“I come bearing gifts.” I set down the tray of chocolate hazelnut crepes and steaming hot lattes onto the coffee table. A slathering of hazelnut crème lands on my finger, and I indulge in licking it right back off. “Mmm, so delicious. You’re welcome, by the way.” I give her foot a light tap with my own.
“Oh, sorry.” She comes to long enough to observe the goodies before us. “Hey, thank you! I thought you had something delicious going on in there.”
“Don’t you ever doubt me.” I spot a familiar pine tree logo gleaming with pride on her laptop screen and grunt in its direction. “Is that what you can’t turn your head away from?”
“That’s right.” She gives a wistful shake of the head while pulling her laptop between us. “The Evergreen Manor is hosting a charity auction this Friday night to help offset Merilee’s funeral expenses. Apparently, the sisters really hit hard times.”
“Geez”—I say, taking the laptop from her so I can get a better look—“I knew they were having a tough time, but I had no idea it was that bad.”
“Funerals generally cost an arm and a leg—and not the dead kind. They want a pound of living, breathing flesh to pay for that good time. It looks like all of the local businesses have pitched in a freebie of some sort to auction off. Look here”—she points to the screen—“the Honey Pot is offering a one hundred dollar gift card.”
“I see. Wow, that’s very generous of Nell. That woman has a bigger heart than anyone I know.”
“So, are you going?” Lainey is both grinning like a loon and has that I’m terrified for you look on her face. It’s a quizzical feat that only Lainey seems able to pull off.
“I’d like to. They say the killer always goes back to the scene of the crime—which I did yesterday, by the way. And I’m sure having me at the auction would be just as disrespectful.”
“Who says that?”
“I don’t know—TV shows.” I bat that judgmental look on her face away. “But I think I’d like to go. Besides, it would be interesting to see who’d come out.”
“Everyone’s going as far as I can tell. The Simonson sisters may not have been very friendly, but they’re one of our own. And if Honey Hollow prides itself on anything, it’s taking care of one of our own.”
“Duly noted.”
“And did you see this?” She points to the fine print. “The Honey Pot will be providing complimentary appetizers and delectable desserts. That’s you, my sweet sister. It looks like you’ll be there one way or another.”
“Huh. I guess I will. What does one bake for a funeral fundraiser?”
“Cookies in the shape of caskets?”
“Lainey!” I can’t help but give a sorrowful chuckle. I know for a fact she’s teasing. Lainey and I have always dealt with the tough stuff through humor. I don’t see that changing anytime soon. “How about cookies in the shape of pumpkins? Or better yet—autumn leaves? That’s respectable. I can ice them in red, orange, and yellow. That way, it will truly look like fall in Honey Hollow. It’s both tasteful and seasonal.”
“I think it’s a great idea. So, are you bringing a date?” Her shoulders dance up and down as she purrs with glee.
“A date? What? No. It’s a somber occasion. It’s not a dance or a formal event.” I can’t help but wrinkle my nose at my sister. “I take it you’re bringing Tanner. You two seem inseparable lately. Please tell me this isn’t the real thing.” I pull forward a chocolate hazelnut crepe and moan my way through the first, rich, creamy bite. It tastes like a cloud dipped in heaven.
Lainey lifts a shoulder at the thought of her fake love. I don’t care how much time they decide to waste together. My loyalty lies with Forest. That boy loved her, and she loved him. I’ve never seen a fiercer brand of affection. Not even what I had in New York could compare.
“I don’t know,” she bleats it out while tossing her hands in the air. “At first, I thought this might be fun, and then before I knew it, we were doing couple things—the movies, double dates, taking hikes around the hillsides. And then two weeks ago, we went to his cousin’s wedding in Leeds, and I met every last member of his family. It just felt so very official.” Lainey’s face loses color, and my heart breaks for her. “And you know?” She shakes her head while gazing at some unknowable horizon. “I kind of like it. I like the idea of a normal relationship. Not once have we gotten into a spat. Not once have we disagreed on anything. He’s kind and gentle and—”
“Boring as oatmeal.” I don’t mind finishing the sentiment for her at all. “So, are the two of you, you know”—I wiggle my shoulders at her—“getting serious in that sense?” I glance to her lap, and she tosses a pillow at me.
Her lips part as she carefully considers her wording. Lainey and I are close. When she lost her virginity to Forest, she was very frank with me. And after I stopped vomiting for a week straight, I began to appreciate the new level of trust our relationship took on.
“Let’s just say he’s never spent the night.”
“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”
She gives me the side-eye, and suddenly I feel like I’m in for it. “And what’s going on with this boyfriend of yours? I’m not sure how I feel about him materializing out of the blue. Who is this Noah Fox guy, and why am I suddenly suspicious of his presence in my sister’s life? You do realize that level of innate distrust in a sister means he’s the real deal.”
“He is not the real deal. And he is certainly not my boyfriend. Not in real life anyway.”
She squints over at me until her eyes look like miniature half-moons. “Have you kissed?”
“Almost. But it didn’t happen. See? Not real. Totally imagined.”
“You almost kissed, and this is the first I’m hearing about it?” She swats me on the arm before shoveling a crepe into her mouth, and no sooner does she groan in appreciation than my cell phone goes off.
“Honey Hollow Savings and Loan.” I make a face at the name above the number. I’ve called a time or two to make sure a check has cleared, but I’ve never had them call me.
“Hello?” I add a touch of cheer to my voice, far too cheery to be real this early in the morning before putting the phone on speaker. Lainey is going to listen in anyhow. I might as well make it easy for her.
“Hello, Lottie? This is Ellen Rawlings down at the bank. I just wanted to let you know there was a very big deposit added to your checking account this morning.”
“There was?” I look to Lainey as my eyes spring wide. “Who made it?” My heart thumps wild inside my chest. I’m the only one who’s ever deposited anything into my bank account, and the prospect of someone else doing so mildly alarms me.
“It was a cashier’s check. The depositor wishes to remain anonymous, but they did ask us to pass along a message.”
“What’s that?”
“They said the money was to be used to purchase new appliances.”
“Appliances?” I exchange a curious look with my sister, considering the fact I don’t have a kitchen to outfit anything new with.
“I’ll tell you what”—Ellen gives a dark laugh—“I don’t know what kind of a kitchen you have, but this is a large chunk of change. You have more than enough to outfit the Honey Pot with a brand new kitchen if you wanted.”
I suck in a breath as the message becomes clear as the autumn breeze drumming against the door.
I hang up with Ellen and hug my sister tight. “Get dressed. We’re headed to Main Street.”
“To the Honey Pot?”
“Someplace better. The bakery. Someone just gifted me a windfall so I can outfit it with brand new appliances.”
“A windfall? Who in their right mind would give you cash?” she shouts with a twinge of excitement in her voice as she rushes to get her shoes on.
“I don’t know, but I have an idea.”
“Maybe it’s a payout because they think you offed Merilee? You’re not moonlighting as a hitman, are you?”
“You’re awful. And if you’re smart, you
’ll watch your back.”
* * *
The shop next door to the Honey Pot is cavernous and mostly empty save for an aluminum table and chairs currently occupied by Keelie, Lainey, and me.
“One hundred thousand dollars?” Lainey has been dumbstruck by the dollar amount ever since we ran by the bank to affirm it.
“I can’t believe it myself,” I say, taking the restaurant equipment catalog from Keelie. As soon as I texted her the info this morning, she said she knew just the thing to bring. It’s a great head start, that’s for sure. “Who do you think sent it?” I can’t but eye my bestie as if she’s up to something. Everyone knows she comes from money.
Keelie’s mother, Becca, has a brother named William, and they’re forever squabbling over who will get Nell’s millions once she passes. William is an attorney in Bassett Ville and has already threatened Becca with the fact that any will can be contested. I’m sure glad neither my mother’s nor my father’s parents had any real money to speak of. I would never want Lainey and Meg to act like that. Not that they would, but they say money changes people. And when a loaded relative dies, the vultures come out of the woodwork. I wouldn’t fight for money, not with my sisters, not with anyone. I’ve always felt a little like the odd man out in the sense that they were blood and I wasn’t, even though they have never made me feel that way. When I was six and my mother dropped the bomb on me that someone left me alone as a newborn in the firehouse, I couldn’t help but feel like a discard who had done something so terrible my own real mother—whom I don’t call my real mother anymore, but my bio mother—would leave me on a grimy floor just hoping a kind man would find me before the wolves jumped in. Of course, the wolves wouldn’t have found me in the firehouse, but that’s not the point. They could have. I had just seen my friend’s baby brother the day before my mother broke the news, and the thing that stuck out at me wasn’t his ruby red cuteness—he screamed for the entire hour we visited, there was not one cute thing about him—it was the fact he was so vulnerable. He couldn’t do a thing for himself except scream at the top of his lungs, and I found that alarming.
Keelie rolls her eyes and slaps my arm right off the table. “You and I both know who sent it. Grammy Nell. Wasn’t she the one who told you she wanted a bakery in this town? And wasn’t she the one who said she wanted you to be the head baker? She’s just outfitting your shop and she wants you to order what you need.”
My mouth falls open as Keelie confirms my suspicions. “Knew it. That sneaky ol’ beautiful woman just gave me the kick start I need to get a brand new bakery going. Well, girls, it’s time to shop for appliances until we drop.”
And we do just that. Because the bare bones of a restaurant are already here, the walk-in refrigerator and freezer, stainless steel counters and a three-compartment sink, we pick out the bare bones of appliances this place will need to get going with enough to spare for refrigerated display cases, small wares, the pots and pans, utensils, and every baking accessory you can think of under the sun. And, of course, the pièce de résistance: a beautiful Hobart mixer. Otis comes by and helps measure and plan a layout that will work. Keelie and Lainey help me choose a beautiful shade of butter yellow to paint the walls, and it all feels as if it’s coming together magically.
“Wait a minute”—I cringe as I look to the vast potential seating area in the front of the store—“I don’t have a dime left for furniture. I’ll need a ton of café tables and chairs to outfit this place, and I know just from seeing the tab at the Honey Pot for replacements how much that can be.”
Lainey gives the kitchen a sweeping glance as if it had caused the furniture-based malfeasance. “Maybe you can take that pricey industrial mixer off the list. That thing costs more than my car! You can have my stand mixer. That, plus your own, and you’ll have two for the kitchen. Oh! And I think I have a handheld electric somewhere in the back of the garage.”
I groan without meaning to. Lainey can’t make toast. I shouldn’t expect her to see how laughable her idea would be. It would be doable, of course, but the batches would be so very small I could never bake enough to outfit those shelves for the customers.
Keelie shrugs with a look of regret on her face. “I’d offer the mixers at the Honey Pot, but the kitchen staff uses them daily.”
“No, that’s fine. And they’re still not the right size. Besides, Margo and Mannford would kill me.”
Bear comes up, holding his hammer over his shoulder, those lids of his in a perpetual bedroom eye position. It’s not his fault, really. Bear has thick, heavy lids, so he’s always had that sleepy-eyed look about him. His hair is mussed slightly, and I’d like to think that’s from working hard, but seeing that he showed up here first thing in the morning I’m betting he got out of bed that way. And if rumors of Bear’s love life are true, he didn’t wake up alone.
“I’ve got an idea.” He winks my way, and instinctively I want to swat him. In the past, he always started off our lusty dalliances with those famous last words. “Richie Newton owes me a favor, and his family owns the thrift store. They’re forever bogged down with discarded furniture they can’t sell. Head on over and pick out what you want. They own a chain of stores, so you can head to Hollyhock, Leeds, and Ashford, too. I’ll have Richie give me a call when you’re done, and I’ll pick up the pieces for you.”
The air stills in the room a moment as the three of us try to process the scenario.
“I don’t know whether to hug you or slug you.” Honestly, it sounds both too good to be true and like a natural disaster in the making. “I’m not sure if I’d rather have people suing me because they’re suddenly addicted to chocolate chip cookies or because they busted a hip when they fell out of my rickety old furniture.”
“That won’t happen,” Bear chuckles at the thought. “I’ll make sure everything is sturdy enough before I set it in this place.” He runs his fingers through his thick curls, and Keelie gives a little sigh. She’s always had a slight thing for Bear, but as per girl code he’s been off-limits. Believe you me, the reason I don’t want Keelie dating Bear has nothing to do with the fact he was my first and everything to do with the fact he’s a jackass of the highest order. He’s not just a player. He wrote the playbook—and has revised it several times to boot.
“Sounds good.” Keelie nods furtively at me as if trying to get me to agree. “We can paint them all to match. It won’t be as bad as it sounds.” She doesn’t sound all that convincing.
“She’s right.” Lainey offers a commiserating smile. “And I think we should paint them in every shade of pastel. That way we’ll be celebrating the fact they don’t exactly match. Sort of an organized form of chaos.”
“Organized chaos,” I repeat as I take a deep breath. Slowly, in my mind’s eye, this place comes to life before me, with its butter yellow walls, its pastel furniture looking scrumptious as nonpareils, the showcase shelves filled with every delicious sweet treat I have ever wanted to bake, the gleaming kitchen filled with new appliances, the smooth marble counter over the island—okay, so it’s stainless steel for now, but my luck is looking up. It can’t hurt to be optimistic at this point. A rush of adrenaline surges in me like never before. “This is really happening.”
Lainey offers a partial hug. “It’s really happening.”
Bear heads for the door. “You know what else is happening?” He nods my way. “You and me at the Evergreen Friday night. Save a dance for me, would you?” There’s a glimmer of optimism under that sarcastic demeanor, and I can’t help but think Bear is still holding out the vestige of hope for the two of us. He ducks out before I can properly school him. Not that I would after that kind offer he made. Maybe Otis Fisher really is a changed man? Not that it matters. You don’t get to run around on me and then get to call me your girlfriend again. New York comes to mind. Come to think of it, I seem to attract a certain type of playboy.
I look to Keelie. “They’re not going to have a dance at Merilee’s fundraiser, are they?”
Keelie tips her head back as her lips pull into a line. “I only know one thing for sure. Naomi is in charge of the event.”
“In that case, I hope she opts for a live band.”
Chapter 10
Naomi Turner did not opt for a live band. Instead, she has Mutton Darren, the general maintenance manager at the Evergreen Manor, streaming rap music from his phone through an obnoxiously loud speaker the size of my Honda.
“You could have warned me that I needed earmuffs!” Keelie shouts to her older twin, older by two minutes, but those one hundred twenty seconds have been lorded over my best friend for as long as I can remember.
“It’ll put people in a good mood,” Naomi admonishes with that perennial perturbed look on her face. “And a good mood is a giving mood. Mora Anne says she wants a top-of-the-line casket for her sister.” She scoffs down at her own sister. Her heels are so high she’s towering over the both of us. Keelie has a softer, friendlier look about her, whereas Naomi looks as if she’s about to break the arm of everyone in here. Keelie and Naomi are fraternal twins, which I always thought should have been called sororal twins, but nonetheless they look identical enough with their hair notwithstanding. Keelie is a fresh scrubbed, curly headed blonde, but Naomi has opted to dye her fair locks a shocking shade, the color of a raven’s wing. And she spends a copious amount of time each day flat ironing her curls. She’s a big fan of Keeping up with the Kardashians, and it’s no coincidence her hair and overall style took an abrupt U-turn once she began watching the show religiously. “I bet you’d give me the coffee can.”
“Only because you’d deserve it.” Keelie gives a cheeky wink. “And you’re wrong about the giving mood. My entire body feels like a beating heart that’s about to give out. You’ll be chasing people and their potentially deep pockets away with this noise. If you have a heart of your own, you’ll have him turn it down and maybe play something softer, something without expletives or the phrase you better watch your back.”
Murder in the Mix Books 1-3 (Murder in the Mix Boxed Set) Page 7