Chapter 8
Lottie
No sooner does Everett dash out the door for the courthouse than I’m left standing in the middle of my bakery with five children, one Carlotta, and the distinct feeling that the universe has it in for me. Day one of teenager week, and we’re already down a judge.
I greet both Ava and Olivia and herd them over to sit with Mom and Lainey, who are already camped out at the table closest to the display case with a clear view of the entire bakery.
Lainey is holding her sweet baby girl Mimi, who’s currently gumming a teething ring with the determination of a tiny safecracker. Her two-year-old, Josie, is in preschool. Lainey is a staunch believer in early education, the earlier the better, apparently, even at the fingerpainting-and-nap level.
The Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery is painted in butter yellow with white trim, and a massive fake oak tree crawls along the ceiling, its branches sprawling out in every direction as if it’s trying to escape through the roof.
Twinkle lights are woven through the branches year-round because my Grandma Nell believed that ambiance sells pastries.
She wasn’t wrong.
The girls spot Mom immediately and their faces light up.
“Hi, Glam Glam!” they say in unison.
My heart does this little squeeze thing.
They’ve taken to calling my mother by her self-appointed grandmother nickname, Glam Glam, short for Glamorous Grandmother, because of course Mom would never settle for something as pedestrian as Grandma or Nana.
And they call Carlotta by her dicey nickname, too.
“Hi, Aunt Lainey,” Ava says, sliding into the chair next to her.
Lainey’s got on jeans and a soft pink sweater that’s already sporting a questionable stain on the shoulder, an occupational hazard of holding a teething baby.
Her caramel-colored hair is pulled back in a messy bun, and she’s got that slightly frazzled but still functioning look that all mothers of small children wear like a badge of honor.
Mom, on the other hand, is dressed in a teal blouse with sparkly earrings that could blind a crow in broad daylight and enough makeup to ensure she’s camera-ready at all times. You never know when a tourist might want a photo with the owner of Honey Hollow’s most haunted B&B.
“So,” Lainey says, bouncing Mimi on her knee. “Are you girls excited about spending the week in Honey Hollow?”
They shrug.
“I guess,” Ava grunts.
“It’ll be fine.” Olivia looks as if she’s trying to convince herself.
“Just fine?” Carlotta bops over and plants herself among them, grabbing a chair and spinning it backward before straddling it as if she’s about to interrogate a suspect.
“Fine is what you say about cafeteria meatloaf. This is Honey Hollow. We’re talking adventure, intrigue, a few handsome men with questionable judgment, and just enough felony charges to keep things interesting. ”
“Hi, Cray Cray,” they sing in unison.
And there it is. They’re familiar with Carlotta’s self-appointed nickname too. Cray Cray, short for Crazy Carlotta, which is less a nickname and more a factual statement.
Ava leans in, her eyes sparkling. “Oh please tell me you’ll be with us all week. You always make everything so fun.” She shoots me a sideways glance as if I manage to do the opposite.
I don’t, do I?
“Oh, I’ll be around,” Carlotta says with a wicked grin. “If Lot Lot drops dead from exhaustion, somebody’s gotta teach you girls how to flirt your way out of a speeding ticket.”
Good gravy.
Lyla Nell laughs at the thought of her mother dropping dead and tosses a piece of her cookie at Carlotta, who promptly catches it in her mouth like a trained seal. Spontaneous applause breaks out from all three girls, and it’s loud enough to make the boys squirm in their stroller.
Mom picks up Ozzy and I scoop up Corbin, smelling his sweet hair before kissing him on his chubby cheeks.
They really are a couple of Everett’s doppelgangers.
Dark hair, cobalt blue eyes, and that serious little frown they both get when they’re concentrating on not spitting up.
And well, so are the girls. Evie included.
It’s as if Everett’s genes only have one setting: copy and paste.
“So, Lottie,” Mom wiggles her shoulders my way and bounces Ozzy by proxy. “What’s going on with the case?”
I shoot her a look sharp enough to slice the veil open between here and the next world, and she immediately gasps and mouths the word sorry.
“What case?” Lainey asks, perking up.
I give her the big eyes too, and she winces. “Oh, that.”
“Don’t worry,” Olivia says as Lyla Nell hands her a piece of her cookie. “We know all about the case.”
“That’s right,” Ava sings with glee. “There was a murder last night!”
“How do you know?” I ask, more than a little concerned that two thirteen-year-olds are this dialed in to Honey Hollow’s homicide rate. Then again, so am I, and look how I turned out.
Olivia shrugs. “It’s all over the internet.”
Ava nods. “We religiously follow Honey Hollow Hush Hush on Tikety Tok. They always have the best dirt.”
Carlotta gasps and clutches her chest. “That’s one of my handles! I’ve got about six.”
The girls are instantly impressed as their eyes double in size.
Wonderful. Things are going sideways already and surprise, surprise, Carlotta just found herself two highly impressionable disciples.
“Wait, you’re CrimeSceneCarlotta?” Ava gasps as if she just met a celebrity.
“Guilty as charged,” Carlotta says, looking entirely too pleased with guilty herself.
She’s a crime scene all right. A walking, talking crime scene. The yellow tape practically follows her around. Too bad it can’t bind and gag her.
Ava looks at me, her expression shifting to something a little more calculating. “So are you investigating this case?” She nods as if prodding me to admit it, or do it on command. “And if you are, that means we get to investigate too, right?”
“No way,” I say with a conviction I’m not sure I feel. For sure I don’t want the twins running around with a magnifying glass while sizing up a killer. But I seem less inclined to say the same about myself. I can’t help it. Tracking down killers is in my blood at this point.
“Oh, come on,” Olivia says. “We could totally help.”
“We’re very observant,” Ava adds.
“And we’ve seen every episode of Murder, She Wrote,” Olivia finishes.
Carlotta cackles. “I like these two. They’ve got moxie.”
“They’ve got nothing,” I say firmly. “Because they’re not investigating anything.”
Lainey nods. “Lottie’s right. You girls should focus on having fun this week. It’s summer. Run through the sprinklers or go to Honey Lake. Leave the murder stuff to the adults.”
Mom, however, is less helpful. “Although, you know, fresh eyes on a case can be valuable.”
“Mother,” I hiss.
I’m about to intervene, really intervene, with my Mom Voice and everything, when a shower of light pink stars appears next to me just before the cutest little elephant with a pink bow materializes in all of her ethereal, translucent glory.
She’s about the size of a refrigerator, with big soulful eyes and ears that flap gently even though there’s no breeze.
The pink bow on her head matches the tiny pink bow on her tail, and she looks at me with an expression that says she’s been waiting for this exact moment to make my head explode with cuteness overload.
“Elephant!” Lyla Nell screams, claps her hands, and bounces in her seat so hard she’s about to launch herself to Mars.
Both Ava and Olivia crane their necks in every direction. “Where? Where?”
I wince because, well, they can’t see her.
Mom gets a text and glances at her phone. “Ooh, I’ve got my haunted B&B tour starting in a few minutes, and I always like to make sure the tourists are funneled here afterward for the—”
I clear my throat and give her a death glare.
She winces as she hands Ozzy back into his stroller. “Never you ladies mind.” She winks at Ava and Olivia.
What she was going to say is that she likes to send all of the tourists my way for what she’s dubbed The Last Thing They Ate Tour, in regards to the most recent homicide.
In this case, it would be one of my animal cracker cookies, and by the looks of it, we’re going to need to triple production just to keep up with the macabre demand.
Let’s just say that not only does my mother make a mint flaunting those sweet ghosts that haunt her B&B, but she makes sure I make a mint too, right on her heels.
Honestly, there is no better mother than Miranda Lemon.
She’s supportive, entrepreneurial, and utterly shameless when it comes to capitalizing on tragedy.
I thank the Good Lord every day that ends in Y that I was raised by Miranda and not by Carlotta.
Carlotta might be my birth mother, but the single best thing she’s ever done for me was leave me on the floor of the Honey Hollow Fire Department when I was just a few hours old.
Mom says goodbye and zips out the door, and Lainey rises from her seat as Lyla Nell does her best to grab the ghost of an elephant currently floating to her right.
Lainey offers me a quick embrace. “You should really talk to Lyla Nell about her imaginary friends. I’ll admit, she’s really next level when it comes to commitment to the bit.”
I make a face at her as she says goodbye to the girls and takes off with Mimi in tow.
“I want ellie-phant!” Lyla Nell begins to wail as she tries to swipe at the elephant’s tiny, cute tail.
“Wow.” Ava cringes a little as she witnesses the spectacle. “What’s going on here, Cray Cray?”
I can’t help but frown that she’d ask Carlotta over me. I’m right here. Literally holding a baby and standing three feet away. An entire sane person in her presence and she chooses Cray Cray over me.
Carlotta leans her way. “The Little Yippy has a dicey grasp on reality at the best of times. Don’t take it personally.
” She gestures toward the empty space where the elephant is hovering.
“That’s her emotional-support elephant. As you can see, the little yipper gets testy if she can’t conjure it up in time. ”