Enchanted Encounter at the Matchmaker's Inn: Pinevale Valley, #1

CHAPTER ONE

The scent of salt and jasmine mingled in the air as Trish Fairfax trudged to her mother’s porch. Colorful petunias lined the path. Once meticulously tended by her father, they now grew with wild abandon. It had been a year since a procession of black-clad mourners shuffled through this same entryway, a year since the echo of her father’s laughter faded to a memory.

She drew in a steadying breath and pushed the door open. Mom?

Trish! Her mother clapped her hands in delight. You’re right on time. Lonice Fairfax, or Lolly to her friends, waded out of a sea of boxes and bubble wrap to hug her daughter.

She was bubbling with joy, and Trish should be happy for her. Mom, you look great. Is that a new dress?

Too pink, right?

Not for you. Trish looped an arm around her tiny mother’s shoulders. Are you going to dinner with Havier tonight?

Lolly pursed her lips. Life is for living, darling. Your father would’ve wanted us to find happiness again.

She knew that, but reality was a stubborn knot in her chest refusing to loosen. I’m glad you’re happy.

Thank you, honey. Speaking of moving on, there’s something we need to finish. She led her into the dining room, where papers had been spread across the table. Since I’m moving to Havier’s yacht after the wedding, I’m deeding the house and property to you.

Maybe you shouldn't do that.

Yes. He’s going to marry me and take care of me. She ticked off her fingers as she spoke. No more working in the florist shop, no more struggling to pay the bills, no more being alone all the time. You love Myrtle Beach, and this house is yours if you want it, but it’s fine if you don’t. Sell it and use the money. She slid an official-looking paper toward Trish and handed her a pen. Here’s the deed.

Mom, I⁠—

Shush, no arguments. Your father wanted you to have it.

The weight of the pen was somehow monumental in her fingers. Thank you.

Her mom had returned to packing another box. Trish picked up a framed photo of the three of them left on the table. Her parents had met in the city, and as they say, opposites attract. Only five foot two, her mother had dark hair and deep brown eyes. Her dad’s hair had been pale blond and his eyes a bright blue. Mom always accused Trish of being like him. And she was—not only in appearance but in ways her mom had never understood.

Before I go, I need to give you something. Her mother’s tone of voice sent prickles down Trish’s spine.

You gave me your house. I don’t need anything else.

This gift is from your father. Her mother gingerly held out an oblong wooden box. I put this away after he passed. It’s something he wanted you to have, but I didn’t want it to be another burden for you, she confessed, not meeting Trish’s gaze.

You said this was lost!

I’m sorry. Here it is now, she said, thrusting it at her. Do you want to go to dinner with us? I need to leave now to meet Havier.

No, Mom. Trish collapsed on the couch with the box on her knees. She pressed a finger against the single carved letter F on the top. Dad said this was the only thing left from his childhood.

I didn’t look inside. He left it for you, and I saved it. Don’t wait up for me. I’ll see you in the morning. Love you. Her mom made air kisses and slipped out the door.

Bye, love you too. Trish nodded absently and settled the box on the coffee table. Her mom didn’t mean to be heartless. To her mind, keeping the box a secret protected Trish.

She twisted the latch, and her heart thumped faster. I miss you, Dad, she murmured, releasing a pent-up breath before she pushed the lid back on its hinges. A shimmering red cloth spilled over the sides. She'd seen what rested under it. Her father had shown her years ago.

She gently unwound the fabric, uncovering a thick quartz stone with gold striations as long and wide as her palm. The magic stone he’d said had powered the fountain in Pinevale Valley. It was beautiful, mesmerizing, and inexplicably familiar. The weight of it pulsed against her skin, mingling with her dormant energies, reawakening an affinity she had neglected since well before her father’s passing.

Shivering at the intense feelings, Trish placed the stone on the coffee table and noticed a business card and envelope inside the box.

The card had worn edges. The ink was faded but still legible.

Finders Keepers

Lost and Found Services

Reginald Fairfax and Daughter

call 555-555-5555

Her father’s dream, his passion project, never quite took off—at least not how he’d hoped. Trish traced the lettering, a lump forming in her throat. Finder’s intuition, he used to call it with a wink. But it was so much more. Part of their gift as Earth mages was a mystical bond with the elements, allowing them to sense the echoes of people and things they touched.

Next, she picked up a blue, letter-sized envelope. Trish was scrawled across the front in smeared dark ink. If she’d done as he asked and joined him last year after finishing her business degree instead of working at the animal rescue nonprofit, maybe he’d be alive instead of dead in a senseless accident.

A single sheet was tucked inside the envelope. Her heart sank when she read the first words. I let my craving for the stone’s power and anger at my mistreatment cloud my judgment. A confession? Return it, his words implored, to the people it truly belongs to. Heal the rift I’ve caused. With each word, the burden of his secret became her own. Two decades before, he’d taken and used the stone—a stolen shard of Pinevale Valley’s heart—to increase his finding ability.

An odd sense of responsibility settled on her shoulders, and a call to action resonated deep within her core. She whispered into the quiet room, I’ll make this right.

CHAPTER TWO

Brent Sands clenched his fists at his side, struggling to mask his irritation at the three council members standing before him. Instead of the official meeting room in city hall, they were inside the soundproof chamber behind the flower shop—the current meeting place for the two-hundred-year-old elemental council of Pinevale Valley.

He hadn’t been in this room since he was a teenager. But it hadn’t changed. There were no chairs, only soundproof walls and a standing table in the center, big enough for five people to circle. A mage from each element: Fire, Wind, Earth, Water, plus the fifth, the chairperson, who could be any mage. Today, only four were present, including himself. At thirty-two, he was the youngest person in the room, as these witches had served on the council with his mother.

Waldo Mason, the head of both this and Pinevale’s regular town council, watched him with hope and something else on his face. Does he want me to fail or succeed? We’re welcoming you back, Brent.

He wished he hadn’t been so eager to answer this summons. Pinevale Valley had been on his mind and when they offered him a council position and implied he’d be in line for sheriff, he’d jumped at the chance to return home. Now he understood it came with a big catch. So, you brought me here, but …

No buts, Waldo said.

Brent shook his head. There is, though. You, he pointed at each of them, invited me back, but to test my worthiness for this council, the council my mother ran for thirty years. You want me to find the person who stripped the fountain of its power and restore the magic.

Not totally— Waldo shook his finger.

You are charging me with locating the key or whatever device that was stolen almost twenty years ago. I assume you’ve been looking for it? Of course, they had. They’d been searching ever since. Brent’s mother had been the council chair and led the charge for years, trying to recover her magical juice before she gave up and moved to Texas with his dad and sisters.

We are elementals, Waldo