Pancake Panic

by Addison Moore

  After listening ad nauseam to my mother drone on and on about how much she hoped to pick up a Latin lover at the club tonight—and, believe you me, my father was seeing green as well, Keelie wasn’t the only one in the mood to puke on the way over— we arrived in Leeds with very little of our sanity still intact.

  Club Tropicana sits on the outskirts, with its flashy neon pink and green sign of a woman in a bikini with a basket of fruit on her head. The five of us hightail it inside, only to find a spacious, loud, and raucous, perhaps a bit raunchy atmosphere. The walls glow pink and green, the lighting is dim, save for the stage, and there’s a spacious dance floor that is sporadically occupied by a few brave souls.

  It’s more or less the way I remember it way back when Bear thought it would be a good idea to take the teenaged versions of ourselves here to watch scantily clad women in sequin bikinis shake their cha-chas. Come to think of it, I’m betting it was a pretty good date for him.

  It’s just as seedy as ever, and that makes me feel pretty good about my decision to bring Ethel along for the ride. You know, in the event I feel the need to shoot a sleazeball or two—or my mother.

  A waitress dressed in a hot pink bikini and dyed to match ostrich feather cap leads us to a table near the stage.

  “Lottie?” a voice calls my name from the right, and I turn to find a handsome homicide detective and a mean old woman sitting next to him, casting an honest to God pox on me. It’s too bad the last one she struck me with hasn’t worn off yet.

  It’s Noah and his mother, Suze.

  He jumps to his feet and my mother attacks him with an embrace.

  “Detective Fox,” she moans it out seductively, and Dad leans in to get a better look at her as if he were uncertain of her true intentions. “And Suze? Is that you?” Mom plucks Suze Fox right out of her seat and sends the blonde terror bounding in this direction. “Oh, please join us. I’m here all by my lonesome.”

  I clear my throat. “You’re with me, Mother. You’re hardly alone.”

  She waves me off. “You know what I mean, Suze. Besides, we have some catching up to do.”

  Before I know it, we’re all seated at a round table set for ten. I immediately take the seat next to Keelie and put my purse down on the other side of me in the event a certain detective gets ideas.

  “Just saving a place for my husband.” I glance to Noah, annoyed, as he takes a seat next to Bear. “So where’s Cormack?” A part of me wants to smack myself for saying her name out loud. God knows it works as an incantation. Honestly, though, I just have to think of her as of late and she appears. Hey? Maybe she’s the witch?

  Noah frowns. “I don’t know. I’m here with my mother.”

  He’s donned a dark sweater with a checkered collar shirt peeking out just enough around his neck, and the stubble peppering his cheeks looks as if he’s trimmed it. His eyes hold the bold color of a lime and his dimples are twitching even though he’s yet to grace us with a smile. I can’t help but note a few of the waitresses openly ogling him. Odds are he gets a few phone numbers before the night is through.

  It’s hard to believe that handsome man and I had something special—that is, until Cormack took it and wrapped it around a tree on Halloween night. I’m sensing a witchy theme here if ever there was one.

  No sooner are we seated and glaring at one another than a waitress comes by to take our drink orders.

  “And for you?” The peppy brunette with the face of a Kewpie doll nods my way with her turquoise feathered cap.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d love to speak to the sommelier. I’m choosy about my wine.” Not true at all—mostly because I don’t drink it.

  “Not a problem.” The waitress takes off and Noah leans in.

  “Good move, Lottie.” He offers a thumbs-up.

  “You don’t know the half of what I’m capable of.” I’m not even sure what I really meant by it, but I like the underlying threat buried in it.

  Bear grunts. He’s combed his blond hair straight back and threw on what he calls a monkey suit. Keelie said he was so hot looking she’d gladly lock him in a cage and have her way with him. It’s safe to say her animal instincts and hormones gone wild are colliding in the most spectacular way.

  “I’m sensing tension.” Bear nods to Noah. “I’ve known Lot a long time, and I can tell you right now you’ve ticked her off real good. You should try flowers to get on her good side. Lottie always took me back with flowers.”

  Suze lets out a rather vocal huff. “Noah, don’t send flowers. For goodness’ sake, she’s married to Essex.”

  Mom’s lips snarl in my direction. “And I’m still mad about not being invited to your wedding. My own daughter’s wedding!”

  “I was invited,” Carlotta quips, and I close my eyes and wish to die.

  “Carlotta”—I moan—“you essentially crashed the wedding.”

  “But you let me stay,” she counters. “That’s as good as an invite. Plus, we all went out for drinks afterwards.” She gives a sly wink.

  I scoff. “We had eggnog in Eliza’s living room. If by going out, you mean walking from one end of the estate to the other, then you’re right.” Eliza’s mansion is so big, you need a city bus to tour it.

  Mom gives a wistful shake of the head. “If you would have married Noah, I bet I would have been invited. I don’t think Eliza Baxter cares much for my kind, if you know what I mean.” She nods to Suze while flicking a finger over the tip of her nose.

  Suze laughs. She belts one out for the ages to the point I’m starting to wonder what exactly might be wrong with her.

  I look to Noah. “Is she malfunctioning?”

  He averts his eyes. “Cool it, Mom.” He ticks his head her way.

  Suze gets right back to the serious business of glowering. “If the two of you wed, I’d wear a wedding dress to your nuptials just to make things uncomfortable—and bring my own cake.” She bears her fangs at me and I shudder.

  “Mom,” Noah balks as if she finally went too far.

  “Well then”—I shake my head—“that would secure the fact you purposely mismanage your sanity and that of others.”

  My own mother swats me on the arm. “Play nice, Lottie.”

  “I agree,” my father rumbles from the other side of the table, looking rather unamused at the tone I’ve taken with this woman.

  “I don’t have to play nice with her. Cormack does.” I blink a smile at Noah. “So when’s the wedding?”

  “I’m thinking June!” a female voice trills from behind—and the horror of rather expected horrors, Cormack Featherby, trots over in a glorified muumuu, and I gasp at the sight.

  “Oh my God.” The words leave my lips without my permission.

  As I live and breathe—Cormack Featherby looks as if she’s halfway through this pregnancy, at least.

  “Did you have your body surgically altered to look as if you were with child?” I couldn’t help but ask. Lord knows she doesn’t eat enough to maintain her own body weight, let alone a Foxy tagalong that might be hanging on for dear life in her uterus. And boy, does that thought ever bring me down.

  Cormack smirks. “Jealousy isn’t a good look on you, Landy.”

  I sigh hard as I look to my father for help.

  Dad shakes his head, but his eyes are securely on Noah. “He still loves you, Lottie. In fact, his love for you burns bright.”

  I make a face at Noah. I guess his feelings for me don’t really matter anymore, not even if they’re strong enough to set the entire building on fire.

  I lean in Cormack’s direction. “So June you say?”

  “Yes, June it is.” Her pale blue eyes narrow to slits. “But don’t get any funny ideas. I’m having the Upper Crust Bake Shop cater all of my sweet needs. Whitney is simply a master at wedding cakes. And the Big Boss and I want only the best of the best.” She pats him on the arm and Noah glares at the wall behind me.

  How I detest it when she calls him by that irritating pet name. Noah has never wa
nted to be the boss of her, until now apparently. But Noah isn’t saying a word. I guess there’s no denying this wedding nightmare will soon take place.

  “What’s the matter, Noah?” I can’t help but goad him into this catastrophe of a conversation. “Fourteen carat diamond got your tongue?”

  Keelie perks up. “Ohh, yes, Cormack, let me see the bling!”

  I try to kick my bestie from under the table for being so genuinely happy to eschew my grief, but judging by that pinch of pain on Bear’s face, I think I might have kicked him instead.

  But Cormack is quick to hide her bony fingers. “So, Keelie, how is your morning sickness?” She decides to divert the conversation toward more maternal waters. “I’m having trouble keeping down a simple glass of water. I think I’ll just up and evaporate in the next eight months.”

  “We’re not that lucky,” I mutter before turning to both Suze and my mother who seem to be having a rather one-sided conversation. By the looks of it, my mother is doing all the talking and Suze doing all the hate-filled glaring. Par for the course on both accounts.

  “So, Suze”—I cock my head her way, and Dad groans because he can sense the zingers coming a mile away—“are you excited to hear the pitter-patter of little feet in the near future?”

  Mom clasps her hands together as she gives an exaggerated gasp—come to think of it, everything my mother does these days is exaggerated.

  “A grandchild!” My mother seizes as she shouts the words. “Aren’t you just thrilled to hold the new baby?”

  Suze’s lips press together in anger. “I’d rather eat it.”

  Before I could laugh or applaud her for staying so true to the cause of being herself, a tall, lanky man with a rather plain yet familiar face and a somewhat pleasant smile presents me with a tray of three different wine glasses, each with a different color fluid and a narrow sheet of paper.

  “The wine list for the lady.” He nods my way.

  “Hey! I remember you!” I try to put on a cheery countenance, but Noah and his caustic crew have me more than a little cranky. “From the pancake breakfast?” I pretend to wince. “Flip introduced us before he—” I hitch my head to the side in lieu of finishing my sentence.

  Dad floats over. “Hey, I think I remember this guy. I saw him hanging out at Flip’s place a time or two while he was still married to Lisa.”

  I offer him a covert nod.

  Teddy Berman leans back on his heels as if to get a better look at me. He’s clad in a cheap tux with a pink tie and matching cummerbund, giving off that cheesy eighties prom vibe.

  “I’m not sure.” His eyes widen as he looks to my mother. “But I sure as heck remember this beautiful face. Mirandy Lemonade, was it?”

  Mom squawks out a sharp laugh. “That’s my nom de plume.” She offers him a flirtatious wink and I cringe.

  Yes, my mother is a notorious flirt—but must she do so in front of my dead father? Can’t she sense him in the vicinity or something? If she keeps this up, she’ll be sensing the heel of my shoe once I toss it her way. I’m that ornery tonight.

  Mom giggles like a schoolgirl. “You must have heard me talking about my upcoming novel.” She bats her lashes at him manically. “Three the Hard Way. When I’m not running the B&B, I pen spicy novels in my spare time.” Her shoulders swivel in a circular motion and both my father and I groan at the sight.

  Teddy’s brows furrow as if he were just hearing about the risqué read for the very first time. “That must have been it.”

  I wave the wine list at him to break the sultry spell my mother just cast.

  “So?” I lean his way. “Who do you think killed Flip that day? Or are you the killer?”

  “Lottie.” Dad’s voice spikes with surprise and not in any good way. Not to mention the fact I can practically feel Noah boring a hole through my skull in an effort to shut down the connection between my wicked mind and my loose lips.

  Too bad, Noah. I’ve taken off the filter.

  Teddy belts out a short-lived laugh. “It wasn’t me.” He glances toward the stage. “But it could have been.” His body language relaxes. “I’m teasing. A few months back, he knocked on my door telling me I had to move all of my sprinkler heads on the side of my property line that butts up to his. Apparently, he had a survey done that suggested he owned four feet into my yard. I thought he was nuts. But he made me do it. Fast-forward three months, and I was down several feet of yard and four thousand dollars.”

  “Ouch.” Bear shakes his head. “I could have done it for you for half. I’m a contractor. But I dabble in landscaping, too.”

  Teddy’s chest expands with his next breath. “If you don’t mind, I’d love to take you up on it anyhow. I fully plan on moving my fence line back where it belongs before his house sells. I don’t owe the new neighbors anything. And I never believed those documents Flip showed me.”

  “Sure thing.” Bear fishes out a card and hands it to him. “Call me, anytime.”

  I ask Teddy to recommend a wine, and I take an entire bottle of it. Something tells me I might need two to drink away the troubles percolating around me at this table.

  Keelie and Cormack talk nonstop about their babies while Suze and Mom drone on and on about God knows what. I’m half-convinced they’re having two different conversations entirely. Bear is staring vacantly at the showgirls prancing around on stage and Dad is busy gazing into my mother’s blue eyes as if she were the only woman in the room.

  What I wouldn’t give to have someone look at me that way.

  I glance over to Noah and do a double take because he happens to be doing just that.

  One of the showgirls on stage takes up the microphone. “Attention, all you lovers!” The lights swirl in the room until they’re pinned right on her. “Up next is the bolero.” Her voice growls huskily as she says it. “Grab your inamorata and hit the floor for free and easy lessons that will leave your partner begging for more.”

  “Let’s do it.” Bear tries to snatch Keelie up by the hand but she pulls it back as if pulling it out of a fire.

  “Are you crazy?” Keelie snaps. “Everyone knows you don’t bolero willy-nilly during your first trimester of pregnancy. I’ll get dizzy and puke.”

  Cormack nods. “Same here. I’m not taking any chances with Noah Junior. Our little bundle of joy won’t be having his first bolero lesson today.” She winks over at Noah. “Of course, we’re hoping for a boy, but we’d settle for a girl so long as she’s beautiful like me.” Her violent cackle reaches the ceiling. Throw on a pointy hat, multiply her by ten, and you’ve got the most powerful coven in the universe.

  “In that case—” Noah has me on the dance floor and secured in his strong arms before I can get properly dizzy or puke.

  I swallow hard just being this close to him. “I never did congratulate you.” I’m not sure why I said it. It’s not like I’m about to congratulate him now.

  Noah takes a breath and his chest expands over mine.

  I can feel the heat of his breath raking over my cheek and it’s magnetizing me all that much closer to him. Noah oozes testosterone. Those heavy lids of his let me know he’s thinking about doing more than just dancing with me. And as much as my head says smack him, my heart says do it with your lips.

  “No need for congratulations.” He closes his eyes a moment. “Cormack isn’t having a baby.”

  “What?” I inch back to get a better look at him, but someone pushes Noah out of the way, and before I know it, I’m in the strong arms of my dangerously good-looking husband. “Everett.” I give a breathless laugh. “Noah and I were just getting to the good part.”

  His brows dip in protest. “And what would that be?”

  “The part where he just confessed that Cormack isn’t having a baby.” A flood of relief hits me so hard, I really do feel dizzy and the need to puke.

  “That’s great news.” He glances back to the table where Noah sits with his body slumped away from Cormack. “Lemon,” Everett growls it out in that
unsafe way that makes me want to drag him into a dark corner and rip his clothes off. “He’s not interested in Cormack. No matter what may or may not have happened between them, he’s still pining after you like a lovesick puppy.”

  “Well, he’s one disloyal dog,” I wrinkle my nose. “And yes, I realize the correlation between my pot and his kettle.” I shrug. “I’m just insane with grief, Everett. We were really on track to putting back the pieces in an effort to see if they still fit and Cormack—Suze—okay, fine, all three of us played a hand in ruining everything. And I can’t tell you how much I take the blame for that.”

  Everett shakes his head at me. “Take no blame, Lemon. Count it all as a complication. But if you can’t move past what Noah and Cormack may have shared, then it’s over.”

  “Just like that?” I press my lips tight as I glance to the table where Cormack has her arms wrapped protectively around Noah lest he dare bolero with me once again. Not that we were paying attention to the instructions. I was too immersed in my anger to notice which direction my feet were moving.

  “Just like that.” He leans in and brushes his lips over my ear. “The better way, the far more logical way would be to have a sit-down with him. Talk it out. He left angry Christmas Eve. You’ve both been angry ever since. That’s not how you cut ties. Not the right way, anyhow.” He takes a deep breath before his lips rake over my cheek. “And that’s all I’m going to say about that.”

  Everett and I engage in the most heated bolero known to man as our bodies sizzle across the dance floor. We have a great time learning dance after dance as the women of the cabaret instruct the crowd how to shake and swivel.

  Soon Mom is up on the dance floor shaking it with the best of them. And that all too friendly waiter she thinks she’s dancing with? Well, he’s been taken over by a rather eager spirit—that of my father. His ghostly frame is right there with her and I marvel at the sight—my father dancing with my mother. Now there is something I never thought I’d see again.

  Another dance number starts up and somewhere up on stage someone shouts, “Conga!”

  “Uncle,” Everett whispers and soon we’re headed off the dance floor.