The Kiss Lottery

Chapter 4 Everly

Chapter 4

Everly

I cross the street to the courthouse and halt at the sight of the large gazebo over a wooden stage. Clearly it’s been decorated recently. It’s draped in twinkling fairy lights, with cascading garlands of red and pink roses trailing down the frame. I smirk at the over-the-top nature of everything. They really went all out this year.

Moving on, I find a row of shops and push open the glass door of Bloom Boutique. I spot a redhead on a ladder adjusting a display at the back of the store.

“Welcome, y’all,” she calls out, her voice dripping with Tennessee twang. “Feel free to look around. We have more sizes in the back.”

I clear my throat, waiting for her to turn around and see me.

Before she does, a wiry man with blue spiky hair walks out of the back, wearing a white mesh shirt and leather pants. He drops the box he’s holding, puts both hands to his face, and exclaims, “Satan better grab his sweater because Everly Jean Davis is back in town. Girl, you better get over here and give old Fritz a hug that counts. I’ve missed your ass!”

Tabby whirls around. “Everly Jean! Is that you? I swear I was ’bout to send out a search party! You think you can dodge me? Think again!”

I’m laughing as I dive into Fritz’s waiting arms, the world righting itself a little from the chaos of Beckett. Wearing dressy black slacks and a stylish silk shirt, Tabby comes down the ladder, nearly tumbling in her haste to join our group hug.

We jump up and down and laugh. It’s only been a few months since I saw them in Manhattan, but I always miss them.

As we pull apart, Fritz wrinkles his nose. “I smell french fries. You’ve been to Hank’s before coming here? Traitor.”

I shrug. “Hey now. I called you both as soon as I hit town but got your voicemails. Figured you were busy with customers.”

“We were, but you come first.” He leads me deep into the boutique, where the cozy couches are.

The place is filled with dresses on mannequins, and I do a quick twirl as I take it all in, then plop down. “This place is awesome! It’s everything you told me!”

“It’s about time you saw it. Hey, we need to celebrate with style and a bit of scandal, as per usual,” Fritz says as he flits around. “Let me grab the champagne. We keep it around for the wedding parties, and I bet my girl is thirsty.”

“Yes!” I say.

Tabby scoots closer, enveloping me in another bear hug that squeezes the breath from my lungs. She has a tiny waist, a full bosom, and big Southern hair. She has also been my bestie since kindergarten. “I just can’t believe you’re here—even if it’s just for work!”

I exhale a wistful sigh. Fritz and Tabby come to see me twice a year for buying trips, but it’s not nearly enough.

Fritz returns with champagne and glasses. “All right, ladies, let’s do this reunion right and talk about all the drama in town.”

He does a shimmy, then pops the cork and pours the champagne.

“I’ll go first. First bit of news is, I’m joining the lottery,” I call out, and they both squeal in excitement. I originally told them that I would never do it.

But all it took was Beckett to change my mind.

“I’ve done it every year since we graduated,” Tabby says. “Half the guys I only dated once, and half I screwed a couple times.” She gives me a nudge. “You’re single anyway. How are you holding up after the Damon breakup?”

The mention of his name stings. We were together for a year. Initially, I was skeptical of his suits and slicked-back hair—but beneath that he was warm and funny.

I swirl my champagne, watching the bubbles rise. “His parents didn’t think I was suitable. Last I heard, he’s off to meet a society girl his parents chose.”

Tabby clears her throat. “Well, there are plenty of guys in Rose. And guess what? Fritz here is practically running the lottery.” She performs a playful drumroll on her lap before pointing dramatically at him. “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the new president of the Rose Historical Society. And he’s on the committee for the lottery. They must have lost their little minds!” She cackles.

I punch Fritz’s shoulder. “That’s amazing! Rose has really come a long way electing a gay man.”

Fritz puffs up with pride as he stands bowlegged like a cowboy and hitches at his pants. “That’s right, ladies. There’s a new sheriff in town, and yes, he rides a fabulous pink pony. Gladys Benedict said a gay man would take over from her ‘over her dead body.’ Well, I won the election, and she passed away a month later.” He puts a hand over his chest. “I swear, I had nothing to do with her heart attack.”

Tabby smirks. “She was ninety-two, Fritzy. I think you’re safe.”

Before I can reply, the boutique door swings open, and in comes a woman. She seems to be in her sixties. Her hair is blond, with beads woven in, and she’s wearing a caftan-style dress that flows around her legs. Gold and silver rings decorate every finger. Bracelets jingle around her wrists.

Her eyes are distant as she begins to talk animatedly to no one in particular. “Yes, I’ll do what I can. Uh-huh, I’ll ask. The answers I find will be shared. Just be at rest,” she says, then turns to us.

“Hey, y’all,” she says in a Southern accent. “I was just popping in to meet Everly. You guys are always talking about her.”

Tabby gestures between us. “Everly, meet Summer Moon. Summer, meet Everly.”

She grasps my hand, and we shake.

“Summer is from Nashville and opened the place next door,” Fritz tells me. “She does tarot readings.”

“Who were you talking to just now?” I ask, noticing she doesn’t have a phone in her hand. Plus, I’m naturally curious about people in general.

She blinks. “Oh, that. I was speaking with a young lady. She had questions about the man she matched with in the lottery. She wanted to know if he was happy after everything.”

Fritz frowns. “What’s her name?”

“Lily, and she was matched with Quincy Seaton. She said she had to leave him unexpectedly and she needed to know if he lived a good life after she was gone,” she replies.

“I know everyone in town, and I don’t recall them being in the lottery in the past few years,” Fritz says.

She nods. “That’s not surprising. She called to me from the mist.”

I stare at her, intrigued. The mist?

It reminds me of when I camped at the base of the Carpathian Mountains in Transylvania. The fog there would roll down from the peaks at night, and the locals claimed it was the spirits of the dead who were bound to the land by centuries of blood.

Naturally, I pitched my tent right on the edge of the forest to do a podcast.

“Fascinating,” I say under my breath.

Tabby makes a cross with her fingers. “Wait, I don’t need a poltergeist here. Do we need to call in a priest? I’m not Catholic, but I can convert.”

“She isn’t scary, just lost in the in-between, the mist, the veil—whatever you want to call it,” Summer says.

“Who exactly is this Lily?” I ask.

“I don’t know her last name, but she was a girl from Memphis, a nurse, who came to Rose to visit her cousin for Christmas in 1878, then stayed through Valentine’s Day,” Summer says.

“I see. Well, as long as she doesn’t start moving the dresses around or making the lights blink on and off, we’re fine,” Fritz says.

“Yeah,” Tabby agrees with a nod. “If I see any crazy shit, I’m out of here.”

Summer shakes her head. “She’s not malicious. The story is, her cousin entered her name in the lottery, and she was matched with Quincy Seaton. They fell in love and planned to get married, but then the yellow fever epidemic hit Memphis. Thousands were dying every day. She felt a duty to return home to help her parents at the clinic where they worked. She packed up and left in the night, knowing that Quincy would try to change her mind if she told him.”

“So she ghosted him?” Fritz says with a smirk. “See what I did there?”

“Funny,” I murmur.

Summer grimaces. “Sadly, she died from the fever. Now she wanders between Memphis and Rose during February, calling out to see if Quincy found happiness.”

Goose bumps dance up my arm.

“I can look up Quincy,” Fritz murmurs. “Rose is light on records for that period because of a fire at the courthouse, but if he was married or died in town, I might find something.”

“Thanks. If you find anything, I’ll pass it to her.” With a final wave, she walks out the door, leaving us in silence.

I huff. “Wow. This town has gotten weird, but in a good way. Besides covering the lottery, I can check this Lily thing out for the podcast.”

Fritz claps his hands. “I’m so stoked that you’re entering.”

I smile, but nerves hit. What if I do get matched with Beckett? Or Carson. Or anyone from the town that despises me.

“Let me pick out the dress,” Fritz says. “I have a red leather mini.” He darts to the back and returns with a gorgeous strapless dress and shakes it in front of me. “Huh? Likey?”

“Style me all you want,” I say as I pull my purse closer and tug out the invitation and show them, explaining how it came to my apartment in Manhattan.

“Never in the history of the town have we sent invitations,” Fritz says as he plucks it from my hand and flips it over thoughtfully.

Tabby cocks her head. “But who would send it? A secret admirer?”

I shrug.

“Beckett maybe,” Fritz murmurs. “Yes, he put you in his little murder book, but that means he’s got serious feelings about you.”

I explain to them what happened in the diner. “Like maybe he wants to murder me for real now.”

Tabby sighs. “Maybe Carson. It could be his way of reconnecting.”

“It’s been ten years. I think he’s moved on,” I say, taking a sip of champagne. “Didn’t he get married to his college sweetheart?”

“Divorced now,” Tabby tells me, and I nod, my mind churning.

Fritz gives me a little poke with his elbow. “Still. You’re the stuff of legend in Rose, good and bad. People may have been upset about the basketball game, but who really cares now? Besides Beckett, you might be the most famous person in town, with your podcast.”

We talk about my recent trip to Sweden. Then Tabby asks how my Christmas went, and I tell her how pretty Manhattan is during the holidays, skipping over how lonesome I was.

Maybe everyone feels a little empty during Christmas once they grow up. I’m not sure.

I think back to the Christmases spent with my mom. She couldn’t make corn bread dressing or roast a decent turkey, but her mac and cheese casserole? To die for. She never liked store-bought gifts either. Instead, she taught me how to knit, sew, and do pottery, insisting we make our own presents. I used to joke that in a past life she must’ve been an artist.

My throat tightens. I have a passion for travel because Rose felt small growing up, but deep down, I’ve always just wanted to belong.

Tabby leans in. “Back to Rose, are you feeling weird about being here?”

I manage a pretend smile, hoping she isn’t worried about me, but the truth is, it still hurts to recall my senior year.

Rumors flew through the halls for weeks after my diary was posted.

Classmates avoided me. Carson went on to date every pretty girl in school. The cheerleaders disowned me, with Abigail as their leader.

The worst was the silence from Beckett. He’d sail past me without even a flinch.

Even the teachers treated me differently. The principal called me in to express disappointment in my handling of “personal affairs.” And the basketball coach, Mr. Saunders, terrified me with his pointed glares.

Carson and Beckett got over it and stayed friends. I was a blip they quickly patched up.

Tabby snatches the invitation from Fritz, bringing me back to the present. “Maybe it was Lily who sent it,” she says in a whispery voice, and I giggle.

Fritz lifts his glass. “Honey, in this town, anything’s possible.”