Yule Log Eulogy

by Addison Moore

  Besides, this day could not get any worse.

  The rattle of dishes comes from inside, then the sound of female voices hissing at one another to shut the heck up, followed by footsteps—hoof steps, and then dead silence.

  I let myself in, only to find my living room strewn with wrappers, my cats high up on the back of the couch, the place they perch when I have company over. There’s a cozy fire roaring in the fireplace, which somehow eases my tension. But then I spot Carlotta’s purse on the coffee table and groan.

  “All right,” I call out. “All of you out where I can see you, right now.”

  Carlotta and Connie and Cat Canelli pop out from behind the sofa and belt out a rather subdued surprise.

  A spasm of light appears and out of the kitchen wanders a rather bedraggled looking ghost of a reindeer.

  “You don’t have any whiskey,” he yawns it out with a touch of boredom.

  I didn’t think this day could go from bad to worse.

  Boy, was I ever wrong.

  Chapter 12

  There is something to be said for stumbling upon a band of thieves that have broken into your home and have the audacity to make you call for takeout. None of this is good. And none of it would penetrate their thick Sawyer-Canelli skulls so I don’t even bother.

  The Wicked Wok drops off two full bags of Chinese food, and before I can properly reprimand anyone, they each have their faces to the trough while inhaling vats of orange chicken.

  I’ll admit, it does smell good.

  Cat nudges me with her knee as we sit on the sofa. She looks so much like Connie that it’s scary. Same long dark hair teased to the sky, same copious amounts of dark kohl smeared over her eyes, and same bright fuchsia lipstick to add to her shocking appeal.

  “Don’t just sit there feeling sorry for yourself.” Cat hands me a pair of chopsticks. “Dig in. Who the hell cares if you gain ten or fifty pounds? You’ve got a fake pregnancy to uphold.”

  I gasp so hard I nearly suck in the entire smorgasbord laid out in front of me.

  “You told them?” My voice hikes ten octaves as I glare at this wily version of myself.

  Carlotta takes a moment to swallow her food. “Of course, I told them. The three of us don’t hide any secrets from one another. By the way, I need the name of a good plumber—and you need a Christmas tree. Where’s the holiday cheer around here? Good thing I’ve brought the decorating committee. That’s what good friends do. They keep secrets and decorate as needed.”

  Connie grunts my way, “You should really look into getting some friends like that.”

  “I have great friends. And they all know how to keep a secret. Believe me when I say I’m testing the boundaries of that right now.”

  Rudolph snorts at the offerings. “Do we have any broccoli and beef? I’ve got a hankering.”

  Carlotta kicks Cat with her bare foot. “The ghost is to your left, and he wants the broccoli and beef.”

  “Aww,” Cat coos to my horror and slides an open box his way. “Should I put it on a plate for him?”

  Carlotta smirks. “Nah. Let him figure it out.”

  I watch in disbelief as Rudolph jerks the takeout box around, and neither Connie nor Cat bats a fake lash.

  “Oh my God.” I toss my hands in the air. “You told them about Rudolph? I bet you told them we’re supersensual, didn’t you? That we’ve been seeing the dead for years.”

  Okay, so I technically told them about the “ghost,” but I wasn’t naming names.

  Both Connie and Cat stop masticating their food to observe me for a moment.

  Carlotta titters away. “Nope. I didn’t tell ’em all that, sweetie. You did. I merely told them I had a friendly ghost named Rudolph.”

  Connie huffs, “We threatened to kill her if she didn’t stop trying to scare the living daylights out of us, and then you were nice enough to fill us in on the ghostly details. I think it’s cool.” She shrugs. “And for the record, I have totally always believed in ghosts.”

  Cat looks agog in my direction. “And how cool it is that you’re one of those medium types, too. I want to be trained to see ghosts.” She smacks Connie. “Think of the good we can do for the family if we could speak to the dead. I’ll give you any amount of money. Anything at all.”

  Carlotta’s eyes roll back into her head like a Las Vegas slot machine.

  “This isn’t about speaking to the dead,” I say. “And I’m not a medium. That sounds terrible.” I’m about to lay into Carlotta once again for revealing our secret—if even I did reveal it myself—when a knock bounces over the door and everyone in the room freezes.

  “Lemon? It’s me, Everett.”

  My fingers fly to my lips. “Oh God.”

  “Everything okay?” he rumbles from the other side just as the knob spins and in walks over six feet of blue-eyed glory.

  Both Cat and Connie let out an audible sigh at the sight of him.

  Everett has that deconstructed suit thing going on, no jacket, sleeves unbuttoned and rolled up, shirt pulled halfway out, and it’s the exact cobalt shade as his eyes.

  Rudolph snorts, “It’s him again. Is he the lucky gentleman caller for the evening?”

  Carlotta titters, and I just close my eyes. “Kill me.”

  “Lemon?” Everett’s voice hits an all new octave, full of something just shy of rage. “Why is your living room filled with Canellis?”

  Cat lifts a finger. “And ghosts. Don’t forget Rudolph.”

  “Dear God.” Now it’s Everett moaning.

  I traipse on over to him and try to pull him away from the Canelli carnage.

  “I can explain everything.”

  “Good.” He flexes a wry smile in their direction. “Because I’m betting the sheriff’s department will want a logical explanation.” He glowers at Carlotta a moment. “You’ve been harboring her, haven’t you?”

  Carlotta’s brows bounce. “I knew you were good, but I had no idea you were this good.”

  “And who are you?” He looks to the older Canelli.

  “The name is Catalina, but you can call me Cat, big boy.” It comes out sultry and full of innuendo. “And for the record, I’m not on the lam. She is.” She nods to Connie who gives a three-fingered wave that’s drenched with just as much innuendo as her relation provided. “I’m hiding out. The Lazzaris have a hit on me.”

  I snatch poor Pancake off the sofa and gasp. Waffles happens to be clear across the room, but still in range for a stray bullet to hit. Unfortunately, we’re all targets for that tragedy in the making.

  Everett takes a bold step forward. “The Lazzaris have a hit on you, and you’re in this house? All of you out,” his voice thunders, but not a Canelli flinches.

  Connie taps her chest. “Oh hon, we ain’t leaving.”

  Cat waves him off. “Ain’t no Lazzari going to take out an innocent civilian. I’m safer here than you’ll ever know.”

  Everett’s chest bucks. “It’s not your safety I’m concerned about.”

  Connie lets out a guttural laugh. “Anyone ever tell you you’re sexy when you’re all worked up and mean?”

  Cat lets out a whoop. “Honey, a man of that caliber knows the meaner he is, the hotter he looks. Ain’t that right, Judge Baxter?”

  A low growl emits from him, and the peanut gallery lights up once again.

  Carlotta slaps her hands together. “I’ve got a solution. Since the girls can’t stay at my place anymore—”

  “Why can’t they stay at your place?” I’m quick to cut her off.

  Carlotta rolls her eyes. “Aren’t you listening? I need a plumber to drain the swimming pool.”

  My stomach tightens in a knot. “Nell doesn’t have a swimming pool.”

  “She does now.” Connie nods. “And it’s in the living room. Cat here clogged the toilet and then took a hammer to the sewer pipes.”

  “The sewer pipes?” I look to Everett, horrified.

  He pinches his eyes closed for a moment. “I’ve got the
number of a great plumber.” He looks to Connie. “And I’ve got the number of a great attorney. Fiona has been worried sick about you.”

  Fiona Dagmeyer is a defense attorney who Everett works with. She, too, has garnered the privilege of calling him Essex. Fiona was—is good friends with Connie. She’s represented her a time or two in the shady past.

  Connie flips that dark curtain of hair away from her face. “I can’t contact my attorney. She’ll just tell me to turn myself in. Sorry, big boy, but I don’t want to do the time. I like my freedom too much to sit around behind bars.”

  Cat clears her throat. “Speaking of freedom, you’d best go easy on my kid brother or you’ll lose a heck of a lot of yours. Those boys don’t play around. And before you go there, I can’t untangle this knot for you. The kid walks or else.”

  Everett’s lips twitch. “I don’t do threats. And I don’t do fugitives.” He pulls out his phone and begins to glide his thumb over the screen.

  Rudolph does a little dance as he makes his way over.

  “Lottie, what is he doing? The tension in the room has risen, and it’s all because of this man. Get rid of him.”

  I look to Everett, my heart racing like mad. “Please take everything into consideration,” I say as I place my hand over his phone.

  Everett’s steely gaze meets up with mine. “Lemon, I can lose everything if I don’t report this.”

  A hard breath expels from me. “I know. But I also know the Canellis will make sure you lose something if you don’t swing the verdict their way. Maybe if we turn the other cheek and let these women go for now, the Canellis will go easy on you.”

  “I’m not afraid of them.”

  “I am.” Tears sting my eyes. “I can’t stand the thought of anyone hurting you.” I shake my head. “I hate that it’s come to this but, the truth is, they might change their minds if you turn a blind eye to Connie.”

  “They won’t.” Carlotta shakes her head, and Cat swats her.

  Connie raises a hand as if she were in school. “If you let me go right now, I’ll tell them to leave your girlfriend alone. No one will touch her or her bakery. Got it?”

  Everett takes a breath, his eyes fixed on some unknowable horizon behind me.

  “Go,” he says it sharp like a command, and in less than three seconds, Cat, Connie, and Carlotta have skedaddled right out the door.

  “Call the plumber!” Carlotta screams as they jump into her sedan and take off.

  Rudolph strides over near the fireplace, curls into a ball, and falls promptly asleep.

  I look to Everett and shrug. “Are you up for Chinese near the fireplace?”

  “I’m up for anything for you, Lemon.” His finger glides over my cheek. “Anything for you.”

  Chapter 13

  As if hiding one secret from Noah wasn’t bad enough, Everett and I are now hiding two—three if you’re counting.

  But who’s counting?

  Me. That’s who.

  I feel terrible about it, too. And when I feel terrible about something, I tend to lose out on a good night’s sleep. Poor Noah has attributed my fatigue to the imaginary baby I’m carrying. If only he knew the things that were keeping me up at night, it would make his skin crawl.

  It’s the night of Mistletoe Mania at my mother’s happily haunted bed and breakfast.

  Both Noah and Everett have generously offered to help me haul over all of the desserts, since Lily backed out last minute. Apparently, she came to the realization that female wrestlers weren’t covered in warts and wrinkles as much as they are glamour queens, and in a fit of insecurity, she hightailed it to the Scarlet Sage Boutique to get herself something that Alex couldn’t take his eyes off of.

  “Where should we put these?” Everett says with his arms laden down with pink boxes from the bakery.

  “Right on the island. I’ll set them into platters and take them out to the conservatory myself.”

  The kitchen of my mother’s B&B was renovated not that long ago and boasts of white enameled cabinetry and a pale marble stone island. All of her appliances are commercial quality and rightly so since she has a kitchen staff to help provide delicious offerings to her boarders.

  Noah sets his load down as well, and I catch him clutching at his arm.

  “Noah, are you okay?”

  “Just my bad arm acting up again. I’ll be fine.”

  My insides grind at the thought of Noah still not being back to his normal self.

  I’m about to say something when an entire gaggle of ghosts enter the kitchen with Greer Giles leading the way.

  Greer is a gorgeous brunette about my age who was shot to death last winter. She’s donned her traditional white ruched gown, the very one she was killed in, with the embellishment of a ghostly Santa hat. For some reason, Greer was allowed to stay on and I’m glad about it, too. She’s amassed a boyfriend, Winslow Decker, a two-hundred-year-old farmer from the area who is as cute as can be, and together they adopted a little spook named Azalea, Lea. Little Lea is fierce and menacing, with her long brown hair combed over her face, a hatchet at the ready, clutched in her hand. Poor Lea’s family was slaughtered right here over the grounds in which the B&B was built on, and she’s always ready and willing to avenge their deaths.

  Then there’s Thirteen, an adorable black cat who tried to help me solve a homicide last October, but since there turned out to be no homicide at all to solve, he’s been allowed to stay on as well.

  They all glow an unearthly shade of blue this evening, with a spray of stars shining in their hair. And they’ve each donned matching Santa hats, which gives them a festive appeal. I can’t help but smile.

  “Thirteen, Greer, Winslow, and sweet little Lea, how’s the holiday season treating you all?” I ask with a genuine smile gracing my face.

  “Hello,” both Noah and Everett chime before starting off a conversation of their own.

  Greer steps forward, her smile shimmering as if she were harboring a secret. Greer was a notorious gossip and still holds strong to her jabber-jaw ways, so this wouldn’t surprise me at all.

  “Guess what, Lottie?”

  Lea pushes her out of the way. “There’s a reindeer in the conservatory asking for rum.”

  “Whiskey,” Winslow corrects.

  Thirteen lets out a rather lengthy yowl. “He’s garnered the ability to eat and drink, and we want these powers, too, Lottie. Don’t hold out on us. He’s told us all about how delicious the Yule log is. And I’ve been eyeing Miranda’s salmon bites ever since I’ve arrived.”

  Winslow rubs his belly. “I’d love a bite or two myself.”

  Greer folds her arms across her chest. “A little Yule tide cheer would do nicely. How about it, Lottie? A little cup of eggnog for a couple of old dearly departed friends?”

  I inch back a notch. “You can’t drink or eat?”

  The four of them shake their heads.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say. I guess this new gift is only extended to the newly reprised.”

  The four of them let out a series of protests all at once.

  “Okay, okay, I’ll see what I can do. For now, I’ve got to get these desserts next door.”

  Winslow chuckles. “We’d be happy to lend a hand.”

  “I’m sure you would.” I avert my gaze. “But I think that would be taking the haunting a bit too far this evening. Trust me when I say, I have a feeling Meg’s friends are scary enough.”

  Noah and Everett take a break in their rather heated conversation to help me lug every last tray of holiday goodness out into the conservatory, and I can’t help but smile at how Meg has transformed this seemingly innocent cavernous space into an exact replica of a Las Vegas worthy wrestling event, complete with a wrestling ring in the center of the room. There’s a large sign hung up over the rear of the room that reads Welcome to Mistletoe Mania! Santa is Fake, Pro Wrestling is Real!

  Noah chuckles up at the sign as we put down the platters, and I quickly arrange them.
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br />   The room is already thick with bodies, and the sound of rock and roll versions of Christmas carols pulsates through the speakers. Mom has a giant evergreen decorated with red bows and lit with twinkle lights in the corner. There’s gold garland strung from one end of the room to the other, and I can’t help but shudder at the sight of it. That’s the exact same kind of garland Larson had wrapped around her neck the night I found her.

  A woman with long black hair teased in every direction jumps in front of us and lets out a ferocious howl.

  My hand flattens to my chest. “My goodness, Meg, are you trying to kill me?”

  My sister has donned her Las Vegas finery, a gold lamé one piece with wristbands that have gold stars over them. She’s wearing bright yellow contacts with a feline-like iris slit through the middle, and her face is made up to look more like a cartoon character than anything even remotely human.

  “I see you brought the crew.” She slaps both Noah and Everett on the back at once. Meg lets out a deafening whistle, and an entire lot of female wrestlers migrate over. Meg takes on a speed round of introductions, and we meet Diva Delicious, The Ferocious Feline, The Thorny Horny Rose, Diamond Jubilee, and about a dozen more women I can’t keep track of.

  Meg slaps Noah and Everett on the back once again. “You boys up for watching a gorgeous girl bust a move in that velvet roped mosh pit?”

  Everett lifts a brow. “Sounds like we’ll be treated to some female wrestling this evening.”

  “Darn right, you will.” A woman pops up from behind, and I turn to find a glammed-up Lily Swanson looking stunning in a red velvet dress, so skintight you would think she were poured into it. “It turns out, Naomi got the night off. She took one look at me and called in sick.”

  Everett bows his head. “Isn’t it Naomi’s month to have him?” He sounds disturbed for her as we all are.

  “Yes, Essex.” Lily scoffs. “I know.”

  How I hate that he’s Essexed her.

  She makes a face. “But I just can’t wait another few weeks to have him all to myself. I need a little hit, and I need it now.” She turns to Noah. “Isn’t there anything you can do to sway your brother to steal me away for a couple of hours?” She looks to the entry and we follow her gaze to find Alex looking every bit like Noah’s doppelgänger, and by his side is a dazzling Naomi Turner with her long glossy black hair shimmering. She’s donned a silver sequin number that catches the light and sprays its reflection across the walls.