Chapter 13
The Beaumont estate sat at the top of Lantern Hill, set back from the road behind a wrought-iron gate and a long drive lined with live oaks draped in Spanish moss.
It was a sprawling three stories of white clapboard with black shutters on all the windows, tall marble columns across the front, and a deep wraparound porch.
It had looked the same on the outside for as far back as Adeline could remember.
And if she had to guess, the estate probably looked the same back when Adeline’s great-great-great-grandfather had it built about two hundred years ago.
The only things that had been added were the electricity and plumbing.
The Beaumonts didn’t exactly embrace change.
Adeline parked the Beetle Bus in the circular drive, right next to Grandmother Lavinia’s pearl-white Cadillac.
She must have gone into town earlier because usually the car was in the three-car garage.
Either that, or she wanted to remind Adeline what a proper Southern witch should drive around town.
“You could just drive away,” Princess Muffin Top suggested from the passenger seat. “I wouldn’t judge you.”
“Yes, you would.”
“You’re right. I absolutely would. But I’d do it quietly.”
Adeline grabbed her satchel and together she and Princess Muffin Top walked up the front steps.
Before she could knock, the door opened.
Gerald, Grandmother Lavinia’s butler, a vampire who had been with the family long before Adeline started living there, stood in the foyer in his usual dark suit, his expression pleasant and unreadable.
“Miss Adeline,” Gerald said. “A pleasure, as always.”
“Hi, Gerald. How are you?”
“Surviving, Miss Adeline. As one does.”
Princess Muffin Top sailed past both of them into the foyer. “Gerald. Looking dead as ever.”
One side of Gerald’s mouth lifted into a half smile. “And you, Princess Muffin Top. Looking furry as ever.”
The foyer opened into a wide central hall with polished tile floors, a sweeping staircase, and oil paintings of Beaumont ancestors lining the walls. Fresh magnolias sat in a vase on the table in the middle of the foyer. Like it normally was…everything was immaculate. Everything was in its place.
Adeline had grown up in the museum-like house after her parents died.
From the age of ten until she’d moved out at twenty-two, this had been her home.
She knew every room, every creaky floorboard, every hiding spot she’d used when she wanted to avoid her grandmother’s lectures.
The house was beautiful...but it was also suffocating.
Grandmother Lavinia was in the formal sitting room, settled in a high-backed chair with the Sunday edition of the Moonlight Beacon in her hands.
She wore a slate-blue silk blouse and cream trousers, her silver bob perfectly styled, and her reading glasses perched on the end of her nose.
Her grandmother didn’t do casual, even on the weekends.
She looked up when Adeline entered the room and lowered the paper just enough for Adeline to see the front page.
Her own face stared back at her. Handcuffed...and marsh mud on her hands. Chief Wolfe’s hand was on her arm as he led her to his vehicle. The headline read, “BEAUMONT HEIRESS ARRESTED AGAIN. THIRD TIME THIS WEEK.”
Miss Moody may be her friend, but she wasn’t above capitalizing on Adeline’s embarrassments, either. Not that Adeline could blame her. Everyone had to make a living, and she was good at providing Miss Moody with enough fodder to keep her writing front-page stories.
“Technically,” Adeline said, “the headline is wrong. I was only arrested twice.”
Grandmother Lavinia said nothing. She didn’t need to. Her disapproving frown and the paper said it all.
“Did you want to eat now or later, Madam?” Gerald asked from the doorway.
“We’ll eat now, Gerald,” Grandmother Lavinia said in a clipped tone.
They were escorted into the formal dining room...
the one with the twelve-person mahogany table, the crystal chandelier, and the floor-to-ceiling windows draped in ivory silk.
When Adeline was a child, she used to count the chairs.
Twelve chairs for a family that had shrunk to two.
Adeline had just been glad Princess Muffin Top had been allowed in the dining room.
Otherwise, she’d never have survived the silent meals.
Of course, back then, Grandmother Lavinia made Princess Muffin Top sit on the floor.
It wasn’t until Adeline got into high school and became more assertive did she finally speak up and demand Princess Muffin Top sit at the table with them. After all, she was family.
Grandmother Lavinia took her seat at the head, and Adeline took the chair to her right, two chairs down...
the same chair she’d sat in as a grieving ten-year-old with her feet dangling above the floor, too sad to eat.
Grandmother Lavinia had sat at the head of the table for as long as Adeline could remember.
Her grandmother’s husband—a man Adeline had never met—had died just five months after they'd married, and Grandmother Lavinia was two months pregnant with Adeline's father. Instead of keeping her husband’s name, her grandmother had gone back to her Beaumont name after his death and raised her son—Adeline’s father—as a Beaumont.
Princess Muffin Top jumped up onto the chair across from Adeline and sat upright, her tail curled around her hind paws, looking for all the world like an invited dinner guest. Knowing how much it annoyed her grandmother to have her cat at the table brought a small smile to Adeline’s face.
Gerald served the first course the minute their napkins were on their laps.
Seared crab cakes resting on a bed of greens with a tangy remoulade sauce drizzled in a zigzag pattern across the plate.
It had actually been the beautiful display of food when she was a little girl that had captured her attention and let her focus on something other than her grief when she sat at the table.
She’d always known she was a kitchen witch, but it was during her sadness and need for escape that her gift really started to shine.
She often wondered if her ability to effortlessly add emotions into her desserts didn’t have something to do with the fact she was so emotional when she first learned to bake.
Had her parents’ tragedy made her kitchen witch abilities even stronger?
She wasn’t sure, but for some strange reason, she liked to think so.
It almost gave her parents’ death a reason.
Although, she’d take her parents alive any day over being able to create emotional masterpieces in the kitchen.
But her magical ability helped others in need, and that was enough for her.
“This is beautiful, Gerald,” Adeline said.
“Thank you, Miss Adeline.”
Grandmother Lavinia picked up her fork, her lips pinched together in anger. “Three arrests in one week, Adeline. Three. Do you have any idea what that looks like?”
Adeline met Princess Muffin Top’s eyes over the table.
“I’ll tell you what it looks like,” Princess Muffin Top said snippily. “It looks like she cares about something enough to fight for it.”
Grandmother Lavinia scowled. “It looks like a Beaumont can’t control herself.
” Her grandmother sliced into her crab cake, her face still pinched in anger.
“The council has noticed. The whole town has noticed. You are a founding family member whether you like it or not, Adeline, and your behavior reflects on all of us. I can’t imagine your father would be happy with your behavior. ”
Adeline chewed slowly and said nothing. She’d heard this speech before. Dozens of times over her lifetime. Different words, but same intention. She also knew she wasn’t supposed to say anything...just keep her mouth shut and let her grandmother vent. Which is what she did.
Gerald cleared the first course and brought in the second. Adeline perked up a little. This was one of her favorite meals the chef prepared. Chilean sea bass over roasted asparagus and wild rice. The fish was perfect—flaky and buttery and with a crisp sear on top.
“And we have baked tuna for Princess Muffin Top,” Gerald said as he set a plate in front of her cat. “Enjoy.”
Princess Muffin Top went to work on her tuna while Adeline did her best to enjoy her favorite meal. It wasn’t the chef’s fault she had a rolling pit in the bottom of her stomach.
“The sabotage is another matter entirely,” Grandmother Lavinia continued.
“I know you didn’t tamper with that equipment.
You’re many things, Adeline, but you’re not a vandal.
However, the accusations are damaging. They follow you.
And the more you put yourself in the center of that chaos, the easier it is for people to assume the worst.”
Now Adeline did speak up. Not so much for herself, but for the squish-squids. “I can’t stop protesting just because someone else is committing crimes and making it look like I’m involved. That’s not fair to the squish-squids.”
Grandmother Lavinia sighed. “You can exercise judgment. You can choose your battles. You can stop chaining yourself to heavy machinery like a ten-year-old with no responsibilities.”
“I have responsibilities. My bakery. My community. The squish-squids.”
“Taking care of me,” Princess Muffin Top added.
Grandmother Lavinia set down her fork. The sound was barely audible, but it carried the weight of a gavel as far as Adeline was concerned. “You know what I mean, Adeline.”