Page 14 of Sweatpants & Sweet Tea

“Wow, that’s harsh.”

Aunt Rhonda nodded in agreement. “Sure is. And the next day, when the family woke up and came down for breakfast, they noticed that a window had been broken out in the parlor. So they looked around, thinking that they might have had an intruder and something might have been stolen. But instead of missing artwork or valuables, they found Lucille dead in her childhood bed. She left a note on her nightstand saying that she poisoned herself and that before she had, she put a curse on BruceComfort and all of his male heirs that doomed them to a lifetime of the same heartache that she had experienced.”

“The Comfort Curse.” I’d never known that the two folk tales were connected. The haunting and the curse. But it made sense now.

“That’s right. So far, this current generation seems to have broken it, but their father and uncles were not so lucky.”

The passenger side door opened, and I jumped an inch off my seat. I hadn’t realized that we were at the front of the line. I had been so engrossed in the story that I hadn’t even realized we moved up.

The valet, who looked twelve but I assumed was legally allowed to drive, took my hand with a nod. “Ma’am.”

I knew it was a Southern thing, but I didn’t love being called ma’am. Living in Los Angeles, I already felt ancient being twenty-nine.

“Well, let’s get this shindig over with.” Aunt Rhonda stepped beside me and linked her arm with mine.

As we entered the grand foyer, there was a large chandelier hanging overhead and ornate woodwork everywhere my eye landed. It reminded me of a movie set; it was hard to believe that this was a family home at one point.

A ten-foot painting hung on the wall. It was a portrait of a man, a woman, two sons, and a young girl.

“Is that her? Lucille?”

“That’s her. And she’s still here.” Aunt Rhonda looked up the steps with a disturbed expression.

“Rhonda Moore!” A woman with fire-engine red hair and bright pink eye shadow approached my aunt. “I expected to see you today in the shop! Where were you hiding?”

“Oh, I just got ready at home with my niece. Daphne, this is Miss Caroline Shaw; she owns the Pretty in Peach beauty salon.”

“Nice to meet you, Miss Shaw.”

“You too, dear. Are you ladies going to bid on anyone tonight?”

I turned to my aunt. “Bidding?”

“There’s a bachelor auction.”

“There is?” I asked.

The only bachelor I was interested in bidding on was Harlan Mitchell, and I doubted he’d be up for auction.

6

HARLAN

The floor shookbeneath me as I stood in front of my full-length mirror, tying my bow tie.

“You look great, Beauty-locks; let’s go!” Grandad shouted from downstairs.

He’d started calling me Beauty-locks when I grew out my hair in the sixth grade so I could have the Bieber swoop. Even though it had been more than two decades since my hair was that long, the nickname stuck.

Dini’s paws kneaded my calves as she stretched up on her hind legs, asking to be picked up. Despite knowing that indulging her would mean I’d need to lint roll; I couldn’t resist her big brown cartoonish eyes. She was the spitting image of Puss in Boots fromShrek.

I bent down, scooped her up, and before I’d even straightened, she was purring loudly. I cuddled her against my chest, and when I bent to kiss her on the top of her head, I caught a whiff of the fresh, tropical scent that had invaded my senses when I’d opened the door to Daphne.

My eyes closed as I pressed my nose to her tiny kitty head and inhaled the intoxicating scent.

“You can finish your makeup in the car; let’s go!” Grandad bellowed.

A grin tugged at my lips. Grandad was nothing if not amusing.

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