A Killing Notion: A Magical Dressmaking Mystery Read Free Page A

breath.
    Her lip twitched almost imperceptibly and she closed her eyes in a slow, sad blink. “The people you choose,” she said softly, and once again, my heart went out to her.
    She’d lost her family, so from here on out, the people she peppered her life with would be those she handpicked.
    As I patted her arm and rattled off the next word—home—the front door opened, the strand of bells hanging from the inside of the front door jingling.
    “Deceitful—” Danica said, stopping short when she saw Gracie Flores and her boyfriend, Shane Montgomery, tumble in, laughing. Gracie and Shane couldn’t have heard what she’d said, nor would they know what she’d been talking about, but still, she looked as if she’d been caught sneaking cookies at midnight.
    Gracie and Shane stopped just inside the door, Gracie’s eyes growing wide and excited as she took in the trims and mum accessories. A shimmering trail of diffused light circled inside the house like the tail of a shooting star. It was the ghost of Meemaw, my grandmother Loretta Mae. Gracie’s mouth drew into an O, her gaze following the glittery stream, but no one else seemed to pick up on Meemaw’s presence.
    She knocked the back of her hand against Shane’s arm, grinning up at him. “It’s like an enchanted land,” she said.
    He raised his eyebrows and I got the impression that Buttons & Bows was nothing like any enchanted land he’d want to spend time in, but then he nodded and pulled her forward. “This is, like, the total opposite of Bubba’s.”
    Shane’s family owned Bubba’s Auto Repair, and Shane worked there part time. I’d taken Buttercup, my old Ford pickup truck, there for service plenty of times.
Growing up with a dad who works on cars means I work on cars
, he’d told Gracie. She’d added that he made good money. “Enough so we can go out on real dates.”
    Two teenagers couldn’t ask for more than that.
    Danica stepped down from the fitting platform as Gracie and Shane came into the workroom. “Hey,” Gracie said.
    Danica dropped her gaze shyly, but threw up her hand in a quick wave. “Should I come back tomorrow?” she asked me.
    “Perfect, yes. Thanks for playing along. I’ll work up some sketches, and you can tell me what you like and what you don’t.”
    “I’ve never had a dress like this, Ms. Cassidy. My dad died and my mother, she couldn’t afford it—”
    She paused, her voice heavy with sorrow. This was the most she’d said about her parents. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. “I’m happy to do it, darlin’,” I said, ushering her toward the front door.
    The fact that I’d used a Southern endearment wasn’t lost on me. The more time I spent back home in Bliss, the more my Southern roots took hold of me again. Sure, I was a Texan first and foremost, but like most of the folks I knew, unless they were from the border, I also felt Southern. Downhome accents and shared idioms could do that for people.
    By the time I’d been twenty-four and living in New York, I’d all but ditched my accent, but it wasn’t long before I’d had a big realization. You could take the girl out of the small town, but you couldn’t ever take the small town out of the girl.
    Now I was thirty-three, back home in Bliss, and before long, I’d sound just like my mama, dropping every G and saying
might could
and
right quick
.
    “See you at the bakery,” Mrs. James called, coming out from the kitchen.
    Danica draped a Bliss High letterman jacket over her arm, smiled, and waved to her. “Yes, ma’am. Skinny hazelnut latte—”
    “And an Italian cream puff.” Mrs. James touched her mouth as if she could taste the sweet cream on her lips.
    “Good grief,” Nana said, following her. “Pastries will clog your arteries. But a good smearing of persimmon chèvre on a thin slice of French bread? That’s a treat worth havin’.”
    The bells on the door tinkled again as I shut it behind Danica. A minute later, her car revved and