Page 39 of Kandie Shoppe

Krie, in a heated conversation with the Takeda CEO, draws my attention. Pausing, I wonder for a moment if I need to intercede. From everything I heard, he’s allowing the kids to work off their offense with public service and a mere slap on the wrist. Now, looking at their interaction, I can’t help but think Takeda has a more personal punishment planned for the beautiful little chef.

He steps away from her before I can decide if Krie needs help. The way she looks after him tells me everything I need to know about them. She’s obviously taken with the man. And if they aren’t lovers, they soon will be.

“Everything alright?” my cousin asks following my gaze.

“Yeah,” I tell him, falling back into step with him.

“The Camelia has been taking a hit since everything those kids pulled with the Creative Chaos plant,” he tells me, his gaze already trained on his kids. They are feeding a kid, giggling as the animal munches on the mix of grass and hay from their hands.

Approaching the little petting zoo, Dr. Val has set up for the kids we watch her and the volunteers she’s recruited for the event. Nikki is swarmed with kids feeding the bunnies as they hop around her giant turtle, Bernice Sanders, who was Bernie until about a month ago. Maxim is walking, talking softly to other autistic kids about the horses in calm tones.

“Max’s been helping Dr. Val with equine therapy,” Sebastian says, causing Summer who hears him a smile over her shoulder.

Right before my cousin’s face hardens to granite, I see a softness I haven’t seen since his wife Amira died.

“Girls, are you ready?” It’s a polite request but nobody — especially not the little vet in training, who moonlights as a seamstress, misses the iciness in his voice.

“Yes, Daddy,” the twins say at the same time. I watch as both girls hug Summer.

“Daddy?” Esmerelda, always the bolder of the two, turns to her father, gray eyes matching his as Emmaline looks on with happy excitement.

“Summer says she’ll make us some new dresses since the last ones got ruined.”

“Did she?” The heavy growl in his voice and the way his stare settles on her has my brows raising.

The smallish college student rises to her full diminutive height and looks at my cousin as bravely as she can.

“It’s no problem.” She shrugs with a nonchalant air I can tell is forced.

“What if I say it is?” he challenges, his eyes looking like striked flint.

Opening the gate, I allow the girls to duck under my arms. Feeling like a messy bitch, I grab the girls’ hands, calling over my shoulder, “Seb, we’re getting ice cream.”

He barely glances my way as he beckons Summer over. Even from here, I can see the tension crackling between them.

“What flavor would y’all like?” I ask the girls. “Chocolate?”

“Butter pecan,” they chime together.

The girls are halfway done with their treat by the time their father joins us.

“Everything okay?” I ask Seb.

“No,” he sighs, shaking his head. “I can’t talk about it right now. Girls? Ready?”

“Yes, Daddy,” they chime, rushing over to hug my waist, thanking me for the treat.

“Hey there, cousin,”comes the snooty, whiney voice of my cousin Clara-Lee. I turn to see her malice laden gaze resting on me.

“Clara-Lee,” I say with practiced boredom, knowing the best way to get rid of her is to not give in to her taunts. It’s always been her desire to laude over me, the lowered status I had in the family compared to her. Like her mother, she keeps the Shelby name despite being married. They’d rather be known by the name that carries weight rather than the one they married for alliance or money. Believing in serial monogamy, Clara again like her mother was on her third marriage or rather alliance — this time to a Shelby executive and former champion swimmer who sunk into meth and booze the moment he did his duty of giving her more to add to the Shelby legacy; her only purpose is to create more Shelbys. Mother to four brand-new Shelbys isall she needs to make my uncle happy. For that, she’s given a monthly stipend, put at the helm of various useless committees where she can rule over the vapid matrons of society.

“Hear you were slumming with the town slag, Kandie Love.” She screws up her face in disgust.

“Still mad she won’t make cakes for your little events?” I drawl, popping a toothpick in my mouth, knowing why she’s really mad.

Clara-Lee likes to keep the feud going between the families. No one even knows how it originally began, only that the Loves got the upper hand during The Great Depression when through sleight of hand they got possession of a large swathe of Shelby land then quickly entailed it as Heirs Property successfully removing it from our hands forever.

“All of this used to be Shelby,” my dad would say when we’d drive through town or out back through the lush land good for pasture or plowing. “Just let that show you how sometimes justice prevails. Nobody needs this much of anything.”

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