Murder in the Mix (Books 4-6) Page 17

  Eve Hollister herself has more money than she knows what to do with, and she’s just as happy to live in Honey Hollow as the rest of us.

  “So nice to meet you both. I’m Lottie. I run the bakery on Main Street. If you’re ever in the area, please stop by. It would be my pleasure to send you home with a box full of goodies. Our mothers are very good friends.”

  The younger one smirks and scoffs. “Our mother has friends? How much does your mother charge a month?”

  The two of them break out into cackles, and my mouth falls open as I look to Eve. Surely they’re kidding—right?

  Eve winks my way. “Oh, they’re just being silly.” She offers them a curt smile. “Lottie here was kind enough to bake her famous seven-layer cake for my birthday. It’s my absolute favorite.”

  “I sure did, and it was my pleasure! Four layers of rich decadent chocolate and three with French vanilla. And don’t forget the generous layers of Bavarian cream and berries sprinkled on top. It was a feat finding berries in January, but I tracked them down for you. I’m baking the same cake for Nell in just two weeks.” Nell Sawyer is my best friend, Keelie Turner’s grandmother—Grammy. Nell also happens to be the only one I have ever shared my supernatural secret with. Well, I told Everett, my new neighbor, the judge, but he sort of wrangled it out of me.

  Regardless, Nell not only knows my secret, but I just discovered this past Christmas Eve that she shares the same gift. She saw and heard Dutch, too. Suffice it to say, I’ve been itching to have one long sit-down with her ever since that night. No sooner did I discover Nell’s own supernatural secret than her daughter shuttled her out the door. Nell promised we’d get together after the holidays, but she’s been under the weather as of late so I thought I’d wait until she felt better.

  “Ooh”—Brenda Lee rolls her eyes—“seven-layer cake.” She twirls a finger in the air and makes a crazy face at her sister. “How very creative, Mother.”

  Wow. Eve Hollister must have inadvertently reared the rudest children—daughters anyway—on the planet. I’m beginning to think it was pure luck I evaded them all these years.

  I hold up a finger. “Brenda Lee?” It comes out curt, and I don’t mind one bit. “That’s a very beautiful name, and I think it indeed proves that your mother is very creative.”

  “Brenda Lee!” Eve snaps her fingers and dances a spontaneous jig. “She was my favorite singer growing up. Oh, she was just the best.”

  Brenda Lee shoves her finger down her throat and pretends to gag.

  Daphne elbows her. “Would you stop with the theatrics? Let’s get this over with.” She drags her sister into the living room, and I’m left to shrug at Eve.

  “Lovely?” I didn’t mean for it to come out a question but, honest to God, there was no way around it.

  “Just one minute, Lottie.” Eve waves me off as someone behind me hijacks her attention. “Well, if it isn’t Connie Chutney!” Eve pulls the older woman into a quick embrace. Connie looks like a fitter, and judging by the sour look on her face, a tad more bitter version of Eve.

  The older woman grunts. “You just knew I was coming up on my golden badge today, this very day, and you had to have a birthday party,” she grits it through her teeth before turning my way. “I’m coming up on the most coveted badge of them all.” She turns to Eve with an uncontested look of malice. “Sometimes I think you do these things to me on purpose.” She gives Eve’s cheek a hard pinch and causes the birthday girl to yelp.

  “Yes, well”—a devilish gleam takes over Eve’s blue eyes—“a girl must do what a girl must do.” Her demeanor changes on a dime as her own expression grows hostile. “Speaking of sabotage, I can’t believe you set my article to such a garish background—crimson with black ink! And don’t you think I didn’t notice the fact you made my name far smaller than you did yours. Sometimes I don’t know why I bother contributing to the volunteer newsletter.”

  I try to take a step away from what is obviously a private conversation regarding highly coveted badges that I care to know nothing about and newsletter sabotage, and yet Eve reels me right back in their bickering midst.

  “Connie, this is Lottie Lemon. She’s catering the event for me today. Lottie, this is Connie Chutney. We’ve volunteered down at the hospital for the last four decades.”

  Connie extends a bony hand, no smile. “I’m the head volunteer down at Honey Hollow General Hospital. And I’m also in charge of editing the volunteer newsletter. Someone here is just bitter that my articles are better received.” She gives a barely-there wink.

  Eve balks, “Mine would be better received if people could actually see them.”

  Eve straightens a moment as she looks over my shoulder, and I turn to see Bear and an older man both dressed in jeans and flannels with tool belts slung low on their hips. Otis Fisher—Bear as he’s better known in these parts, is my infamous ex. We were together for three torturous high school years, but then he decided he wanted more than one girl to torment with his presence. My fragile broken heart when I discovered his pre-teen paramour and I hightailed it out of Honey Hollow and straight to New York City, where I had the rest of my heart smashed to smithereens by the next ex on my list.

  I used to have such poor luck with men, I never thought I’d meet a prince, but, sure enough, last fall I met someone better than your run-of-the-mill next in line for some useless throne—I met a drop-dead gorgeous detective, my fabulous new boyfriend Noah Corbin Fox. My insides detonate just thinking about him.

  Noah and I recently took our relationship to the next level, and let’s just say that he’s been over every single night ready and willing to frost my cookies. And, my God, does that man ever know how frost me right into outer space. My entire body is overheating just thinking about it.

  “What are they doing here?” Eve gives the construction duo a suspicious look and yanks me right out of my Noah-inspired trance.

  Mom bursts into our tiny circle. “Don’t you worry about a thing, missy.” She slings an arm over Eve’s shoulders. “They’re here for me. One can never have enough men in the house.” She waves them over. “I’m thinking of adding a conservatory—that’s a fancy word for sunroom—and Bear offered to give me a free estimate.”

  “I thought Bill should be here, too.” Connie leans in. Her hair is short and curly, a salt and pepper color with salt winning the battle. Her face is round, her wrinkles soft, but by contrast, that hardened expression never seems to leave her. “I figured since he was dropping me off, he might as well place a bid himself.” Her eyes narrow as she looks to Eve. “Miranda had to tell me about the addition herself.” She pokes Eve hard in the chest. “You know Bill needs the business this time of year. It should have been you who recommended him.”

  Eve inches back, her lips buttoned up as if she were holding back a deluge of words, not one of them kind. Eve has had an infamous remodel going on now for over a year, and it looks as if she has nothing good to say about Bill and his remodeling skills.

  Mom ushers the men off and Connie follows, barking orders to poor Bill who looks as if he wants to be anywhere but here. He offers Eve a curt nod as he passes her by, and just like the rest of her guests, he doesn’t seem all that happy to see her. My God, they all act as if they want to slaughter her in her sleep.

  I clear my throat. Despite her foibles, Eve is a kind soul. I think.

  “Well, I’m going to make sure you have the best birthday party ever,” I say, determined to make it happen.

  “That makes two of us!” a cheery voice calls from behind as a stunning blonde bounces her way over and offers Eve an embrace. “Where do you want the gifts, boss?”

  Eve waves off the idea of such a generous offering. “How I wish you didn’t buy me anything. I don’t pay you much to begin with!”

  The blonde lifts a brow. “I keep saying if you cut my wages I’d be working for free.”

  An entire crowd of women heads this way, and Eve makes her way to them.

  “Lottie Lemon,”
I’m quick introduce myself to the only person outside of my mother who I’ve seen maintain a level of civility toward the birthday girl. “You work for Eve?”

  “That’s right. I’m Valerie Vernon, modern-day handmaiden, ten ruthless hours a day. No breaks. Eve thinks all I do is sit around. You try cleaning that haunted mansion of hers and see how easy it is. Eve Hollister makes Ebenezer Scrooge look like a prized benefactor.” She stalks off, looking far more bitter than she did when she arrived, and I’m at a loss for words. Et tu, Valerie Vernon?

  After threading through a sea of limbs, I finally make my way to the kitchen, where I note the fact I left the back door open after hauling in the countless cookie platters.

  My mother purchased the B&B the year after she lost my father, and this has been her source of income and her beloved pet project ever since. The kitchen is impressively large and has all the top-of-the-line appliances you could wish for. But nevertheless, I insisted on baking all of my goodies at the Cutie Pie. That bakery is essentially my home away from—

  “Oh my God!” I howl so loud my voice reverberates off the walls. Standing next to the opened back door is an eight-foot tall black bear, complete with a menacing growl, angry red mouth, and razor sharp teeth that look as if they were just itching to clamp themselves down over one of my juicy little arms.

  The enormous beast rocks back and stands on its hind legs, letting out an egregiously howl—so loud, my eardrums beg to burst from the effort.

  My body freezes solid, every muscle I own has turned to stone, and I can’t seem to catch my next breath. It takes a lumbering step forward and upturns a couple of empty cookie sheets, sending them to the floor with a clatter before letting out another menacing growl.

  “Lottie?” Mom stomps her way in, hands on hips, looking visibly annoyed with me. “What in the heck is going on here? It sounds like you’re tearing up my kitchen.” She heads over and picks the cookie sheets right off the floor and lands them onto the counter where they belong. She turns my way, the bear dwarfing her in size, breathing down her neck as he stands menacingly close behind her. “My goodness! What has gotten into you? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “A ghost!” I shout so loud it might as well be a cry for help.

  The bear stalks its way right through my mother before dropping to all fours and bounding out toward the bustling birthday party.

  “Whew.” Mom fans herself a moment. “I think I just had one serious hot flash—or as I like to say, power surge.” She scoops up a tray of rocky road brownies before pausing to look at the seven-layer cake sitting pretty on a glass platter. “What talent you have. It never ceases to amaze me. You really are something special, Lottie.”

  She blows me a kiss as she speeds right past me.

  I suppose I do have a talent, and I’m not talking about my expertise in the kitchen. I have a supernatural knack that is quickly morphing into a curse. Not only did I see, and hear the bear—I witnessed the fact he was able to upturn those cookie sheets.

  Never before has that happened. Never before has it gone this far.

  A bear of all creatures!

  Never before has it been this dangerous.

  I’m willing to bet someone in this very B&B is about to take their final breath.

  One thing is clear: death has come to Honey Hollow once again.

  Chapter 21

  At the B&B. Need you NOW!

  I send Everett the spastic text as I make my way back toward the party. My heart is doing its best to kickbox its way out of my chest, my adrenaline hits its zenith, and my entire body has taken on a pulse of its own. It feels dangerous, delirious—and come to think of it, exactly how I feel once Noah has thoroughly frosted my cookies.

  The living room of the B&B is thick with bodies. Each woman in attendance is at rapt attention as Eve waves a book in the air, and I gasp when I see it—the otherworldly nuisance, not the literary scorcher.

  “The Saucy Sassenach.” Eve giggles like a schoolgirl as she reads the title off that aptly titled spicy read. That giant spectral menace roves freely behind her, sniffing and grunting at each woman’s lap systematically. “First and foremost”—Eve looks at the crowd from over her glasses—“I want to thank my darling friend Miranda for hosting today’s book club meeting—my birthday is simply a happy aside.” The room breaks out into warm applause. Eve really is that humble. “I also would like to thank Becca Turner”—Becca is my best friend’s mother, and I can’t help but applaud the loudest when I hear her name—“for secretly shuttling my friends and family here today. And Chrissy Nash”—the mayor’s ex-wife—“for being a rock for me all these years. And, of course, my dear children.” Her lips curl as she glances their way, but it felt anything but loving. Maybe the bad blood runs both ways?

  The burly black bear makes his way to the dessert table, and I quickly amble my way in that direction. It yanks a tray of chocolate chip cookies toward itself and begins sifting through them as if it were looking for the biggest in the batch.

  The cookies are moving—seemingly by themselves!

  “Oh my God,” I mumble as I speed over and do my best to bat the celestial creature away.

  “Hey”—someone next to me hisses, and I look to find Naomi Turner, Keelie’s bratty sister, snarling up at me—“keep your crazy at bay. People are trying to have a good time here.”

  A couple of months ago, Naomi started up a naughty book club that was quickly joined by the historical romance book club that Eve and my mother run, and it looks as if both literary forces have joined together to help celebrate Eve’s big day. Not only did Naomi show up, but Lily Swanson, who happens to work for me down at the bakery, is present and scowling at me. Cascade Montgomery, the cousin of the first body I found this year is shooting me the stink eye as well. Cascade runs the Busy Bee Crafts Shop down the street from me. And along with that trio of scowling faces, there seems to be every other female in Honey Hollow haunting these halls.

  Speaking of haunting, I glare at the burly menace who stands less than a foot away.

  The bear grunts at me after unsuccessfully trying to lap up my cookies. Thank God for small mercies. If all these cookies disappeared in a heap, I’d have a lot of explaining to do. My God, everyone in this room would think the B&B was haunted—or that I was very, very hungry.

  “Lottie!”

  I glance up to find both Keelie and Lainey at the door and speed their way, pulling them into a dual embrace.

  “Get a seat, ladies,” I whisper. “I have a feeling this is going to be quite the show.”

  Lainey wrinkles her nose. “Oh, it is. I read the book and, believe me, when I say it steamed up my glasses.” Lainey is the head librarian in town, and she happens to be my older sister. Even though the Lemons adopted me when I was an infant, Lainey and I share the same caramel-colored waves and hazel green eyes. Lainey recently got back together with her longtime love Forrest Donovan. Too bad it took the death of her temporary boy toy to do it. I shudder at the thought of Tanner’s murder.

  Lainey speeds by and takes a seat by Eve’s daughters. I seriously doubt she realizes who they are.

  Keelie leans in. Keelie Nell Turner is just about as blonde and bubbly as her name suggests. She works in the restaurant conjoined to the Cutie Pie Bakery, the Honey Pot Diner, which also happens to be owned by her Grammy Nell. And my God, I cannot wait to get my hands on Nell. I’m going to leave right after I slice up that seven-layer cake and head straight for Nell’s place. That woman has answers to this supernatural pop quiz the universe has sprung on me one too many times, and I desperately need her help.

  “Guess what?” Keelie’s eyes light up like twin moons.

  “You have another naughty nightie you’d like to gift me?” I couldn’t help it. Keelie gifted me a naughty Mrs. Claus nightie last month, and Noah and I have made good use of it ever since. But I’m sort of starting to feel like a one-hit wonder and think it’s time for me to up my lingerie game.

  “Yes,
but it’s for me.” She gives a hearty wink. “Hook Redwood asked me to dinner! So I might just get a chance to wear it yet.”

  “What?” I beam right back. Hook Redwood graduated top of his class at Yale, then went on to take Wall Street by storm. When his brother, Tanner, died last month, he came back and took over the family’s real estate empire. “That’s great. Really great.” I shimmy my shoulders at her. To be blunt, Hook is as hot as his bad boy moniker suggests. “Hey, find out if that’s his real name. I can’t for the life of me remember that we ever called him anything else.”

  “Mr. Sexy.” She waggles her brows.

  “No, that would be Everett.” Quite literally. When Everett and I met, he refused to give me even a hint of what his name could be. But the barista at the coffee shop we were at scrawled that infamous name onto his morning coffee and I scoffed, even though it was clearly true. Everett turned out to be the judge presiding over my case that morning and he wisely sided with me.

  Essex Everett Baxter is every bit the sex god his name implies. He’s tall, forebodingly good-looking, dark hair, brilliant blue eyes, never smiles, rarely laughs, and only refers to me by my last name. Suffice it to say, if he were here, he’d hijack the attention of every woman in this room.

  The room grows strangely still, and I come to just in time to see the good judge himself darkening the doorway. He’s got his winter coat on, and there’s a smattering of snowflakes dusting his shoulders, letting me know it’s still coming down out there.

  “Carry on,” I say, motioning to Eve who clears her throat before expounding on the glory of seventeenth century Scotland.

  I speed Everett back out the door, glancing over my shoulder just as the beastly bear ambles to the center of the room and lies down at Eve’s feet as if he too were interested in story time.