Chapter 4
Lucy
“Drumroll, please.” I made a sound that bore a vague resemblance to a drum, and Felix gave me an unimpressed stare from his spot on my sewing chair.
“Hey, it’s my birthday. You have to be nice to me.” I scowled, but he just swished his tail. Whatever goodwill I’d gained from sharing this morning’s cardamom bun apparently hadn’t lasted to this afternoon.
“Okay, fine. You can save your enthusiasm for the big reveal.” I reached into my large tote bag.
“Ta-da!” I held up the outfit I’d sewn for him—a collared shirt with a strawberry print and matching hat and bow tie.
“Now, I know you have a thing about the color red,” I said, fending off his meows of protest, “but I promise it’s all in your head.
You look great in red, and I really wanted to make a dress with this pattern and you need an outfit to match.
Plus, it’s my birthday, so I should get my way. ”
Felix flopped to his side in a move I interpreted as resigned acceptance, and I beamed. “Thanks, Mr. Mayor. You won’t regret it, and your fans will love it.”
I got him dressed before hurrying into the back room and putting on my matching strawberry dress. I’d lain down for a quick nap after brunch and ended up sleeping way longer than I’d planned. I had to move fast to get to my moms’ in time for my birthday dinner.
I drummed my fingers against my lips. “Where should we take pictures? It’s too early in the season for the strawberry patch, but we could see if there are wildflowers in the field by the lighthouse?”
Felix meowed in approval.
“Great!” I grabbed my tripod and a basket, which Felix promptly jumped inside. I let out a grunt of surprise. Maybe James had a point—he was a bit of a chonk, but I didn’t mind. It would help me build up my arm muscles.
I slipped out the back of my shop, walking down the alley that ran parallel to Main Street. No one knew about my secret social media project, and I wanted to keep it that way.
I peered around the corner as we got to the mouth of the alley.
The nosy people in this town liked to appear out of thin air at the most inopportune times, but the coast was clear for now.
I adjusted the basket and scurried down the dirt path to the lighthouse.
When it came into view, bright white in the sunshine, I veered to the right into the large, overgrown field.
Felix jumped out of the basket and strutted ahead, confidently leading me.
I skipped after him, my mood lifting with every step.
It was our first warm day after a pretty brutal winter, and I was reveling in the warm sun kissing my skin and in doing one of my favorite things in the world.
My social media account was a space just for me—where I could be playful and creative.
I let out a whoop when we came upon a large patch of blue wildflowers.
“Good job!” I picked Felix up under his arms and spun him in a circle. “You did amazing. And they even match my middle name.”
My moms had been going through a bit of a hippie phase when they chose Bluebell for my middle name after the Swedish national flower.
Two of my moms were Swedish—Isla, my biological mom who I called Lala, and Frida, my mamma.
They insisted they wanted to give me a middle name that honored my heritage, but my other two moms—Jojo and my mom, Harper—admitted to me that alcohol may have influenced the selection of my middle name.
I spent a few minutes styling the basket with the props I brought—fresh strawberries, strawberry lemonade, and a pink quilt. I set my phone up on a tripod.
“Okay, I think we’re ready. Do you want to sit in the basket?” I asked Felix.
He sniffed the props, gently picked up a strawberry, and held it in his mouth as he hopped into the basket. I squealed with excitement and joined him on the quilt. “Thank you for embracing the theme.” I scratched his ears and he leaned into my touch.
I clicked my remote to take a series of pictures of the two of us.
I’d never appeared in any of the photos I posted on Felix’s account, but my birthday felt like a good exception.
My secret account had grown faster than I’d ever expected—we were closing in on half a million followers.
People loved Felix and all his outfits, but I still couldn’t silence the voice in the back of my mind that said it was a frivolous, useless way to spend my time.
Old voices echoed through my head—my school teachers, who told me I needed to be more serious and apply myself, and my exes, who had slowly cut me down until I didn’t know how to trust myself anymore.
It was easier to just not tell anyone, then I could avoid their judgment.
I flipped through my camera roll and took a few more pictures of just Felix with the setup—the strawberry still held in his mouth.
“Okay, I think that’s it!”
He released the strawberry and smacked his lips with a disgusted expression. I pulled a bag of cat treats from my tote—homemade by Summer because our little mayor had a refined palate—and gave him a handful.
While he munched happily, I lay on the blanket and looked through the photos, favoriting the ones I wanted to edit.
“People are going to be obsessed with these. See how good you look in red!”
Felix peered at my phone screen, but his expression remained unchanged.
“You know I’m right,” I huffed.
Felix flopped over my chest, his body acting like my own personal weighted blanket.
“The next big holiday is Easter. We still have time, but I haven’t had any sparks of inspiration yet for outfits.”
Stanley had spent the past few town meetings teasing his new Easter Eggstravaganza plans that would apparently blow us all away—and once and for all settle the rivalry between Starlight Grove and Briar’s Landing.
I closed my eyes, letting the sun warm my skin. “I’ll come up with something good, don’t you worry.” The gentle rustle of the wind and birdsong swirled around me as sleep clung to the edges of my consciousness.
My vibrating phone jolted me back to reality. Shit, I was going to be late.
Lars
Olive is having a hard time this afternoon. She’s going to stay home with Finn and Easton tonight
I sat up, squinting against the sun as I looked over at the lighthouse cottage. Olive had seemed totally fine when she dropped me off at home after the birthday breakfast, but she dealt with depression that could come on fast.
Olive
I think Lars just texted you but I’m soooo sorry. I really wanted to be at your birthday dinner but I had a meltdown this afternoon and my guys are making me stay home
Lucy
I’m sorry about the meltdown Can I do anything to help? And don’t worry about it. We got to have our friend celebration this morning anyway!
Olive
You’re sweet but no, I’ll be ok. Promise
I planted a kiss on Felix’s forehead. “Olive’s having a hard time. I think you should go keep her company.”
His chest puffed up. He had moved in with Olive when she first came to Starlight Grove, and they had a special relationship.
He batted a paw at his bow tie.
“Oh come on, Olive will love to see you in your outfit. You should keep it on so you can show her.” My friends might not know about my social media account, but they were very familiar with my hobby of sewing extravagant outfits for our mayor.
He sighed, nuzzled his little face against mine, and trotted off to the lighthouse. I watched him go, a pang in my chest at saying goodbye, but Olive needed him more right now.
I packed up my supplies and headed back to town, my steps heavy as I got back to Main Street. There must be something in the air today. This morning had started off so hopeful, but now I could feel a funk coming on. My too-sensitive heart felt tender.
“Lucy! Feliz cumpleanos, carino!” I jumped as Marisol called out from her spot by the wooden fruit crates outside Mariposa Market. “Are you being properly spoiled today?” She pulled me into a hug and kissed my cheeks.
“I had birthday breakfast with my friends and I’m on my way to my moms’ now.”
“Sounds lovely, and that dress is stunning on you.”
“Lucy! Mi querida, feliz cumple.” Carmen swept out of the market. “Did you hear the news?”
“What’s that?”
“The curse of the Beaufort House strikes again,” Marisol said in an ominous tone.
My stomach lurched at the mention of the home my exes had rented. I’d never been worthy of moving in with them, but I had spent a lot of time at the house since they insisted my apartment was too cramped for all of us. Which might have been true, but the way they said it always made me feel small.
The Beaufort family had lived in the house back in the day—they’d had three sons around my age but had left town when the parents’ relationships fell apart.
That was eleven years ago, and no one had rented the house for longer than a year ever since.
During one particularly tumultuous stretch, there were five renters in the span of four months.
It was at that point that we all decided the house was cursed.
It was one of the many red flags I’d ignored when I started dating my exes. I’d naively thought they would be the ones to break the curse, but they’d only made it ten months in the house before fleeing town in their egged cars.
“What do you mean? What happened to Mr. Smith?” I asked.
“Salvatore told me he delivered a very official letter to the house two days ago and now Mr. Smith is gone. Packed up in the middle of the night and left the key under the turtle statue on the porch.” Marisol was practically glowing. She thrived on being the first person to spread town gossip.
“What was in that letter?”
She leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “Apparently, he was the heir to a Scottish castle.”
“Psh, that’s not what happened.” Carmen selected a plum from the stand and handed it to me. “He got a last-minute job in Australia doing koala chlamydia research.”
My eyebrows shot up. John Smith had only lived in that house for a couple of months and struck me as a rather dull person, but apparently I had judged the Scottish-Heir Koala-Scientist too hastily.
“No, no, no,” Stanley said.
I jumped with a small scream. “Where did you come from?”
The human mayor adjusted the collar on his cream sweater and ignored my question. “Mr. Smith had to flee the country because the IRS was after him for tax evasion, which is further evidence that we need to have much stricter application procedures for anyone who wants to move to town.”
“Eh.” Marisol shrugged. “Our taxes just fund billionaires and genocide. Good for him for taking a stand for social justice.”
Stanley’s face grew red, and experience told me I had approximately three seconds to extract myself from this conversation before I was stuck listening to a long lecture about civic responsibility.
“Look over there! Did someone parallel park incorrectly?” I shouted.
Stanley turned, and Marisol and Carmen smirked as I sprinted away, not slowing until I’d turned the corner.
As I made my way to my moms’, I wondered who would move into the Beaufort House next. Maybe I should enlist Felix to burn it down. It might be the only way to break the curse.