One Potion in the Grave: A Magic Potion Mystery (9 page)

Chapter Nine

M
y mama’s chapel was just a hair outside the Ring, on a winding picturesque brick lane that eventually dead-ended at the river walk. Lamplights and soaring elm trees with their trunks wrapped in twinkle lights lined the sidewalk. Large public parking lots at the north and south ends of the Ring kept most vehicle traffic off the road, adding to its charm.

Across the street, Without a Hitch looked like a glistening diamond amid its leafy backdrop of towering shade trees. Bright wildflowers bloomed around the fieldstone foundation, contrasting beautifully against crisp white clapboards. Sunlight glinted off tall arched windows, but a semicircular gable canopy above wide arched double doors shaded the front steps. A short spire was the cherry atop this sundae.

The gardens were my daddy’s pride and joy, and I secretly wondered if he spent as much time as he did tending them as a time-out from my mama. After all, she was a handful on her best days.

Flowers spilled over both sides of a broad stone walkway that meandered around the property, leading to the gazebo in the clearing where the Calhoun wedding was to be held and behind the chapel down to the footbridge that spanned the creek just in front of the small cottage where my mama and daddy lived.

Down the lane a bit, two wooden posts marked a gravel path that led into the woods behind the chapel—the Lover’s Leap trail—and beyond that stood Johnny Braxton’s chapel, the Little Wedding Chapel of Love. His place was night to Mama’s day but (I hated to admit) just as lovely. Done up with rustic timbers, stained glass windows, and topped with a quaint bell tower, his chapel was set back into the woods, and was surrounded by stunning landscaping, including ponds and rock waterfalls.

One chapel was bright, the other dark. Much like their owners. However, both chapels thrived, and were the most successful among the dozen or so in town.

I glanced again at the trail and wondered whether Marjie and Johnny had set off on their “hike” yet. And whether one or the other had been pushed off a bluff.

Along one side of Without a Hitch, three hundred white wooden folding chairs were sitting on rolling racks, waiting to be set up in front of the gazebo—one of the many jobs I’d been assigned by the loveable tyrant known as my mama.

The dictator herself was standing in the gazebo with Landry and Gabi, Warren and Louisa. She was busily pointing here and there, and bustling to and fro. My mama, the whirlwind.

I guessed Warren had finished his conversation with
Katie Sue. I just hoped he’d delivered her safely back to my house when he was done with the little chat. I had to admit Caleb’s earlier teasing about missing mistresses worried me a bit.

Louisa’s arm was linked with Gabi’s, and I had to wonder if their close relationship was the source of Katie Sue’s dislike of Gabi. And, as I watched, I wondered how difficult planning this wedding had been for the young woman, without her own mama to help out. I’m sure Louisa had done her best as a surrogate, but these nuptials had to bring up a whole slew of emotions for Gabi to deal with.

As Gabi smiled at Louisa, suddenly her wanting this marriage to Landry to work out—despite the fact he didn’t love her—made a lot more sense. Maybe she did love him. But I suspected she loved the idea of having a family again a whole lot more.

As I headed up the steps into the chapel to drop off the goodies and put the love potion in mama’s office, I picked up on a strange noise coming from somewhere nearby. It was a low sound, guttural, followed by an undercurrent of cuss words that would make even my mama—who was fluent in foul language—blush.

Curious, I backtracked down the steps and poked my head around the corner. The right wheel of Cassandra Calhoun’s wheelchair had gone off the stone pathway, and had become mired in the spiky grass covering the embankment of the lily pond. She was tipped precariously, and trying her best to use her body weight to get her wheel unstuck. Apparently she thought using every cuss word she knew would help her prevent an afternoon swim with the resident bullfrogs.

“Need help?” I asked, unsure if her sense of pride would be put in front of her sense of self-preservation.

She jumped in her seat at the sound of my voice. Her chair wobbled, and she let out a squeal. Quickly, I set my packages on a nearby bench and grabbed the handles of the chair. I gave it a good yank, back onto the safety of the walkway.

Her hands immediately went to the pearls around her neck, and she nervously rolled beads between her fingers. “Thank you.” She eyed the pond she’d almost toppled into and smiled wryly. “I don’t look good in algae.”

Her smile transformed her sullen features, crinkling her eyes and brightening her whole countenance.

“Not many can pull off that shade of green,” I said. “Are you okay?”

“Fine, fine,” she said. “Just a little rattled.”

“I heard. It’s a colorful vocabulary you have.”

She had the grace to blush. “You pick up a lot of words while working with politicians.”

“Mostly from outraged constituents, I imagine.”

Laughing, she said, “Fortunately, I don’t get much of that. Ever since leaving D.C., my work has been more . . . charitable.” Her gaze softened.

I thought about the time she’s spent with a group that raised money to help feed hungry children. Not too long ago, there had been a photo of her getting a hug from a little girl whose family had been helped by the program. There had been tears in Cassandra’s eyes. Sincere ones. “Hugs from little kids are much better than cusses.”

Smiling, she said, “Infinitely. But I’d trade those hugs in a hot second to stop the reason why I’d gotten them in the first place. No child should ever go hungry.”

I watched her closely. It sounded like such a spiel, but I could tell she meant every word. “If you become a senator, maybe you can help make that happen.”

Her eyes flashed with determination. “That’s the plan . . . eventually.” Her nose wrinkled. “I grow more impatient every day. There’s so much I want to do. To change.”

I wondered if she could truly make changes. Seemed like politicians had to jump through a hundred hoops to get anything accomplished these days.

“You were at the Crazy Loon earlier, right? Kathryn’s friend?” She held out her hand. “I’m Cassandra Calhoun.”

I shook. “Carly Hartwell.” I didn’t think it necessary to verify that I’d been at the inn—Cassandra had gotten a good look at me. “Do you want me to fetch your mother to come over here? I just saw her over at the gazebo.”

“No!” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “No, thanks. I don’t want to hear the lecture about how I should have been more careful in unfamiliar terrain.” She eyed the pond. “Fortunately, I’m a good swimmer. I spent many hours in the pool after my accident, building upper arm strength. That was quite the hullaballoo earlier,” she said.

I wasn’t sure which hullaballoo she referred to. The break-in or Marjie’s trigger finger. “It was,” I said, agreeing on both accounts.

With a bemused smile, she added, “This is an
interesting
little town.”

It was true. We were nothing if not interesting. Movement at the back of the chapel caught my attention.
Katie Sue stuck her head around the corner, gave me a finger wave, then disappeared again.

My first thought at seeing her was that I was glad she survived the car ride with Warren. My second thought was
mercy sakes
. What was she doing here, skulking around the chapel? Her presence most certainly wouldn’t be welcomed by the Calhouns.

“Do you need help back to the gazebo?” I asked Cassandra. Maybe if I could waylay Katie Sue, I could avoid any more drama today.

“No, thanks,” Cassandra said, “I think I’ll explore a lit—”

Her words were cut off by the sound of a man’s voice calling her name. “Cass? Cassie!”

“Over here!” she said loudly.

Landry Calhoun rounded the back corner of the chapel, and rolled his eyes when he spotted her. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

To me, she said, “He always was the worst at hide-and-seek. When we were little it would take hours for him to find me sometimes.”

He winked at me. “She still hasn’t figured out that I hadn’t been that keen on finding her.”

“Hey!” she said, giving him a playful shove.

“What?” he asked slyly. “You were such a bossy thing. It was good to have a break from you ordering me around.” He nodded his head toward me. “I’m Landry Calhoun. I think I saw you earlier at the hotel.”

I introduced myself again. “How’s your headache?”

He grinned. “It would be better if my mama wasn’t harpin’ on me to find where Cass wandered off to.”

Shoo-ee.
His smile could knock a girl’s knees out from
under and make her throw her caution—and panties—to the wind if she weren’t careful. Fortunately for me I always had my guard up around people. For a little extra protection, I grabbed my locket. Just in case.

“Well, these days I’m not all that hard to find,” Cassandra said, smiling at her brother. She patted her wheelchair. “I can’t get very far in this thing.”

“You kiddin’ me?” he said. “You could roll plumb down to the Gulf if you wanted.”

“The Gulf sounds nice right about now,” she said, her eyes glinting with mischief. “If we leave now . . .”

“Don’t start,” he said, his voice taking a harder edge.

Seemed as though Cass wasn’t too happy about her little brother getting hitched. I had to wonder why. Because she knew he wasn’t in love?

“And on that note,” he added, “you hiding from the planning isn’t going to stop the wedding from happening. You’re Gabi’s maid of honor. You should be over at the gazebo with us and not hiding here with the lily pads.”

It was like they’d forgotten I was standing there.

“At least over here I don’t have to bear witness,” she said, folding her arms across her chest.

“Cass.”

“Landry.”

As much as I was enjoying this little show . . . “Ahem,” I said, clearing my throat.

Both their gazes snapped to me.

“I should get going,” I said. “I have a lot to do to set up for the wedding.”

Both their brows crinkled, and I could easily see the family resemblance in their confused expressions.

“The wedding?” Cassandra asked.

“Oh, didn’t you know?” I asked. “This is my mama’s chapel. I’m helping with the wedding set up. There are three hundred chairs calling my name.” And a potion to deliver to a certain bride.

“Your mama’s chapel? Doesn’t your aunt own the inn where we’re staying, too?” Cass asked.

Even though it was probably only good manners—and a desire for public office—that kept her from saying, “Are you crazy people everywhere?” I could practically hear it in her tone.

“Miss Rona is your mama?” Landry asked, another one of those knee-knocking smiles gracing his face.

“That’s what I’m told,” I said, “though when I was little my aunties, the Odd Ducks, also told me that my mama found me floating in a basket on the river while gigging frogs, felt sorry for my sad self, and brought me home to spear my daddy since she didn’t catch any frogs that day. Can’t tell you how long I believed that story.”

Landry tipped his head back and laughed.

Hoo-boy. Even holding on to my locket, the man made my knees wobble a little.

Cassandra’s lip twitched in humor.

“You think your mama would adopt me?” Landry asked. “I could get used to this town right quick.”

“I wouldn’t bring it up to her,” I said, “or you’ll have adoption papers on your pillow by bedtime.” I was kidding. Mostly.

Cassandra looked at him and pouted. “You’d be lost without me.”

He tousled her hair. “That’s a fact. I’d have no one to boss me about.”

I laughed. “Oh, my mama would have that covered in no time.”

“Whoa, then,” he said, holding up his hands. “I best stick with the bossy mama I already have. And besides, who’d find Cass when she goes hiding?”

“I
swanee
!” a woman cried from nearby. Louisa Calhoun stood at the curve of the walkway, her hands on hips. Color was high in her cheeks as she said, “How long does it take to find your sister? She can’t go very far.”

“I told you so,” Cassandra said.