Noah picks up my hand. “I called Margo from the Honey Pot and arranged for her to open for you tomorrow.”
Everett brushes the hair from my eyes. “And I don’t need to be down at the courthouse until noon.”
Noah glowers over at him. “I can spend the night, Lot.”
“I can spend the night.” Everett raises his voice a notch as I catch Carlotta tittering in the corner.
“You’re going to pay for this, Carlotta.” I’m about to include Keelie and Bear into the equation when a retching sound comes from my throat.
“Gross!” Evie snaps a picture of me. “I can’t wait to show my friends my puking mother and her two baby daddies. I bet you’ll be on TV and everything.” She sucks in a quick breath. “Can we please go on one of those shows where they do the who’s your daddy reveal? Oh please! Oh please!”
Carlotta scoots next to her. “Can we? Can we?”
“No,” I bark at both of them. “I am not having a baby. I’m just sick. That test was—” I’m about finish the sentence when a hard roll of nausea takes over once again and I take a couple of quick gulps of water.
Eventually, the horrible feeling that my guts are about to come up through my esophagus passes and I lean my head against the pillow.
“Noah, Everett, I’m sorry about your friend.” I decided to take the white-hot spotlight off my uterus in hopes the faux morning sickness will take a hike. “Hey?” I sit back to get a better look at Everett. “So who was that lady who doused you with a glass of water tonight?”
“What?” Evie hacks the word out as if she was about to ask me to hold her earrings. She does love her daddy something fierce. She should. Not only did he give her life, he bought a boat—more like a luxury yacht—upon her request just last month called The Lucky Lemon.
Carlotta steps in close. “Who, what, where, when, and how long are you sending them to prison for, Judge Baxter? I smell a life sentence at Super Max on the horizon.”
Everett gives a long blink. “It was a woman by the name of Brandy Fielding. I remember her well. Her boyfriend was found guilty of murder.” He frowns. “I had her removed from my courtroom on a few occasions.”
Evie’s mouth falls open. “Someone threw a cup of water in your face and lived to tell about it?” Her voice hitches with anger. “Mom, did you get a picture of this?”
“Nope.”
She blows out an exasperated breath. “Well, then it’s like it never happened.”
“It happened.” Noah sheds a momentary grin. “I saw the whole thing.”
Evie shakes her head at her father. “I don’t get it. It’s not like you’re the one who found her boyfriend guilty. I mean, he obviously went through the whole judicial system. All you did was hand down the sentencing.”
“You’re right.” Everett gives her a pat on the back. “You’re a smart kid, Evie. That’s exactly what happened. But the truth is, at the end of the day, it’s the judge that takes the heat in cases like this.”
“Cool.” Evie’s eyes grow in size. “So do you think she’s going to, like, stalk you now? We should probably get a couple of Doberman pinschers we can unleash in the event she tries to tie us up and kill us.”
Everett shakes his head. “She’s not killing you.”
I give his arm a gentle squeeze. “And she’s not killing you.”
Everett takes a breath. “She’s harmless. We probably won’t hear from her ever again. She’ll go away soon.”
We wrap up the morbid party and Noah heads across the street to let his sweet golden retriever, Toby, out and feed him. But Noah doesn’t get to the porch before he calls us outside.
Everett and I follow Noah down to the bottom of the driveway as he shines a light over the front of Everett’s car.
Scrawled in red lipstick across the entire length of Everett’s windshield are the words NOT GUILTY.
I’m getting the feeling Brandy Fielding isn’t so harmless.
And it certainly doesn’t look as if she’s going away any time soon.
Chapter 5
Everett and Evie spent the night with me last night. They happen to live right next door, and I assured them I was feeling better, but Everett wouldn’t hear of it. Evie was too creeped out by her father’s new stalker to sleep in that house all alone—not that we would have let her.
Even though Everett and I are technically married, we don’t live together. In fact, we’re more boyfriend and girlfriend than we are husband and wife, and as much as I’d love to change that, I just don’t want to let go of the rental home I’m in.
Okay, so that sounded decidedly lame.
It’s not just the rental. Everett and I are sort of new again. I’m afraid if we dive into the deep end of the relationship pool we might just sink. We need to restart the engine, take things as they come, and hopefully everything will fall into place just the way it’s meant to. And I’m not worried about whatever it is he’s keeping from me. He’s already assured me he’ll address it, and I trust him to do just that.
The only thing that truly makes my stomach turn is the fact my friend, Bizzy Baker, who came out last month, the one with the supernatural ability to read minds, didn’t look too happy about Everett’s thoughts at the time. She’s the one that let me know he was keeping something from me. And when I asked her if it had the power to destroy us, she assured me it did.
A part of me can’t believe that. Everett and I are unbreakable, unsinkable. We’ve already withstood so much.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and it’s a text from Carlotta, asking me if the baby has eaten my brain for breakfast.
I frown at the phone as if it were Carlotta herself before shooting back a text, letting her know I’m on my way to the bakery.
Carlotta has been living with me ever since we discovered that my late grandma Nell’s home—the home Carlotta was frolicking around in and throwing drunken orgies in—was covered in black mold. Keelie’s husband, Bear, has taken on the project, and last I checked, he took the old house down to the studs. But now with his new baby at the doorstep, I doubt he’ll get around to finishing Nell’s old place any time soon. I’m guessing Carlotta will be living with me far longer than a few more months. She’s sort of my quirky cross to bear.
After Everett left for work this afternoon, I took off to the local clinic and had them give me a thorough checkup, which mostly consisted of me peeing in a cup. It turns out, I am not expecting a baby, which is no surprise to me, but the doctor was kind enough to take my blood work and have it sent off to a lab to see if they can pinpoint what was making me so sick.
Of course, I didn’t tell Everett where I was going. He made me a stack of his delicious pancakes and coffee this morning and made sure I ate breakfast in bed. Noah dropped off a few red roses he picked from his garden, told me he loved me, and planted a kiss on my cheek before leaving for the station this morning as well. And they’ve both sent alarmingly sweet text messages to me for the last few hours, declaring how happy they are to be expecting a baby with me. It’s clear I’ll have to talk to them in person this evening and straighten this whole Carlotta-inspired mess out. And strangely, it feels as if I’ll be disappointing the two of them in the process.
The Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery is bustling this afternoon as I step on in and I can’t help but smile as I take it all in. Nell gifted this place to me after the space became available. I worked as the baker for her restaurant, the Honey Pot Diner, the one in which my bakery has shared a wall with for years.
The Honey Pot Diner is magical, with its large resin oak tree planted right in the middle of the restaurant. Its twinkle light strewn branches extend over the ceiling and make their way over the ceiling of my café as well. That, along with the butter yellow walls and mismatched pastel furniture, gives the bakery a homey yet fairy-tale appeal.
“Lottie?” Lily Swanson, my right-hand girl here at the bakery, waves me over with a look of relief. “Thank God you’re here. We’re running low on peach cobbler. And mig
ht I suggest this go-around you make them smaller so we can sell them individually? People are wanting to buy it by the slice and it’s not exactly the easiest thing to cut.”
“You bet. I’ll make them in cupcake parchment like we did for the awards ceremony.”
“Oh, and your mother called. She said she wanted to know your due date because she and Wiley are thinking about taking a cruise next spring.” She wrinkles her nose my way. “Congratulations on the baby. I knew you were expecting. Nobody eats that many sweets for no good reason. And your stomach looks as if you’re six months already.”
My mouth falls open. “No, it does not. Take that back, Lily.” I swat her with my apron before I put it on.
“Well, it’s been longer than six months that I’ve seen this coming. You’re married to Everett, having Noah’s baby—I’ve seen this movie, Lottie.”
“Yeah? Well, I just came from the doctor's office. I’m not having anyone’s baby, and I never was. How’s that for a plot twist? I’m just a victim of one of Carlotta’s ridiculous rumors. And now both Noah and Everett are going to be hurt because of it.”
Lily sighs. “I guess you’re right. The men I date would probably be relieved, but my guess is Noah really wants this as a means to get you back—and hold onto you forever. And Essex?” I frown over at her. Yes, Lily was one of many that have done the deed with Everett, thus garnering her the right to use his name in vain. “I’ve never seen that man so in love.”
“Essex in love?” a female voice swoons from behind and I turn, only to jump at the ghostly sight of Collette Jenner in that same skintight red dress she dropped dead in.
“You!” I try to grab ahold of her and my hand glides right through her. I make a face at the woman and motion for her to follow me to the back. The funny thing with ghosts is that they can be as solid as they want , and apparently, Collette doesn’t want.
Thankfully, the kitchen is empty as I start pulling out all of the ingredients I’ll need to make my ooey gooey, ultra-sweet peach cobbler.
“Tell me everything you know about Dane Gannon,” I whisper.
Collette’s expression sours at the mention of his name.
“Not until you tell me what kind of a spell you cast to get Essex to fall in love with you. I tried every trick in the book to hook that man for myself.”
“Lucky for me, I didn’t have to employ a single trick to get Everett to love me.”
“Ha!” A wild snort of a laugh erupts to my right as Meg and Carlotta head into the kitchen.
I shoot Collette a look that says remain on standby. Meg doesn’t know about my ability to see through to the other side and I’m not in the mood to share the news.
“Didn’t need to employ a single trick, huh?” Meg sheds a crimson smile my way. “What do you call this fake pregnancy?” She shrugs. “Lily told us the news. And you know what? I’m actually not sorry about it. I’ve enjoyed teasing Lainey about the fact her kid is going to be a lemon for the last nine months and was hoping to continue a little surname humor with you.”
“Very funny,” I say, rolling my eyes.
Carlotta grunts, “It’s safe to say you’re still the envy of every woman Everett has ever dated, dead or alive.” She gives a hard wink to Collette. “But don’t worry, Lot. We won’t tell if you won’t. We gotta keep this baby gig going. This morning alone, Foxy gave me flowers and Mr. Sexy made me breakfast. And it’s been less than twenty-four hours since the baby news broke.”
“I’m not going along with the baby gig.” I shake my head at her. “The gig is up. And it was a cruel gig at that. Please don’t ever get those baby rumors going again.”
Carlotta huffs, “You’re the one sleeping with two different men, Lot. I was merely espousing the grim consequences, once I saw your face turn green.”
Meg barks out a laugh. “She’s got you there, Lot. Speaking of grim consequences.” She inches forward and that dark bird’s nest of a bun wobbles over her head. Meg has already started managing the Honey Pot for Keelie in the afternoons, and she’ll take over permanently once Keelie has the baby. “Is it true you met Ridge Porter?”
Carlotta inhales so fast and sharp Lily runs in.
“What’s happening?” Lily gives a quick look around as if she were expecting a kitchen fire.
Carlotta steps in close. “Lot Lot met the Ridge Porter. Tell me he’s just as handsome in person as he is on television.”
“He is,” I don’t hesitate to say it because it’s true.
Collette Jenner snorts from behind and I catch her stuffing her face with a tray full of croissants. I make a motion for her to shoo before both Meg and Lily faint from the sight of floating baked goods.
“Man.” Meg shakes her head. “You get all the good ones, Lot. Ridge Porter is a real man’s man. He’s the one person I’d consider leaving Hook Redwood for.”
I avert my eyes at the thought. Hook and Meg have been together for over a year now.
“Don’t you dare leave Hook. But if you want, I can probably arrange for you all to meet Ridge. He’s a friend of Noah’s. And a friend of the deceased.”
A chill rides through me at the thought of that poor man staring vacantly at the ceiling while clutching my cobbler.
It’s been a bit of a phenomenon these past few years—people dying, being murdered to be exact, and one of my innocent desserts just so happens to be at the scene of the crime. It’s unnerving, unbelievable, and apparently, darn good for business.
The bell chimes up front and Lily makes a face. “I’ll take care of the customers, but only if you take care of me, Lottie Lemon. I’m single and ready to mingle, and I happen to know Ridge is single, too. I’m a proficient stalker of his. I want to be set up on a date.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I say as she takes off to the front.
Carlotta grabs ahold of me. “Forget that whippersnapper. A man like Ridge Porter needs a woman who’s been around the block a time or two.”
Meg shakes her head. “I wouldn’t do it, Lot. You’ve already got two good ones on the hook. I say cut the line and slip into that extended family situation the three of you are destined for. The first three and a half days of the week belong to the horny detective, then you can spend an extended weekend with the judge with a grudge between his legs.”
“Good Lord.” I close my eyes,
Carlotta waves her off. “I’m not talking about Lot and Ridge. I’m talking about Ridge and me. Just give me an hour with Ridge Porter. I can do things to that man that will make him forget other women ever existed. But he won’t forget meeting me anytime soon.”
“He won’t forget meeting you. He’ll regret it,” I’m quick to point out. “You can’t attack a man for a solid hour once you’ve been introduced.”
“Why not? I’ve done it before. How do you think I got the baby ball rolling with your daddy?”
I straighten at the thought.
By daddy she means Mayor Harry Nash, who as fate and my ill-gotten DNA would have it is my biological father. I became apprised of this genetic tidbit about a year ago, and since then, Mayor Nash and I have developed an amical relationship—as I have with my new half-siblings as well.
“Carlotta, why are you always so quick to step out on poor Harry?”
“Poor Harry nothin’,” she balks. “You know we’ve got an open door policy. It’s what keeps the fires of love a stokin’ and a smokin’. In fact, you can thank me for your roving eye. I’m the one that gave you the desire and the stamina to handle two grown men at a time.”
I don’t bother raining down the facts on her. Something tells me my efforts will just be wasted.
“Ridge Porter.” Meg lands her elbows on the counter as she gawks up at me. “I haven’t missed a single episode of Unsolved Mysteries Tonight.”
I nod. “Neither have I. But there have only been seven so far. They keep repeating a few episodes, so it feels as if there’s more.”
Carlotta snaps up a handful of confetti cookies. “Which one’
s your favorite? I like the one with the missing biker from Hartford. I think the neighbor did him in because of the winning lottery ticket they went halfsies in.”
Meg snorts. “The ticket was worth twenty bucks. Hardly enough for murder. But maybe a slashed tire or two. According to text messages, the biker made it clear he didn’t want to share.”
“How about you, Meg?” I wipe down the counter between us. “What’s your favorite episode?”
“It’s a toss-up.” She narrows her icy blue eyes as she considers it. “The home invasion up in Scooter Springs a year ago where they shot the old guy while he was playing a crossword puzzle. Or the disappearance of Alison Beamer.”
Both Carlotta and I shudder at the mention of that last one.
“Alison was the nurse that lived up in Templeton.”
Carlotta nods. “She went out for a drink with friends and never came home.”
“It’s every woman’s nightmare,” I say. “I’m sure her family would love a resolution.”
“How about you, Lottie? Which one is your favorite?” Collette asks, dismissing the fact Meg can’t hear her.
I twist my lips. “I guess I’m enthralled with all of the episodes. There’s the one where Jenika Tate, the au pair from England, takes out the trash and ends up disappearing without a trace. Then there’s Gerald Watson, the old school bus driver who was known to have an explosive temper. He never came home either. I’m betting one of the parents lost their minds with him. What else is there?”
“Ooh!” Meg snaps her fingers. “The mysterious circumstances surrounded that couple that went camping? They found everything but the bodies.”
“They didn’t find the keys to their AMC Gremlin.” Carlotta gives a wistful shake of the head. “Good car that was.”
“Carlotta,” I say. “I’m betting the people were better.”
She shrugs. “And that leaves us with the latest episode. The case of the missing landlord. I’m guessing he was an easy target. Rumor had it, he was a land baron who didn’t care about the conditions his tenants lived in.” She gives me the stink eye. “Sound familiar, Lot?”
Peach Cobbler Confessions Page 4