Pancake yowls my way, and I won’t even begin to try to interpret that reaction.
Evie pulls the spoon from her mouth. “Speaking of skinny jeans, you might want to change out of that tent now that you’ve had the baby.”
“I can’t fit into anything else.” There’s a slight whine to my voice, but I can’t help it. If there was anything to whine about, it’s my wardrobe debacle. “Besides, all of my old clothes burned in the fire, not that I’d have any hope of fitting back into them. And my maternity dresses are comfortable.”
Carlotta makes a face. “They’re also stained, smelly, and encrusted with baby spit. It’s not a wonder Sexy and Foxy aren’t around that much anymore.”
“What are you talking about?” I shoot her a look. “Noah is working hard on the case, and Everett had a very important errand to run. He probably had to meet up with Fiona. You know his trial starts next week. And he mentioned he had to get to the bank, and then he’s picking up dinner, or was it lunch?” I shake my head. “I hope it’s a bucket of fried chicken from Hennifer’s.”
“Wow, Mom,” Evie muses. “You look like you’ve still got a runt in your belly, and you eat like it, too. You’re not knocked up again already, are you?”
Carlotta belts out a laugh. “Sexy time is a thing of the past for your mama, Evie Stevie. She’s got a baby sucking all the fun right out of her. Lyla Nell might look cute, but she’s a weapon of fun destruction.”
“Don’t forget sleep,” I say as I look down at my little angel and a smile wobbles on my lips. Her dark hair is swept to the side, her cheeks are rosy, her little eyelashes are long and perfectly gorgeous, and her little hand is lying right over my heart. “But she’s so sweet, I could forgive her for just about anything.”
“I love her, too, Mom.” Evie untangles her legs before rising from the couch. “But I’m glad she’s not ruining my Friday night.”
“Where are you headed?” I ask as she takes off for the kitchen.
“Glam Glam’s old B&B. It’s the Mystery and Mayhem Fest tonight, and Conner is a huge mystery buff. Dash and Kyle will be there, too. They think the ghosts are cool.”
I suck in a quick breath. “That’s tonight?”
“You bet it is.” Carlotta munches through another cookie. “And I’ll tell you how it goes, too. Fern Cranston will be there. She’s next on my suspect list.”
“My suspect list,” I counter.
“My suspect list,” Cluck Norris crows.
“Let’s talk about your suspect list.” I look his way. “What do you know about Candace Cottonwood other than the fact she fell madly in love with you?”
Not that I could blame her. But after listening to him yodel at all hours, I’m starting to wonder if this love affair was a flash in the frying pan. Speaking of frying pan, I sure hope Everett gets back with that bucket of chicken soon.
Cluck Norris floats effortlessly over to Carlotta and snatches a cookie from her as he considers this.
It wasn’t always that I could hear the dead. But as my supernatural abilities grew, so did theirs. I’m not sure why their abilities seem tied to mine, but for whatever reason, the fact my supersensual powers were strengthening gave them the ability to talk, move things in the material world—not always the best thing—and finally the last ability they seemed to have garnered is to eat. Believe me, that was the one they’ve been waiting for. The ghosts at my mother’s B&B have never been happier with me because of it, too. The ghosts that come back to help solve crimes don’t mind all that much either.
“I’m afraid my time with Candace was limited.” He clucks his way through the sentence while shaking the cookie crumbs from his feathers. “But I will say this, there was a lot of yelling in her home. I’m sad to say it wasn’t a happy one. And one day Candace looked right at me and said, ‘Cluck, I will never allow a man to tell me what to do.’” He flaps his wings and floats up a notch. “And yet, her mother swore up and down she’d marry a man just like her father.”
Carlotta shakes her head. “Sounds like her father was a piece of work.”
Cluck Norris crows, “His wife called him a piece of—”
The front door opens before Cluck lets the expletive fly and in walks my handsome hubby with a bucket full of Hennifer’s chicken.
“Oh, thank goodness, Everett,” I moan as he swoops this way and drops a kiss to both the baby and me. His thick cologne warms me with its spiced scent and I hold it in my lungs a moment.
“Hello, beautiful.” His lips curve up at the sight of me and my stomach squeezes tight. No matter how sleep-deprived I am, my body still craves his. Everett is one of my favorite addictions, right up there with chocolate, donuts, fried pickles, and a bucket of Hennifer’s chicken.
Carlotta chuckles. “Bet you haven’t heard her moan like that in a good long while. And it’ll be a good long while before you do again. That alone should put an end to any more thoughts of procreating.”
“I don’t know,” I say as Lyla Nell pulls away from me with a start and her eyes blink open as she looks right up at Everett. “Lyla Nell is so perfect and adorable. I think I want ten of them. Sleep is already a thing of the past, so why not invite more guests to the party?”
A dark rumble of a laugh brews in Everett’s chest. “We’ll get right on that, Lemon. But let’s eat dinner first.”
“Sounds good,” I say. “We’ll need to get our energy up because you’re going to take Lyla Nell and me out for a night on the town.”
“A night on the town?” His left brow fishhooks into his forehead. “Which suspect and where?”
“You know me well, Judge Baxter. Fern Cranston at the B&B. It’s the night of the Murder and Mayhem Festival and we’re going to dig into a little murder and mayhem ourselves.” A thought comes to mind. “I almost forgot to mention, I saw that mystery woman again the day of the taping.”
“What?” Everett’s voice is sharp as he shoots Carlotta a look.
“I didn’t see her.” Carlotta shakes her head, and if I’m not mistaken, her face goes pale at the thought of our mystery woman.
“Don’t worry about a thing, Lemon.” Everett forces a short-lived smile my way. “I’ll go grab us some plates so we can have dinner.” He walks by Carlotta and whispers something. If I didn’t know better, it sounded an awful lot like handle it, or I will.
It must have been my imagination. I’m out of my mind exhausted. I wouldn’t be surprised if I imagined these last three weeks altogether, but then I can’t imagine a moment without this tiny little sugar cookie cooing up at me with her big, beautiful eyes, her mouth rounding out in shapes as if she were struggling to tell me something, and her cute little balled up fists as she stretches her arms. I just love every last bit of her.
“Smile for Mommy,” I whisper and her lips start to curve, but the smile never comes. A tiny gurgle comes from her, and it sounds like a laugh. But she’s holding that smile back like a well-kept secret.
Candace Cottonwood had secrets according to Kit. Fern Cranston might just know what those secrets are, and if she does I’m going to squeeze them out of her.