Pancake Panic

by Addison Moore

  Instead, I spend all of my energy squeezing into this amazing white gown Noah purchased for me yesterday. I admire the long lace sleeves that cling tight to my body. It looks perfectly sensual with my bare skin peeking out from underneath.

  Noah did purchase it. I tried to offer to pay for it myself even though it was ridiculously out of budget, but Noah insisted that it was his treat. Although, he looked like a man going to the grave while doing it. There was something so very somber about him yesterday in that dress shop. A part of me believes it was above and beyond his normal sadness about the current state of our relationship—or I should say non-relationship. But I don’t dare pry. I’ve hurt Noah enough. If I’ve found new ways to hurt him, I don’t want to know about it.

  Noah picks me up in his truck, looking every bit the dapper groom in a dark suit, svelte black tie to match. His facial scruff is trimmed down neat, and his eyes glow like bright green coals. My heart thumps wildly at the sight of him.

  “Noah Corbin Fox, you are a sight to behold.”

  He takes a never-ending breath as he picks up my hand, his wide-eyed gaze never leaving mine. I have a white wool coat draped over my fancy dress, but I left it open in the front because I wanted Noah to have the full effect of this mesmerizing gown. If I can’t win his affection back with words, maybe I can do it with lace that costs more than some of the equipment in my bakery.

  “Lottie Kenzie Lemon, you are simply sublime.”

  I run my tongue over my lips in anticipation for a kiss. If Noah and I were good at anything, it was kissing. We could kiss all night, and often did. Noah was always so playful with me, especially behind locked doors. How I miss the old version of who we were.

  But Noah doesn’t kiss me. Instead, his chest bucks with emotion.

  “We almost had it all, didn’t we?” I whisper it into the frozen night like a secret.

  He gives a sorrowful nod. “We did.”

  Noah drives us right out of Honey Hollow and doesn’t give a single hint about where we might be going. I try my best to keep the conversation light and chatty, but Noah isn’t having it, so it’s mostly quiet on the way over.

  But once we get off the highway and make some serious inroads into Fallbrook, I know exactly where he’s taking me.

  Noah and I hand the truck to the valet, and he threads his arm through mine as we take a moment to stare up at Eliza Baxter’s extravagant estate.

  Eliza is Everett’s mother, a wealthy socialite and heir to the family’s hotel fortune. Even though Noah’s father bilked her out of some money, apparently, it was never even the tip of the financial iceberg. But Noah’s father has long since passed away.

  Noah and Everett were close to mending fences right up until last month when our lives detonated like a nuclear explosion.

  “A Baxter party.” I give a wry smile his way. “Let me guess. A fundraiser to help needy prep schools line their floors with gold?”

  Noah barks out a laugh, first genuine one I’ve heard in a month at least.

  “No, Lottie.” He sighs as he offers a forlorn look to the glittering chandelier in the foyer, sparkling into the night as if it were the first to greet us. “How I wish it was that.”

  Noah leads me inside where it’s warm and bright, and as grand as anything I’ve ever seen. The ballroom is brimming with people, each one decked out in equally formal attire. The women are clothed in couture and the men look dashing as if they just stepped out of a glossy magazine. There’s a full orchestra seated on a platform near the front of the room and the music is darn right soothing. There are waiters and waitresses walking around with trays of champagne flutes filled with the bubbly delight, and I can see a buffet table to the right and a table with sweets set out as well and I’m a touch hurt that Eliza didn’t ask me to cater the event.

  Noah lifts his hand to someone to the right, and suddenly the lights dim dramatically and the crowd lets out a collective ooh.

  I lean over to Noah. “It looks like we came at just the right time.”

  His chest expands as he takes a deep breath. “Trust me, Lottie. This is one party that wasn’t going to start without us.”

  The lights brighten once again and the band switches to something soft and romantic.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Eliza’s voice booms from somewhere in the crowd as the room falls silent and the band ceases for a moment. “It is my great pleasure”—the crowd parts right down the middle like the Red Sea and Eliza appears in a navy glittering gown as she walks my way and takes me by the hand—“to introduce to you to Mr. and Mrs. Essex Everett Baxter.”

  I suck in a quick breath just as Everett appears from seemingly thin air, looking breathtaking in his own right, wearing a formal tuxedo that sets off his eyes like a siren in the night.

  “Oh my God,” I say as he takes me into his arms, and before I know it we’re swaying to the music as the band plays.

  Everett tucks his mouth close to my ear and sets off a sizzle of electrical impulses up and down the right side of my body.

  “I believe this is the first time you’ve referenced me as a deity, Lemon.”

  A tiny laugh brews in my chest as I playfully swat him. “Everett. Tell me you had nothing to do with this. And having Noah escort me out? That was just plain cruel.”

  “I’m afraid the cruelty lies with my mother. She set the whole thing up without my knowledge. I was told it was my sister’s big art debut. I would have asked you to join me, but I only found out about it forty minutes ago as I was leaving the courthouse. I showed up, and she had me dressed before I knew it. And before we move on, you look like a goddess yourself.” He dots a quick kiss to my forehead, and the room breaks out with a riotous applause and whistles.

  I glance back and spot Noah staring in this direction. He might be glaring, but it’s tough to tell with the distance and the crowd threading between us. His eyes connect with mine for the briefest of moments. He turns abruptly just as Cormack practically tackles him to the ground in a sparkling blue gown, and soon enough she’s got her tentacles wrapped around him and they’re slow dancing as well.

  “Well, there’s that,” I say.

  Everett follows my gaze and grunts, “I wouldn’t worry about it, Lemon. Believe it or not, I’m tired of seeing him sulking, too.”

  “No wonder he was so miserable yesterday helping me pick out this dress.”

  “What?” Everett shoots a look to his mother. “That seems cruel and unusual even for Eliza Baxter.” Everett dances us over in her direction where she’s standing with a blonde woman with her short hair swooped to the side, reminiscent of boy bands from yesteryear.

  “Mother—Suze.” Everett nods to the two of them.

  Yes, Suze Fox, the woman who singlehandedly unraveled everything I had with Noah last Christmas Eve stands in a long black gown with a gloating smile taking over her face. Okay, so I may have had a hand in unraveling everything with Noah myself, but that’s beside the point.

  “Lottie.” Eliza takes my hand up. “You are a beautiful sight. I hope you approve of the venue. I told my staff to create a dream reception fit for a queen.”

  Suze smirks. “It was my idea, of course. Why shouldn’t the new Mr. and Mrs. Baxter have a proper coming out ceremony? Certainly this was no dark secret.”

  I gag at the thought. “And you thought it was a great idea for Noah to help pick out my gown, didn’t you?” I glance back to see Cormack still curled in his arms as they sway to the music, along with the rest of the bodies that have migrated to the center of the room to do the same. They look every bit the gorgeous couple, and it sickens me to my stomach.

  Suze gives a tight smile. “I knew my son could keep a secret. I would have asked your family to assist, but I’m afraid I don’t know them that well. Of course, I’m all too familiar with your mother.” She averts her eyes. “I’m still locked away at that silly B&B. Are you aware of the fact your mother still talks to her dead husband?” She shudders as if it were the biggest offense. Not
that she would want to talk to hers. Apparently, Noah’s father was a pretty big louse. “I think it’s time you and your sisters staged a psychiatric intervention.”

  Everett clears his throat. “Speaking of the delightful Miranda Lemon.” He nods just past me and I turn to see my mother, sisters, and an entire slew of people I know heading this way looking every bit the socialites and Dapper Dans themselves.

  Mom dives over me with a quick embrace. Her gold bejeweled gown looks gorgeous and expensive, and I’m terrified that my friends and family had to part with some cold hard cash to attend this event.

  “Oh, Lottie, I’m very happy for you both.” She hugs Everett as well. “Welcome to the family. I just knew Lottie would make a wonderful decision. I have no doubt you will be the very best husband to my daughter.”

  Everett ticks his head my way. “I will do my best to please her in every way.”

  A small titter comes from the crowd just beyond that.

  Both Meg and Lainey are here with their plus ones. Meg is with Hook Redwood of Redwood Reality—he also has some sort of a finance side gig with Noah’s brother Alex.

  Lainey’s husband, Forest, is a firefighter with the Honey Hollow Fire Department—the same great place of employment my father used to call home away from home.

  Both of my sisters are coiffed and primped to perfection. Meg has a shocking red dress that hardly covers her rear, and Lainey is wearing a nude A-line dress that perfectly accommodates her growing tummy.

  Lainey leans in. “Lottie, this is amazing. And those cookies you baked? How have you been hiding them from the world?”

  Before I can set the record straight, Eliza pulls a tall woman into our midst. She has her strawberry blonde hair twisted up into a bun, her dress is dark and plain, and there’s a general air of superiority about her.

  “Nonsense,” Eliza huffs. “I would never ask the bride to provide a thing for the reception. All baked goods were handmade and personally delivered by my good friend, Whitney Shields. She owns the Upper Crust Bake Shop right here in Fallbrook. The Baxters have known the Shields for generations. In fact, at one point, I thought it would be Whitney who Essex would marry.”

  The tall woman chortles as she extends a hand my way. “Essex and I summered together for eons. Pleasure to meet the baker who finally stole his heart.” Something about the way her eyes are squinted lets me know the pleasure isn’t exactly genuine.

  “You summered together? That sounds amazing.” And she called him Essex, which lets me know she slept with him—maybe entire summers at a time.

  Everett nods her way. “Whitney. It’s a pleasure to see you again. Thank you for the baked goods.”

  She wraps her arms around him so tight, for so long, I’m half-afraid she’s cutting off his circulation and I’ll be widowed by the end of the night.

  “Oh, Essex, how I’ve longed to touch you.” She caresses his cheek.

  How I’ve longed to touch you? What is it with the rich that makes them think just because they phrase things in perfect English it allows them to say just about anything?

  “Yes, well,” I pluck Everett from her grasp, “he’s a taken man now. No touching.” I pull him my way and wrap an arm around his waist as if I were genuinely claiming him.

  My half-sisters Kelleth and Aspen stride up, looking every bit the glamour girls they are. Kelleth has on a baby blue gown that drapes elegantly over her thin frame. Her heavily drawn-in lips and eyes are set off by the caked-on foundation and her dark penciled-in brows. Don’t get me wrong. Kelleth isn’t a walking makeup encounter gone awry, but it never fails to amaze me how much she feels the need to spackle.

  Aspen looks stunning herself, of course, in a fitted mint green dress that sheaths her and yet clings in all the right places. She has a blonde Betty Boop vibe about her with her pouty lips and sleepy eyes and curves for days up and down her body. They’re both snobs to the hilt and we still don’t quite click, but despite the fact, I’d like to think we’re trying. I discovered a few months back that they both worked for the Elite Entourage, a front for high-paid call girls. And even though they insist they’re just enjoying the sugar daddy aspects of the agency—for the most part—I still cringe at the thought of them working there.

  Kelleth squeals with delight as she pulls Whitney in and they exchange air kisses.

  “Oh, we’ve missed you so, Whitty,” Kelleth moans like a sick pigeon.

  Whitty? I can’t help but avert my eyes.

  “Now, now.” Aspen threads her arm through the strawberry-blonde’s and rubs her back. “We know you’re grieving Everett, but don’t fret. Cressie is on the same yacht.”

  I snort over at my sisters. I’m assuming that’s a rich person’s way of saying in the same boat. Even their euphemisms are more extravagant than ours.

  Aspen continues cooing over her old friend. “You’re in good company. Kelleth and I know where both you and Cressie can find a good man.”

  Everett and I exchange a brief look. I’m pretty sure the Elite Entourage is about to be swarmed with socialites. Come to think of it, I bet Cressida is already all too familiar with them.

  My half-brother Finn comes up looking every bit handsome in a fitted dark suit. He has a friendly boyish face and bright eyes. He’s also down-to-earth and has a smile for just about everyone he meets. He runs a ski resort up the way from Honey Hollow, and he and Britney have been dating for a while now. He offers me a partial hug, and it’s only then I spot Britney by his side in a daring red dress that looks more like a tattoo than anything stitched together with fabric.

  “Congratulations to the bride?” Finn ticks his head to the side as if slightly confused. “I guess I thought you were already married—to someone else.” His brows bounce playfully.

  “Yes, well, that ended badly,” I say.

  Britney cackles at the thought. “Don’t worry, Lou Ellen. All of Noah’s marriages tend to end badly.”

  I’d ask what she means by all, but I’m too afraid to ask.

  Meg takes a bite out of a heart-shaped cookie. “Wow. I might need to dump the shrimp I loaded up in my purse to make room for these cookies. These really are the best.”

  The best? She is aware I didn’t bake them, right?

  I shoot her a look, but Meg is too busy moaning in culinary ecstasy to notice. Soon, Hook and Forest are shoving the heart-shaped treats into their mouths as well.

  “Thank you.” Whitney giggles. “That’s my signature cookie. I’m still looking for a clever way to market them to the masses. I’ll admit, they do look a bit plain.”

  “Oh!” Lainey wields one at her with marked excitement. “You could write a clever little saying on it like those conversation heart candies. Other bakers are doing it, too.”

  “That’s a great idea,” I say, considering the fact I’m one of the other bakers in question.

  Whitney waves it off. “I’m afraid I’ll have to be far more clever than that. And you’re right. Every average baker has already done it.”

  Average baker?

  I can’t help but glower at her.

  Everett pulls me in.

  “Down, Lemon.” A dark laugh rumbles through his chest.

  I’m about to say something when my father strides up looking every bit the handsome man he is. He’s donned a white tuxedo and his hair glistens like gold, but it’s the woman he’s hooked his arm with that has my full attention.

  “Nell?” I say out loud without hesitation, but my family is too busy stuffing their faces with Whitney’s sweet treats to notice the morbid faux pas.

  And next to both my father and Nell crop up Greer Giles, Winslow Decker, little Lea, and a yowling Thirteen.

  The dead are here in number, and every last one of them looks as if they have a bone to pick with me.

  I spot Noah in the background with a look of disdain.

  Noah certainly has a bone to pick with me. But something tells me that after tonight, Noah won’t want anything to do with me ever again.
/>   Chapter 8

  Greer floats up, fast and furious, with her flowing white gown, the crimson stain from the gunshot wound she sustained still prominent on her chest like a long-forgotten rose.

  My impromptu reception to Everett still rages around us, and the room is filled with elegant looking people, most of which are strangers to me.

  “Lottie Lemon”—my name echoes from Greer’s ghostly lips—“we demand to eat these wonderful cookies everyone here is raving about.”

  I all but roll my eyes to the ceiling. “I’m well aware of your demands,” I whisper as I excuse myself from Everett and his mother. Instead, I trot off to Carlotta a few feet away who’s busy noshing on the confection in question while gawking at the supernatural spectacle around me.

  “What’s up, Lot?” she asks, inspecting the spirit squad who followed me over. “Are we about to have a massacre on our hands? Try to hold off until after the cake, will ya? If that three-tier delight is as good as those sugar cookies, I’m helping myself to seconds and thirds.”

  I make a face, but my sour mood doesn’t last for long as I lunge for the ghost standing beside her.

  “Oh, Nell, how I’ve missed you.” I collapse my arms around the old woman who I discovered just last year was my grandmother. She looks every bit the way I remember her with her gray hair and that devious sparkle in her eyes. She always had a warm smile to give me and a helping of sage advice to go with it. I look from her to my father. “Nell, Daddy, will you please explain to Greer and the gang that I have no powers to help them indulge in any sweet treats, let alone fill their invisible bellies with anything else for that matter?”

  Nell huffs and her ruby red gown glows like a flame. “Don’t be silly, child. Of course, you do.”

  “Ah-ha!” Little Lea hops up wielding that machete she loves so much at me in a menacing manner. “Do it now, Lottie, or the cat gets it.”

  A tuft of black fur rises over Thirteen’s back, and he lets out a razor sharp howl.

  “Don’t be silly, Lea,” I echo Nell’s words. “You can’t hurt him. Thirteen is already down nine lives.”