“I’d tell you to sleep tight, Lot, but we both know there’s not going to be a whole lotta sleeping going on here tonight.”
I cringe as I turn to face Noah, but my eyes drift up to that rumored to be haunted portrait of the man cloaked in mystery instead.
“You don’t really think it’s haunted, do you?” I ask just as the lights flicker on and off. A shard of lightning fills the night sky outside the windows followed by a crash of thunder. “Well, there’s that.”
Noah shakes his head. “His eyes follow you everywhere, too. It’s creepy. I’d throw a sheet over it at night if I were you.”
Everett nods in agreement. “I’d keep the sheet over it during the day as well.”
Noah comes over, his dimples digging in. “You don’t really think my mother’s a witch, do you?”
My mouth opens and closes. I’m about to fill them in on that whole beguiler thing, but I end up yawning instead.
“Get some rest. Love you, Lot.” Noah dots a kiss to my cheek before giving my belly a pat. “Whoever you are, whosever you are. I love you, too.”
He takes off, and Everett dips his chin as he gets that dangerously sexy look on his face.
Who am I kidding? Everett was born with a dangerously sexy look on his face.
Everett scoops me up into his arms—one arm mostly—and carries me over the threshold to our new bedroom.
And we break in the house the right way.
One kiss at a time.
Let’s hope I don’t break anything tomorrow night while Cormack and Cressida are hazing me.
I put them out of my mind for now, but every now and again Gloria Abner floats through it like the ghost of homicides past.
If I want to have a holly jolly Christmas season, I’ll have to trace her killer down.
But first, I’m going to trace my lips down every inch of my husband’s body.
And we have a jolly good time all night long.
Chapter 7
The holiday season in Honey Hollow is always bustling. Main Street is thick with crowds, and every shop and business hires a few extra hands to accommodate the ravenous shoppers. Lily and I just closed out the bakery, taking a record number of pie and gingerbread house orders for the day. And no matter how much we’ve upped the production of those eggnog trifles, we still ended up selling out before the day was through. It’s as though the entire country were starved for those holiday-inspired treats, and on top of that, they couldn’t get enough of them.
As soon as I lock up, I receive a text from Cormack letting me know I need to be at the Candy Lounge out in Fallbrook. Both Carlotta and Keelie are with me, so this works out perfectly. Evie is at the movies tonight with her best friend Dash, so if I time it right, I should be home just as she’s getting there herself. And as fate would have it, Everett still isn’t home and Noah texted me earlier letting me know he was working overtime to solve the Abner case before Christmas.
Fallbrook is a good drive from Honey Hollow on a normal night, but on a snowy night with holiday traffic, it feels as if it takes us an eternity to arrive. I park my minivan, and the three of us find ourselves wandering into the Grand Lux Hotel. The hotel is set on a fancy golf course, and inside it’s opulent with all the glitz and glamour this highfalutin town requires. Fallbrook is the Beverly Hills of Vermont. It houses more millionaires and billionaires per capita than any other place in the state.
We come up on the Candy Lounge with its name written in gold across a white background. Just under the word candy, they’ve added the word cane in red and white stripes, transitioning the name of the club to the all too festive Candy Cane Lounge.
It’s dimly lit inside, rock music blares through the speakers, and if I’m not mistaken, it sounds as if a rock and roll version of “Silent Night” is playing overhead. The scent of something saucy and cheesy infiltrates my senses and makes my stomach rumble twice as hard.
“Oh, I’m starving,” I tell Carlotta and Keelie as they both crane their necks every which way. “I was so busy today, all I had time to eat was the treats from my bakery. Mostly eggnog trifle because I’m a sucker for the combination of eggnog and gingerbread cake. But I threw a few gingerbread cookies, éclairs, black forest cake, red velvet cupcakes, cheese Danishes, orange cranberry scones, and glazed crullers into the mix as well. Oh, and fried pickles. But that’s not real food,” I say as a waitress dressed in a tiny silver dress glides by with a tray full of appetizers, and just the sight of all the mouthwatering goodness drives a hard groan from me.
Carlotta threads her arm through mine. “We’d better get her to a table before she grabs a waitress and starts gnawing on her leg.”
Both Carlotta and Keelie did a quick change at home before we headed out this way. I’m still in the loose flannel dress Lainey lent me, but Carlotta came to play in a short number that looks as if it’s entirely comprised of green tinsel. As if it didn’t have enough fashion offenses going for itself, there are tiny fluffy red balls sprinkled around it in a random pattern.
And Keelie’s choice of accouterments is no better. She’s donned a red dress with a hemline that’s markedly higher in the front than it is in the back. It’s cut to look as if it’s strapless, but there are tiny black ribbons tied over her bare shoulders. A thin white boa lines the top of it, giving it that naughty holiday appeal, and the middle of it morphs into a black bustier. It’s a dress that’s full of ideas, not all of them good ones, but not surprisingly, it looks stunning on my bubbly blonde bestie.
“Keelie, you look amazing,” I tell her. “You really snapped back into shape. I bet Bear can’t wait to see you in that dress.”
“He’ll see me sooner than later. I told him where we were going, and he says he’s going to meet me here. Don’t worry, Lottie. If all goes well, I won’t be needing a ride home.”
“What do you mean by if all goes well?”
Her ruby lips twitch as she gets a devilish gleam in her eyes. “Aunt Carlotta, I took your advice, and Bear and I are doing a little role-playing to spice things up. My mother offered to watch the baby tonight, so this is the perfect opportunity to take part in Operation Carnal Christmas happening tonight. I’m playing the role of the hot elf that escaped Santa’s workshop, and Bear is the mean executive looking to replace Santa’s workshop with a factory that mass-produces shoddy toys.”
“Wow, you’ve really thought this one through. I guess it’s up to you to save Christmas.”
She nods. “And to teach that heartless executive a lesson. Bear is really getting into it. He said I’ll hardly recognize him because he’s showing up in a suit.”
Carlotta ticks her head to the side. “I didn’t know Bear owned a suit.”
“He doesn’t.” Keelie shakes her head. “But he said he swung by your place this morning. No one was home, but he saw Noah out front and Noah let him in to borrow one of Everett’s suits.”
“One of Everett’s suits?” My eyes bulge at the prospect. “Does Everett know about this?” Everett’s suits are tailor-made for him and imported straight from Italy. I saw the price tag of one once and nearly needed to be resuscitated. Thankfully, Dr. Baxter was on hand to make sure all of my medical needs were well tended, too. Suffice it to say, Everett and I have done a little role-playing ourselves. Let’s just say he was thorough with his exam.
Keelie clucks her tongue. “How would Everett know? He wasn’t home. Besides, Lot, we’re like sisters. What’s mine is yours. It’s always been that way.”
Something tells me I need to add an addendum to that policy. Clearly we need to draw the line at my husband’s closet.
A pale hand waves to me from across the room, and I see a group of women, a trio of which has hair as pale as flames.
“There they are,” I hiss, pointing over to where Cormack, Cressida, and Candy sit at an elongated table, and we begin to thread our way through the crowd as we make our way over.
Normally, I wouldn’t be caught dead schmoozing with Cormack and Cressida, but Cand
y Brighton is here and I can’t help but feel as if I’ve won the suspect lottery.
Candy was playing the part of emcee at the Christmas Angels auction. She knew Gloria Abner. And as someone important in the organization they both belonged to, I’m betting she knows more than a little about Gloria. Who knows, she might even know some of the secrets Elodie hinted at.
The club is both flashy and trashy, with its dark glossy floors, white tables, and booths with Roman columns strewn senselessly about, and each column is backlit a pale shade of green. There’s a forty-foot ceiling at least, where rows and rows of opulent chandeliers hang at an even spacing. It’s the kind of venue you could use for a wedding reception if you wanted. It’s definitely someplace where you can host a party, and judging by the incredible density of the crowd, that party is happening tonight. Most of the booths and tables outline the periphery, and the center of the establishment is filled with couples dancing to holiday-inspired tunes. Half the women here have on a headband with two plastic candy canes bobbing from it like a pair of antennae. And each one lights up in turn.
We hit the table just as the women seated at it explode with laughter. Each woman here holds a socialite appeal, with their stiff faces, puffy lips, excessive amounts of cosmetics, and foot long lashes. They’re all wearing some form of the requisite little black dress, and they all seem to be engaged in lively conversations with one another. And, of course, they’ve each donned a pair of those candy cane light up antlers on their heads. I won’t lie. I want one.
“Lorado!” Cormack howls my faux name while waving me over. “Don’t worry, ladies. We’ve got you covered.” She motions us to three open seats across from them and quickly hands us each a pair of light up candy canes to plop on our heads.
Cressida floats a set of menus our way. “I can tell you’re ravenous, Lima. God forbid we starve Noah’s child,” she says as she winks over at Cormack.
“You mean Everett’s child,” Cormack bites back before offering a sickly sweet smile my way. “The watercress salad is my go-to when I’m famished.”
Carlotta shakes her head as she peruses the appetizers on the menu. “I’m afraid my Lot Lot isn’t a fan of lawn clippings. She takes after me in that respect.”
Keelie makes a face at the laminated sheet before us. “Three cherry tomato salad? Asparagus with lemon? There’s nothing here I want to eat either. That’s strange, though. I could have sworn I smelled something amazing as soon as we walked through the door.”
Cressida and Cormack whisper to one another while sneaking glances and secretive smiles my way. I’ve no doubt they’re cooking something up their snobby sleeves, but I don’t care because seated to my right is Candy Brighton.
It’s as if Christmas came early. If all goes well in the next few minutes, I could have all the info I need and Carlotta and I can boot scoot our way back to Honey Hollow before anyone has a chance to miss us.
Candy leans in with her caramel tresses cut in a cute shag style that frames her face and cascades in glorious waves down her shoulders. Her eyes glow a pale shade of amber in this dull light, and there’s something charming about her even in this crowd of women that sets her apart. She reminds me of the kind of girl that everyone wanted to be friends with in high school, the kind that went on to rule the sorority roost in college, and then goes on to host all of the fabulous parties for her glamorous friends.
I was the girl stuffing her face with cream puffs in high school while my boyfriend bopped around with other girls behind my back.
Candy leans my way. “If you want something hearty, you’ll have to order off the secret menu. I’d go for the wild macaroni and cheese, if you like to live dangerously.”
Carlotta chuckles. “Living dangerously is Lot Lot’s middle name. I say we take two.”
A waitress comes by, and we do just that. Carlotta offered to share hers with Keelie because she didn’t want me to bite her niece’s arm off if she dared take a bite. It might be a little true. I’ve never been so ravenously hungry the way I have been with my little sugar cookie in my belly.
The waitress offers to pick us up something from the bar as well. It turns out, they only serve appetizers and hard liquor, so I throw in a drink called Mistletoe at the North Pole—virgin, of course. It’s basically a glorified mint julep wearing a holiday disguise. I’m sure both Noah and Everett would approve, however, I’m almost certain the two of them would protest the company I’ve chosen to spend my evening with—Carlotta and Keelie withstanding. Okay, so maybe just Keelie.
As soon as the waitress does a disappearing act, I turn to Candy.
“You look familiar.” I squint over at her as if trying to place her just as a spray of tiny red and green stars appears over her left shoulder, and sure enough, Kringle appears in all of his posthumous glory.
“Are we having a party?” He grips his plump belly as he sits on his hind legs. “I haven’t eaten a thing since I’ve been at the bakery, and I’m half-starved because of it.”
Me and you both, I want to say.
He twitches his whiskers toward Candy. “I smell a killer in our midst, Lottie. Has she done the deed?”
I shrug over at him.
“I’ll get it out of her yet,” he says, running up the side of her neck and tickling her ear with his tail.
Candy rubs the side of her head and shudders.
“You look familiar, too.” She nods my way while looking past me at Carlotta. “Hey!” Her affect brightens. “Weren’t you the highest bidder for the painting we auctioned off at the Evergreen Manor the other night?”
“That would be me.” Carlotta’s chest widens with pride. “When I see a handsome man, I don’t let anything stand between us. There wasn’t a soul in that room that stood a chance to outbid me.”
Cormack raises a drink her way. “Sounds as if we have a lot in common, Carlotta.”
I roll my eyes at the thought. And don’t think I didn’t note the fact Cormack addressed Carlotta by her proper moniker. I knew she wasn’t hard of hearing.
Cressida snickers my way. “I’m all about landing what’s mine as well.” Her knife-sharp fingernails flicker in my direction. “I don’t let anyone stand in my way.”
Oh dear Lord, why do I get the feeling I’ve stepped into a honey trap?
Candy nods to Carlotta as her eyes widen. “Just know that every dime you paid went straight to the Christmas fund to help the needy. A lot of struggling families are going to have a great Christmas because of you.”
Keelie wiggles in her seat. “I don’t know, I think you should get rid of that thing. There’s something creepy about having a haunted painting hanging in your living room.”
“You hung it in your living room?” Candy looks more than a little amused by this, as she should be.
No one in their right mind would hang that atrocity anywhere—least of all the room they’re in the most.
“That’s right.” Carlotta doubles down on her pride. “And I can’t wait for that tall, dark, and handsome steed to pay me a visit in the night. I’ve got my candles lit, my naughty Mrs. Claus nightie raring to go, and I even kicked my boyfriend out early last night hoping that gorgeous ghost would haunt my doorway, but no such luck.”
Kringle’s chubby cheeks twitch. “I showed up instead, and we split the rest of that pizza.” He gives his belly a squeeze. “Don’t worry, Carlotta. I’ll be there with jingle bells on to do the same tonight.”
Candy offers Carlotta a miffed glance. “I’m sorry you’re disappointed. Personally, I’m shocked he’s not doing a lot more haunting.”
“It sounds as if you knew him,” I say.
A small laugh bounces through her, and Kringle bounces right along with her.
“Let’s just say there’s something about him that does seem rather familiar to me.”
“Woo hoo!” Keelie honks out the words. “Speaking of familiar.” She taps me on the arm, and I turn to find Otis Bear Fisher looking like a sharp dressed man in that dark inky suit of
Everett’s. He’s wearing a pale silver tie I’m sure he pilfered from Everett’s closet as well.
I’m not sure who Everett is going to kill first for letting this atrocity happen. Bear, for stealing the suit—or Noah, for giving him the keys to do it. One thing is for sure, Noah might just get another shiner to match the one he already has.
“Well, butter my biscuit,” Carlotta howls at the sight of him.
I must admit, this new clean-shaven, hair slicked back version of the scruffy man I know is a marked improvement. Bear’s usual wardrobe consists of overalls splotched with paint that are shredded and threadbare from overuse. If I were him, I’d invest in a good suit and take Keelie out on the regular in it. Judging by the moony look in her eyes, he’s about to get a lot of mileage out of it. But before Keelie can make her kinky move, four different women get up from the table and quickly glom onto Bear while ushering him to the bar.
“Hey!” Keelie growls. “That’s my heartless big city executive! Nobody touches a hair on the stubborn man’s head but me. She bolts on after them, and Carlotta scoots into the empty seat next to me.
“What I wouldn’t do to find me a hot man in a suit tonight,” she gravels it out like a threat.
“We can call Harry and see if he’ll oblige you,” I suggest while giving her the side-eye. Carlotta knows I don’t approve of their open door policy when it comes to the bedroom. It’s bizarre, and unhealthy, and come to think of it, taking place far too often under my roof. Or at least it was under my last roof. I’ll have to set some ground rules with her for the new house.
Cormack titters. “Don’t you worry, Carlotta. You might just get your wish for a man in a suit.” She bumps her shoulder to Cormack’s, and the two of them break out into a fit of giggles.
What a bunch of airheads. Which almost begs the question—
“Candy, how do you know Cormack and Cressida? Through the Christmas Angels?” Ha! How’s that for killing two birds with one stone. The Christmas Angels are a perfect segue to Gloria Abner.
“Heavens no.” Candy waves her glittery green nails my way. “Corrie, Cressie, and I go way back. We ran in the same social circles and went to all the right parties together. As soon as they saw what a great time I was having with the Christmas Angels, of course, they wanted in. We’re all at that stage in our lives where we need to submit ourselves to volunteer efforts. To help out an organization with your time is a grand contribution to society. And the Christmas Angels really are a fun bunch. I’m involved with a slew of other organizations as well, but there’s something about the Angels that’s so very down-to-earth. They don’t bog you down with galas and yacht tours through the French Riviera, not to mention the endless banquets and ritzy charity events that the others tend to do.”
Eggnog Trifle Trouble Page 9
