21. Noah
NOAH
O kay, so knocking Everett out of the race wasn’t my finest hour.
But the shiner he gave me more than made up for the fact I cost him a win.
Cost him a win? He has Lottie. That giant moron who wears a black dress for a living has already won.
Nevertheless, it makes no difference to me. In my heart, Lottie will always be mine, and in the spirit of my grand delusion I’ve decided it’s high time I head to the mall and purchase something that says as much. I need a gift for Valentine’s Day—which just so happens to be tomorrow.
I know, my timing has never been good.
I’m also on the hunt for something special for Lyla Nell and Evie, too. I can’t leave my daughter or my niece out of the fray.
The department store at the Honey Hollow Mall is brightly lit and outfitted with enough lace hearts and Cupids to qualify as a honeymoon suite for a pair of googly-eyed lovebirds—it’s done up in bright pinks, reds, and maybe way too much glitter.
The music is light and cheery and the scent of every perfume bottle being spritzed at once has already caused me to sneeze up a storm—and numbed my tastebuds at the very same time.
I knew I couldn’t. Scratch that, shouldn’t go at this on my own, and yet somehow, I’ve ended up here with the worst possible duo for the job.
“Oh, now this is what you need to get Lottie Dottie.” Carlotta holds up something that hardly qualifies as fabric. It’s red, strappy, and has more cutouts than a block of Swiss cheese.
I wince at the sight. “I’m pretty sure that’s not happening.”
“ Pfft . You’re such a prude, Foxy,” she says, shaking the material at me as if it might suddenly become a reasonable suggestion if she waved it in my face long enough. “You’re buying for Lot Lot—the love of your life, not your grandmother. Although, if you are buying for Nana, I’m sure they’ve got this in gray.”
“I’m not buying that for anyone,” I assure her while trying to make a mental map of this maze of a department store. That obstacle course lined with frosting seemed easier to navigate.
My mother barrels her way through the clearance rack, digging through a pile of heart-covered sweaters, and pulls out a particularly hideous one with oversized neon green sequined hearts sewn on the front.
“This is perfect, Noah,” she announces, waving it in my direction. “It screams Valentine’s Day. It’s festive. And more importantly, it’s twenty percent off the clearance price.” She narrows her eyes at the tag. “And don’t you worry. I can get them to take off another ten percent if we tell them one of the sequins is loose.” She scratches at a sequin heart with her fingernail and arranges for just that.
To say my mother is frugal is an understatement. She once tried to return wrapping paper on December twenty-sixth, rumpled and torn, with nametags still sticking to it.
“I think I’ll keep looking,” I say with a sigh.
Honestly, when it came to selecting a female companion to help guide me with a feminine touch, neither Carlotta nor my mother was my first choice. I would have taken my sister, or any of Lottie’s sisters, but they’re either nursing, pregnant, or running the Honey Pot Diner. Miranda is knee-deep in wedding planning, so I didn’t have the heart to take away from that.
No offense to my present company, but my list of female companions for this outing was bottom of the barrel.
“But Noah,” Mom whines while wagging the frayed sweater my way. “We can leave with this beauty costing us less than three dollars! We’re practically robbing the place.”
“I have a feeling if I robbed the place, I’d end up with a few nicer things. And unfortunately, that’s the direction I see the most promise at this point. I need something that lets Lottie know she’s special.”
“Nothing says special like saving a buck,” Mom replies, stuffing the sweater back onto the rack with a huff. “Fine, you don’t want to be practical. Waste your money. It’s not like you have kids to think about… oh, wait.” She raises an eyebrow, and I sigh.
“And at least you’re acknowledging Lyla Nell.” I nod her way. “It’s a start.”
Carlotta hooks her arm through mine, dragging us toward a display of perfume bottles shaped like a naked woman.
“Alright, listen, Foxy,” she says. “You need to think romance . And nothing screams we’re about to get frisky like a bottle of pricey spritzer—preferably something that smells like vanilla cupcakes. That’s Lot’s kryptonite. Either way, she’ll think of you every time she sprays it right into her mouth.”
“Thanks, Carlotta. But I don’t think I’m leaning toward perfume.”
“Lookie here, Noah,” Mom pipes up from where she’s now perusing the costume jewelry section. “These earrings have little cupcakes on them and they’re only five dollars! Why, this would be perfect for Lottie. Even you have to admit that.”
“Maybe so,” I say, feeling my patience thinning. “But I think I have something else in mind. If only I knew what that was.” There’s no way I’m getting her anything subpar in any way. “I need something that shows her that she’s everything to me.”
Carlotta lifts a brow my way. “Well, well, look who’s getting all sentimental on us. Didn’t realize you had it in you, Foxy. In that case, tie a bow around yourself and give her the best gift of all, yourself! ”
“If I knew it’d work, I just might,” I tease. “I really would give her anything.”
“You’re such a pushover when it comes to that girl,” Mom grunts. “How many homicides have you let her get away with? What more could you possibly do to show your affection for her?”
“That I don’t know.” We continue to scan the store, but nothing feels right. Everything’s either too corny or too flashy—and neither of those things are Lottie. She’s warmth and light, and a whole lot of heart.
Suddenly, inspiration hits like a heart-shaped anvil right over my head. I know exactly what to get her. It’s something that’s meaningful, something that’ll make her smile—Lottie, Lyla Nell, and even Evie.
It’s not here in this lace-covered disaster zone, but I know where to look.
“I’ve got it,” I say, turning on my heel and make a beeline for the exit with them.
“What? That’s it?” Carlotta squawks, struggling to keep up. “No lacy lingerie, no sequined sweaters, not even some heart-shaped jewelry?”
“Nope. I’m all set,” I say, grinning as I hold the door open for them.
Mom shoots me a skeptical look. “You sure, honey? Because there was a nice set of slightly used fuzzy slippers in the returns section. Not many people know that there’s an entire section in the back of things that people had to give back. Nothing says love like footwear.”
“I’m sure, Mom. Thanks, though.”
I don’t tell them what I’ve decided on, but I can already picture Lottie’s smile when she opens her gift. It’s going to be perfect. Lyla Nell and Evie will love their gifts, too.