Southern Storms (Compass 1)

“Oh my gosh, sweetheart, you shouldn’t sneak up on people like that,” said the one in the yellow sundress—Kate, I gathered—while holding one hand against her chest. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

I almost rolled my eyes at the irony of it all, but instead I just gave her my best Southern smile as I climbed out of the car and walked their way. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Louise’s eyes danced over my vibrant outfit then locked with mine. “Well, yes, you should be more careful.”

“I’ll do better next time. So how can I help you?”

Kate stepped forward with her perfect blond curls dangling in her face. “Oh, yes. We’re your neighbors! We saw you were moving in last night and thought we’d stop by to say hello. I’m Kate, and this is Louise.”

“No relation,” they said in unison, and then they giggled. “Just kidding, we’re twins!”

Because of course they were.

“I live two houses down from you to the left, and Kate lives two houses down to the right,” Louise said. “You’re right smack dab in the middle of the twin sandwich.”

Lucky me.

“Well, I’m Kennedy. It’s nice to meet you.”

They kept their big smiles on their faces as they glanced at my parents’ convertible. Then their glares danced across my appearance and back to the car.

“I must say, that’s quite the unique-looking car,” Louise mused, her tone dripping with judgment. “Do you drive it around, or is it more of a…statement piece?”

“It belonged to my parents. It holds a bit of family history on it. I haven’t started it up to take it out on the road yet, but I might give it a go at some point.” Maybe tomorrow. Maybe in a year. Who knows…

The women grimaced. “Interesting,” they said, once again, in unison.

“Are those for me?” I asked, trying my best to shift the conversation and get it moving along. If I knew anything about small towns from all the books I read, I knew these twins were the perfect recipe for trouble.

“Oh, yes. We each made you a pie. Best strawberry pie and apple pie you’ll ever come across in your life. We stayed up late last night cooking them when we saw you moving in.”

“You shouldn’t have,” I said.

“Sweetheart, of course we did. We are, after all, your new neighbors. We take our Southern hospitality seriously in these parts,” Kate commented, still frowning at my property.

Louise cleared her throat. “Speaking of landscaping”—Were we speaking of landscaping?—“who’s handling yours? I can get you a few names of individuals who do great work.”

“Well, thanks, but we have that all lined up. I’m not the actual owner of the place.”

“Oh my.” Kate whimpered as her fingers landed on her lips. “Are you a squatter? You don’t actually live here? I mean, I guess that explains the car, but that’s quite illegal.”

“We should inform Sheriff Reid,” the other sternly stated.

Are these women serious right now? Am I being Punk’d? Is Ashton Kutcher hiding in the Louboutin-crushed bushes?

“No, no. What I mean is I am renting the place from my sister and brother-in-law for the next few months before they sell it. The landscapers are supposed to be coming through over the next few days to get started.”

“Oh, thank heavens!” Louise exclaimed. “I couldn’t for the life of me let this wildness go any further. We are already dealing with Crazy Joy Jones next door with her unkempt property. If I had the chance, I’d buy that house right out from under her, the weirdo.”

She said weirdo like it was a bad thing. I’d personally found myself more attracted to the weirdos of the world. They seemed far less judgmental.

I looked next door at the property that was the saving grace in keeping me from being direct neighbors with Louise. The house was exactly as she’d described it—rather unkempt—but still, it was somehow perfect. Wildflowers bloomed as if they’d been planted to be free. There was no true rhyme or reason to the way they grew, but it looked like a piece of artwork.

The ladies would’ve probably hated me if I told them I loved the property. The freedom of it all sang to the caged part of my soul. I wanted to move the way those flowers danced.

Free. Uncaged. Like the wind.

“Her husband died years ago, and Crazy Joy hasn’t left her house since then,” Louise explained. “You ever see Hey Arnold!, that cartoon from the nineties? There was that one character, Stoop Kid, who was too afraid to leave his stoop? Well, that’s Crazy Joy in a nutshell. She’s too afraid to leave her front yard since her husband died.”

“If he hadn’t left Joy money and their house wasn’t paid off, I’m sure she would be homeless. I’m not one to gossip, Lord help me, but that woman is a nutjob,” Kate added in. “Rumor has it she believes aliens are going to take over the world someday soon. All those letters she writes each morning on her front porch are letters to Area 51. Total wacko.”