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Lemon, Lyla Nell, and Evie are off-limits to her, but here she is, flaunting the fact she has full access right in my face.
“So who did you show up to root for?” I slip my hands into my pockets and inspect her with an earnest level of observation.
She’s fidgeting with that pamphlet, which she’s turning into a scroll, and her lips are twitching every which way, letting me know I’ve caught her off guard.
“Oh, I”—she unravels the paper and glances down—“Annie Armstrong,” she says quickly.
It doesn’t slip past me that it was the first name on the roster.
“My niece.” She shrugs. “I’d better go. I’m late for the courthouse. Not all of us can afford to take the entire day off.” Her features turn to flint as she narrows her eyes to mine. “It must be nice to have money.”
She takes off and I stare pensively at the space before me in her wake.
It must be nice to have money?
This is about money.
Of course, it is.
It always is.
I take a breath and search out Lemon and Evie. We take a million pictures with our graduate as Noah and Lyla Nell join the fold. Soon enough, all of our family and friends are in on the action and we take one big group photo to finish it off.
It’s a grand day.
A day I’ll remember for the rest of my life.
Unfortunately, that woman has left a residue on what was panning out to be an otherwise perfect day.
Her number is up.
I’ll make sure of it.
* * *
Back at the house, we indulge in enough food to feed an army. And good thing there was more than enough to eat because the masses stormed the castle.
Lemon’s cake is delicious, vanilla with Bavarian cream filling—one of my favorites, which explains the third helping in my hand.
“My, my,” Miranda purrs as she makes her way to the foyer where Lemon and I stand as we send off our guests. “Someone has a voracious appetite today.”
“As he should,” Carlotta says as she and Noah step over. She’s still wearing that wreath of mourning, and if I’m not mistaken, it looks as if she’s gone the extra mile and weaved her own hair through it. “Sexy and Lot Lot have been hard at work trying to make heads or tails of those playful pictures you sent over. Thanks again for including me in on the group chat.”
“More like perverted pictures,” Lemon says through the side of her mouth.
Thankfully, both of my girls are still tucked in the dining room with Lyla Nell safe in Evie’s arms. I don’t want them listening in on this tawdry topic. And judging by the fact Noah’s skin just turned pallid, he’s not so keen on it either.
Miranda flicks a wrist at Lemon. “I’m so glad to be a help.” She waves my mother and sister over, and I’d do just about anything for the ground to swallow us up right about now. “Eliza—Meghan? Did you know that Lottie and Everett are trying?”
“Trying to do what?” My mother bats her lashes my way. Both my mother and my sister share the same dark hair and Baxter blue eyes. If my mother was a pro at anything, she was great at duplicating herself. Of course, I’ve carried on the tradition with Evie.
“For babies?” My sister’s mouth rounds out. Meghan is tall like me, stalky in frame, and has a big personality. She’s been striking out when it comes to love as of late, but I’ll take that over an obsession with Jed Silver, which is more than I can say for either Noah or Lemon’s sisters.
“That’s right.” Miranda shakes her shoulders as if exemplifying the fun. “Don’t be surprised if we hear the pitter-patter of little feet once again in nine months’ time. I have a feeling these two will work quickly.”
“Not that quickly,” Lemon corrects. “We aren’t officially trying just yet.”
“One baby at a time,” Mom says, looking to Noah. “Judging by the way Cormack looks, you’re up next in the baby division.”
