34. Lottie
LOTTIE
“ Y es, I killed them.” Shelly Everly sheds a short-lived grin, and both Carlotta and Sweetheart cower behind me in the conservatory.
“I killed them because I couldn’t stand them anymore,” she continues. “I hated the way Romildo discarded me. I hated the way he changed his name for her so they could sound like some cutesy tragic couple—who, by the way, were a couple of stupid teenagers who made bad decisions. It’s obvious neither of them read the play,” she riots as the veins pop out on her temple like squiggly little garden snakes. “I was the love of his life. Couldn’t he see that? I built that company—heck, I named that company! Cupid’s Confections was mine in every way. Sure, he came up with the capital, but there would be no Cupid’s Confections without me! And yes, I’ve been tying them up in court ever since. He couldn’t get me off the paperwork, try as he might. And I was never, ever going to leave.”
A thought comes to me. “Yes, technically, you were going to leave. You told Carlotta you were moving your office to Main Street, here in Honey Hollow. And I know for a fact we don’t have any office space on that street. You were going to leave town. That’s why you had to pack up.”
Her nostrils flare as she huffs a silent laugh. “That’s right, Lottie. I am going to leave town. And I’m going to do it now.” She pulls her purse close to her body. “Goodbye, Carlotta, it’s been fun. But it looks like the party is over.” She turns on her heels and bolts for the door.
“Stop, thief!” I shout.
Doh! Darn pregnant brain.
“I mean stop, killer ,” I shout as I waddle to keep up with her.
In no time, Greer, Winslow, Lea, and Thirteen appear and zip toward the woman.
“Don’t let her get away,” I call out.
“Well, it looks as if they’ve got it handled,” Sweetheart says as she traipses her way to those bacon-wrapped dates once again. “I’ll just sit back and relax. Romeo and Juliette certainly didn’t do anything for me.”
“Oh, good gravy,” I say as Shelly makes it to the door, and Winslow tosses a chair at her.
I don’t know why, but the ghosts at the inn seem to have the ability to manipulate the material world more than the ghosts that come back to help me. I was once told that it was directly linked to my own transmundane powers. Although at the moment, my own abilities mean squat because the ghost dragged down here from Heaven to help is far more interested in those delectable appetizers.
For a second, my feet turn in the direction of those delectable appetizers.
No, no, I need to stay on task.
“Shelly, come back here, please,” I say, holding my overgrown midsection as I waddle in that direction.
She turns my way and laughs. “You wish. Just try to catch up with me.” She starts for the exit again, and this time it’s Greer who picks the woman up and zips her clear across the front of the room, crashing her into that glorious rose-covered arch.
A horrible cry comes from Shelly as the arch begins to wobble, and as Shelly tries to right herself against it the entire thing crashes down onto the acrylic chairs, and they all topple, row by row like dominoes.
But Shelly is undeterred as she crawls on all fours toward the exit, and little Lea tips over one of my dessert tables right onto the woman.
“Please spare the wedding cake,” I bark.
Thankfully, the wedding cake is much closer to the altar. I didn't want anyone accidentally nibbling on it since it's hardly what I would call tradition.
Shelly tries to run, and those not-so-friendly-at-the-moment ghosts dismantle a little more of my mother's handiwork as framed photos of the couples fly to the ceiling and candles topple—thankfully, they’re battery-operated.
I think my mother smelled the potential for danger. And there goes a flower arrangement, spilling water and petals all over the aisle, and one of the chandeliers sways ominously, its crystal drops clinking together like nervous chatter. Lastly, a garland of twinkle lights snaps loose, raining down like a string of defeated stars.
A cacophony of screams emits from the smattering of wedding guests that have already arrived, and soon my mother runs into the room and delivers a scream that can rival an aria.
Meg runs in looking like a bridal dream, with the exception that her dress is black. I’m not sure why I didn't know this in advance, and I’ll admit, it’s jarring at first glance—but she looks stunning, nonetheless.
Sam darts in next with green goo on her face, still wearing a pink robe, but her hair is styled to perfection with tiny little rhinestones glimmering in it.
“I’m getting out of here,” Shelly huffs as she stands, and her foot slips on one of my Bavarian cream-filled éclairs, and she lands right back on her keister.
“Lemon?” Everett barks as he runs into the room.
No sooner does he swoop my way than Noah runs in on his heels with his gun drawn. “Everybody freeze ,” he shouts.
“She did it,” I tell him as I point to Shelly, still slipping away in my desserts. “She confessed to killing Romeo and Juliette. She tried to frame Venus for it. And probably Caudwell, too. She’s guilty, and she was about to flee from Vermont.”
Noah runs that way and quickly cuffs the woman.
“Lemon.” Everett pulls me tight. “Are you okay?”
I nod. “I wasn’t able to stop her, but the ghosts stepped in. Greer and the gang.” I wrinkle my nose. “Sweetheart wasn’t too interested.” I look back at the extended appetizer display where Carlotta can’t be bothered with the pursuit of justice because she’s too busy stuffing her face with everything she sees.
Ooh , are those deep-fried mac and crack bites? Those are my absolute favorite.
Sweetheart sparkles and dissipates as she slowly rises to the ceiling.
“What’s happening?” she barks in a panic. “Am I going home?”
Carlotta grunts my way, “There you go ruining another good thing, Lot. It’s like you don’t want me having any friends.”
“Goodbye, Lottie Lemon,” Sweetheart cries as she nears the ceiling. “Goodbye, Carlotta, until we meet again. Quick, Thirteen, there’s still time. Why don’t you come with me? All you have down there is a nice little family and a bunch of good foo—” And with that, she up and disappears.
“It’s over,” I say as I hold onto Everett tight, and we watch as Noah speeds Shelly out of the room.
Everett checks his watch. “No, it’s actually almost time to begin.”
And on that note, my mother drops to her knees and screams at the top of her lungs once again.