Nell has on a paisley printed dress and a white knit cardigan, looking every bit the way I remember her to be. She has the appeal of a sweet old lady and the spunk of a tenacious warrior on the inside. Both of them have a peachy aura around them and tiny little pink sparkles darting from their hair now and again.
Greer leans in. “Sounds like we’re getting to the good part.”
“I’ll say.” Nell motions for Carlotta to continue.
Carlotta gives my shoulders a quick jostle. “Lot’s got two men on the chain. A judge and a cop. And she juggles them nicely, too.”
Hartley lifts a brow. “How are you doing that? Are you taking turns?”
Nell belts out a hoot of a laugh. “The woman’s not too far off-base, now is she, Lottie?”
Greer purrs like a kitten. “Mmm, what I wouldn’t do to take a bite out of that Baxter bad boy. That fun-loving Fox isn’t so bad either. I can see why you’re not sharing.”
I choose to give both of the dearly departed in my presence the snub at the moment.
I’m about to answer the woman when Carlotta holds up a hand to stop me.
“Don’t you go spewing off your secrets, Lot. Not for free anyway.” She tips her head to Hartley. “Lottie is writing a tell-all. I’ll make sure you’ll be the first to get a copy, hot off the press, at the low price of nineteen ninety-nine.”
“Ooh.” Hartley fans herself. “I am a sucker for a good tell-all.”
Mom lets out a sharp whistle from the front of the room. “Ladies! Two minutes! Grab your refreshments and those delicious sweet treats my daughter, Lottie, baked and find yourself a seat. I have a huge announcement coming up and you won’t want to miss it!” she sings that last word out.
Bruiser gives my shoulder a swift kick with his hind leg. “Let’s grill this woman before she hits the cookies.”
Good thinking—and good aim. Another inch and he would be awfully sorry he ever had legs in the first place. The last thing I need is a rager of a headache.
“An announcement?” Hartley shrugs my way. “I wonder what that’s about?”
“Oh, who knows.” I lean in. “Any word on who may have killed Norman?”
She shakes her head. “I’m hearing rumors.”
“What kind of rumors?” Carlotta and I say in unison before making a face at one another.
Hartley leans in. “Jenson, of course, the nitwit stepkid. Turns out, he had the hots for Mr. P’s future bride.”
“Analise?” I ask as that day comes back to me. I did see them together, but it looked to me Jenson was pulling Analise aggressively by the arm. Hey? Maybe this was a crime of passion after all? And it wasn’t the mobster ex-boyfriend who did it, but the stepson ex-boyfriend.
“Analise,” Hartley parrots back to me. “She was dating ’em all if you ask me. Anyway, there’s that—and there’s some rumor that has to do with that antique warehouse he has out in Fallbrook.” A tight smile cinches over her lips. “Rumors have been swirling for years that half that stuff is fake. It’s all Dolce’s fault. She’s the curator.”
Interesting. First I’m hearing of this.
“I love antiques.” The lie rolls right off my tongue. “I’ll have to pay a visit.” And hopefully Dolce, or Debbie as I know her, will be there.
Carlotta butts her arm to her old buddy. “Ah, come on, Hart. Why don’t you just fess up to murdering the old coot? We won’t tell, will we, Lot?” She narrows those hazel eyes over mine.
Bruiser brays, “Come now, Lottie. Play alooong.”
I shake my head at the woman, despite the fact I would very much tell. I’m beyond angry with the person who thought it was a good idea to fire off a shot in range of my very pregnant bestie.
Hartley rolls her eyes. “Fine. I did it.” She gives a sly wink. “All kidding aside, I would have rather married a donkey’s arse than that old two-timing goat.”
“Waaatch it, laaady,” Bruiser belts it out, and it sounds ridiculously adorable.
Hartley shudders. “A month ago he cut off my alimony. Just like that. No warning. I’ve spoken to the other wives, and they seem to be swimming in it. I don’t get it. You tell the man once that he was lacking in the bedroom and poof! Your entire checking account evaporates overnight. If he wasn’t dead, I would kill him all over again.” She nods to the front of the room. “Excuse me.” She takes off and I latch onto Carlotta.
“Hear that?” I give her arm a rattle. “She has a motive!”
Greer scoops up Bruiser into her arms and gives him a kiss on the forehead.
“Oh, let her get away with it, Lot.” Greer giggles as she gives Bruiser a squeeze and a bevy of blue stars explode around him.
“No way. Whoever killed Norman almost killed Keelie. They are most certainly not getting away with it.”
Carlotta gives a wistful shake of her head. “All I know is, I get to go antiquing in the very near future.” The room quiets down as the women around us hustle to their seats. “We’d better get a move on, Lot. We’ve got seven plumbers to cover.” She takes off and Nell steps next to me.
“Seven men?” she teases. “That could be you in the future.”
Greer is quick to laugh at my overpopulated love life. “Just wait until you’re dead, Lottie. That kind of thing isn’t frowned upon here. You’ll fit right in.”
Nell lifts a finger. “Not until it’s her time. But first, we need to sort out which man is Mr. Right.”
Greer pulls Bruiser to her lips again. “Who cares about Mr. Right, Lottie? You just figure out which one is Mr. Right Now.”
Mom steps up to the front and calls the room to attention.
“It’s time for my big announcement!” she sings with glee like only my colorful mother can. She motions for someone to hop up on stage with her and, sure enough, a tall, handsome man who looks far too much like Noah joins her at her side.
It’s not Noah, though. It’s his look-alike father, Wiley Fox. And believe me when I say, there is no truer moniker for him. The man faked his own death to get away from his many run-ins with the law. He’s been swindling widows out of their fortunes since the beginning of time. He did just that to Everett’s poor mother, Eliza—their brief and tumultuous union made Noah and Everett stepbrothers for a tiny blip in time—and let’s just say that didn’t end well.
Mom claps her hands. “It is with great pleasure that I am privileged to announce that my first book, recently retitled, Reckless Fear, has been picked up by none other than Wiley Rose Press”—she pauses a moment to hold both hands out in Wiley’s direction—“and will debut in three short weeks!”
The entire room breaks out into applause.
“Oh dear.” Nell shakes her head. “I’ve heard all about Mr. Wiley Fox. I’d have a good attorney look over the contract your mother signed with his publishing company.”
“I will. Knowing Wiley, he’ll get a ninety-five percent cut.”
Greer gives a dark laugh. “And knowing your mother, she’ll give it to him.”
I can’t argue with that.
For the next hour we’re regaled with tales of seven plumbers with some serious pipes to lay and the snowy damsel in distress that allows this debauchery to happen.
Reverse harem.
Why do I feel as if there’s a running theme in my life?
My eye snags on Hartley once again—the second of many Mrs. Pemberleys.
She pointed her finger right back to Jenson.
It looks as if it’s unanimous.
Now all I have to do is see if the murderous shoe fits.
Chapter 11
It didn’t take long for me to coerce my mother into letting me see that contract with the Wiley Rose Publishing Company. All I had to do was imply that I didn’t believe she actually signed an agreement with a fancy publishing company even if it was owned by that Wiley Fox she’s entertaining in her private chambers.
And as soon as I got it in my hot little hands, I arranged for a certain sexy attorney turned judge to head to my place t
onight. But the smart judge outdid me by asking me to dinner first. And since Noah was at the courthouse talking to Everett when I called—odd if you ask me—he’ll be joining us for dinner as well.
The three of us happily settled on Mangias. It’s not only my favorite Italian eatery, it’s located right across the street from the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery. I asked Evie to join us, but she’s knee-deep in spicy romance novels. After I declined her permission to read Ms. Snow and the Seven Plumbers, and after Evie put forth the requisite amount of pouting, I drove us straight to the bookstore and accompanied her to the romance section. It was hard to tell what’s lurking inside between those sassy chest-laden covers but easy to surmise. Anyway, I totally don’t get why they didn’t have some spice rating on the cover.
I distinctly remember my mother having romance novels lying around the house growing up, and I would swear on my life there was a tiny chili pepper in the corner of the cover to indicate how much heat was between the papery sheets. But no such luck with the books I bought for Evie. And, of course, she couldn’t decide on just one novel, so I ended up buying seven. Talk about sticker shock. I would have taken her to the library but didn’t want to feel my sister’s judgmental wrath. Knowing Lainey, she probably would have prescribed board books for poor Evie. In Lainey’s defense, she does have baby on the brain. Speaking of which, I’ve got two baby showers to plan for next month, but first we need to get through Keelie’s wedding. Dear God that woman doesn’t even have a dress yet.
Mangias holds the scent of fresh garlic bread, pepperoni pizza, and the tang of spicy marinara sauce, a perfect combination of all things heavenly.
Noah and Everett texted about ten minutes ago and said they were here and getting us a table. It took me a bit longer than usual to close the bakery no thanks to the mess Bruiser made on one of the pastry shelves. It turns out, he has a serious hankering for strawberry shortcake and it makes a terrible mess when approached rather violently. Unfortunately, Bruiser doesn’t know any other way to approach a dessert. I’m starting to think his name is rather fitting.
I spot Everett right off the bat and make my way to the back table where I see Noah seated across from him and Cormack by his side. Of course.
Cormack Featherby is Noah’s eternal plus one, whether or not he wants her. Way back—when the Earth was still considered flat, and Everett and Noah were stepbrothers—Cormack was the girl who came between them. She dated Everett first and then Noah decided he was going to scoop her up for himself and she’s been a level five clinger ever since. Just last month she tried to blackmail her way back into Noah’s arms. But that didn’t work. None of her schemes ever pan out for her.
But it only begs the question, what’s she up to now?
“Hello.” It comes out a bit curter than I intended it to.
Both Noah and Everett rise and greet me with a kiss, each dotting one to my cheeks. Noah has that sexy detective thing going with his holster partially showing from beneath his corduroy jacket. And Everett has that heart-stopping judge thing going with his traditional dark suit. The navy tie makes his eyes shine all the brighter, and every woman in the place has her head turned in both their directions.
Cormack has her blonde hair blown out and glossy, and her celadon green eyes glow against the smoky gray shadow on her lids. She’s donned a little black dress and a punchy red lipstick. It’s hard to find a shade with the perfect blue undertone. And I might just have to shake the name of it out of her before we leave.
“What a surprise.” I make wild eyes at Noah.
“Yes.” He glowers at Cormack a moment. “My apologies.” His dimples press in my way.
Cormack rolls her eyes. “Please, Lolani, sit down. These men have news, and I’m just as anxious to hear it as you are.”
Everett nods. “That’s right, Lemon. Gird yourself. You won’t like it.”
“Ooh!” Cormack bounces in her seat. “You’re both leaving her for me? How I miss the days I had the two of you on a string. And to think you downgraded with Loretta. And now look what she’s done. She’s broken both of your hearts.”
I shake my head. “I motion we ignore the bimbo among us.” My eyes settle over Everett’s. “What’s going on? What won’t I like?” A sinking feeling takes over because a part of me fears that Cormack’s theory just might be correct.
Everett reaches over and takes up my hand. “Maybe you should share your news first.”
“Oh, right.” I pull my mother’s publishing contract out. “My mother’s new book is being published through a small press, the Wiley Rose Publishing.” I narrow my eyes on Noah. “Owned by none other than Wiley Fox.”
A moan evicts from him. “I apologize in advance for anything my father might be up to.”
“Let me take a look.” Everett takes the contract and begins to plow through it just as our pizza arrives.
“What do you think?” I ask as I help myself to a slice and Noah does the same.
The waitress drops a dry salad in front of Cormack before leaving.
A sad salad for a sad woman. It makes perfect sense.
Everett’s dark brows swoop low and he looks unfairly handsome as he tries to digest the legal ease before him. I scanned the document quickly myself and couldn’t make heads or tails out of it, regardless of the fact it’s written in English.
Everett gives a wistful shake of the head. “From the outside, it looks like a standard boilerplate literary contract between an author and a publisher.”
“But?” I can feel it coming, clotting up the air with its undeniable presence.
“But”—Everett shoots a look to Noah first—“Wiley is asking for a sixty percent commission.”
“What?” Noah and I balk in unison.
“That’s right.” Everett’s eyes widen a moment as he glosses over the document once again. “I think that goes far above the standard fifteen percent.”
Cormack grunts, “Everybody knows that man is a thief.” She shrugs. “Sorry, Noah.”
He offers a stern look my way. “I think I’m the one that should apologize. I’m sorry, Lottie. I’ll have a talk with him.”
“Good luck.” Everett hands the papers back to me. “That document is air tight.”
I suck in a quick breath. “What happens if she backs out?”
Everett sighs. “She’ll have to find someone else to publish her book—after she pays him a ten thousand dollar exit fee.”
“Wow.” My stomach drops just thinking of the financial massacre afoot. “He’ll get her coming and going.”
Cormack gives a dark chuckle. “A true Fox through and through.”
“I don’t even want to know what that little quip was about,” I hiss. “Noah, can’t you get a restraining order or something?”
Cormack’s eyes double in size. “Why? So you can force him to witness you dating Essex while he sits here like a third wheel?”
I shake my head. “I thought we were dating, Noah? I’m so confused.”
Cormack gravels out a laugh. “Oh, Lena, you’re pathetic. You’re dating both of them and you haven’t even noticed.”
I look to Everett. “Back to my mother. Can she sue?”
“Yes, but it will cost her more than the ten grand to get out of the contract. Next time she wants to sign one of these, refer her to me. I’d be happy to look it over.”
“Thank you.” I make a face because my mother is screwed. “So what’s your news? And why were the two of you at the courthouse today?”
Cormack bounces in her seat like an antsy child. “Finally the good part.”
Everett cringes. “Lemon, there’s no nice way to say this. Cressida’s father pulled through for her. She’s not doing any time for sending you those death threats.”
Talk about deflating in an instant. “I wish I could say I was shocked. But in the back of my mind, I expected this. At least she’ll be serving gruel down at the community center with Cormack.” Cormack’s daddy pulled the same legal tender stunt after C
ormack kidnapped Pancake a few months back, and now she’s relegated to a year’s worth of hard labor, feeding the poor—something the rest of us do with the heart of a servant.
Noah and Everett exchange a quick glance.
Everett shakes his head. “Actually, she won’t be required to serve community service either.”
Cormack slams her hand down over the table. “How in the heck did he pull that off?” She plucks her phone out of her purse. “I need to schedule a meeting with Daddy’s legal team. This is utter nonsense. We’ve got more money than every Bentley on the planet combined.”
“Lovely,” I say as I toss my pizza slice back on my plate. “There goes my appetite. I bet Cressida is indulging in a nice juicy steak. I guess we’ll have to break the news to Evie. She’ll probably see Cressida rearing her smug mug around town.”
Everett’s cheek flinches. “Cressida is cruising the French Riviera to celebrate.”
“A self-imposed exile? I kind of like that.” I look to Cormack. “Feel free to join her.”
Cormack’s fingers dance over to Noah’s before latching onto him with a death grip. “Not without the Big Boss by my side. And since he burned what little vacation time he had with you last month, we’ll just have to wait for it to accrue again.”
Noah reaches across the table and picks up my hand and I can’t help but note how odd we look with Cormack still firmly attached to his other hand.
“Lottie Lemon,” Noah bears those forest green eyes my way, “it was an honor to spend my vacation days with you in Cider Cove.”
“I agree.” Everett plucks my hand from Noah’s and lands a kiss to the back of it. “Where should we honeymoon?”
A gurgle of a laugh strums from Cormack. “Don’t worry, Limon. I’ll keep an eye on all the important things, namely Noah.”
I think about it for a second. “I guess I always envisioned a cruise for my honeymoon. All the food and privacy you could want.”
Noah grunts as if he were mortally wounded. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”
Cake Pop Casualties (MURDER IN THE MIX Book 22) Page 9
