Page 3 of A Touch of Spring Magic (Southern Love Spells #2)

S arah had arrived when Jessica limped downstairs after her shower. Any hope that all her aches and pains would vanish in the shower, like they had when she’d been eighteen, had been scrunched under her muddy gardening boots, but she did have the claw-foot tub, and she’d use it tonight—with a bath balm and candles—after her sisters commiserated and then celebrated her news.

But Chloe first. She’d brought the champagne. She was in love. And she deserved the spotlight.

“You’re limping.” Sarah hurried forward. “What happened?”

“Just got a little too enthusiastic in the garden,” Jessica replied. She didn’t look at Meghan. She’d always been able to see right through her, and yet the whole point of them being here was that she needed to tell them what had happened, and what she hoped to do next.

“Why were you working in the garden today? I thought it was weird that Rustin saw you in town. Did you take the day off?” Chloe bounced up on her toes. “Good idea. Maybe you should take a week because your tax season zoom is starting and we won’t see you again until May.”

“Ahhhh…” Nerves clawed at her throat. She was being ridiculous. These were her sisters. They’d always had her back.

“What’s up?” Chloe asked.

“What happened? What do you need?” Meghan demanded.

“Jessica?” Sarah’s quiet voice made her feel guilty and reminded her of Grandma Millie’s sharp ability to cut through the crap.

“Champagne.” It was easy to pop out her social voice on demand. “And then I’ll dish after Chloe.”

Chloe practically hopped. “You first.” Chloe swung out her arm dramatically as if ushering Jessica up to a stage. “You’re the hostess.”

“I was fired.”

Three shocked faces stared at her, and Jessica braced herself for the strained dam of tears she’d held back all day to burst. But instead she was dry-eyed, wary.

“Why?” Sarah surprised her by being the first to speak. “Is the firm in trouble? Do they need to downsize?”

Was it? Jessica hadn’t considered that, but no, the life jacket Sarah had floated her way wouldn’t hold her up.

“I don’t know.” Jessica slowly sat down on the banquette in the kitchen nook.

Chloe, still holding the champagne, sat on the other side of her and squished over until they were thigh to thigh, just like she always had as a kid.

“They treated me like a criminal,” she said hollowly, the disbelief rising back up like fog. “I was escorted out by security. Daniel and Bill. They acted like they didn’t know me. Like I was an intruder.”

“What the…? They have to have a reason.” Meghan’s lawyer voice came out. “In writing. Where’s the paperwork? What is the stated reason? Where are your biannual reviews? Where’s the written-up concerns about your performance? Eight years. They can’t fire you without cause, without notification. Did they offer you a severance package? You have a right to consult an attorney.”

Jessica stared at her sister, admiration growing. None of them looked like they thought it was her fault.

“I…my boss is out with a scheduled hip replacement surgery and the associate he works closely with was in a car accident Friday at lunch—he’ll be okay but is out for a few weeks. One of his longtime clients had called with some questions and concerns as he’d missed a meeting, so I looked into it Friday afternoon so he wouldn’t worry, but—” She broke off, making a face, not sure if she should share the beginnings of her suspicions even with her sisters.

“There were some…unusual numbers, so I logged the information out and took it home over the weekend. I wanted to wait to talk to my boss before contacting the client, but this morning as soon as I arrived, I was called into one of the newer partner’s offices—Drew Whittaker III…” She had to swallow the rising bile. “He never gets in before nine, but he was there at six forty-five.” She still remembered the shock, and the first inkling of nerves when he’d closed his office door, trapping her. “I never…liked him. He always seemed…”

“Slimy. Misogynistic. Entitled. Smooth brain, smoother smarmy tongue,” Meghan slotted in.

“Meghan,” Sarah admonished softly even as Jessica bit back an unexpected urge to laugh.

“Oh, you’ve met him.”

“Know the type. Work with them. Slay them like the dragon I am.” Meghan danced around the kitchen like she had a sword in her hand.

“If you were a dragon you’d crisp them by breathing fire. They’d have the sword, but they’d be bacon you’d eat if you weren’t worried about cholesterol and clogged arteries,” Chloe said practically. “Can you appeal the decision? Talk to your boss when he gets back?”

“Of course,” Meghan answered. “I want to see what you have. Go over everything that happened. Tell me what you learned about the client because that sounds suss AF.”

“Meghan.” Jessica was still shocked by Meghan’s potty mouth even when she abbreviated her shocking swear words. But of course Meghan would read between the lines. The client’s file, and the one she’d uncovered when digging, were suspicious, worrying—and then her quick firing. “I can’t share client information with you.”

“Attorney-client privilege, and when we slap a lawsuit with a deposition, nepo baby the trey will have to comply, and I don’t think Daddy and Granddaddy’s little boy will like that one little bit. Isn’t he the hole who asked you out more than once when he graduated and hop-skipped his nepo baby butt to the top floor near the corner office?”

Jessica winced at the awkward memory. She cited company policy to soften the rejection, but he’d laughed throatily, veneers blindingly white and said ‘rules were meant to be broken,’ and that it was ‘more fun to sneak around.’

Maybe she had stumbled into something illegal. But instead of feeling indignant and ready to fight as Meghan clearly was, since she’d pulled up a chair, and turned on the voice memo app of her phone, a wave of warm calm rolled over her for the first time in months.

“Actually,” Jessica said, placing her hand over Meghan’s phone. “I don’t want to fight it.”

“What? You were fired unjustly. It’s a cover-up of something, and you’re the scapegoat.”

“Actually,” she repeated the word, “I’m relieved a little,” she qualified, as again she had all three of her sisters’ intense attention. “I haven’t been happy there for…for a long time,” she admitted for the first time even as the word ‘forever’ played in her mind.

“I took the job because it was so prestigious. One of the top firms in the southeast. My classmates were all gunning for the same firm, and I got the job.” Her pride had definitely been a big part of her decision. “The job was challenging. There would be opportunities to travel, and I wanted to live in Charlotte, not come back to Belmont.”

“And not join the family firm and be gulped down,” Meghan slotted in. “But we’re still going to fight your dismissal.”

“I don’t want my job back,” Jessica said, shocked that after only one day of processing, she knew that in her bones. She was nervous. Not fully prepared with a business plan, but she’d dug deep in the earth today, worked hard, and it was for her.

“What are you going to do?” Sarah asked.

“If you love Charlotte so much, why did you rent your condo and move here?” Chloe looked around the once rustic kitchen that Grandma Millie had started—with all of their input and their father’s remonstrations that they were wasting money and resources—remodeled over the past few years into a bit of a French country vibe. “Not that I’m not happy that you’re closer and we can hang more when I come up to take care of the cats. Hey, maybe we could get some goats.”

“Even if you don’t want your job back, you need to fight,” said Meghan, who never once walked away from an argument with a truce in the offering.

“Chloe, pop the cork.”

Meghan brought the four flutes she’d chilled in the fridge to the table. “To victory and a huge financial payout for you to shut up and back down.”

Jessica opened her mouth to protest, but if Meghan could help her gain a small settlement that might be close to what her bonus would have been, she could use that toward starting the nursery. But the thought of a legal battle squashed her greed.

Chloe popped the cork but handed the bottle to Sarah to pour the golden, bubbly liquid.

“I want to move on,” Jessica said. She held up her glass, amazed that her voice was so steady. “I’m going to talk to Grandma Millie and see if she’d let me start a small business up here. I want to start a niche nursery and sell tea blends and botanicals that are grown on the property. Cheers.” She tilted her glass toward theirs and then took a deep gulp.

*

The four of them, on their second glass of champagne, stood on the large back porch of the farmhouse looking out over the dark garden.

“I’m not being impulsive or overreacting,” Jessica defended. She’d had time to think about the nursery today as the shock of her firing wore off. “I’ve been…treading water…feeling like I’m about to go under for two years.” No need to worry them all her physical complaints.

“But starting a nursery?” Sarah questioned softly.

“Jessica always loved to garden,” Chloe said. “She spent the most time with Grandma Millie in her garden and the greenhouse. She knows how to transplant, graft, nurture—all of it.”

She relaxed a little. Chloe always had her back.

“But what if Grandma Millie doesn’t agree?” Meghan asked, always practical. “Dad’s been salivating to break up this acreage for a while. Twenty plus up here. That’s a lot of money, and three-sixty views at the top when you cut down the trees.”

“You sound just like him,” Chloe said.

“He’s been trying to wrest away this property from Grandma Millie since we were kids,” Meghan said.

“I’m hoping Grandma Millie will let me buy a few acres from her. I’ve been saving for years, and when she said I could move in up here and work on the garden, my dream started to coalesce.”

“What about access?” Meghan demanded. “There’s the back road out, but you’d need to have it regraded probably, and Maye Development owns the apartment building, and commercially zoned area from Cramerton to Cramer Mountain. Dad’s probably got egress rights, and he’s counting on Grandma Millie handing over the farm and land at some point.”

She loved Meghan. She really did. But she always had to point out every hurdle and pitfall before you even started the race—probably why she was a good lawyer.

“I know,” Jessica said. “I’ll have to do a lot of research and have meetings with Grandma Millie, Dad, the HOA and the county and probably town council and planning commission. But it’s a nursery, not a brewery or sawmill, and I was thinking I could restore the gardens and create a public space of beauty.”

“It sounds wonderful,” Sarah said, but her expression was clearly worried.

Meghan looked calculating.

And Chloe was already researching farmers who had goats for sale because they could clear the land so much more quickly and efficiently. She’d even excitedly found a shepherd who rented his goats for brush clearing.

“Listen to this…” Chloe began showing pictures of pygmy goats on her phone.

“Chloe, before we drink the last of the champagne, tell us your news,” Jessica invited, tired of her sisters’ scrutiny of her dream that was not yet a clear plan, which was why she hadn’t said anything to anyone, and the peace and budding sense of rightness and happiness she’d discovered today hard at work had all but evaporated.

As a distraction, it was magic.

“Oh. Oh yes!” Chloe’s mouth O’ed like she was singing an aria. “Guess what? I’m engaged. Rustin asked me to marry him. I said yes—as if there could be any doubt. We’re getting married this summer,” Chloe sang out.

Jessica caught her breath. It was soon. Way too soon, wasn’t it? But from the shimmer in Chloe’s eyes, the hop in her step and the happy glow on her face, her baby sis didn’t think so.

If Jessica thought Sarah or Meghan would be stunned to silence like they’d been with her news, she would have lost that bet, big time. It was a few minutes of happy hugs, exclamations and questions before she could wrap her head around the news.

“Congratulations,” Jessica said for the third or fourth time. She wanted to ask ‘are you sure?’ though it was obvious Chloe was very, very sure.

“You’re not happy for me?”

“I am,” Jessica insisted. “It’s just so fast. You just started dating in December, and—” She broke off because they weren’t even really dating in the traditional sense of the word, because Chloe worked days as a high school teacher and Rustin worked nights as head chef at his restaurant—the Wild Side—that was already a highly reviewed success and destination restaurant. The couple’s time together was mostly Chloe perched on her own bar seating at the chef’s table that overlooked the kitchen, grading papers and chatting with Rustin, the kitchen staff and guests most evenings after she taught her private voice students or conducted choir practice.

“When you know you know, and Rustin’s always been mine. He just didn’t know it until I found the magic book.”

“It’s not magic.” Sarah laughed.

“Felt like,” Chloe said, waving her hands around. “I cooked him a meal exactly like the book said while he watched and instructed in a safe zone.” She laughed as her kitchen disasters were legendary. “And voilà. He was crazy about me. Magic. He’s my magic. Has been since I was a kid.”

“That’s true. You followed him like a puppy,” Sarah remembered. “No ring?”

“I want Rustin to focus on pouring all of his money back into the restaurant, and he’s reworking one of the upstairs apartments so there’s room for a music studio for me. Isn’t he amazing?”

“I think the speed is dizzying but romantic,” Sarah said hugging Chloe for about the tenth time. “You never know how long you have, and love should be embraced.”

All of them sobered, remembering that Sarah had had less than two years with her husband before he’d been killed in a horrific skiing accident with friends.

Chloe launched herself against Sarah, who staggered, laughed and hugged Chloe back. “You’ll have many years of bliss, Chloe. I feel it in my soul and my bones.”

“We will get rings, but I don’t want a diamond that pokes up. You know me. I’ll take out someone’s eye. Instead we are getting matching platinum bands engraved with those little sparkle stars, like you see in graphics, and then on the inside of the bands, we’re engraving My Southern Love Spell on the inside. So romantic,” Chloe trilled. “Rustin says I’m magic. Can you believe it?”

Jessica couldn’t imagine Rustin saying something so vulnerable, and she kept her mouth shut, not wanting to question Chloe’s joy. What did she know about love anyway? She’d thought she’d felt it twice, but she’d been young and had run, and not been polite about her escape.

“The engraving’s a shout-out to the Southern Love Spells book because Rustin first joked that I put a spell on him.” Chloe stated the obvious.

She clapped her palms together and bounced on her toes. “But he cast a spell on me when he was born. Soul mates. Oh, I want to borrow the book, Jessica. Rustin wants to make a digital copy, and I have an idea for the Wild Side and a history project for my students.”

“Ahhhhh,” Jessica drawled out, feeling like she’d been doused in ice water. She’d called Trina this afternoon but the book hadn’t shown up in any of the donations, and when Trina had asked Grandma Millie about it, she’d been vague and had seemed ‘confused.’

Great. Now Grandma Millie knew she’d passed on what might be, but probably wasn’t, a family heirloom—and right when Jessica had to have a serious discussion and a big ask about the future.

“Ahhhh,” she stalled again. “Let me think about where I…”

“Oh, there it is.” Chloe opened the French doors to the porch that had been converted into a sunroom a few years ago. “That’s a weird place to put it,” she said and walked back in cradling the book like it was a baby. “Were you watching a sunset and looking through recipes so you could cast your magic spell on Storm?”

Jessica stared at the book in Chloe’s arms. The way the title Southern Love Spells caught the light, it looked like it glowed a little, though it wasn’t etched in gold leaf. She could barely speak. How in the world had the book reappeared? Could Grandma Millie have found the book and thought to tease her by returning it? Jessica had been outside all day, but not always in sight of the house. But she’d come back to pee a few times and she didn’t remember seeing the book.

But would she have noticed it?

“Huh, Jessie?” Chloe grinned at her.

“Definitely not. Let’s eat.”

“Good. I’m starved.” Chloe plunked down and opened the book.

Jessica didn’t want to sit near the book, so she poured a pitcher of distilled water for her sisters and brought it to the table along with the glasses.

Meghan dished out the tajine and Sarah served, adding the mint-honey yogurt and warmed pita bread that Rustin had also provided.

“I’m thinking about a party—like an engagement party or bridal shower or whatever in May. I was going to ask Grandma Millie if we could hold it in her garden. I know how to host a party now,” Chloe said proudly, referring to her chairing last year’s Holiday Movable Feast.

“We’ll host your bridal shower, Clo.” Meghan laughed. “It’s our sister duty.”

“I’ll host it,” Jessica butted in, suddenly seeing an opportunity to both make amends for her doubts about Rustin as well as keep her motivation revving to rehab the garden. If she worked hard enough, perhaps it could even be a publicity preview. She’d have to work all out through May to have a hope of being ready, but never again would she let Chloe down. Not ever.

“I’ll host it here. It will be my new business’s first event.”

“You’re going to host events—be an event space?” Sarah asked oh so politely.

“Ummmm…” In some of her late-night dreaming and scheming she’d pictured her nursery and garden being a destination—not a tourist attraction exactly, but…

What?

She could see the questions forming in Sarah and Meghan’s eyes while Chloe looked at her like she was the answer to everything, just like she had as a kid.

Don’t ruin this, she thought hard at her sisters. Don’t ruin Chloe’s moment like I almost did with my doubts and questions.

“It’s a lot of work, Jess,” Chloe said. “But I can help on the weekends, and some evenings when the days get light or maybe—” She snapped her fingers. “Storm can install party lights. That will be great for when you do have events. He can also trick out the barn. He’s a landscape architect by training.” Chloe’s eyes sparkled as she made the connection. “He’s been doing construction forever to pay for school and his bills, but we can hire him.”

“We!” Jessica, about to take a bit of tajine, spilled it on the table. Her spoon clattered down noisily, spreading the mess.

“Yes we,” Sarah said. “We are your sisters, Chloe, so we’ll help with your party, and same, Jessica. If this is your dream we will support you.”

It was spoken in her big-sister boss voice.

“You’re going to need help,” Sarah said thoughtfully. “Professional help.”

“You think I’m crazy and need a shrink?” Jessica tried to joke.

Sarah smiled. “No. But you will need a crew to help with the garden to get it prepared for a party.”

“I’ve got time and skills. I want the nursery to reflect me and what I want. No one else. It’s my passion project. My Jessica 2.0.”

“I liked Jessica 1.0,” Chloe said loyally. “But if a nursery is your dream, I’m all in. Hey, maybe I can be your second employee after Storm. I can work on the weekends.”

“Storm…Brent Stevens is not going to be my employee,” Jessica said firmly. Especially if he had expertise in landscape design. “I already went into a major and career I didn’t want because Daddy pushed and pushed. I want my nursery to be my vision. Me, all me.”

They stared at her, quiet, clearly trying to couch their thoughts in words that wouldn’t hurt her feelings, and Jessica realized how childish she sounded. Defensive.

“I will welcome your help,” she said softly. “But I don’t want to hire a landscape architect. I want this to feel like mine.”

“It will be yours, sweetie.” Sarah covered her hand while Meghan wiped up the mess of the tajine since Jessica hadn’t yet done it. “But there’s a lot of work, heavy lifting, hardscape that one person can’t do on their own. But it will be your vision. You will tell Brent and his crew what to do.”

Now it was Brent and a crew. That sounded invasive and expensive.

“I need to have time and space to have my vision,” she defended herself. “I want a clean slate before I start my design.”

“I was just out there, and even in the dark it’s a disaster,” Meghan said, voice ringing with authority. “You definitely need Brent, especially if he has skills and a crew. He’s local. Likely hungry since he just recently returned to town to help his grandparents. I met with them pro bono as a favor to Grandma Millie and…” Meghan’s mouth snapped shut, and Jessica could hear the unspoken ‘attorney client privilege.’

“Brent’s a great idea. Even with a crew and us, it’s a heavy lift,” Meghan finished.

“We can do it,” Chloe said, leafing through the book. “Hey, we should cook the party food. Each choose a couple of recipes since it’s going to be a casual party, and I want Rustin and his crew to enjoy themselves, not work.”

“I can hire a caterer,” Jessica said firmly, trying not to think about that expense. “But not Storm. I mean Brent.”

“Storm suits him better,” Chloe said. “You should see him work. He just comes in, takes over and powers through. It’s awesome to see him and Rustin and Lucas in full sweaty, swinging-heavy-tools mode. A whole store of eye candy. I could sell tickets.”

That was what Jessica didn’t want—Storm taking over. She’d had enough of that in high school in every committee and student council government position she’d ever held.

My garden. My rules.

“I don’t need Storm…I mean Brent and his big ideas. This is my business, and I won’t be pushed into someone else’s vision for my life and my work. And I’m not risking cooking with that book.”

“You must have been looking for recipes over your morning or afternoon tea break,” Chloe said.

“I wasn’t. It just appeared out there.”

“Yeah, with all its feet.” Chloe laughed. “The book has chosen you. Maybe you’re supposed to cook something for Storm.”

“Absolutely not,” Jessica yipped. “Unless it has hemlock.”

“Be nice,” Chloe admonished, then she paused. “You don’t really believe the teasing, do you?” Chloe asked. “You’ve never seemed superstitious before—except about black cats and salt over your shoulders and you knock on wood, cross yourself and your fingers when you fib.”

“We should talk about the book,” Meghan said casually.

No we really shouldn’t.

“Definitely take it with you tonight, Chloe. Rustin can have it forever.”

“You are superstitious,” Chloe marveled. “And the book has chosen you. Rustin only needs it for tonight or a day or two.” She stuck out her tongue playfully. “I have my happy ever after. The book has decreed. It’s your turn.”