Chapter 2 #2
“Hey, Bodice,” I say softly. “We’ve met many times over the years, of course, but I’m so proud to be in partnership with you going forward.”
Silence.
I frown.
The Buxom Bodice has always been such a friendly building, greeting me warmly every time I’ve entered, and I’ve lived in Pine Gulch my entire life.
This silence seems almost hostile. But then I consider how the woman who literally started this business sold it and left, and I don’t know how the building might be feeling.
Left behind, perhaps. Of course, if Rebekah didn’t have a brand new grandbaby I’m sure she’d never have left PG.
Sometimes plans change depending on what life throws at you.
Walking to the nearest wall, I rest my hand on the wooden planks. They shudder beneath my fingertips, and my magic sparks again.
She’s unhappy. Deeply unhappy. But that’s not a thing I can fix with my black magic like I can other building ailments—termites, foundation issues, stuff like that. This is emotional, and that’s as complicated for haven buildings as it is for humans and monsters.
The heart is a prickly, noncompliant patient on the best of days.
I’m about to attempt reassuring her when the door swings open again, and my three brothers burst through with hoots and hollers.
Jasper and Jack raise the roof as they come in like twin bulldozers—black hair, green eyes, that same olive skin we all got from our mother, Elena.
Jace comes in quietly behind them, as observant as ever with his arms crossed.
His upturned nose is covered in freckles, his hair a paler shade of brown like mine.
Well, when I don’t use my magic to recolor it to royal blue, my favorite color in the literal entire world.
“So?!” Jasper yanks me to his chest for a hug. “You did it? The Bodice is yours?!”
“Mmph, yeah…” I manage with my face smashed into his broad, muscular chest. My older twin brothers stand two heads taller than me. Even for humans, they’re big. But Jace? Jace is normal-sized like me—he barely breaks six feet.
When the building lets out a series of angry squeaks, all three brothers look up and around.
Jack turns to me with a surprised look. “Okayyyy then. Was gonna say congrats to you both, but it seems like maybe I should just say, ‘Hey, girls, it’s gonna be fine’?”
The Bodice falls into silence, and I shrug. “Big changes for everyone. I walked in the door sixty seconds ago.”
“You mean fell through,” Jack says with a playful wink. “We were across the street watching.”
I resist the urge to slap any brother I can reach. Jace rolls his eyes at the older two but then smirks at me.
When I’m released from the prison of my brother’s overexuberant embrace, I pull back and smile wryly. “Aren’t you three supposed to be at the Rhubarb Ranch right now? You had an appointment and—”
“Don’t worry,” Jace says softly, smiling. “They’re running behind from grabbing stuff at the Feed Shop. We figured we had enough time to come congratulate you two.” He looks up and around the quiet ceiling of the Bodice. “So…umm, congratulations?”
Nobody says anything, and the building doesn’t respond to his polite comment.
I spin Jasper and shove him toward the door. “Okay, you guys, get going. You’ve got a full afternoon of appointments, and if you leave one late, the whole day will be fucked.”
“We knowwwww,” Jack says in an exasperated tone. “We’re not noobs, Bluebell. Tucker Greens won’t fall apart if we’re half an hour late.”
It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “And yet if I don’t keep you three on schedule, everything goes tits up, and I have to make a bunch of apology phone calls.”
“We’ll do better,” promises Jace.
The twins snort but don’t agree. They know they won’t do better.
If I didn’t tell them where to go, I honestly don’t know what they’d do with themselves all day.
Thank gods Tucker Greens is the only company of green witches in Pine Gulch, meaning we’ve got a bit of a monopoly on green magic jobs.
Being a farming and ranching community, there’s always a need for green witches to grow and support farmers’ crops and land.
When the twins leave first, Jace pulls me in for a quiet, gentle hug. “Proud of you,” he whispers against the side of my head. “It’s all gonna work out in the end, sis, you’ll see.”
“I know,” I say brightly, squeezing him hard. “Love you.”
“Love you too,” he says in that quiet, thoughtful tone I love so much. Jack and Jasper are loud and brash. Jace is so understated, and I love that about him. But when the wit comes out, it’s darkly sarcastic. I can’t get enough of him.
“Git,” I say after a few long huggy moments. “You promised not to be late.”
He follows the other knuckleheads out, and I step to the door’s single round window to watch them. Jack and Jasper hop into the truck like the dudes they are, and Jace slips gracefully into the back seat on his preferred side. I sigh as they motor up Main Street toward the edge of town.
Slipping a hand into my back pocket, I retrieve my daily to-do list and my pocket calendar. It’s got my entire family’s schedule for the day plus mine.
While I signed the purchase paperwork today, I actually don’t have time to hang with the Bodice until I officially move into one of the upstairs apartments this weekend.
I open the front door and step out, locking the place up behind me.
Detaching a red sheet of paper from my to-do list, I tape it up on the front window.
It’s a Closed sign, letting folks know we won’t be open until next week while I get everything up and running and figure out the register, et cetera.
Patting the door one final time, I force a smile up at the beautiful building. “We’re gonna be fine, honey, I promise, okay?”
Silence.
I wasn’t expecting the vibe to be different now that I own the building, but that’s a problem for another day, unfortunately.
But as a black witch with the power to heal buildings and many monster and animal ailments, I’m certain I’ll figure it out.
My power is unique in my family and unique in Pine Gulch—black magic work keeps me plenty busy.
Heading left along Main Street, I pass Whiskey Business, the alleyway to the hidden pumpkin garden and then the Welcome Inn.
After that, I dip into the post office to check for the first shipments of items I’ve ordered for the Bodice.
My hope is to expand into more home and ranch decor and some fancier clothing like Lemon’s partial to.
Now that I’ve seen her sparkly pink cowboy boots—despite how impractical they are—I kinda want some blue ones.
Or black and gold to wear to the Punishers skyball games.
That would totally rock.
Behind the post office’s rustic wooden counter, a giant minotaur male smiles at me as he leans onto his beefy forearms. “Bluebell Tucker, just the woman I need to see. You got a few packages back here, girly. And the rest of the Tucker clan is taking up my back storage room. Those brothers of yours got a shopping habit lately, it seems.”
I chuckle at that. “They’re prepping for the spring harvest season, so yeah, Tucker Ranch could be its own post office right now. You should see the dining table. Covered in seed starting trays and packets of seeds and invoices.”
He snorts, his nose ring jiggling as he jerks his head toward a tall stack of packages at his back. “You bring a party wagon to haul these? ‘Cause this is more than you can do with those tiny lil’ human hands.” He waggles fuzzy brown brows at me.
Groaning, I eye the stack. “Party wagon’s in my truck. Let me grab it, and I’ll be right back.”
He nods, so I turn and head out the door and back up Main.
I wasn’t expecting my brothers to have gone that crazy with the ordering, but if I leave it up to them, the packages will sit at the post for ages.
At least half are probably plants or seeds, so it would be best to get them into the greenhouse behind our parents’ place.
Many of the local ranches rely on us to get their annual plantings started—we can’t risk fucking it up.
Opening my truck’s bed, I pull out the foldable wagon I resort to when the Tuckers get real crazy with their credit cards. Sighing, I unfold it then head back to the post office.
“Bluebell Tucker, I gotta talk to you.”
I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment before I turn to face Bishop Rygold, the big grumpy sheriff. When I do, he’s got both hands on his hips, wearing his usual glare. It highlights the scar that bisects one side of his face. An old war wound.
Plastering a smile on, I wave. “Hey, Sheriff Rygold. What can I do you for?”
He shakes his head, lashing his big tail at his back. “The pixie twins are throwin’ a fit and callin’ me every two seconds about the changes y’all made to the Mead Cute shindig this year and I am plum wore out over it.”
I cross my arms. “The changes were needed, Bishop, and I’m not gonna ask the committee to meet again just to make things the way they used to be. We’re…modernizin’. Or something.”
He spreads his big purple wings wide. “Tell ‘em to stop callin’ me about it.”
“You’re the sheriff!” I say as a belly laugh bursts from me. “Tell ‘em I’m not breaking a single law. I’m literally doing my volunteer job and it’s not my fault they’re outnumbered so they didn’t get their way when we voted on the changes. It’s a democracy, as you know.”
“Don’t know and don’t care,” he snips, lifting lightly off the ground. Hovering like he is, it’s easy to see a smattering of pinprick holes in his left wing. Poor guy.
I do believe a change of subject is in order, so I smirk at him. “A little birdie told me you were thinkin’ about getting one of those mail order mates. That true?”
He rolls his eyes and lifts up higher. “Somebody or somebodies needs to leave my nonexistent love life alone. Goodbye, Bluebell.”
“Bye now,” I say softly as he shoots up into the clouds and disappears from view.
Back inside the post office, Luther helps me load the party wagon, and it takes three trips to get everything into my truck. As we place the final few boxes, a smaller one tumbles to the dirt road. Luther bends to pick it up, handing it to me with a wry smile.
“You got a boyfriend I don’t know about, Bluebell? This looks adorable.”
I take the box, look at the return label, then smile. “Just a friend,” I assure Luther. Although that doesn’t feel quite right. Never has.
He snorts again. “If you say so, Tucker.”
“I do.” I tuck the box into my pocket and thank him for his help.
Once he goes, I hop in the front seat and withdraw the box.
It’s from a fancy little jeweler at the headquarters monster haven, Hearth HQ.
Opening it, I grin at finding a delicate golden link necklace inside.
Each link is a western emblem like a cowboy boot or lasso or sheriff’s badge.
But they’re so small that from afar they just look like miniature ovals.
Picking it carefully up out of the box, I admire how stunning it is.
A folded slip of paper pops up, and I smile at that too.
Opening the note, my smile grows bigger.
Happy Birthday, Blue. I know you’d never buy this for yourself, so it was my sworn duty to fulfill that need for you, per our arrangement.
-Hay
My smile is so big, it practically hurts.
Hadrian gives the best gifts. He must have bought this while on the road with the team.
Perks of being the team’s newest player and a general all-star to boot.
I love how he always sends my gifts so I get fun stuff in the mail.
He could have just given this to me last night, but he’s been mailing gifts to me for like, ten years at this point.
My birthday’s not for a few weeks, but he’s always early with the presents.
Per our arrangement.
I chuckle thinking about the marriage promise we made to one another when I was at the ripe age of nine.
Sighing, I put the truck into gear just as the blue-banded watch around my wrist pings, my father’s name hovering above it.
Lord knows what he needs, but it’s bound to be something ridiculous.
Bill Tucker can’t find the salt on a shelf in front of his face.
His talents lie elsewhere—namely finding and negotiating the purchase of our real estate empire—but even though I’m the baby, I’m blessed with that first daughter energy, for better or worse.
Directing the watch to answer him, I pull into the street and head for home.
“Bluebell Delia, where y’at, girl?” My father’s rough, tinny voice echoes through the leather surface.
“Downtown.”
“Listen. I’m puttin’ in an offer on a little cottage out by 234. I need you to come take a look, tell me if anything’s wrong with it before I finalize my number. You got a minute? I could use your magic, girl.”
A minute means an hour, and I really don’t. But instead, I grit my teeth and agree to meet him there. I blame him and my mother for passing along the monstrepreneurial instinct.
And gods know, when the Tuckers smell money and opportunity, we jump.