Spooky Spice Cake Curse

by Addison Moore

  A smile brightens my face.

  “See that?” I say, hiking up on my elbows and swinging my knees together with my feet still in the stirrups. “It sounds like the baby and I are off to a great start.”

  Her mouth opens a notch too wide. “Actually, Lottie, I’d be mindful of the things you’re eating. Perhaps consider adding a few salads into the mix?”

  My stomach burns hot just thinking about the cold, leafy sensation that holds all of the appeal of lawn clippings.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Far, far in the back of it. “What’s with the puking? Am I dying?”

  “Hardly”—Dr. Barnette turns my way—“it looks as if you have a classic case of emesis.”

  I suck in a quick breath. “Oh my God. What brought this on? Is the baby going to be okay? Was it all the spice cake I crammed down my throat? Honestly, it was the only thing that made me feel better.”

  A bubbling laugh comes from her. “No, it’s fine. Emesis is just a fancy word for vomiting. Now”—her demeanor grows serious—“if you’re not able to keep down water, we’ll have to admit you into the hospital to hydrate you. But as long as you’re drinking enough fluids, you should be well enough at home.”

  “Oh, thank goodness.” A swell of relief fills me. “I promise I’ll drink as much water as I can. Both Noah and Everett have been more than attentive, especially in making sure I have enough fluids.”

  She shakes her head as she looks from Noah to Everett in what looks to be wonder.

  “I can’t tell you how lucky you are, Lottie, to have not one but two loving men in your life. A lot of the women that come to see me are rowing their boats alone. You’re very fortunate in that respect. Have the three of you contacted that lawyer I recommended?”

  “No,” I answer sharply. “We won’t be needing a legal team. We’re all very amicable.” Last month, she tried to get us to commit to a custody schedule, and it was ridiculous.

  Her lips purse a moment. “I realize that everything feels amicable now, but once the baby is born, things can go south quickly. If this baby is Noah’s, you’ll have to outline a visitation schedule.”

  Noah shakes his head. “A schedule won’t be necessary.”

  Everett frowns slightly his way. “That’s right, Priscilla. Noah is tougher to remove from my wife’s side than a barnacle on the bottom of my boat.”

  Noah huffs at the thought. “Are you calling me a barnacle?”

  My mouth falls open. “I think he just called me a boat.”

  “No.” Everett’s hands fly up as if this was a stickup. “I would never call you a boat, Lemon.”

  Noah scowls his way. “But you don’t have any problem calling me a barnacle.”

  “You’ve called me worse,” Everett shoots back.

  “That’s because I learned from the best.” Noah’s voice comes out charged.

  The two of them get into a snarling-fest, and soon Dr. Barnette pulls a whistle from off the table and blows it into our ears.

  “Enough.” She holds up a hand. “Perhaps the three of you can’t see where this is going, but I can. Lottie, if this baby belongs to Noah, he has the legal right to fifty percent custody. And if he garners it, I need you to be emotionally ready for that to happen. Being separated from your baby can be quite challenging.”

  “Noah”—I shoot him a look as if he came up with the rotten idea himself—“tell her you’re not going to snatch the baby from me.”

  “Lottie”—his dimples press in deep—“I would never even entertain the idea.”

  Dr. Barnette folds her hands across her chest. “And Essex, if this baby belongs to Noah, are you prepared to raise another man’s child? Such an undertaking does call for psychological bracing. I’m not trying to cause strife. I’m trying to avoid a flurry of emotions once this little one arrives. Trust me when I say, it will be a lot easier for everyone if you already have your systems in play once the baby gets here. Then, all you have to do is relax and cuddle with your little bundle of joy. It is my medical advice that if you’re not willing to speak with a legal team, at least you can speak with a counselor. I hope to hear of your progress on your next visit. Now, would the three of you like to see the baby?”

  We agree in unison, and the lights are dimmed. Warm, clear jelly is slathered over my abdomen. The four of us stare over at the computer screen as a grainy black and white image of what looks like the most precious being in the world pops up.

  “Oh my word,” I wail with a weak voice as tears come to my eyes. The baby’s heartbeat lights up the room with its rapid woomp, woomp, woomp, and it reminds me of someone swinging a baseball bat as it cuts through the air over and over.

  “There’s the little angel,” Dr. Barnette coos. “Everything looks as if it’s just where it needs to be.” She moves the ultrasound apparatus over my belly with a touch more force and she belts out a little laugh. “Well, guess what this little one has learned to do?”

  Everett leans in. “Is that?” He squints hard. “Is the baby sucking its thumb?”

  “That’s right,” she says as she fiddles with the machine. “I’ve just taken a picture, and I’ll make sure the three of you each get a copy.”

  Noah’s chest bucks with emotion. “Just when I didn’t think I could fall in love any deeper. I’m sunk.”

  “Me too.” Everett sniffs, and I look over to see him wiping tears from his eyes.

  And just like that, my heart begins to break.

  “We’ll do it,” I say as I blink back tears myself.

  Dr. Barnette leans in. “Do what, Lottie?”

  “See that counselor you were talking about. I think it’s safe to say we’re all emotionally invested. Noah and Everett”—I look at the two of them—“I can’t stand the thought that I’m bound to break one of your hearts. I think we should seek someone to talk to. I think it will be the best for all of us.”

  Everett picks up my hand and kisses the back of it. “Anything you want, consider it done.”

  Noah nods. “I’m in. And please don’t worry, Lot. I’m not taking away the baby, if it’s mine. Not for a moment.”

  Tears wet my cheeks as I try my best to smile at the two of them.

  “Thank you both for being so kind to me. This baby will be lucky to have the two of you in its life no matter who the father is.”

  Dr. Barnette continues to let us watch our little sugar cookie as it sucks its thumb and wriggles its precious little limbs. I’m so in love, so far gone, it’s unimaginable that I even existed a moment without this tiny being. I already love that sweet little angel far more than I could ever love myself, and all I want to do is protect it. For the first time, I can honestly say that I feel like a mother.

  Dr. Barnette gives us each the business card of her good friend, Counselor Veranda Wilson.

  Noah, Everett, and I agree to speak with her—just once, and mostly to appease Dr. Barnette. Even though I’m sure it’ll be beneficial, a part of me can’t wait to mark it off my checklist and get it over with already. Noah, Everett, and I are going to be just fine.

  I hope.

  Later that evening, Noah picks up Mangias and comes over, along with Toby, who is happily wagging his tail as he saunters next to him. Pancake and Waffles get straight to the serious business of attacking the cute golden retriever and provide the entertainment while the rest of us chomp down on an Italian feast of two large pizzas and a full lasagna. Carlotta volunteers to spend the night next door with Evie. She says Duke appreciates Everett’s liquor selections better than mine, and considering I don’t have any, I can see the appeal.

  Noah offers me a warm embrace before taking off.

  He pulls back with those verdant green eyes pressing hard into mine. “I meant what I said, Lottie. If this baby is mine, I’m not ripping him or her away. I would never hurt you, not in a million years. Please know that.”

  “I do know that, Noah. I really do.”

  He nods over to Everett. “And I want you to know that I respect t
he fact that Lottie has chosen to be with you.” He swallows hard. “I’m not going to lie, it’s not easy. In fact, it’s hell. But if this baby is mine and Lottie chose not to be with me, then I’d rather it be you than anyone else.”

  “Thank you.” Everett tips his head. “And I feel the same toward you. Things have never been easy between us. But I foresee them only getting better. You’re a great uncle to Evie, and I can’t tell you enough how much I appreciate that. I have no doubt you’ll be just as great with this child.”

  “Thank you.” Noah’s expression grows somber. “But I don’t think I’m going to be the uncle in this scenario.” A deep sigh expels from him. “I really do believe I’m going to be the father. Goodnight. Call me if you need me, Lot.”

  He takes off, and I blow out a steady breath as I look to Everett.

  “He seems so sure this baby is his.” I press my lips tightly. “I’m afraid of what it might do to him if it’s not.”

  Everett brushes his thumb over my cheek. “I think this might be his way of curbing the pain of not having you by his side. And if that’s what it takes, I’m okay with it. I know how real that pain can be.” His lips purse a moment. “I felt that deeply once.”

  “Everett.” I wrap my arms around him. “I’m sorry I ever hurt you.”

  “I just wanted you to be happy, Lemon. But I won’t lie”—his lips curl at the tips—“I’m not knocking this arrangement. I much prefer you as my wife to his girlfriend.”

  “I love being your wife.” I bite down on the naughty smile dying to break out.

  “I love you being my wife.” His chest expands with his next breath. “My wife.” He dots a kiss to my lips. “We didn’t do it the right way, though. And I plan on fixing that.”

  “Everett?” I give his sides a quick pinch. “Don’t you dare untangle this matrimonial knot.”

  He winces. “Some wheels might be in motion, but don’t worry. I think we should have a fresh beginning. And we will. After the baby is born, we’ll tackle everything the right way.”

  “I’m not going to even try to decode what you just said. I’m still trying to keep up with my body, let alone my mind. And we both know your brilliant mind is far too cerebral terrain for me to tackle. I’ve got an idea. How about we head to the bedroom and I let you tackle me the right way instead?”

  “I think you’re the one with the brilliant mind.” Everett scoops me up in his arms and races us to the bedroom.

  He tackles me in the exact way I was hoping, and every last inch of me feels better just being in his arms.

  Everything is so perfect between us right now, I don’t care how we came to be husband and wife.

  But Everett said that certain wheels were in motion, and it only adds to the feeling that everything is slipping from my grasp, that I can’t control anything in my life anymore.

  Just like I can’t seem to control the urge to track down Ichabod Hearst’s killer.

  And that’s exactly what I’m hoping to do tomorrow.

  Chardonnay Shelby, I’m coming for you.

  Chapter 10

  The next day my body felt more or less normal, sans the puking session in the morning, that little jaunt to the bushes in the alley in the afternoon, and the fact that eggplant sandwich I wolfed down for dinner made an unexpected—although let’s be honest, somewhat expected reprise. Business at the bakery was brisk today and intermittently I ducked into my office, trying my hardest to find any information on Iona and Annabeth Canterbury, but I found zippo. It’s not that they didn’t exist, it’s more that they didn’t keep fabulous records back in the late 1900s. So I shelf them from my thoughts for now.

  It’s seven in the evening, and both Meg and Carlotta offered to help me close the bakery for the night. Lily had a hot date with her boyfriend, Seven—and who am I to stand in the way of true love? I’m just thrilled her life isn’t nearly as complicated as mine. Speaking of mine…

  “I called both Everett and Noah to see if they wanted to stop by for dessert, and they both said they’re working late.” I make a face as I pick up my purse off the counter.

  Carlotta and Meg exchange a look, and I’m not liking the solidarity one bit.

  Carlotta slings an arm around my shoulders. “Don’t think we haven’t noticed your investigative mojo has been depleted after your two husbands forbade you to have a mind of your own and think for yourself. The next thing you know, they’ll be telling you whose bed you’ll be spending the night in.”

  Meg nods. “That’s the next logical step. I’m surprised Noah hasn’t sued for shared custody of her yet. I’m guessing they’ll want to split the week.”

  Carlotta shrugs. “Sexy likes to let loose on weekends. And Mondays really seem to rev Foxy’s engine. I can see where that would work.”

  “Funny.” A dull moan comes from me. “I’ll have you both know I only have the one husband. And I sort of agreed to wait to go after suspects until either Everett or Noah were present.”

  “We’re present.” Meg shrugs. Her dark hair is coiled into a bun, and her icy blue eyes glow like flames juxtaposed against all the black kohl she has ringed around them. “Trust me when I say I can handle anything a suspect can sling my way.”

  “That’s true,” I say. “Except maybe a bullet.”

  Carlotta shrugs. “So go home and grab Ethel. You’re a modern woman, aren’t ya?” Ethel is the name I gave to the Glock that Noah and Everett chipped in to buy me as a security measure. “If you tuck your tail between those tree trunks you call legs, and curl up with your cats in front of a fire, what kind of a message are you sending to that baby girl tucked in your belly?”

  I squint over at her for that tree trunk remark.

  “I don’t know that I’m having a girl,” I say.

  Meg grunts, “But if you are, you’re already a shining example of how easily men can oppress women.”

  A dull laugh strums from me. “I’m hardly oppressed. Besides, I like curling up with my cats. Actually, I thought I’d stop by the deli down the street, pick up some sandwiches for dinner, and do just that.”

  Carlotta slits her throat with her finger. “Didn’t you hear? The deli had to shut down because two customers ended up in the hospital with a bad case of food poisoning. The owners were terrified half the town would keel over, and those left living would sue the pants off of them. They didn’t want anything to do with the Hearst curse. Rumor has it, the whole family packed up and went on a European vacation just to stay safe. They said they might reopen in November.”

  “Wow.” It takes a moment for me to catch my breath. “It’s as if this entire town is really starting to believe we’re under some kind of a wicked spell.” I force myself to shake all thoughts of it out of my mind. “What do the two of you have planned for the night?”

  Meg and Carlotta are right back to exchanging squirrely looks again.

  “All right, Lot.” Carlotta’s demeanor shifts to something far more sinister and greedy—in other words, her natural state of being. “I did the research for you, and I happen to know where we can find Chardonnay Shelby tonight.”

  “No,” I say.

  Meg lifts a shoulder to me. “Have it your way, but we’re still going. I’m always up for a good meal, and not only that, but I get to check out the competition.”

  I suck in a quick breath. “She works at a gentlemen’s club? I should have figured. She was sleeping with a married man, after all.” Not to mention Everett.

  “Nope,” Carlotta says as she flicks off a majority of the lights. “A somewhat classy outfit up in Scooter Springs.”

  “Scooter Springs? That’s about an hour away.”

  Meg helps navigate us out of the bakery. “Not too far to check out the competition for the Honey Pot Diner.”

  I bite down hard on my lip as we make our way into the crisp autumn breeze.

  “Well, if a decent meal is involved.” My hand floats across my belly. “I am eating for two. And I bet a classy outfit like that has salad
on the menu. My doctor specifically prescribed salads for me. And who am I to go against doctor’s orders?”

  Carlotta belts out a laugh. “Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, it’s off to Scooter Springs we go.”

  Scooter Springs is located so far north by the border, it might as well be in Canada.

  Meg parks along a congested street with crowds of what look to be rabble-rousers prone to loud bouts of hysterical laughter, each wielding a dark bottle of some toxic brew.

  I growl at the sight without meaning to.

  “Why do I get the feeling Scooter Springs is Leeds’ slutty cousin?”

  Meg chuckles. “That’s saying a lot, considering Leeds is pretty slutty.”

  “You should know,” I say. “You work there.” Or at least she does when she’s at her second job teaching strippers how to shake what their mama gave them.

  “Speaking of cousins.” Carlotta points up to the red neon sign. “Welcome to Cousin Scooter’s Cabaret—world capital of all things deep-fried.”

  “Oh no,” I moan. “Why do I get the feeling this is the classy place you were telling me about?”

  Meg chuckles. “Because you’re the best detective this side of the North Pole. We knew you’d catch on eventually.”

  I choke on my next breath. “And that probably means they don’t serve salad.”

  Carlotta bucks with a laugh. “Yeah, but rumor has it, they’ve got deep-fried ice cream.”

  “Ooh,” I squeal. “I’m sensing a double order on the horizon. I bet they dust it with powdered sugar. And who knows? There might even be caramel sauce on the side.”

  Meg leans in. “I heard they’ve got bacon shaped to look like fried chicken legs, deep fried pizza, and deep-fried beer ravioli.”

  “Oh wow.” I hold my stomach. “Can I have beer ravioli?”

  “Probably not,” Meg says. “But you’ll have lots of time to think about it. An old friend of mine runs the costume department. Do you know what that means, oh great Detective Lemon?”

  I suck in a quick breath. “Backstage passes to the cabaret?”