“That’s great news,” I beam as I give his arm a squeeze.
Two familiar females pop up in our midst. One happens to be my birth mother, and the other happens to be my daughter.
“What’s great news, Lot?” Carlotta asks as she glitters in a dress that looks as if it’s made of silver tinsel. Carlotta is my biological mother. She left me on the floor of the Honey Hollow Fire Department when I was just a few hours old. It turns out, it was perhaps one of the best decisions she’s ever made for the both of us. We share the same caramel-colored hair and hazel eyes, but Carlotta’s got a few more wrinkles and gray hairs on me. “Did you find out you’re having twins? One belongs to Foxy and the other to Mr. Sexy?” The tinsel-inspired gown she’s wearing shimmers like a seizure of light when she laughs.
Mr. Sexy is the moniker gifted to Everett by the baristas of the world. And they’re not wrong in calling him that.
Evie Everly Baxter, my stepdaughter that I share with Everett, retches on cue as she knocks her shoulder to Carlotta’s.
“Please refrain from calling my dad sexy whenever I’m around.” She sticks her finger down her throat and pretends to gag. “All I want to hear is Everett or Judge Baxter.” Evie just so happens to be a sixteen-year-old female version of her daddy. She has brilliant blue eyes, long, glossy black hair, which happens to be perfectly coiled for tonight’s event, and she’s just as sharp as her father.
Carlotta chuckles. “How about I call him Essex?” She winks over at Everett. “Better yet, how about you take me out back, Judge Baxter, and earn me the right?”
Now it’s both Evie and I groaning in unison. Aside from a select few women in Everett’s life, namely his mother, his sister, and on occasion Noah’s mother, the only other women who call Everett by his proper moniker are women he’s bedded. It’s sort of a naughty door prize he bequeathed to them. He was quite the playboy before he met me. Let’s just say the good judge could easily fill an entire correctional facility with the number of women he’s bedded.
I’d reprimand Carlotta on the fact that her indecent proposal was wildly inappropriate, but I know that won’t do any good.
I lean her way. “The great news is that tomorrow is our official moving day.”
Both Carlotta and Evie whoop and holler—right before they link arms and kick up their feet in unison. It’s an odd sight, which only goes to show that Evie is spending way too much time under Carlotta’s influence. Carlotta has been living with me while my grandma Nell’s house was torn down due to black mold. That was forever ago and the house is still in the process of being rebuilt, and ironically, my sanity is still in the process of being torn down by Carlotta.
“We’re moving!” Evie grips onto Carlotta’s shoulders and gives her a violent shake. “I’ve got to tell my boyfriends.”
Yes, sadly, boyfriends, as in plural.
Carlotta gives Evie an equally violent shake right back. “I’ve got to tell Mayor Nash!” Mayor Nash is Carlotta’s plus one, and he just so happens to be my biological father. Although I didn’t learn of that until just over a year ago.
Evie takes off, and Carlotta is about to do the same before she backtracks.
“Don’t any of you move a muscle,” she warns. “Just twenty more minutes and they’re going to unveil the big mystery item up for auction.”
She’s right. There’s a huge velvet sheet covering something tall and slender in the middle of the auction area that’s still more or less a mystery to the partygoers, including me.
I glance back at the dessert table and note the eggnog trifle is all but gone.
“I’d better hurry to the kitchen and replenish the dessert table. When people pull out their wallets, their appetites tend to increase.”
Carlotta’s eyes widen in a way that almost always spells trouble.
“What are you up to?” I snip without missing a beat.
“Nothing.” She lifts her chin. “I just remembered I left something in the kitchen myself. I’ll meet you there.” She zips off like a bat in flight.
“I’ll go with you,” Everett offers.
“Me too,” Noah says, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Have you felt the baby move again?”
“Sorry.” I grimace. “Not since that day in the back of the sheriff’s cruiser.”
Right after Thanksgiving dinner, the sheriff’s deputies thought it best to haul me down to the Ashford Police Department for questioning. It turns out, I accidentally put a hit out on Noah last month.
Of course, I didn’t mean to do it. I was investigating a suspect, a hitman by the name of the Mad Hatter, and suffice it to say, things went sideways. Long story short, the Mad Hatter graciously poisoned Noah for me pro bono, much to my protest. Thankfully, Noah lived to tell about it. And between Noah and Everett, they made sure the charges went away—more or less. But Sheriff Turner let me know in no uncertain terms I’m still under the watchful eye of the department as they continue to carry out the bigger mob-related investigation related to the Mad Hatter.
Noah, Everett, and I take off for the kitchen, and about halfway there the abomination of desolation sets foot in our path—Noah’s mother, Suze, and another woman with her, who just so happens to be dressed as the head elf’s official plus one, Mrs. Claus.
My nausea kicks in full tilt without warning. It’s funny how it’s not coming around as much as it did in the beginning, but for some reason, every time I bump into Suze Fox it seems to show up front and stomach-churning center. It’s not a shocker to me that Suze has the distinct power to make me sick. She never hesitates to let me know that I’m not her favorite person.
Suze has short blonde hair with longer bangs that sweep over her eyes. She’s a staunch woman who perennially wears a sour expression and has the sour persona to match. She shares Noah’s deep green eyes, but that’s about where the similarities end. Suze has been living at my mother’s B&B for so long I forget why and when she moved in. My guess is she’s not so hot on committing to Honey Hollow, but this way she’s still in close proximity to her two sons. And her ex-husband just so happens to be shacking up with my mother at the B&B as well. I can’t imagine living with my ex. That sounds like a nightmare. Unless, of course, the ex in question is Noah Fox. And that happens to be my exact living situation today.
“Son.” She bares her fangs at her oldest child before looking to Everett. “Essex.” Her lips pull tug to the side with disapproval at the sight of me. “Lottie.” She sighs as if it were a chore to merely say my name. “I’d love for you all to meet my good friend, Gloria Abner, the chair of the Christmas Angels—aka Mrs. Claus.” She nods to the woman with short red hair and topaz eyes. She looks to be about the same age as Noah’s mother, mid-to-late sixties, but unlike Suze, she has a sassy smile and a naughty gleam in her eyes. The woman takes a moment to size up both Noah and Everett, and I can’t help but frown at that.
“Well, well”—Gloria shakes Noah’s hand first, then Everett’s—“it seems Christmas came early.” She gives a husky laugh, and her bosom does its best to bounce right out of the tight little sparkly number that’s piped with a feather white boa. She’s more of a naughty Mrs. Claus in that vampy little sequin getup, and it makes me wonder if she bought that outfit in the lingerie section rather than a costume shop. “Who in the heck knew Honey Hollow was where all the handsome men were hiding? And that Wiley?” She fans herself at the mention of Noah’s father. “Suze, I have to question your sanity as to why you’d ever let a man like that go.” She leans toward the three of us. “Don’t tell Santa I said so. He just so happens to be my fiancé.”