've been told is fact or folklore. You know how tall tales grow in families." She wiped her hands on a tea towel and hitched a hip onto a stool. "Are y'all sure I've never told it to you?"

Addie, Delilah, Willa Jo, and I shook our heads as we moved in close to her, like we were gathering around a campfire for story time instead of circling a flour-dusted prep table.

Willa Jo said, "I know the birds will attack anyone who tries to dig, but I don't recollect ever hearing that the starlight went out."

"Same here," Delilah added.

Outside, Hambone let out a mournful howl. Dare had come by a couple of hours ago to pick up Pepper, and Hambone was already mooning. We'd been taking turns going out to the fence to give him love and cake balls.

Inside the barn, the Bee Gees sang about mending broken hearts, and a warm breeze blew through the open windows. The ever-present vanilla scent swirled around us, wrapping us in sweetness.

"It was my granny who told me all the tales of the olden days," Bean said.

Delilah sighed. "No one told stories like your granny. May she be resting in peace with a big ol' glass of bourbon on the rocks in hand."

There was a round of clucking and murmuring and smiles among the older women. Addie and I had never met our great-granny—she'd passed before we were born. And I was suddenly taken aback by the loss. I wished I had known her and her big personality, though I supposed in a way, I did. It shined through Aunt Bean.

She rubbed her watch face, then said, "With the starlight, the best days to get Granny talking was on warm summer evenings, long after all the baking was done. We'd sit out on the front porch, snapping beans, and all I'd have to say was, ‘Granny, tell me about the time the star fell.' And then there'd be no stopping her, the heat loosening her tongue, her memory, until the lightning bugs started sparking and we realized how late it was."

A timer buzzed and Delilah grabbed a pair of oven mitts. "Go on, go on. I'm listening."

Aunt Bean carried on. "Granny said her mama told her that back after the star fell and the light started glimmering people came from all over to see it. Soon, people started realizing that they were finding clarity in the light when they walked through it, suddenly having an answer to something that had been plaguing them. Word of mouth spread real quick after that, about this mystical place that had been hit by a falling star. Charity Fullbright, all of nineteen at that point, had been wise enough to walk about the crowd with a donation box and tea cakes for sale. With her parents both gone, she was the one running the farm and taking care of her younger brother, and doing her best to make ends meet."

Those tea cakes had been the foundation of the Starling Cake Company.

"Well," Aunt Bean huffed, "it didn't take but a minute for some fool-headed idiot to declare some sort of trickery was going on, and that Charity was a swindler. So, he decided to prove she was a fraud by taking a shovel to the ground where light was swirling around his feet." Bean smiled, a big toothy grin. "This is the part where my granny would always tell me, ‘Iff'n I'd a been there, I'd a taken that shovel straight to his head.'"

Bean spoke that last part in a deep southern drawl, and I could easily imagine her and her granny sitting in rocking chairs on the front porch, snapping beans, musing about justice being properly served.

"Now if you recollect," Aunt Bean said, "this is 1833. I don't rightly know what that man expected to find that would produce the light he was seeing. It's not like any of them even knew what electricity was back then. But the halfwit started digging anyway. Got about two shovelfuls in when the light around him cut out. Just flat disappeared, like someone had pulled a plug. So, this man falls to the ground, and starts pawing at the dirt looking for a gimmick or gadget. That's when a silvery starling done came out of nowhere and chased him off. Charity happened to be nearby, and she quickly set the dirt to rights, and the light came up once again. After that, digging was forbidden, and those who tried were quickly run off by the bird. Or birds, as the case may be these days."

Through the years there had been many stories of the starlings scaring people off. And even some tales of those who'd tried hunting the birds, only to become the prey. Not many realized they weren't your garden-variety starlings that were simply territorial.

At the sound of a car approaching outside, we all turned toward the window. It was Stan in the Bootsie's Blooms delivery van.

Willa Jo said, "Well, well, well, what do we have here?"

Everyone turned and looked at Bean. She slid off the stool. "Why're y'all looking at me like that? Might could be another delivery for Tessa Jane from Ty Underwood."

Now all the eyes were on me. "What? Nope! He's been a perfect gentleman lately."

"Or maybe they're for Addie," Delilah said. "I heard tell she and Sawyer kissed and made up."

Willa Jo made loud kissy noises as we all swung our attention toward my sister.

Addie laughed. "Sorry to burst any bubbles, but there was no kissing to be had. No kissing, no hugging, no hand- holding."

I was real proud of her for not tugging her sleeves down or shying away from the teasing.

"Dang it," Delilah muttered, then she tipped her head. "Any plans for kissing?"

Addie said, "You're a hopeless romantic, you know that?"

I couldn't help noticing she'd dodged the question.

There was a knock on the door before it swung open. "Afternoon, ladies!"

Stan received a chorus of hellos in reply. All of us were wide-eyed as he entered the barn, holding three boxes of chocolates and three pink heart-shaped balloons.

Not a minute later, he was followed inside by Luna, who came bursting through the open door, out of breath, as though she'd sprinted the whole way here. Her gaze immediately landed on Stan's delivery, her big blue eyes full of curiosity and delight. "Who are those for?"

The way Addie smiled at her pulled at my heartstrings. It was a luminous mix of amusement and love darkened by the tiniest smudge of remorse, which no doubt came from having cut herself out of Luna's life for so long.

Delilah put her arm around Luna's shoulders. "I was about to ask the same thing."

"These goodies are for the lovely Fullbright ladies." Stan handed me, Addie, and Aunt Bean a balloon and a box that was wrapped in pink ribbon. A pink envelope was nestled under the bow.

My envelope had a small heart drawn next to my name. Addie's had the same design but with her name.

Aunt Bean tugged the envelope free and quickly tore into it. She pulled out what looked like a fancy bookmark. "What in the world?"

Luna squeaked. "Someone sent you a ticket to the Valentine's Day dance! My grandpa's company got a deal on a bunch of tickets to give to everyone who works for him, so my dad's making me go. Something about family and community." She rolled her eyes.

I smiled.

"You don't want to go?" Willa Jo asked her. "It's always so fun."

"All the people there are old," Luna said. Then quickly added, "No offense."

Aunt Bean laughed, the sound filling the room to the rafters. "None taken, darlin', but I've already got a ticket, so this don't make much sense."

Addie and I opened our envelopes. We'd also been given a ticket.

"Who sent these over?" Aunt Bean asked Stan.

He shrugged. "I don't know, Verbena. I only make deliveries."

"Land's sakes," she muttered, pulling out her cell phone. A moment later, she had Bootsie on speakerphone. "Enough's enough. Spill it, Boots. Who's sending these things?"

Bootsie seemed to be expecting the call. "Wish I could tell you, but it's a right mystery. Found a box on my doorstep with the chocolates, the tickets, and a request to add balloons to the delivery along with a hand-drawn heart on the cards just like last time. Also a wad of cash that more than covered everything. I'm as intrigued as all y'all."

"Did you check security footage?" Bean asked.

With a big booming laugh, Bootsie said, "What am I? NASA? I don't have any of that fanciness. Cameras. Ha! Now, listen, if you're needing any flowers for the dance, corsages or boutonnieres, you know where to find me. Take care now and eat up one of those chocolates for me. Just not one of the cherry-filled ones. Blech ."

Bean grudgingly said, "You take care, too," and hung up. "Well, if that don't beat all."

Delilah's eyes gleamed behind her glasses. "Your admirer must be Mr. Moneybags, Bean. Those tickets aren't cheap!"

"We don't know all this came from my admirer," she said.

"Don't we?" Willa Jo asked. "Bootsie herself said they asked for a heart just like last time ."

My mind was spinning with who it could be. The tickets alone cost fifty dollars apiece. "Why give a ticket to us, too?" I asked.

Willa Jo said, "My guess is the admirer didn't realize Bean had a ticket already and didn't want you girls to feel left out. Your admirer has got manners, Bean. That gets a bonus point from me."

I glanced at Addie. Were we really going to go? She shrugged in answer, as though reading my mind.

Delilah pulled the lid off the coffee can where we kept the petty cash, pulled out a ten-dollar bill and handed it over to Stan. "There's more of that to be had if you can tell us who Bean's secret admirer is."

"I'll throw in my allowance, too," Luna said, completely serious.

Grinning, Stan stuffed the bill into his shirt pocket and gave us an apologetic smile. "As much as I'd love to tell you, I don't know. But I will say whoever it is has excellent taste in women. I do hope he won't mind none if you save me a dance or two at the gala, Verbena." With that, he nodded and walked out.

We all turned toward Bean wearing the same gleeful expressions.

Luna sang, "He likes youuuu!"

Bean wagged a finger at us. "Don't go getting ideas. None of y'all. Now let's get back to work."

But I noticed as she turned away that she was grinning.

"All right, all right," Luna said as she stalked toward a broom. "No ideas. Gotcha. But for the love of Taylor Swift, can we please listen to a different record?"