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“Good morning,” I call out, letting Toby and myself into the house.
The grand foyer leads into an expansive living room with vaulted ceilings tall enough to house a forest of evergreens. But despite all of the frilly extras, like the theater room, the secret library Everett built for Lot, and the kitchen large enough to double as a high school cafeteria, Lottie has worked her magic on this place, and it really does look and feel like home.
Wherever Lottie is, that’s home for me.
Toby belts out a happy bark as he spots Pancake and Waffles, a couple of Himalayan cats, brothers no less, that belong to Lottie. The cats are identical with their cream-colored coats, dark-tipped tails, and matching blue eyes.
I’ll never admit it to Lot, but I can’t tell them apart to save my life.
The cats each let out a lazy yowl, and soon the three of them are zipping around the room in a hurricane of flying fur.
“Morning, Foxy.” Carlotta shuffles down the sweeping staircase with a pink bathrobe on and that braided wreath of mourning sitting crooked on her head. “Did you catch the killer yet?” She waves me off before I can answer. “Just kidding. We both know that’s one thing you won’t be doing anytime soon.”
The sound of laughter ignites as Everett steps out of the kitchen with one of my favorite girls by his side, and another one in his arms.
“Hey, Lot, Lyla Nell.” I frown at Everett as I say it.
He’s already dressed for the bench in one of his pricey Italian suits, and Lottie looks like a dream in a blue and white checkered sundress, one that matches the miniature one the baby has on.
Of course, she’s no baby. My girl is a full-blown toddler now.
Everett slides Lyla Nell into my arms and I happily accept the tiny curly-haired cherub who looks more and more like my reflection with each passing day. Her dark hair is up in pigtails and her dimples dig deep as she continues to laugh her head off.
Thankfully, she’s too young to understand Carlotta’s barb.
“Very funny, Carlotta,” I say, burying a kiss into Lyla Nell’s cheek and she rewards me by smacking me with her chubby little hands.
“Lyla Nell.” Lottie giggles. “Go easy on Daddy.” She wrinkles her nose my way. “She’s really into clapping—on faces.”
“That’s called slapping,” Evie calls from the kitchen as she emerges with a chocolate muffin in hand, and my stomach growls just looking at it. Evie is tall, shares Everett’s dark hair, albeit in ropelike ringlets, and shares his sharp features as well. She’s far too sweet and far too pretty. And as her uncle, that makes me leery of society at large when it comes to my niece.
“Toby, good boy,” Lyla Nell shouts as she flips her head every which way to keep up with the melee unfolding, and one of the cats yowls in her wake as if to protest the idea.
“Daddy’s a good boy, too, Little Yippy.” Carlotta sheds an easy grin to Lyla Nell. “That’s why your mama dumped him.”
“Carlotta,” Lottie snips. “Do not ever say that I dumped Noah—especially around Lyla Nell.” She looks my way and her expression darkens. “Any news on Bella Hall’s killer?”
I lift my brows. “I should have known your mind has been working overtime in that department. It’s not even eight in the morning, Lot,” I say, wagging the binder in my hand. “Here’s something to take your mind off things.”
She gives the cover a glance and scowls. “No thanks. I’ve got the bakery and Rizzo’s to keep me busy these days.”
“A look-book?” Evie takes it from my hand and quickly rips through it. “This is like so freaking cool. Auntie Cormack is such a go-getter. I mean, she like had a dream and she totally went after it.”
“First of all”—Lottie’s eyes widen with a hardened edge to them—“Cormack is not your aunt. And second of all, her daddy makes all of her dreams come true. You, my love, are a true-blue go-getter—and a graduate might I remind you.”
Evie makes a face. “I hate to be a smarty pants, but she’s married to Uncle Noah, so technically, she is my aunt.”
Carlotta shakes her head. “Don’t forget that your mama is married to him as well, so that makes her your aunt, too.”
Leave it to Carlotta to point out our twisted reality.
Evie nods. “Oh, I know. And believe me, I expect nothing less from Hillbilly Hollow.” She winks at Lot. “Kidding.”
“What’s she kidding about?” Carlotta looks genuinely confused.
“You’re right, Cray Cary,” Evie says to Carlotta. “We all know you put the hill in hillbilly around here.”
“That’s because she refuses to work on her personal flaws,” Lottie points out before looking at Carlotta. “You should seriously cut out that open relationship you have going with Mayor Nash. It’s a bad influence on both Evie and Lyla Nell.”
