Chapter 21
Lottie
It’s the very next day after talking to Milo the Magnificent last night and then spending a solid half hour prying Carlotta out of that magic box.
Spoiler alert: she was folded in half the entire time, very much intact, and deeply offended that we didn’t free her faster. Apparently, sawing herself in half is less traumatic than being ignored while sawed in half, and she made sure we knew it the entire ride home.
Anyway, before Everett took off this morning, he let me know he had a short day in court, and hopefully he’d be done early.
Thank goodness. He also mentioned that the rest of the week was shaping up to be light, which I’m really looking forward to.
I tried not to let my relief show too much, because nothing says romance like your wife looking thrilled you’ll be home before dark for once, but I’m pretty sure he saw right through me.
He usually does. It’s one of the more inconvenient side effects of marrying a judge.
And the twins are pretty much well behaved. Actually, well-behaved might be generous. Aggressively adorable with a hidden agenda is closer.
“Lottie,” Ava said over breakfast, like she already knew she was about to get her way. “Can we go back-to-school shopping today?”
I glanced at Olivia, who was doing the exact same lash-batting thing. It looked synchronized. Rehearsed, even. Honestly, it was a little impressive, in a way that should have set off every alarm bell I own.
“Doesn’t your mom want to do that with you?” I asked.
Ava sighed dramatically. “She doesn’t have time. She’s in Munich all week, remember? And she said we could go shopping while we’re here. She said you’d take us.”
“I don’t remember that part.”
Olivia shrugged. “She probably forgot to mention it.”
“She did?” I asked, suspicious.
“She did,” Olivia confirmed, pulling a shiny black credit card out of her pocket like she was presenting evidence in court.
And that’s how I ended up at Serenity Luxe Activewear, a store so fancy it had a waterfall in the entrance and employees who looked like they moonlighted as yoga instructors who charged two hundred dollars an hour to help people find their authentic selves.
The girls went wild. Leggings in every color. Sports bras that cost more than every bra I’ve ever bought in life combined. Tank tops with inspirational quotes stitched into the seams. Jackets that claimed to be moisture-wicking and performance-enhancing, which I’m pretty sure just means expensive.
And the underwear. Oh, the underwear. They bought so much underwear I thought we were stocking a small country in case of emergency.
By the time we got to the register, the total was close to three thousand dollars.
I balked. “Girls. This is—”
“Mom said it was fine,” Ava said quickly.
“She told us to get whatever we needed,” Olivia added.
“For school,” Ava finished. “You’re not a cheapskate, are you? My mom says you’ve got great taste and that Dad is loaded.”
I hesitated, my hand hovering over the credit card reader. Something felt off. But they looked so earnest. So innocent. So—
“Please, Lottie?” Olivia said, her eyes going wide. “We just want to fit in at school. You understand, right?”
I caved. I handed over the card. I paid. I sealed my own doom with a polite smile and a receipt the length of my arm.
And now, standing in the Cutie Pie Bakery with Suze, Lily, Keelie, and Carlotta all staring at me like I just confessed to a felony, I realize I’ve been played. Ava and Olivia are in the back decorating cookies to their expensive hearts content.
“You went to Serenity Luxe?” Suze says, her mouth hanging open. “On purpose? With money?”
“And you spent three thousand dollars?” Lily adds, clutching her chest as if she might keel over right there on the freshly mopped floor.
Keelie bursts out laughing. “Lottie. Oh, Lottie. You’ve been played like a fiddle.”
“More like a cash register,” Carlotta says, cackling. “Cha-ching!”
I was lucky enough to drop off the boys and Lyla Nell with Glam Glam for the afternoon so the girls could get their shopping in without me losing my mind entirely. Which means right now, the only chaos in the bakery is emotional.
Pancake and Waffles are here with us as well because Ava and Olivia don’t leave the house without them.
Keelie and I pulled them out of their bubble backpacks so we could actually hold them like normal cats instead of astronauts headed for reentry. Pancake is purring in my lap, and Waffles is batting at Keelie’s bracelet.
“The girls have just been so mischievous,” I say, scratching Pancake behind the ears. “And they talk in this strange language. I don’t even know what they’re saying half the time.”
Keelie laughs. “Remember when we were like that? We’d make up our own language so our mothers wouldn’t understand us.”
“Oh, good grief, I forgot about that,” I say, smiling despite myself. “We thought we were so clever.”
“You were clever,” Carlotta says. “You were also deeply annoying. Miranda told me you two convinced the substitute teacher you were foreign exchange students who only spoke Swiss.”
Keelie bursts out laughing. “Oh my goodness, I forgot about that! We kept saying ‘danke’ and bowing.”
“Swiss people don’t bow,” I point out.
“The substitute didn’t know that,” Keelie says, grinning.
Carlotta leans forward. “And didn’t you two also fake a twin-telepathy routine to get out of a history test?”
“That was different,” I say. “We actually studied for that test. We just also pretended Keelie could read my mind to freak out Mr. Henderson.”
“It worked,” Keelie says proudly. “He gave us extra credit for demonstrating the mysteries of twin connection.”
I nod. “He kept forgetting that Naomi was your twin.”
Keelie barks out a laugh. “That’s because you kept telling him you were.”
“He was pretty easy to pull something over on,” I mutter.
“He was easily impressed,” Keelie corrects.
Carlotta leans back in her chair, grinning. “You know, those twin tornadoes have got a major crush on Bear.” She nods toward my bestie. “Keelie, you’d better watch your back. In a couple of years, they’re gonna come after him.”
Keelie laughs it off. “Please, they’re thirteen. Bear is ancient in comparison.”
“Exactly,” Carlotta says. “Give them two years and a growth spurt, and you’ll have competition.”
“Carlotta,” I warn.
“What?” she balks. “That’s how I landed Mayor Nash. I started early, played the long game, and ended up with both Lot Lot and Cha-Cha.”
I sigh. Cha-Cha would be my sister Charlie. And yes, Carlotta’s assessment of her dubious past would be accurate. We were both born of an affair. Not that either of us is particularly proud of it.
Suze snorts. “Carlotta, your life is like a soap opera.”
“Tell me about it,” I say. One that should have been canceled years ago—several seasons before the writers ran out of plausible plotlines.
The door swings open, and Noah strides in looking like a man on a mission, Toby trotting along at his side.
Both cats perk up and look like they’re about to bolt, but once they realize it’s just Toby they settle right back into purring and napping in my arms and Keelie’s, secure in their conviction that he is beneath their concern.
“Lottie,” he says, zeroing in on me. “We need to talk. Where are the girls?”
“Ava and Olivia?” I blink. “In the back. Decorating cookies. Why?”
Noah pulls out his phone and shows me the screen. It’s a dating profile. With his picture. And a bio that says: Single dad, love long walks and longer nights. Let’s make some memories.
My jaw drops. “What—”
He swipes to another profile. Local detective looking for a good time. No strings attached.
And another. Ready to meet someone special tonight. Call me.
Carlotta, Suze, Lily, and Keelie all crowd around, peering at the phone.
And then they lose it.
Carlotta doubles over, wheezing. Keelie has tears streaming down her face. Lily is slapping the counter, and Suze is laughing so hard no sound is coming out, which is somehow the loudest laugh in the room.
“What’s so funny?” Noah asks, looking mostly annoyed.
“Yeah,” I say, equally annoyed. “I’m not laughing.”
“You wouldn’t.” Suze calls me out on my loyalty to Noah.
“Oh my word,” Keelie gasps. “They catfished you!”
“Look at you, Mr. Eligible Bachelor,” Carlotta crows. “Single dad looking for a good time? Foxy, you sly sexy fox. Although I gotta say, the girls undersold you. They should’ve mentioned your dimples. The dimples seal the dirty deal.”
She’s not wrong. And suddenly I’m twice as incensed as I was before, which is really saying something.
Noah’s jaw tightens. “It’s identity theft.”
“It’s hilarious,” Suze corrects, wiping her eyes.
Noah looks at his mother. “You’re not getting off easy. We’re going to be talking later about you-know-what.”
Suze glances at the clock without actually checking it, then grabs her purse. “Oh, would you look at the time. I’d better go help Effie at the fairgrounds. A new shipment of cookies just came in, and those cookies aren’t going to sell themselves.” She bolts for the door before Noah can protest.
“Those cookies most certainly do sell themselves,” I say to no one in particular.
Carlotta grabs Noah’s phone out of his hand. “Let me see this. Oh! Oh my. Love long walks and longer nights? Foxy, that’s poetry. Who knew you had it in you?”
“I didn’t write that,” Noah says through gritted teeth.
“Wait, there’s more?” Keelie leans over Carlotta’s shoulder. “Click that one. The one with three chili pepper emojis.”
Carlotta clicks. Her eyes go wide. “Foxy! This woman is offering to cook you dinner. In lingerie. And by dinner, I don’t think she means pot roast.”
Noah reaches for his phone, but Carlotta holds it out of reach with the reflexes of a woman who has spent her whole life keeping things away from people who want them back.
“How many apps did they sign you up for?” Keelie asks, scrolling through the emails on Noah’s phone screen. “I’m counting at least eight. No, wait, nine.”
“How many women responded?” Carlotta asks.
“Too many,” Noah mutters.
“Did any of them send pictures?” Keelie asks, grinning.
Noah’s face goes red. “Several.”
They dissolve into laughter again, and I set Pancake down gently, because this is it.
These girls have officially gone too far.
I don’t care how cute they are or how much they bat their lashes.
There are limits. And catfishing a detective from the sheriff’s department is definitely past that limit, especially when that detective is my Noah.
“See there, Lot?” Carlotta grunts in the direction of the kitchen. “That devilish duo is like the girls from The Shining. Those creepy twins. Come play with us, Noah. Forever and ever.”
“That’s so creepy,” Keelie says, laughing.
“We can’t say that,” I mutter, but I’m already heading toward the back of the bakery, because someone needs to parent these children, and apparently that someone is me, a woman who once lost an argument to a toddler about whether socks are real.
“Girls!” I call out. “Come here, please!”
There’s a pause. Some shuffling. Whispering that sounds distinctly like giggling.
And then Ava and Olivia appear in the doorway, and Carlotta screams at the top of her lungs.
“THEY’RE COVERED IN BLOOD! AND THEY’RE THIRSTY FOR MORE! EVERYONE RUN AND HIDE! THEY’RE GOING TO GET US! WE’RE NEXT!”
Pancake bolts like his tail’s on fire. Waffles hisses and dives under a table. Keelie jumps back so fast she knocks over a chair, and Lily actually climbs onto the counter as if the floor has suddenly turned to lava.
The girls are indeed covered from head to toe in what looks like blood, dripping down their faces, their arms, their clothes, and pooling at their feet in sticky red puddles. Except I know exactly what it is, because I made three batches of it this morning. Red raspberry jelly.
My heart is still pounding, adrenaline coursing through my veins like I just ran a marathon I didn’t train for, and I’m standing here staring at two thirteen-year-olds who thought it would be hilarious to give everyone in the bakery a collective heart attack.
And the worst part? They’re not even sorry. They’re grinning like they deserve a medal, and possibly a reality show.
This week isn’t going to kill me. But these girls might actually succeed where a dozen murderers have failed.