“I have,” Everett answers first. “I’ve decided that my feelings for this child or his or her mother will not change. I’m going to love this baby just the same if it’s mine regardless if Noah is the biological father. Lemon was adopted. She can attest that the love her parents felt for her was genuine. I see that love in her mother’s eyes even to this day. In fact, Lemon has taken my biological daughter and accepted Evie as her own. This is a bridge we’ve already crossed in a sense. So, Noah”—he takes a breath as he looks to him from across the room—“if this baby is yours, I’m emotionally prepared to be its father, right alongside you.”
Dr. Barnette looks to Noah. “And what do you think of this?”
Noah’s chest expands as his dimples dig in deep. “I’m more than fine with it. Everett, should the baby be yours, I’ll be happy for you and Lottie. But I won’t lie, I’ll be thrilled if it’s mine. I feel like it is. I’m sorry. I can’t explain it. I’ll grieve the child I thought I was having if it turns out to be yours, Everett. But like you, my feelings for this child will remain the same. I’m in love with this baby and with Lottie, that’s no secret, and I’m not going to apologize for either. And if the test result comes back and the baby is indeed mine, I’d like to spend time in the hospital room bonding with it, along with you, Lottie. And Everett, I have no problem with you being there as well. I’ve also come to terms with the fact the baby will not be living in my home, at least not in the immediate future, but with the two of you across the street. I’d love to have a free pass to drop in as often as I like. And if the baby is mine, you’ll be seeing more of me than you thought possible.”
His eyes narrow over Everett’s, and there’s something just this side of a threat in them, or a promise in the least.
I clear my throat. “I’m perfectly fine with that. Noah, you come by anytime you want. If the baby is yours, you can spend the night for as often as you like.”
Dr. Barnette gives a light applause. “Wonderful. It really does seem like the three of you have this dialed in. You wouldn’t believe some of the disasters I’ve seen. Oh, things started out well enough, but it ended in an all-out legal battle. And some of those battles are still raging today. There were threats, weaponizing of children, bankruptcy because of all the legal dealings—and oh, the lawyers, well, no offense to your kind, Essex, but they just have a field day with this stuff. And then, there’s the community fallout. Relationships turn sour, people take sides, the in-laws become outlaws quicker than they should. The grandparents are just as bad as the parents sometimes. Believe me, it’s something you want no part in. So good for you for taking matters into your hands so early.”
Noah and Everett are still staring one another down, and the brewing tension is so thick you can cut it with a scalpel. They haven’t always gotten along. Heck, they rarely get along. Why should this be any different? This is the biggest powder keg of them all. This might prove to be downright explosive.
Dr. Barnette dims the lights in the room. “Let’s do a quick ultrasound. I’m going to see if I can determine the sex of the baby for my records. Lottie, do you want to know the gender of the baby?”
My mouth opens as I look to Noah and Everett. “We had agreed to wait, but if the moment is here and you’ll have that information, shouldn’t I? There are so many things to plan. I could paint the baby’s room pink or blue. I could buy outfits and toys, and I could plan out the potential names better. I could…” I stop myself cold as I look to Noah and Everett. “What do you think?”
“Your call, Lemon.” Everett gives a sly wink.
Noah’s lips knot up. “I agree. But don’t get caught up in the moment. Really consider it.”
Everett nods. “We can paint the baby’s room a neutral color. And I promise, once that baby is born, you can go on a wild pink or blue shopping spree. It’s on me. No need to rush things if you don’t want to.”
“Okay,” I pant as Dr. Barnette slathers my belly with the warm blue gel, and soon that instrument that looks like a computer mouse is trekking all over my abdomen.
“And there’s the baby,” she sings. “The arms and legs look perfect. The trunk, the head is appropriate for this stage, and it almost looks as if it’s waving.”
The three of us coo at the sight and shed a light laugh.
Dr. Barnette shakes her head. “But the legs are crossed. It looks as if it’s not telling us the information I came looking for. I guess the baby has made the decision for us. Not only do we not know whose it is, we don’t know what it is.”
A laugh trembles from me. “I’m more than fine with that. Actually, I think I’m going to keep it that way until delivery day.” I nod to Everett. “I’ve always been partial to a shade of Granny Smith apple green. I think that will be the perfect color to paint the baby’s room.”
Everett pulls my hand up and kisses it. “I’ll get right on that.”
“And one more thing.” Dr. Barnette hands me a towel to wipe the jelly off my stomach as she flicks on the lights. “The baby is now getting used to hearing your voice, Lottie. You might want to sing to it, or some people like to read stories. Don’t be afraid to talk to it regularly. And Noah and Everett, I suggest the same to you. It’s important that the baby knows its father’s voice, too. Your voices are deeper in octave, and babies respond very well to that.”
Noah’s face brightens. “I’ve already got a few books picked out.”
“Great,” Dr. Barnette says as she heads to the door. “I’ll see you all back here in four weeks and we’ll discuss signing up for prenatal classes. It all happens so very fast. Be prepared. This baby will be here before you know it.”
She takes off, and I shake my head as I look to Noah and Everett.
“She’s right. I feel like this is zipping by. I couldn’t fit in my old clothes even if I had them. And now we’ve got to get all that baby gear together. There are so many things to do in preparation. And I still have the bakery to run.” Tears come to my eyes, and I blink them away. “So who’s up for dinner?”
Everett laughs. “Name the place. I’ll have Carlotta and Evie meet us there, too.”
My stomach growls on cue. “I think this baby just asked for Mangias.”
I put myself back together and we head off for the promise of delicious Italian food.
The baby might be here soon enough, but not before I indulge in another cheesy wonder from my favorite pizza place.
And hopefully not sooner than I take down Hannah Beckham’s killer, too.
Chapter 10
Mangias is filled to capacity. And on top of that, they have an unprecedented forty-five minute wait. For a moment, we entertain heading across the street to the Honey Pot Diner, but there appears to be a line out the door there, too.
Evie groans. “I guess everyone had the same idea. And too bad because I’m starving.”
“It must be residual business from the street fair,” Everett says. “It was a brilliant idea because the businesses along Main Street have never been busier.”
“The Cutie Pie can attest to that,” I tell him. “Evie, where did Carlotta go?”
Evie coils a finger around one of her long dark curls. “Some place down the street called The Family Table. She says there’s some big competition going on up until Thanksgiving and she wanted in on it.”
Noah takes a breath as we start in that direction. “I heard about it, too. If you can polish off an entire Thanksgiving meal with all the fixings between two people, they’ll give you a free family dinner once a week for an entire year.”
Evie hops up and down. “I can do it. I’m freaking hungry enough to eat furniture. And Mom, I’ve seen you polish off enough food to grow an entire high school in your stomach. You’ve got this on lockdown!”
“No way.” I shake my head. “I had indigestion last week, and I almost had your dad take me to the ER because I thought I was having the baby and a heart attack. I called the doctor and she told me to take some antacid and it helped. The moral of the
story—I can’t overeat or I’m inviting a night of no sleep.”
Evie glances to my blooming belly. “You’ve already invited a night of no sleep.”
“I’ll do it.” Everett shrugs. “I’m pretty hungry myself, and I’ve never been one to back away from a competition.”
Noah’s chest bounces with a dark laugh. “At least he admits it, Lot.”
Noah has held strong to the belief that Everett simply wanted to take me from him as payback for stealing Cormack from him all those years ago.
“Noah.” I sigh as I say his name. “If Everett was with me because of some silly grudge or competition between the two of you, don’t you think he’s taken things too far?” I hold up my left hand and expose that glittering rock Everett gave me a few months back—an emerald cut diamond with tiny diamonds dancing all around it. “And he’s moving in with me. He’s committed to raising this baby even if it turns out to be yours.”
Noah nods as he stares intently at Everett. “Yup. That sounds about right. Trust me, Everett Baxter is taking this one to the grave. You don’t want to get on his bad side or he’ll make sure you pay a lifetime for it.”
Evie belts out a laugh. “I hope I have two guys willing to war it out over me. Conner and Kyle aren’t nearly as exciting. I want the angst the two of you bring. Dad has really sunk his teeth into you, Mom. He’s like a bear who won’t let go for anything. And Uncle Noah is like a bull, always trying to get what he wants and accidentally knocking things over and tearing them up in the process. So who would win between a bear and a bull, Dad?” She gives an innocent shrug as if she really was interested in the proverbial outcome.
Everett thinks on it a moment. “Initially, the bull would charge the bear. He’s got horns so the bear might be taken off his feet for a moment, but the bear would latch itself around the horns and hold on. Bears are tenacious. I suspect the bear would dig in with its front paws, use its mouth to get the advantage where it could, while its legs clawed away at the bull as well.”
“So you’re saying the bear wouldn’t let go?” Evie tightens the belt on her wool coat as a chilly breeze blows by.
“Not a chance in hell.” Everett glances to Noah. “The bear doesn’t know how to let go, especially when there’s something he wants in the bounds. The bull isn’t strong enough to knock the bear off of him, so it can’t do anything but wait in hopes the bear abandons the effort. And the bear is definitely strong enough to hold that bull into submission. The moral of story is, the bull should have never come after the bear.” He sheds a slight grin Noah’s way.
“Wow, Dad.” Evie wraps her arms around her father. “Mom is really lucky to have you. You’re never letting go.”
“That’s because I love her.” He pulls me in and dots a warm kiss to the top of my head. “I let Uncle Noah keep Cormack all those years ago. I knew that wasn’t my battle to fight. Sometimes, when the bull knocks over the bear, the bear realizes it’s not worth going after. You mother is worth a thousand bulls charging my way.”
“Sorry, Uncle Noah.” Evie pulls him in from her other side. “But the bear isn’t ever giving up.”
Noah gives Everett the side-eye. “You can tell the bear his strength means nothing. It’s entirely up to the heart of the queen where this story lives and dies. I’d watch out if I were him. One day he might just wake up and find out he’s been turned into a bearskin rug. It’s happened before. The queen just so happens to have a soft spot for bulls.”
Everett’s chest bounces with a silent laugh. “Or maybe she has a soft spot for bull?”
“Okay, you two. We’re here,” I say as we stop in front of a brick building with rounded windows that glow peach from inside. Everett holds the door for us as we file in one by one, and immediately we’re hit with the thick scent of oven-roasted turkey.
“Oh, it smells like heaven.” I moan. It’s spacious inside, with dark wooden floors and tables to match. A bar sits against the left wall, and there are tables and booths scattered around the periphery. Soft country music and a roaring fireplace add to the already cozy ambiance. There’s a small square of a dance floor that has a few bodies moving on it, and next to that there’s a long table with a banner across it that reads pumpkin pie eating contest every hour on the hour!
Evie steps in farther. “This is fun! I’m entering the pie eating contest. I don’t care how crappy the prize is. The bragging rights alone will be enough for me.”
A petite brunette wearing a long green dress and a frilly white apron comes by and navigates us through the crowd on the way to our table, and I can’t help but note the distinct sound of heavy moans of anguish emanating from all around.
The waitress gives a little laugh as she looks my way.
“Don’t worry,” she says. “It’s the competition.” She nods to the crowd of tables around us, and sure enough, there seems to be a Thanksgiving feast set on each and every one of them. “Have you heard about it?”
Noah nods. “We have. So what do we have to do to enter?”
“Rules are, two people to a table. That way we ensure no one else in the family will be helping you out.”
Noah looks to Everett. “So are you in? Are you up for knocking this out and getting that free family meal every week for a year?”
A dark laugh strums from Everett. “Buddy, this bear doesn’t back down.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Please seat us close by so we can watch the carnage.”
She leads us to a couple of round tables near the window, and right next to them I spot another familiar couple.
“Carlotta! Mayor Nash.” I give a cheery wave and they both offer a rather sickly wave back. I only discovered that Mayor Nash was my biological father a few years back, and even though I don’t feel I’m at the place to call him Dad, I do feel close to him.
Their table is strewn with all the fixings one could ask for at this time of year, and that turkey looks so juicy that I’d take a bite out of it right now if I didn’t think it would disqualify them.
“Boy”—Evie hugs me as if sheltering herself from them—“the two of you look as if you’re about to puke your guts up. I’m talking projectile vomiting here—some real head-spinning action. Try not to aim at me. I’m having a good hair day.”
Carlotta warbles out something unintelligible before shoveling a forkful of mashed potatoes into her mouth.
The waitress lifts a finger. “Hey, I can move a table between the two of you and that way you can all sort of be together.”
Before we know it, Everett and Noah help move a third small table into our midst, and soon all three tiny tables are conjoined.
“It’s still within the rules.” The waitress nods as we take our seats.
Everett and Noah are at the table to my left, Carlotta and Mayor Nash are at the table to my right, and Evie is at the same table as me. Everett and Noah request the Thanksgiving banquet challenge supper, and both Evie and I opt for a plate of the Thanksgiving special. I quickly scan the menu one last time before handing it over.
“Ooh, and throw on an order of that ambrosia salad. I haven’t had that in years.” Another menu item catches my eye. “And maybe some of the Jell-O salad, too?” I shrug over to Noah and Everett. “I mean, if I’m going to eat a salad, I may as well enjoy it.”
“Oh barf, Mom.” Evie gags on cue as the waitress collects our menus and does a disappearing act. “The next thing you know, you’ll be scarfing down macaroni salad by the gallon.”
“What’s wrong with macaroni salad?” I ask.
“Barf, barf, barf,” Evie retorts in return.
Carlotta moans like a dying cow. “Don’t you say that word again, Evie Stevie.” Another hearty moan evicts from her. She looks my way, and her hand does this crazy thing pointing every which way at once. “Ghooooo—”
“Oh my God, I think she’s having a medical episode.” I’m about to jump out of my seat when she shakes her head like mad and points to the bar.
“Ghoooo—”
> Evie elbows me. “I think she’s trying to say ghost—as in she’s about to give up the ghost.”
“Ghost?” I suck in a quick breath as I turn to the bar and spot Barry Honeycutt in all his beefy glory trying to ply Greer Giles with hard liquor, and from the looks of all the merriment, it seems to be working.
Evie may not know about my supersensual status, but sometimes I think things would be easier if she did.
Hey? If Barry is here, then maybe there’s a suspect lingering nearby? I twist and turn, and sure enough I spot her. But any glee I might have had over seeing Autumn Frasier here quickly dissipates once I spot her chatting with Cormack Featherby.
“And there goes dinner,” I mutter.
The waitress comes back with all of our food in less time than it would have taken for her to put in the order. Something tells me this isn’t their first turkey dinner of the night. I bet they’ve got an avalanche of turkeys ready and raring to fly right out of the kitchen.
A golden pie brimming with roasted puffy marshmallows lands at a nearby table and my stomach claws to have it, so I put in an order for one of those, too, before the waitress leaves.
Pecan Pie Predicament Page 11
