Cormack grunts as she swills the glowing pink drink in her hand, “I live for those.”
Cressida shakes her head. “Candy is right. It’s too much. It’s like serving hard time in a ritzy detention camp. If I get invited to another grand holiday ball, I’m going to gag myself to death with mistletoe.”
“Promise?” I mutter under my breath.
Come to think of it, that would be a grand exit for her. And considering the fact she likes to cause a scene wherever she goes, a rather fitting exit as well.
Candy belts out a throaty laugh while looking my way. “I think I like you.” She lifts a brow my way.
“Well, thank you,” I tell her. “That was quite an event at the Evergreen right up until misfortune struck. Did you know Gloria well?”
She takes a deep breath. “I knew her well enough. She was the chair of the Christmas Angels, so our paths crossed quite a bit. She really did have a heart for the organization.” She looks momentarily puzzled by the fact.
“You say that almost as if it was out of character for her.”
“Scissors, I win!” Carlotta shouts, and I glance over to find her playing rock, paper, scissors with the two featherheads across from us.
Kringle hops down onto the table, glowing like a blue flame while his belly jiggles every which way.
“Ask her why she killed my Glo?” he insists while twitching his nose into the rim of Cressida’s glass.
Candy lifts her shoulders a notch. “Gloria wasn’t the nicest person. She certainly had a way about her. But a person like that craves control and power. I don’t think the actual charity mattered so long as she was at the helm of it. I guess you could say she was a leader by nature.”
“Well, she was the chairman, you mentioned. I guess she found her niche,” I say. “I ran into Elodie Frost at my mother’s B&B yesterday and she said she knew Gloria.” I lean in a notch in hopes Candy here will know what secrets of Elodie’s Gloria was keeping. Elodie hinted to as much at that magical mishap at my mother’s B&B.
Candy nods. “Elodie is a part of the angels, too. They didn’t get along too well, though, she and Gloria. They had a past, I guess.”
Kringle hops my way. “Elodie mentioned they worked together.”
“That’s right,” I say. “Elodie said they worked together at a chocolate company.”
Kringle moans while holding his stomach. “How I wish we were at a chocolatiers.”
Me too.
“Aunt May’s.” Candy makes a face. “That’s right. I almost forgot about that.” She shrugs. “Gloria retired from the place. I’m not sure if Elodie still works there, though.”
“Candy”—I lean in another notch as Carlotta’s hand game gets ever more animated—“I saw Gloria outright slap Elodie over the face the night of the silent auction. Things must have been really heated between the two of them. Do you know what that was about?”
Her lips part, and she quickly gazes off behind me as if trying to piece it together.
“I knew things were getting heated between the two of them, but I had no idea they were getting physical.” She presses a hand to her chest. “Anyway, I’m sure it wasn’t that big of a deal. Just typical Gloria blowing her top over nothing. For the most part, Elodie and Gloria were friends.”
“Elodie implied Gloria had a secret of hers she was holding. I was just wondering if there was something Elodie didn’t want to get out.”
Kringle hops back and forth. “Good one, Lottie. I bet Elodie is the killer.”
Candy shakes her head. “Look, I like Elodie. And I can guarantee you she’s not the killer. She’s not capable of murder.” She sighs as she grazes her fingernails over the table. “Elodie is like your everyday mom. All she talks about is shopping and showing off the recent deals she’s gotten. That woman couldn’t hurt a fly. The real killer in my opinion is Eb.” She nods emphatically as if I should know who he is.
“Who’s Eb?”
“He was dressed as Santa that night. His name is Ebenezer Clement. And I think he and Gloria were engaged or dating. Who knows, who cares? All I know is that poor man was in way over his head.”
“What makes you think he killed her?”
Her lips twist as she glances side to side. “Gloria was a shrew to him toward the end. They weren’t getting along—something to do about honesty and money. They would argue loud enough at our meetings for anyone in the vicinity to hear. Apparently, some of the donations to the charity went missing and Eb caught it. I don’t know, maybe Gloria was stealing them? Maybe Gloria finally caught him running around with other women? Eb is a notorious flirt. He’s playing Santa everywhere you turn this month, and don’t think he’s not goosing all the gorgeous women.”
Carlotta grunts, “What I wouldn’t do to be goosed by a man in a Santa suit.”
Candy bubbles with a laugh. “Well, it’s your lucky night.”
The music changes tempo just as the waitress sets down a culinary architectural wonder in front of me.
“Holy Father Christmas!” I shout as I struggle to take in this tower of mac and cheese glory.
Candy laughs once again. “Didn’t I tell you the secret menu was the way to go? That’s mac and cheese on a bed of corn chips with burnt end ribs, pastrami crumble, bacon, and onion rings layered throughout. And it’s all topped off with a generous layer of nacho cheese.”
“I’m in heaven,” I whisper mostly to myself.
“I’m in heaven,” Kringle says, diving right into the middle of it, and I quickly dig my fork into the dish as it begins to shake and wobble. But I don’t care about the fact I’m splitting this deliciousness with a starving specter. Kringle and I make quick work of it. But before I can take the very last bite, Cormack plucks me out of my seat as the entire establishment gathers around the stage at the base of the dance floor.
A sultry version of “Santa Baby” begins to play as the lights spasm in shades of red and green. And floating down from the rafters, holding onto what appears to be thick red cables are four rather beefy looking men in Santa suits. The pulley system they’re holding onto raises and lowers them as they swing open their robes every now and again, flashing their well-chiseled chests, much to the approval of the crowd.
Soon they’re lowered all the way to the floor and begin to regale the crowd with the bawdy sway of their hips. They pull off their belts and lose the oversized robes, only to leave a row of bare-chested men with nothing but red pants and boots on. Their faux beards and pointed holiday hats are still in place. I can’t help but avert my eyes at the entire scene. No wonder Cormack and Cressida dragged me out here. This raunchy Santa routine is just their speed.
One of the broad-chested Santas holds up a mic. “Things are heating up here at the North Pole. We’re going to need a couple of lovely ladies to help us cool off. Any volunteers from the—”
Before he can finish, Carlotta scrambles up on stage. And while a jolly laugh circles the room at the sight of her, both Cormack and Cressida land me in the heated spotlight myself.
“Ugh.” I dust myself off after the two of them hand me off to one of the beefy Santas. And now that I’m up close and personal, I can see the man’s chest glistening with oil. He’s got washboard abs and a devilish gleam in his eyes, but believe me, I’ve seen better in both Noah and Everett. Besides, according to Everett’s body, a six-pack is for amateurs.
The music grows bawdier by the minute, and the Santa in question is spinning me to the rhythm while shimmying his body up and down mine as if I were a pole. Suddenly, each Santa on stage has a woman to call his own, and soon we’re standing in a line while the Santas before us do a few dirty dance moves in our honor.
“This is the life, Lot,” Carlotta says with her eyes glued to the naughty Santa before her. “Once I took a gander at this place, I knew we were in for a Christmas miracle.”
“More like the nightmare before Christmas.”
A group of women dressed as elves bring out four barstools, and the Santas dan
ce us over to them before taking a seat and turning us over on their laps. And as my personal Santa pretends to use my bottom as a toy drum, I spot Cormack and Cressida snapping away pictures with their phones.
Great. It looks as if I’ll have some explaining to do when I get home tonight. It wouldn’t shock me at all if they were shooting those pictures off to Noah and Everett in real time.
Kringle takes the stage and does a little dance himself, and as the crowd goes wild, he turns and shakes his bouncing booty at them—okay, so it’s probably not him they’re responding to, but the timing was perfect. I have to admit, the little spook has style.
Soon, I’m upright again and the Santa holding me hostage takes my hands and places them over his hips.
“Oh no,” I say. “I’m sorry. I’m a happily married woman,” I wail, but my protests fall upon deaf ears as the music only seems to get louder and the crowd that much more volatile. I glance around to see the other women in full compliance as they help strip the pants off their Santas, but the only thing I want to remove is myself from this stage.
I try to circle around him, but he blocks my path, much to the delight of the crowd. I go left then right, and he meets me at every move. Kringle hops past me, headed to the back of the stage, so I follow his lead. There’s a backstage area, which practically highlights itself as an escape route. I turn to bolt and my shoe gets caught in a loop attached to one of the thick red cables, and like a bear caught in a trap the tiny noose tightens around my ankle at record speeds as I go flying twenty feet in the air like a hot air balloon.
A burst of laughter fills the room, but I don’t find a single thing funny. In fact, I scream my head off with my arms and my free leg flailing in a panic.
“Lemon,” I hear that familiar thundering of my surname, and I look down to see Everett Baxter looking up at me in horror.
All four nearly naked Santas mobilize, and soon I’m being lowered until I land safely in my husband’s strong arms.
“Everett, I can explain,” I say as I shake my head, because truthfully I really can’t.
Noah bursts onto the stage, and it all feels a bit surreal at this point.
Everett doesn’t say a word; he simply speeds us out of there, and soon the three of us—four if you count Carlotta—are standing outside of the luxury hotel just under the awning that protects us from the falling snow.
Noah’s eyes are filled with fire. “Are you freaking nuts?” His jaws clench as he barks the words out.
Typically, that line is reserved for Carlotta, but seeing that he’s looking right at me, and the dicey circumstances I’ve just escaped, I realize those words were indeed meant for me.
“How did the two of you get here so fast?” I ask as I adjust my dress as Everett sets me down.
Everett folds his arms across his chest. “Noah and I put a tracking device on your car.”
Noah nods. “I put one on yours, too, Carlotta.”
Carlotta blows on her hands to keep them warm. “I feel safer already.”
“I don’t,” I say. “Neither of you bothered to talk to me about this.” Never mind the fact Noah had one on the last car I owned.
Everett’s chin dips down as he pierces me with those stormy eyes. “He did it last night. I didn’t realize he was going to do it before we had a chance to bring it up to you. But now I’m glad he didn’t wait.”
Cormack and Cressida run out of the hotel, already chirping after Noah and Everett.
“Big Boss!” Cormack shrieks. “Did you get my message? Did you see her goosing that man in the red suit?”
Cressida’s chest bucks as she huffs Everett’s way, “She’s got a wandering eye, Essex. I’d check that prenup twice to make sure it’s ironclad. She had her hands all over those men in there.”
“I didn’t have my hands on anyone,” I riot. “I was trying to make an escape, and that’s exactly how I found myself in that dangling debacle. I could have killed myself, no thanks to the two of you!”
Noah growls at Cormack, “You could have hurt the baby.”
Both Cormack and Cressida huddle in horror.
My hand flies to my belly as the gravity of what just happened hits me.
“Oh my God, the baby. A fall like that—it could have destroyed everything.”
“Yes.” Everett nods my way with his eyes hooking to mine, and I can see a hint of anger in them—and it’s not for Cressida or Cormack, it’s all for me. “These little excursions to hunt down suspects are getting more dangerous by the second.”
Before I can offer a rebuttal—not that I have one—both Keelie and Bear run over, and soon Keelie is holding me in her arms.
“Oh, Lottie, when someone burst into the ladies’ room and screamed there was a woman dangling from the ceiling, I just knew it was you.”
Bear nods. “We buttoned up as soon as we could, but we couldn’t find you. Thank God you’re okay.”
Carlotta elbows Keelie in the ribs. “By the sound of it, you taught that highfalutin exec a lesson, the way only we elves know how.”
Keelie gives a wink her way, and soon Keelie and Bear take off for the night.
Everett points their way. “Was Bear wearing one of my suits?”
“Noah gave him the key,” I spit it out quickly while pointing in Noah’s direction. I’ll do just about anything to take the spotlight off of my irresponsible self.
Smoke blows from Everett’s nostrils—sure, it probably has something to do with the fact it’s frigid out, but I’m guessing it has more to do with the fact he’s fuming right about now. And sadly, there’s nowhere this man can go to escape me. We happen to share the same bed.
Noah looks my way and shakes his head. “We’ll talk, Lottie. This has got to stop.”
Noah takes off, and I give Carlotta the keys to my minivan and tell her not to wait for me.
I pull Everett into a hard embrace, and he warms my body with his strong hands.
I don’t bother apologizing. I know for a fact my words could never be enough.
The faint scent of sugary perfume clings to his suit, and I back away for a moment and look into his beautiful blue eyes. A part of me wants to ask questions, but that would be a foolish endeavor. Everett would never cheat on me. Not unless I pushed him to the brink of insanity, but truthfully, not even that could drive him to do it.
“I love you,” I say just above a whisper.
His features soften as his lips curl upward. “I love you, too, Lemon.”
We head back to Honey Hollow, and I wonder about so many things—my motherhood is certainly in question, my relationship with both Noah and Everett feels as if it’s in peril, and yet I wonder about a man named Ebenezer Clement, too.
If I pursue this case, does that make me a bad mother? A terrible wife?
I wish I knew the answer to all the hard questions.
I wish I knew who killed Gloria Abner. That would certainly feed my craving for justice.
It’s almost as bad as my craving for a fried dill pickle right about now.
Chapter 8
The snow is coming down outside the window of the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery while I dole out heaping helpings of my eggnog trifle to Lainey, Evie, Carlotta, and Keelie.
A small crowd is pushing through, and Lily is helping out at the registers. Tonight is the official tree lighting ceremony right here in Honey Hollow, and I came in early to whip up a few sweet treats for the refreshment booth. Mayor Nash was kind enough to have the town foot the bill.
Baby Josie squirms and giggles in my sister’s baby sling, and the tiny tot is perfectly adorable.
“I’m madly in love with you, Josie,” I say as she gives my finger a squeeze and laughs her head off. “Lainey, can’t you give her just a bite of the trifle? She’s drooling for it.”
“No way, no how.” Lainey bats my hand away from her baby girl. “Josie is on a sugar-free diet. The only sugar she’s allowed is in the baby food I make for her by way of fresh fruit.”
Keelie
shrugs. “Little Bear has already eaten an entire trifle on his own. And believe me, Lot, he loves it.” She narrows her eyes over at Lainey. “And don’t go judging me about it either.”
Lainey lifts a hand. “To each her own. Bear is happy and healthy, that’s all that matters.”
Keelie pouts regardless of my sister’s kind words.
“What’s the matter, Sugar Toots?” Carlotta nods over to her niece. “Not feeling up to par as a mama just because Crunchy Granola here chooses to torment her offspring?”
“No”—Keelie’s shoulders sag—“it’s not that. It’s just that the other women in the mommy and me classes have been acting up. They don’t think I notice when they’re giving me the side-eye, trying to mommy shame me after I tell them I only bathe baby Bear twice a week, or when their mouths fall open when I tell them I let the dog lick the food off baby Bear’s mouth.”
“Keelie, I didn’t know you had a dog,” I say as I rub her arm in a meager effort to comfort her.
“Oh, I don’t,” she says. “And when they found that out, it only made them gasp.”
Evie pretends to gag with her spoon. “Who cares about those women, Keelie? It’s a classic case of mean girls. I hear soccer moms are ten times cliquier than high school girls. Don’t worry. You survived high school, you can survive this, too. Just let me know if you ever want to shank them. I’ve got connections to the underworld.”
Eggnog Trifle Trouble Page 10
