Flea Market Magic (Southern Relics Cozy Mysteries Book 1) Read online

  Uncle Jo huffed his way down the stairs, carrying more ropes. “You ready to go yet?”

  “Almost. Just gotta pick up the last person.” I flashed the elephant token at him.

  “Meet you in the truck.” He brushed past me, and I heard his clomping footsteps on the porch outside.

  I drew in a deep breath to center myself. Holding the metal piece in my hand, I filtered some of my magic into it. Whether due to my fire elemental talents or the general familial magic, the token heated in my fingers.

  When my dad called on a ghost volunteer to go with him to search for items, he used fancy old incantations to call forth spirits. I had no patience to remember the words or wait for a ghost to be flattered enough to accept the invitation.

  Concentrating, I called out, “Hey, any Jewells out there wanna go to a flea market with us? I’ll get you back by suppertime.”

  Wind blew through the room and knocked the cowboy hat off my head, ruffling the strands of red hair framing my face. Shadows formed in front of me, but none of them materialized enough for clear identification. One of them pointed to the front door, and I feared my lack of formal spellcasting had insulted them. Dejected, I crouched down to retrieve my hat and trudged out of the house.

  The token grew hot in my palm and I stopped where I stood on the front porch. A creak from one of the old chairs rocking back and forth interrupted my disappointment, and the faint scent of a cigar wafted in front of me.

  “Grandpa, is that you?” My father’s dad had enjoyed blowing smoke rings and other fantastical shapes to make me giggle when I was younger.

  “Who else, beanpole?” My grandfather’s voice surrounded me like an embrace even though I couldn’t see him.

  I smiled at his old nickname for me although my womanly curves proved it inaccurate. “Do you wanna go with us?”

  “You lookin’ for treasures?” A faint ring of smoke appeared out of nowhere, floating away on the breeze.

  “Always. If you want to help out, you can come with us.” I held up the token in front of me.

  “I will if you take the dog, too,” he bargained.

  I glanced at the hound laying at the foot of the chair and raised an eyebrow. “Not Slobby Bobby.”

  “That’s my offer. Take it or leave it.” Another puff of smoke billowed out of nowhere.

  I closed my eyes, wondering how I’d come to the place in my life where I made deals with ghosts. But my grandfather had been a notorious bargain hunter. One of the best in the business. If anyone could help us on our quest, he could.

  “Fine, I’ll take it.” I did my best not to choke on the plume of cigar stench that enveloped the token as my grandfather’s spirit inhabited it. My magic recognized his disembodied presence in the metal, and I slipped it under my shirt again.

  I walked off the front porch and down the steps, hoping to bypass the dog. The metal of the token heated in discontent, and I yelped in frustration. Bobby’s head lifted in the air and he whimpered.

  “Fine. Let’s go.” I snapped my fingers and pointed at the back of the truck.

  The hound’s tail thumped, and in his excitement, drool formed at the corners of his mouth, pooling on the porch. I cursed the foul beast under my breath and walked to the vehicle, whistling for him to follow.

  Bobby popped up on his paws and rushed down the stairs, his tail wagging his behind. For a dog that wanted to be a part of the team, he was a little too thick in the head to understand he needed to jump into the truck.

  Uncle Jo rolled down his window, surveying the scene. “I take it my dad’s joining us?”

  “Yep.” I walked around the front of the cab and got in the driver’s side. If the dog couldn’t figure out how to get in, that wasn’t my fault.

  With more patience than me, my uncle got out and picked Bobby up like a baby, settling them both into the passenger seat.

  “Oh, so you’ll help the hound get in so he can come with us, but Buddy got chucked out on his behind?” I teased.

  “Buddy is a barn cat who doesn’t like to go that far away from his territory. But Dad’s a smart man. I bet the dog will help us find all the good deals,” Uncle Jo promised.

  “And soak us once we get going. He hasn’t earned his name for nothin’.” Throwing the truck in gear, I drove to the last place on the edge of our land, pulling up in front of the Rise & Shine Cafe.

  The bells on the glass front door of the repurposed gas station jingled when Aunt Delia and my cousin Dani exited, their hands full. Bobby wiggled on my uncle’s lap and stared out the window, a long strand of slobber dangling from his mouth.

  I wrinkled my nose in disgust. “And so it begins.”

  “Hey, Rue, I’ve got a large double shot caramel latte here and a bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit for you.” Dani handed me the cup through my window, proving her uncanny ability to know what the customers wanted before they did once again.

  My stomach growled in impatience with the scent of breakfast. “Thanks, cousin. But the bacon is a bit unfortunate. Just saw your brother. You might want to go visit with him a little. I think he needs to remember he belongs to us.”

  Aunt Delia handed my uncle his food and drink, narrowly avoiding a slobbery kiss from Bobby. “I put in extra hash brown patties. Make sure to share with my niece,” she instructed. “You two have a productive day. Come home with lots of treasures.” She blew a kiss for luck at both of us and backed away.

  Uncle Jo and I arranged our goodies so they wouldn’t spill. He snapped open the glove box. “What’ll it be? Kenny? Loretta? Johnny?” He rooted through the few tapes stashed inside.

  I considered my choices and picked the sassiest out of them all. “I think today deserves a little Dolly.”

  My uncle slipped the cassette tape into the ancient player and whooped out a loud, “Wahoo!”

  The beginning notes to the song rang out of the speakers, and I cranked it up. “It may be a few hours before nine and I hope we’re done before five, but let’s get to work!”

  Chapter Two

  B y the time I pulled into the dirt parking lot for the flea market outside of Smooter, I’d consumed one breakfast biscuit and two hash brown patties, drunk my caramel latte until caffeine buzzed through my veins, and wiped off at least a gallon of Slobby Bobby’s drool.

  “Seriously, Uncle Jo, that dog’s a menace.” I jumped down from the truck cab, still mopping up some of the sticky saliva off my shirt with the last napkin. “Next time, I gotta wear a raincoat or something.”

  My uncle chuckled, ignoring his soaked shirt. “But he’s the best bargain hunter of us all. Plus, since everyone loves on him, we tend to get favorable pricin’. So, quit your whinin’ and get your witchy butt to work.”

  I straightened my cowboy hat and did what I loved to do. Most everyone knew I came from a long line of scroungers, pickers, and bargain hunters. If someone wanted to get rid of something they’d labeled trash, then us Jewells were there to snatch it up and turn it into a treasure.

  I checked my mental list for items we wanted to find. Daddy wanted any wood furniture in decent condition he could refurbish and resell. One of my girl crew, Crystal, always wanted anything she could turn into a beach-themed resell. Other than those parameters, the field was wide open for me to explore.

  Excitement and restlessness invigorated me. The early birds rustled through the stalls and vendors of the day to snag the best items. I joined them in their initial assessments, but unless something special jumped out at me, I knew better than to pay first prices. Better to wait and see, especially with any new sellers who didn’t know how to play the game right.

  As always, Uncle Jo was proven right when Bobby distracted a dog-friendly vendor who sold him a couple of mahogany side tables for a fraction of the asking price. With that promising start, the two of us decided to stick together, allowing the dog or the token around my neck to help narrow down everything we saw.

  At another stall, we watched with irritation a seller trying to fleece a yo
ung couple into paying double the amount for a cheap modern reproduction of an antique buffet. Determined not to let the guy get away with his ruse, Uncle Jo created a diversion by knocking over a gaudy silver-plated statue, allowing me to approach the young man and woman.

  “If you’re looking for authentic antiques, try the stall at the end of that row.” I pointed far away from where we stood. “The seller there is an old friend. Tell her Ruby Mae sent you and she’ll give you a good deal. I swear, she wouldn’t dare try to sell you a reproduction made within the last decade.”

  The young woman’s eyes widened. “You mean this isn’t a real antique from before the Civil War?”

  “I told you he was charging too much,” her husband grumbled, twisting his wedding ring on his finger in frustration.

  “Never pay the asking price and always do a thorough inspection. If you want something antique, the drawers should have dovetail joints done by hand, not by machinery. If the sides, bottom, and back of the wood have no nicks, then it wasn’t handmade,” I explained, keeping an eye on my uncle, who distracted the seller by pretending to bargain for an ugly statue.

  “We just got married, and I wanted to decorate our new home with a few good pieces,” the newlywed bride pouted.

  I smiled and congratulated them both. “Sounds like a fun adventure to do together, but try to pick something that you both want and that won’t cost you twice as much as it should. Here.” I handed them a business card I always had at the ready.

  “Precious Jewells,” the young woman read out loud. “Sounds like a jewelry place. But it says here you sell antique furniture?”

  “We’ve got a barn full of different things, not all of it vintage. There’s repurposed furniture, collectibles, and all kinds of things. But if you have any questions, just call,” I offered. “Any of us Jewells can help you.”

  “Hey,” the seller barked. “Are you trying to poach my customers?”

  “We changed our minds,” the young woman countered, sticking her nose in the air.

  The angry man stomped over to us. “I thought we had a deal,” he growled at the husband.

  “We’re going to keep looking,” the young man insisted. “Thanks.” He put his arm around his wife and gave me a slight nod as they left the stall and headed in the direction I’d pointed them.

  The seller turned his beady eyes on me and poked my shoulder with his finger. “You just cost me a sale.”

  Fury boiled underneath my surface at his audacity. It took great control to contain the fire zipping through my veins, igniting my powers. “If I were you, I would do two things, sugar,” I warned.

  He smirked. “The name’s Earl, not sugar, little lady.”

  I gritted my teeth at his condescending tone and continued. “One, don’t try to pass off cheap reproductions as antiques and slap too high a price on them. That’ll get you in hot water with those of us in the biz, Earl .”

  The annoying man shrugged. “It’s my job to sell things, not to make sure people aren’t stupid.”

  I drew in a deep breath and concentrated on calming down. No good could come from actual flames shooting out of me and setting everything around us ablaze. Something wet touched my hand, nudging it and distracting me enough for my magic to calm to a dull buzz. Looking down, I broke into a light chuckle at Bobby slobbering on my hand. Uncle Jo stood close by at the ready should anything go wrong, but he gave me the space to take care of myself.

  “Two,” I continued, wanting to be done and get away from the jerk. “You might want to remember that the community that runs and shops at places like this, well, we all know each other. And we’ll be making sure you don’t get another space here or within a hundred miles anytime soon.” With a curt nod, I wove my way around the rest of his goods to leave.

  “Hey,” he called after me, following us. “You can’t do that.”

  Uncle Jo stopped in his tracks and turned, his large presence overwhelming the smaller man. “Here.” He rummaged in the bag he carried and pulled out the awful statue he’d had to purchase to buy me time.

  “But…but you already paid me for it,” Earl stuttered.

  My uncle scoffed. “I got you down to a better price than your original ask, and I consider it money well spent if you’ll take what my niece said to heart. Don’t try to cheat the buyers. Oh, and my dog drooled all over your fake antique rug back there. Let’s go, Bobby.”

  I waited until we were at least fifty feet away before I unclenched my fists. “That was unpleasant,” I admitted.

  “But you handled it well. And I think Bobby here deserves a little credit, too, don’t you?” Uncle Jo raised an eyebrow at me.

  If it hadn’t been for the dog distracting me at the right moment, we could have had a much bigger problem on our hands. I scratched the hound behind his ear. “He does, especially if he did drool on anything that man was selling. I take back everything negative I said about Bobby.”

  “Remember that on our drive back home.” Uncle Jo placed a hand on my back to escort me away.

  We split up to cover more ground before the place became too crowded to nab the good stuff. The token around my neck heated underneath my shirt in approval of my purchase of a handful of knick knacks and three large bulbous jars from the mid-1800s. After nabbing a couple of worn down French Provincial bedside stands that would be perfect for repainting in a shabby chic style, I negotiated an amazing price for a nineteenth century corner cupboard I was pretty sure I could prove was made by a well-known regional cabinet maker.

  Tugging on the chain around my neck, I pulled out the token and kissed it. “I knew today was gonna be a good one.” A slight scent of cigar smoke conveyed my grandfather’s approval.

  The buzz of victory wore off quicker than lightning when the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I searched the immediate area for whatever had me on edge and caught sight of Earl staring at me from a couple of stalls down. No telling how long he’d been tailing me, but his presence ruined my short-lived celebration.

  Narrowing my eyes, I glared right back at him. The corners of my mouth quirked up when I called forth a tiny bit of power. With a flourish of my hand, I shot a quick spell his way. A row of porcelain figurines on a shelf in front of him leapt off and fell to their broken doom with a loud shattering clamor. Earl stood dumbfounded while the vendor yelled at him and demanded to be paid for the broken merchandise.

  His indignant voice rose in the air, “But I didn’t touch them. I have no idea how they fell, and I’m not going to just pay you for them.”

  I stayed long enough to hear him get threatened to be kicked out by another seller, and a smug smile spread on my face. I wiggled my fingers at him in a haughty wave and turned on my heel, adding a little sass in my walk away to taunt him.

  Despite the heat of the day picking up, I ventured outside to take a break from the drama of buying and selling. Following the aroma of food wafting in the air, I made my way to the food trucks and caught Uncle Jo feeding Bobby some bacon.

  “Aw, don’t do that,” I chastised when I joined the two of them. “We don’t need the dog to fart us out of the truck all the way back home.”

  “But he likes it.” My uncle devoured the last bite of his huge buttery biscuit and wiped his hands off with a flimsy napkin. “Had any luck?”

  “Plenty.” Digging in my pocket, I pulled out the business cards of several of the stalls where I’d purchased goods. “We’ll have a lot to load onto Bessie. What about you? Have you found more than second breakfast to fill your belly?” I poked his protruding stomach for good measure.

  He swatted my hand away. “Got your daddy an entirely deconstructed wall clock he can work on trying to put back together. And I helped that young couple find a solid-wood bedroom set. Even gave them some tips how they could fix some of the dings in the wood or sand it all down and repaint it.”

  “Aw, that was nice of you.” I made a big show to hug Uncle Jo around his waist.

  He pushed me off him. “Cut i
t out.” His words said not to praise him, but his beaming smile told another tale. “You about done for the day?”

  Just to please him, I crouched down and gave Bobby a good rub. “I think so. I might check out the odds and ends out here, but I don’t think I’ll buy anything else significant.”

  “Me neither.” He clapped his large hands together, making the dog jump. “So, I can start making arrangements to pick up our purchases and get them loaded in the truck?”

  “Sounds about right.” But if Uncle Jo went back inside, he might hear about the little kerfuffle I might have been a part of. A little guilt gnawed at my insides when I considered that the affected vendor might not get her money for the figurines that I ultimately broke.

  My uncle pointed at my face. “What’s with that expression? Did you spend too much money on something?”

  I asked for him to give me back the business cards and searched for the right one, pulling it out of the stack. “When you arrange to pick up the corner cabinet, make sure the vendor two stalls down to the right got paid for the smashed merchandise.”

  “Did you break something?” he asked, his eyes widening in surprise.

  My cheeks heated and I paid more attention to the dog to keep from looking him in the eyes. “Sort of. That seller, Earl, he must have been following me around for who knows how long before I caught him.”

  Uncle Jo frowned and cracked his knuckles. “Maybe I need to have a serious conversation with him.”

  I patted his arm to calm him down. “I handled it, although we need to make things right if Earl doesn’t cough up the money to pay for the few things that might have shattered due to a teeny tiny little spell—”