“I’ll take it!” Carlotta shouts as she staggers toward it, and the crowd bursts out with laughter as the cheery holiday music starts up once again.
The party rages on as a small handful of people migrate toward the virtual forest of decorated trees.
A redheaded woman walks by, leaving a thick scarf of sickly sweet perfume on her way to the auction items, and I have to wave my hand in front of my face just to clear the air after her.
Everett turns his head toward the makeshift forest behind us. “You know what, Lemon? I’m going to put a bid in on that tree you had your eye on. I think it’s just what our living room needs. Don’t move a muscle. I’ll be back in a flash.”
He darts off into the virtual woods before I can stop him. And just as I’m about to make my way to Carlotta, I note Gloria Abner staring wide-eyed at the painting before us. Her face looks white as a sheet and her eyes—well, they’re saying something, that’s for sure.
“Back off, sister.” Carlotta holds an arm out in front of the woman as if to keep her from charging at the portrait. “This handsome looker is mine.”
And oddly enough, Carlotta can’t seem to take her eyes off the glowing man in the painting, too.
“Carlotta,” I say with a laugh caught in my throat. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m as serious as a heart attack, Lot Lot. I gotta have me this man.”
As soon as the words speed from her mouth, Mayor Nash is upon us, laughing at the sight of that smitten look on Carlotta’s face. I’ve seen Carlotta have a flash infatuation with a lot of things—ghosts, clothes, candles—so nothing surprises me anymore.
Mayor Harry Nash is tall, barrel-chested, has a shock of mostly gray hair, and light eyes that always seem to have a twinkle in them.
“Lottie Lemon.” He pulls me into a warm embrace. “You are a sugar plum vision in this velvet dress. How’s my grandbaby doing?” His lips twitch side to side in a perfect display of his ever-playful nature. Mayor Nash was married to my mother’s best friend, Chrissy, for what seemed like an eternity, but she finally had enough of his philandering ways and kicked him to the curb. He’s pretty much with Carlotta now, although their relationship seems to include other people every now and again. To each his own.
Hey, wait a minute. That might just explain the fact why my heart seems to be set on having both Noah and Everett?
Just last summer, the ghost of my grandmother visited me and let me in on the fact that both Noah and Everett were my soulmates.
Maybe Mayor Nash and Carlotta are caught up in that bonus soulmate predicament as well?
“The baby is doing fine,” I say as I spot Cormack circling around that woman, Candy, who seems to be playing the part of emcee tonight. It’s almost as if Cormack is battling for her attention, but Candy has her gaze set somewhere else and I follow it to the honey-haired man who donated the painting. He’s standing next to an irate Mrs. Claus as she does her best to jump down his throat.
Boy, she is a little firecracker, isn’t she? I’m guessing she strong-armed her way into the role of Santa’s sweetie. In fact, I think I remember her mentioning her fiancé was the head elf tonight. That’s probably why she insisted on playing the role of the round-faced granny. But let’s call a spade a spade. Her little cosplay isn’t exactly a match made in the North Pole.
Mayor Nash laughs at something as I come to. “I’d better help Carlotta push those candles.” He frowns over at her. “You know how she gets when she doesn’t get her way.” He zips off and takes ahold of that ridiculous shopping cart laden down with candles. Their glassy containers glimmer in this dull light, and it looks as if he’s pushing a basket full of stars. More like rip-offs. Carlotta is never going to offload those things at that price point. I predict I’ll have a living room full of miniature fire hazards in my new house come tomorrow. I’ll be darned if I’m going to let Carlotta burn down my new rental. My life is still recovering from the last fire. I’d tell her as much, but she’s doing her best to outbid everyone who comes by to so much as gawk at that haunted painting.
“Carlotta,” I hiss as I come upon her. “You can’t be serious with that thing. It’s creepy, and it’s rumored to be haunted.”
She waves me off. “I should be so lucky, Lot. I think I’ve found my soulmate.”
“Yes, and his name is Harry Nash. Now quit this before you end up having to shell out some serious cash at the end of the night. Then you’ll really be broke for Christmas.”
“This is all about you, isn’t it, Lot? You’re afraid I’m not going to be able to spoil you with gifts this year, aren’t you?”
I can’t help but scoff at the thought. “When have you ever spoiled me with gifts?”
“There’s always this year. What do you think I’m oiling up men in the back of my van for? And those candles I’m in bed with? You think I’m doing that for my health?”
“I don’t know. But I sure as heck know it’s not because you have the sudden itch to buy me a pair of matching Christmas pajamas.”
Ooh, that’s a great idea! I’ll have to make a note to get right on that. Everett, Evie, Carlotta, and, of course, I can’t leave Noah out of the matching mix. This is actually going to be fun to shop for.
“Leave me alone, Lot,” Carlotta snaps as she gets back to outbidding the last poor soul who just tried their hand at a rumored to be haunted painting. “First, I’ve got to get myself a little something something. This is going to look great in our new house.”
It’s going to look like a haunted travesty, but I choose to keep my commentary to myself. The odds of her coming away with that haunted horror are slim to none. I’ve been to enough of these things to know someone almost always comes in at the last minute and scoops up the goods for themselves.
I glance around for Ms. Claus and her latest drama, but she and that man, Chris Holiday, are both nowhere to be seen. I glance back to say hi to tonight’s emcee, Candy, but she’s gone, too. There’s that. I glance back to Santa’s throne, and there’s neither a St. Nick nor an ornery elf in sight.
My gaze drifts toward those decorated trees, and I spot Everett speaking to a redheaded woman in a long emerald dress and they both seem to be nodding to one another as if deep in conversation. I bet he knows her from the courthouse, or perhaps he’s Essexed her?
Oh, I don’t think it matters at this point. I don’t doubt that man’s love for me for one minute.
I think I’ll get myself and my little sugar cookie a little eggnog and a double helping of eggnog trifle, and, of course, I’ll have to work a few fried pickles into the mix. I don’t care what anyone says. There’s nothing like dipping one of those salty spears into some holiday-inspired custard and having at it.
The dessert table looks to be bare once again, so I head to the kitchen. The back door is wide open, and an icy chill is the first to greet me as I try my best to warm myself with my hands. There aren’t all that many of my sweet treats left in the kitchen either, so I decide to head out back to my bakery van parked just outside the kitchen door.
I know for a fact both Noah and Everett would frown on me venturing out all by my lonesome, partly due to the fact they’re paranoid that I’ll slip in the snow and partly because there’s a potential homicide afoot, but my tummy is rumbling, and if my little sugar cookie demands a pickle dipped in custard, then that’s exactly what that little cutie pie is going to get.