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“Okay, fine.” Her lips twitch. “Wiley wanted a little extra spending money, and he devised a way to get it.”
Now it’s my turn to make a face. Wiley Fox, Noah’s deadbeat father, is my mother’s main squeeze. In theory, it would be adorable if Wiley wasn’t such a weasel.
After he and Suze blew apart, he married Everett’s mother and bilked her out of millions, but thankfully, she still had billions to spare.
Nonetheless, he faked his own death and reappeared right here in Honey Hollow years later.
It’s hard to believe that Noah and Everett were once stepbrothers.
It’s even harder to believe that the reason they had a major rift in their relationship for years was because Noah stole Cormack Featherby from Everett.
Now Noah wishes more than anything that Everett would steal her back. She’s sort of a socialite hot potato that neither of them wants at this point.
“Speaking of Cormack,” my mother says, even though not a single one of us brought her up. Although, in all fairness, she’s been freeloading off the B&B for so long she’s practically synonymous with the place. “Her baby shower is going to be the event of the season, and that event is coming right up. Now that Charlie is otherwise indisposed, Cormack nominated me to take over as exhibition coordinator.”
“Exhibition?” Carlotta leans in. “Does that mean we got to get naked for the snazzy shindig?”
“Nude is the new couture,” Keelie says, reaching for a chocolate chip cookie and Lyla Nell beats her to it.
Giggles ensue, and yet despite that fact I gently correct her.
“No nudity,” Mother says sternly. “Cormack is more or less a prude.” She looks disappointed in the fact. “But there will be lots of baubles. You ladies won’t want to miss it for the favor bags alone. Think gemstones and fine Irish crystal.”
Keelie shakes her head. “The only gemstones Cormack sees are the emeralds in Noah Fox’s eyes. She’d just love to pour him into some fine Irish crystal and drink him right down.”
Lyla Nell claps like a wild banshee at the thought.
“Aww,” I coo as I give her dimpled cheek a soft pinch. “You’d like to do the very same thing, wouldn’t you? Yes, you just love your daddy.”
“Daddy.” She kisses her cookie before offering me a crumb off her finger, and I happily chew it right down before gagging like a fiend.
“I think she just fed me a booger.” I retch and the table explodes with laughter.
“Now you’re firmly instated into the Mom Club,” my mother says. “Although, I’m proud to say I only fell for that once.”
“I’m part of the club, too.” Keelie sighs. “Little Bear fed me a scab last week.”
The entire lot of us groans in unison—Lyla Nell included.
“How about we change the gross subject and talk about the case?” Carlotta says, reaching for a lemon bar. “Now that Rizzo’s is crawling with narcotic agents, I’ve got a few days off. It’s time to get this investigation underway. I bet if we put our noggins together, Lot Lot, we could split this case open wide like a watermelon.”
Just the thought of putting my noggin anywhere near that pumpkin that sits on Carlotta’s shoulders makes my head want to split open like a watermelon.
“That’s exactly why I called you out here, Mom,” I say to the woman who raised me. “Carlotta is right. We need to get this investigation underway. I hate to say it, but those women you were with the other night are my prime suspects, at least for now. Which one should I question first?”
“Yeah, Glam Glam,” Lyla Nell shouts before trying to feed my mother something slimy on the tip of her finger.
I quickly wipe her down with a napkin and shake my head at my baby girl, but it only makes her giggle all the more.
I’ll have to warn Noah and Everett—and Evie, too, regarding Lyla Nell’s new generous yet unhygienic endeavor.
“Well”—Mom shrugs while taking a bite out of one of my butterscotch drops—“let’s see, who was there? Crane Mitchel.” She nods. “She and I aren’t that close. She’s rather no-nonsense to the bone. Come to think of it, she wasn’t all that close to any of us, but she’s a great writer. She and Bella started the group together way back when they were both still working as lawyers.”
“Crane is an ex-attorney, too?” I ask, amused. “That’s interesting to note. What about the other women?”
“Oh, there were only two others and me. Marlena Mills, the dark-haired beauty, hasn’t published a thing yet.”
“That’s right,” I say. “I remember her mentioning that she and the deceased were co-writing a series.”
