Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

From the Kitchen of Verbena Fullbright

If your cake batter done split when you added your eggs, there's no need to start over. Just beat the mixture a little harder and throw in an extra pinch of flour. Sometimes one small change can change everything.

Addie

For as much as Aunt Bean loved baking, she despised cooking. She rarely made any meal that took longer than ten minutes. Her freezer was stocked with store-bought TV dinners. Her pantry was full of cereal and canned soups. It wasn't unheard of for her to eat microwave popcorn for supper.

Everyone knew this about her, too.

That was why most of her meals came from the kitchen of kindness. At least once a week a friend would inevitably drop off a casserole or covered dish, claiming they had extra and wanted to share.

I suspected there was a schedule floating around—a campaign most likely orchestrated by one of the Sugarbirds. Willa Jo, probably. She was a get-it-done kind of woman. Or perhaps Delilah. Small and fierce, she made things happen—sometimes by sheer will. Or even Pinky, who seemed flighty on the surface but often took care of details others overlooked.

All the women were at their best in an emergency—like what had happened with Ernie Underwood earlier this week.

"Ernie's due to be released from the hospital on Saturday," Aunt Bean said as she slathered a whole-wheat dinner roll with butter early Thursday evening.

Poor Ernie had lost her balance and fallen off a footstool, hitting her head on the edge of her kitchen countertop on the way down. What was thought to have been a simple head wound that would only require stitches had turned out to be a touch more serious. She had a small brain bleed. But Ernie was fortunate—no surgery had been needed as the doctors predicted the injury would eventually heal itself. However, to be on the safe side, they'd wanted her to remain at the hospital for a while.

"Is someone going to be staying with her when she gets home?" Tessa Jane asked, leaning forward over her bowl of beef stew, looking like she was ready to volunteer for the job if need be.

This morning Tessa Jane had unearthed a Crock-Pot from one of the kitchen cabinets and had made quick use of it. When I came in after working an afternoon shift in the barn kitchen, I'd been greeted by the delightful aroma of simmering stew, and it felt for a moment like I'd walked into the wrong house. I'd found Tessa Jane looking perfectly at home, sleeves pushed up to her elbows, as she kneaded dough on the marble-topped prep table. She'd whispered to me that the stew recipe had come from the American Heart Association's website—but hadn't mentioned that fact to Bean.

We'd been dancing around Bean's condition since we'd heard about it. And so had she. When I drove her to Montgomery on Tuesday for an echocardiogram, I'd had to stay in the waiting room during her appointment. Later, when I asked how it went, she'd said only, "Not too bad, punkin. We'll know more soon."

I had the feeling she knew more than she was letting on. That her condition was worse than she was telling us. It was a fine line to walk, suspecting but not knowing for certain.

Aunt Bean dunked the buttered roll into her bowl. "Ernie's planning on staying with Ty for a spell, until she's steady on her feet."

Despite the fact that Bean hardly used her kitchen to cook, it was the heart of her big, rambling home, which had seen numerous renovations and additions through the years. Its style, much like her wardrobe, was a mix of old and new with plenty of color. Old white cast-iron farmhouse sink, wood floors, and shiplap walls. Newer sage-green cabinets, granite countertops, and stainless steel appliances. The windows were trimmed with white lace curtains. Various brass and cast-iron pans that had been passed down through the family hung from a pot rack above an antique blue prep table in the middle of the room. Colorful vintage Pyrex bowls sat on open wooden shelves. A large, rusty metal starling hung on the wall—it had been crafted by Granny Fullbright, my daddy and Bean's mother, a long time ago, when Granny had been in her teens.

The woodstove that divided the kitchen from the living room currently had a fire blazing within its box, warming the whole downstairs, chasing away the winter chill. Bean's two tabby cats, Miney and Moe, were stretched languidly on a cat bed set up in front of the stove, clearly loving the heat. As far as I'd seen today, they'd taken fairly well to having a dog in the house.

Of course, it helped that Hambone had practically been glued to Tessa Jane.

"So, Hammy will continue to stay with us?" Tessa Jane asked, her tone light and hopeful.

The dog sat like a perfect gentleman next to Tessa Jane's chair at the round table, watching her intently as she ate. Every once in a while, he'd whimper deep in his throat. A reminder, really, that he was being a good boy and would enjoy a piece of stew meat.

I pretended not to notice when Tessa Jane slipped him a bite.

If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it. Once when we were younger and having a backyard tea party with Aunt Bean to celebrate her birthday—which was the only reason I'd agreed to it—Tessa Jane had made sure we packed cloth napkins, held her cup delicately, and when she stirred sugar into her tea, she took extra care to ensure that the spoon didn't clank against the porcelain.

"Granddaddy said stirring shouldn't make a sound," she'd said as she concentrated, her eyes full of bold blue determination.

Looking back now, I realized there had been a bit of fear in her eyes as well. Worry that the spoon would slip. That she'd make a mistake. I'd dismissed it then, because in those days when it came to Tessa Jane I'd dismissed everything, always hearing my own mama's voice in my head, telling me to pretend Tessa Jane didn't exist.

I shoved those painful thoughts aside and glanced at my sister.

Somehow she'd gone from mastering every etiquette rule known to mankind to feeding a dog under the table. She even let him lick her fingers. And I didn't know how she'd gotten from there to here. Because I didn't know my sister well at all.

"Yes, ma'am," Bean said to her. "Hope you don't mind none since you've been doing the lion's share of caring for him."

There was a twinkle in her eye as she said it, as if knowing perfectly well that Tessa Jane didn't mind at all.

Tessa Jane's smile lit her whole face. Lit the whole room, really. It was an angelic glow, one born from pure happiness, and I was glad to see it after noticing how her inner light had dimmed.

She said, "I love having him here, though I do feel for Ernie, having to miss out on his company. Once she's back, maybe we can take him over for a visit. Outside, of course."

Hambone whimpered again and Tessa Jane patted his head. He was here because he'd lost his fool head his first night at Ty's place, what with there being an opossum inside the house, never mind the kittens. He'd howled to wake the dead the whole night long. It had been Delilah who suggested we care for the dog, since he'd taken a liking to Tessa Jane. I thought that liking was putting it mildly.

I broke open a roll, which was somehow light and fluffy and surprisingly delicious for something deemed healthy . Then I reached for the butter, which hadn't been replaced with a heart-healthy plant-based substitute.

Around here, butter was sacred.

"I'm sure Ernie won't mind a little porch-sittin' at all," Bean said, "but I'll check with her in a few days."

Tessa Jane threw a glance toward the window. "I hope the weather doesn't delay her release."

Measurable snow, a couple of inches, remained stubbornly in the forecast. According to our favorite weatherman, it would fall in bursts, the bands spread out over several days, beginning late tonight. The worst of it was predicted to come down in a twenty-four-hour period starting Friday night.

The town was divided on how to feel about the storm, torn between those excited because snow was a joyful rarity and those worried about the havoc it might wreak. The South, as a whole, was unprepared for snow. Very few owned snow shovels. Or had rock salt on hand. Snow often strained power grids and snapped power lines, causing mass electrical outages. Here in Starlight, there were no salt trucks. No plows. No one knew how to drive in snow or on ice. The last time the town had a snowstorm, nearly ten years back, there had been innumerable fender benders. Cars had been abandoned on roadways for nearly a week.

All day, Aunt Bean been looking out the windows, her eyes full of anticipation, like a little kid searching the skies on Christmas Eve. She was firmly in the excited camp.

"Ty will move heaven and earth to get her home. That truck of his has four-wheel drive, so don't you go worrying none, peanut." Bean dragged her spoon around her bowl. "Any word from your granddaddy about canceling his party? I don't like thinking about his guests, especially you, out in a storm."

Winchester was throwing a big to-do tomorrow night. The Sugarbirds told me half the town was invited because rumors were swirling that he was planning on running for mayor. It was a bold, egotistical move. A power move, really, because he knew he could use fear to his favor. Thanks to Constance Jane and her numerous investments, he now owned half the town. People wanted to keep the peace with him, unable to afford rent hikes on their homes and businesses.

At the mention of the party, Tessa Jane went still as a statue. Stone had never looked so pretty. Her blond hair was down tonight, falling in waves over half her face. Emotion filled her blue eyes, making them seem bigger, brighter.

"No, ma'am," she said.

To be fair, a party that large would take months of planning, and Winchester couldn't have known about the storm system when he chose the date. Yet, not postponing now that he knew snow was blowing in was such a Winchester thing to do. One that showed how little he cared about others.

Bean said, "No doubt he's betting the storm peters out, but it's unwise of him to take the risk."

I sighed inwardly, noticing her reach for her watch to smooth its face with her thumb. The gesture told me exactly how worried she was. Rubbing her watch was a soothing technique to ward off her shadow, just like how I grabbed hold of my pendant when stressed. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if Aunt Bean didn't sleep a wink tonight, since her shadow caused insomnia.

"Any word from Petal Pottinger about postponing her wedding?" Tessa Jane asked.

It was a good question. I thought it equally unwise to hold a wedding in bad weather.

Earlier, none of the Sugarbirds had wanted to talk about the wedding cake scheduled to be delivered on Saturday morning, as though in fear of jinxing the outcome.

"Last I heard," Bean said, reaching for another roll, "she was considering moving the wedding and reception up a few hours. Late morning for the ceremony, early afternoon for the reception. But I haven't been notified of any official change."

Only in a small town where everyone knew everyone could such a feat occur. A few hours might make a big difference in terms of the weather. Or it could be pointless. Putting the wedding off a week—or maybe forever, since a Buckley was involved—would be a better choice, in my opinion. Not that I had a say-so.

I glanced outside. Floodlights illuminated a wide swath of the backyard. The doors to the shed, the ducks' makeshift home until their coop was built, were closed, keeping Lucy and Ethel warm and dry and safe from any bad weather. Temperatures had hovered just above freezing for most of the day, and the sky had been a solid sheet of gray. Right now it was hard to believe that once this storm system moved through there was sunshine and warmth in the forecast.

"The time change wouldn't make a lick of difference for us anyway," Aunt Bean said. "Willa Jo will still need to drop off Petal's cake at the Celestial Hotel first thing Saturday morning. But if the weather's terrible, I won't open the bakery. An extra day off would be right helpful since I'd like to sort through some closets and such to get an inventory together of what all I've stashed away over the years." Then she casually added, "For insurance purposes."

We both eyed her suspiciously.

I think we both realized she wanted to take inventory not for her insurance agent but for her lawyer. For her will . I felt queasy just thinking about it.

Before either of us could say anything, Hambone suddenly started baying. He scrambled to his feet and dashed to the front door. Not a second later, headlights beamed through the front windows.

"Are you expecting someone?" Tessa Jane asked loudly to be heard over the dog as she pushed back her chair. "Hambone, quiet ."

Miraculously, he obeyed.

"Not me," Aunt Bean said.

I shook my head, praying it wasn't Sawyer and Luna at the door. I didn't know when she was due home from Mentone. And I wasn't at all sure what I was going to do when she returned and wanted to talk about Ree.

At the knock on the front door, Hambone started jumping and barking. Hissing, the cats darted under the couch. Aunt Bean laughed.

Tessa Jane peeked out the sidelight and I noticed her shoulders stiffen. She grabbed hold of Hambone's collar and pulled open the door. "Jenna! What a surprise. Come on in, out of the cold." She backed up a step.

"That's real nice of you," Jenna Elkins, Winchester's assistant, said, "but I need to be getting on home. Mr. Wingrove wanted me to drop this by on my way."

I could easily hear the apology in her voice as she handed over a large brown shopping bag.

Tessa Jane took the bag by its handles and Hambone immediately stuck his nose in it. "Are you sure you can't stay? We have supper on the table. We're happy to have you join us." She looked over at us. "Aren't we?"

The offer was pure politeness on Tessa Jane's part—part of her DNA as a southern woman.

"Sure are," Bean said.

I nodded. "There's plenty."

Jenna stuck her head in the door, gave us a tired smile as she patted Hambone's head, and said, "Thank you, it smells delicious, but I need to get on my way. I promised my mama I'd carry her over to Friddle's to load up on groceries before snowmageddon."

"Best you hurry then," Aunt Bean said. "I heard tell the shelves were clearing out fast. But let me know if they don't have what you need. Between here and the barn kitchen I've got plenty to spare."

"Thanks, Miss Verbena. I'll let Mama know. Y'all have a good night." With one last pet of Hambone's head, Jenna turned and left.

Tessa Jane waited until the headlights were pointing down the driveway before she gave one final wave and closed the door. She let go of Hambone's collar, and he immediately trotted to the couch and stuck his nose under it.

"A gift?" Bean asked, nodding to the bag.

"I'm not sure. It's heavy, whatever it is." Tessa Jane walked over to us, put the bag down on her chair, reached inside, and pulled out a notecard. Her lips thinned as she read silently, then dropped it on the table.

The notecard was monogrammed with WHW at the top. Winchester Henderson Wingrove. His handwriting looked like scribble. Pure chicken scratch scrawl.

Once again, Tessa Jane reached into the bag. "Granddaddy wasn't sure I'd packed anything appropriate to wear to his party, so he took the liberty of sending over two dresses."

As if she couldn't buy something appropriate on her own. Tessa Jane had been raised on a strict diet of appropriate .

Aunt Bean lifted an eyebrow. "Well, wasn't that nice of him?"

Her syrupy tone made it clear the gesture was not nice. Not at all.

Tessa Jane pulled out a tissue-wrapped bundle and set it on the table, carefully separating the tape from the paper. With a flourish, she unfolded a red mini dress, a one-shoulder number that was covered in eye-catching sequins. She held it against her body as horror shined in her eyes. "He can't be serious."

She threw that dress over her shoulder and pulled out another bundle. In it was a floor-length emerald column dress made of velvet, complete with poofy sleeves, the cuffs of which were trimmed in black feathers.

"It has to weigh five, six pounds," Tessa Jane said, holding it against herself.

Hambone snarled.

"I swannee ," Bean said. "It's feast or famine."

Both dresses had designer labels and undoubtedly had come with high price tags. But neither looked like something Tessa Jane would choose. She'd always leaned toward light and floaty. Dreamy. These dresses were the complete opposite.

Bean reached for her glass of wine. "Which one are you leaning toward?"

Tessa Jane sighed as she carefully refolded the dresses and tucked them into the bag, which she then placed on the prep table behind her. "I suppose the green one, since I'd freeze to death in the red. But I don't particularly care for either." She wrinkled her nose. "Maybe I'll drive to Montgomery tomorrow afternoon to find something off the rack. Granddaddy won't be happy, but sometimes you have to draw a line."

"A deep line," I said.

Tessa Jane cracked a smile and tucked her side bangs behind her ear. "A whole chasm."

That smile. It made my chest ache and stirred hopes that we could piece together some sort of relationship.

For a couple of reasons, I didn't let many people into my protected, sheltered life. But the longer I stayed away from Starlight, from Bean, from the Sugarbirds, from Tessa Jane, the lonelier I'd become. A friend my own age would be nice. A real friend, not just the acquaintances I had in Birmingham, like Ellie at the coffee shop, or Dwayne the pizza delivery guy, my weekend hiking group, or Taj, the sound engineer at the studio where I recorded my lines for the animated series I worked on.

Someone… like my sister.

Maybe we could use this time here in Starlight to get to know each other. Really know each other—not only what Bean shared with us. Perhaps being here was the fresh start we both needed.

Bean said, "Why Montgomery? With the Valentine's Gala coming up soon, Gossamer's bound to have more dresses on hand than usual."

The dress shop here in town usually carried a varied selection, but between Thanksgiving and Valentine's Day, they catered more toward party dresses and formal gowns. The gala was a huge community affair, so the shop would likely be fully stocked.

"Perhaps so, but the department stores in Montgomery will have more off-the-rack options."

I wondered at the grim tone of my sister's voice until I remembered that last year Bean had told me Tessa Jane had bought the perfect wedding dress at Gossamer. No wonder she didn't want to shop there, what with all the memories it would dredge up.

Tessa Jane sat down, picked up a spoon, and dragged it through her stew. "With any luck, Granddaddy will cancel, and I'll be spared from going at all." Her hopefulness rang out like a fragile crystal bell.

Hambone whimpered and put a paw in her lap.

Tessa Jane picked a carrot out of the bowl with her fingers and fed it to him. As he gobbled it up, I glanced at Aunt Bean. She was looking at Tessa Jane with her eyebrows practically raised to her hairline. Tessa Jane's blatant disregard of her table manners hadn't gone unnoticed by Bean, either.

"You don't have to go. Stay home," I suggested, immediately postponing my plans to work on my new sound booth tomorrow night. "We can watch a movie."

Aunt Bean nodded eagerly. "Popcorn. Spiked hot chocolate. George Clooney. Snow falling. A more perfect night there could not be."

Tessa Jane wiped her hands on her napkin. "It's not as easy as that."

"Why?" I asked, truly curious. It was obvious by her body language that she was dreading the party. "You're allowed to say no."

She glanced at me. There was something in her eyes, a heartbreaking peek into the life she'd led, that suggested I might be wrong.

Fidgeting with uneasiness, I revised my question. "What would happen if you said no?"

"It doesn't matter. I need to be there." Pushing her bowl away, she added, "At least for a brief appearance. I certainly don't plan on staying long, so count me in for the movie, as long as you don't mind starting it a bit late."

"We don't mind at all, do we, Addie?" Bean asked.

I shook my head.

Hambone shuffled forward and put his head on Tessa Jane's lap. She gently tugged his long ears through her fingers. She was going to be heartbroken when it came time for him to go home to Ernie. It was clear she'd become as attached to the dog as he had to her.

"Girls, look!" Bean exclaimed. She tossed her napkin on the table and pointed toward the kitchen window.

Snow fell lazily. Gentle flurries of drifting flakes.

"Hurry now," Bean said. "We must try to catch a snowflake before the snow stops."

Bean thought all snow to be magical but held firm that the first snow of the season was especially so, believing that if you caught a flake on your fingertip, it foretold a winter of happiness.

She left her walking stick and coat behind as she hurried toward the back door and yanked it open. Hambone sailed past her into the fenced yard and started howling and jumping, his tongue lolling as he tried to catch falling flakes. Tessa Jane and I quickly followed.

"Isn't it glorious?" Bean said, clouds of steam puffing in the dark night. She stretched her hands out toward us.

I took one. Tessa Jane, the other.

Then I held out my other hand toward my sister.

Surprise flashed in her eyes as she set her hand in mine, completing the circle.

As one, we lifted our faces to the sky.

Snowflakes landed in our hair, melted on our faces.

We stood there like that for a good minute, caught up in the magic of the moment, before realizing that the flakes were slowing.

"Hurry now, girls!" Bean pulled her hands from ours. She held out her index finger, and laughter filled the air as she scurried about, trying to catch a snowflake.

It wasn't as easy as it looked.

Tessa Jane followed her lead, keeping her arm steady as she darted about. "I keep missing!"

"Me, too!" Bean said, jogging right left, then right.

I stood perfectly still with my arm outstretched, watching, waiting, and a large flake soon landed on my fingertip.

Aunt Bean saw it happen and rushed to my side. "Lucky girl! A winter of happiness for you."

I took a second to watch them, tears threatening, knowing my season of happiness had already begun.

Then the snowflake melted on my fingertip, disappearing as if it had never been there at all.