Chapter Two

Callie Carmichael stood outside her childhood home with a far-too-familiar knot of disappointment in her stomach. The knot could take a flying leap. She knew better, and she’d told herself as much on the drive from the airport, but it hurt all the same. She allowed herself five more seconds of letdown and then squared her shoulders and shook off her family’s absentmindedness.

There was a small chance she didn’t know what she’d find inside the house, but with no sign of life, she felt confident it wouldn’t be her parents and sister with a Welcome Home! We Missed You! banner.

She supposed that after being away for six months, it was easier to forget about her than when she was here in the flesh. Not that they forgot about her on purpose or didn’t love her. They did in their own way. But since Callie was eleven years old and had decided she’d rather sew things than hammer them, she hadn’t fit in with the Carmichael Construction family. And after her serious horseback-riding accident, and her parents’ divorce-remarriage-divorce-conscious-uncoupling—or whatever they were calling it now—it only got worse.

Both sides were to blame. Her, for being extra cautious and wary, and them for not even trying to inch her beyond her comfort zone. Mostly because dear old Mom and Dad were too busy trying to figure out their own lives.

In the last group text they’d shared, she told them she’d be home on October tenth. They’d responded they couldn’t wait and even included happy face emojis. Maybe they were trying to fake her out and think they weren’t at home, when in reality they were combining her return home with her birthday last week and waiting inside to yell, “Surprise!”

She rolled her ginormous suitcase behind her and walked toward the front door. She’d missed the smell of pine and damp grass, the tree-lined street, and the cottage-style homes. With daylight giving way to night, she hurried her steps.

She used her key to open the front door.

Silence and darkness greeted her.

So did a house in the middle of obvious construction. Plastic covered the furniture in the living room. The wall that had once separated the kitchen from the family room had disappeared, and the kitchen looked completely gutted. Tools and small machinery were pushed into the corners. Loose nails littered the floor.

“Hello?” she called out, the one word echoing around the room as she made her way further inside the house.

The bathrooms and upstairs rooms were similar works-in-progress, the carpeting completely ripped out and everything off the walls. After a moment of panic in her bedroom, she found her sewing machine and fabric bolts tucked safely inside her closet. Her dad had mentioned wanting to remodel, but he hadn’t indicated it happening now. No one had. Once again, keeping her updated had slipped their minds.

Or perhaps it was a not-so-subtle reminder she didn’t live at home anymore. She’d let go of her apartment before her trip and moved her belongings back home for safekeeping, the plan being she’d find a new place upon her return.

Looked like she needed to do that sooner than later now.

Because no way could she stay in the house like this. It wasn’t safe. She breathed slowly in and out. Being displaced for who knew how long wouldn’t impede on her plans for growing her company with an actual storefront and becoming the first Ambassador of Windsong.

She and her suitcase strode back outside—and almost bumped right into their next-door neighbor, Birdy, holding a meat tenderizer raised above her head.

“Oh! It’s you,” Birdy said at the same time Callie lifted her arm in defense and said, “Wait! It’s me!”

Birdy dropped her arm to her side. “I see that now. I thought you might be one of those scotters.”

“I think you mean squatter.”

“That’s it.”

“And since when do you carry a weapon?” Windsong had the designation as one of the safest cities in America, but beyond that, she didn’t want Birdy to hurt herself.

“Since I started watching true crime shows. Now get in here for a hug.”

Callie obliged, comfort settling over her as they embraced.

Pulling back, Birdy studied her with affection. “Darling girl, what are you doing home?” Birdy looked the same as she had the day Callie left for her trip—not a day over her eighty-two years and in a pink tracksuit. Her hair, a glorious shade of gray, was pulled back into its usual chignon, and her dark skin remained almost wrinkle-free. The tiny lines around her eyes and mouth spoke only of a lifetime of smiles.

“My program ended, so here I am. I told Mom and Dad I’d be home today.”

Birdy got that sympathetic look on her face, the one that said she understood miscommunications happened way too often in the Carmichael family. “Come over for something to drink and we’ll get this sorted out.”

Something to drink meant a Death in the Afternoon. (Supposedly Ernest Hemingway created it, not Birdy.) She served a signature cocktail every month—one of the many reasons she was everyone’s favorite neighbor and octogenarian. There were only two ingredients in this one: absinthe and Champagne. The eerie green hue made it the perfect spooky cocktail.

Callie settled in at the kitchen table, relieved things looked the same here. The colorful room with its terracotta floor and whitewashed cabinets felt like home, given how much time she spent here. Not just for cocktails, but for conversation and their secret Instagram account, @BirdCall.

“Your parents thought you were coming home on November tenth,” Birdy said from across the table.

At least they hadn’t completely forgotten about her return. “Where are they?”

“Louisiana. They stopped everything here and took off to help with hurricane relief.”

“Brooke, too?” She didn’t know why she asked. Brooke worked side-by-side with their parents in their construction business, and they often traveled to help communities clean up and rebuild after natural disasters. She loved and admired them for it. They volunteered for at least a month out of every year with Habitat for Humanity.

“Yes.”

Callie nodded and took a sip of her drink. “How are you?”

“I don’t want to talk about me. I want to hear about your trip!”

“It was amazing.” She pulled out her phone, tapped the photos icon, and turned the screen to Birdy. “These are some of the women we helped.”

“Oh, Callie, that is a gorgeous picture. I assume you made or helped them make the dresses they’re wearing?”

She nodded, suddenly too choked up to reply. The photo of herself and her volunteer leader with a group of women, all of them in handmade clothing, filled her with pride and happiness.

She’d spent the last six months in Africa as a Women’s Empowerment volunteer, designing and making dresses, but more importantly, empowering women by teaching them how to sew and make clothing for themselves and their children. The work had also empowered her to make some final decisions for herself.

“I’m so proud of you.” Birdy’s grandmotherly face and soft smile were such a welcome sight that Callie’s stomach tightened. This was the homecoming she’d hoped for.

“Thanks. I have about a million pictures to show you, but first…” She searched through her oversize shoulder bag. “I brought you a gift.”

“You didn’t need to do that, but I’m glad you did.” Birdy moved to the edge of her chair. “By the way, your magic worked while you were gone.”

Callie stopped rifling in her bag and looked up.

“The Kormondy sisters both got engaged.”

“Both of them?” Twin sisters, they’d been maids of honor for their older sister the weekend before Callie left for Africa. Neither of them had been seeing anyone at the time.

Birdy nodded. “They met twin brothers passing through on a road trip.” At Callie’s wide eyes, Birdy added, “I think that makes an even six women to get engaged after wearing one of your dresses.”

“Holy shit.” Before Callie had left for Africa, talk of her “magical” maid-of-honor dresses had happened a few times.

Creating the special MOH dress had been by design. Thanks to her late grandmother, Callie believed in magic. Believed her grandma had passed on her power of influence when she’d given Callie a butterfly charm for her sixteenth birthday. When she started designing MOH dresses, she decided to add something special and designed an applique with two small butterflies to hide inside the skirt. Callie felt sure that if the wearer sought true love after wearing the dress, they’d find it.

When the first maid of honor to wear her dress design got engaged a few months later, Callie quietly celebrated. When it happened a second and third time, she knew her own brand of pixie dust was at least partly responsible.

“You mean holy matrimony!” Birdy delighted in saying. “Word is your dress is luckier than catching the bouquet.”

Excitement wove through Callie’s body. She might be unlucky in love herself, but she loved that she brought good love karma to others.

She pulled the Pink Lady Gin glass bottle with a short neck out of her bag and slid it across the table. “This is for you. It’s the local favorite made in Cape Town. It’s infused with hibiscus flowers and rose petals.”

“It’s pink!” Birdy took the bottle in her hands to admire it. “And the bottling is gorgeous. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Callie rubbed her fingers over her Africa-shaped pendant. The colorful necklace, made from recycled flattened protea flowers, was her favorite souvenir. She brought one for her sister and best friend Nova, too. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it. It’s definitely going on Insta.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that.” Callie covered a yawn with her palm, exhaustion quickly settling in from the long flight and time difference. “Photo shoot this weekend?”

“You betcha.”

“Did my parents say when they’d be back?”

“No, but they only left two days ago.”

“Oh.” Safe to assume they’d be gone for at least two weeks, then. Callie wanted to be mad at them, but how could she when they were helping others? Despite the impact her parents’ relationship had on her own feelings about love and commitment, she respected how much they were committed to their career.

“I’m sorry you can’t stay here,” Birdy said, and right on cue, her cat, Sunshine, strolled into the room and Callie sneezed. One look at the giant furball after being away for six months and her body reminded her of her allergy. There were two more like Sunshine elsewhere in the house.

“I know. I’m sure I can stay with Nova. I’ll give her a call now.” Just as Callie scrolled up on the home screen of her phone, it rang. She chuckled. “Speak of the devil.” She pressed the answer icon. “Hi!”

“Hey! Are you home?”

“I am.”

“Yay! Welcome back,” Nova said excitedly, then more somberly added, “I need you.”

Grateful and always happy to be there for her best friend, she said, “What’s up?” She couldn’t wait to see Nova in person for a proper catchup—messaging and FaceTime weren’t enough—and to help with whatever she needed. They’d been like sisters since their freshman year of high school when Nova had been the volunteer to bring Callie her schoolwork while she continued to recover at home from her horseback-riding accident.

“Bethany had her baby.”

“Congratulations! Is everything okay?” Callie knew she wasn’t due for a few more weeks.

“Yes, she and Gia are great. Kennedy delivered her. It’s a long story, and I’ll tell you all about it. Right now, though, it’s Hunter we’re worried about.”

“Hunter?” At mention of Nova’s older brother, Callie immediately pictured him wearing his well-worn, buttery-soft jeans, scuffed boots, and the dangerously attractive smile that made more than a few women in Windsong fall all over themselves for him. She didn’t understand the appeal or know for a fact his jeans were buttery soft, but they looked like it.

She’d known Hunter for as long as she’d known Nova. Longer actually. He’d been there the day she was thrown from a horse and suffered multiple injuries. She’d tried to block that day from her memory, but the one thing she couldn’t forget was seeing the scared, pitying look on his face right before everything went dark.

Right or wrong, she hated him for that look. Or, according to her therapist, she hated that he’d witnessed the most painful and humiliating day of her life.

He was also reckless, too free and easy for her liking, and she’d caught him kissing not one, but two women at the annual Halloween Bash last year. Windsong’s most eligible bachelor had a lot of fans.

Hunter might be nice to look at and friendly, but he rubbed her the wrong way. If not for Nova, they’d have absolutely nothing in common, not to mention she hated that he didn’t seem to know how to act around her. He acted normal around everyone else, and it put her slightly on the defensive.

“Callie, are you still there?” Nova asked through the phone.

“Yes, sorry.” She blinked away thoughts of Hunter. “What happened?”

“Can I come pick you up and then I’ll explain?”

“Absolutely.” Callie didn’t like the sound of urgency in her best friend’s voice. “I’m at Birdy’s and free for whatever you need.” Fingers crossed it didn’t interfere with the favor Callie needed to ask, too.