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The three of us squirm and groan as we struggle to get back on our feet, and Carlotta hoots and hollers all the while.
I hope that wreath of mourning eats her for breakfast.
Teeny Weenie hops up onto the table and gives all four of us a run for our food-loving money.
Everett, Noah, and I dust ourselves off before hitting the buffet one more time.
But time is running out for a killer.
If I’m right, that killer will be at my mother’s B&B this Sunday.
And I’m looking forward to having a killer good time.
LOTTIE
The secret to pineapple upside-down cake is that you, in fact, bake everything upside-down. Sadly, it reminds me a lot of this world.
When baking the cake, it’s the layering that matters. All of the pieces need to be set meticulously into place to create the tropical spectacle for all to enjoy with both their eyes and their mouths.
Lyla Nell and I spent all of Saturday in the bakery creating all of the sweet treats for Cormack’s baby shower spectacular. While I mixed, whisked, and baked my heart out, Lyla Nell ate her weight in candied cherries. I may have eaten my weight in them, too.
But it’s Sunday, and my mother’s sweet B&B has turned into a spectacle in and of itself as all of the who’s who of Vermont pour in through every orifice.
Lily and Suze arrived hours ago to help set up the dessert table and deliver the three-tiered pineapple upside-down cake I made per Cormack’s request.
But I’m coming in a bit late since I decided to work around Lyla Nell’s nap schedule. She can get a bit cranky if she doesn’t wake up naturally. I’m afraid that’s something she gets from me.
The June air is humid and hot, and as the sun begins to set over the back of the alabaster mansion that my mother calls home, that fiery orb in the sky casts a golden halo over the venue.
The B&B is a large, boxy structure with long Roman columns, lots of wrought iron, and a wraparound porch on both levels. Inside, it’s spacious with its dark mahogany walls, its matching wooden floors, and a sweeping staircase that leads to the second floor. But its best attribute by far is the ghosts.
Typically, my mother’s B&B is adorably quaint, but at the moment, adorable has been traded for ostentatious and the ghosts for hordes of pretentious people—all of which have donned formal attire while Polynesian music lends its soothing sounds from the speakers.
My mother’s cozy and quasi-humble abode has been transformed into a veritable tropical wonderland, complete with tropical foliage of every shape, size, and color cluttering up the halls and walls. It’s as stunning as it is a bit psychotic.
Lyla Nell and I head deeper into the B&B—and oh, my word… we find about a half a dozen men and women dressed in pastel leotards and tights, each with pink and blue makeup covering their faces, along with any skin showing on their arms and feet, their hair included.
Two of the performers are stuck in some sort of a giant clear ball that stands about eight feet tall, as they pretend to pound against its walls. While the rest of the performers are busy striking impossible poses that make me wonder if they’ve had their spines removed.
Although, I’ll be honest, I tried a few of those moves with Everett just last night. It’s been a month of serious baby-making practice with no sign of slowing down yet.
Lyla Nell and I laugh at the very same time as we take in the curious sight.
“Is that a circus running through the place?” I ask no one in particular just as my mother trots up with Carlotta by her side.
“That’s not just any circus,” my mother purrs as she snatches Lyla Nell out of my arms. “It’s Cirque du Luna. It’s very shi-shi. And they’re all very limber. You and Everett can learn a thing or two from them.”
Let’s face facts. They can learn a thing from Everett and me. The man is a master at what he does best.
Carlotta gravels out a laugh. “And we could teach ’em all a thing or two. Isn’t that right, Miranda?”
Mom laughs a little too long, a little too loud for my liking.
“Hey?” Mom sobers up a notch. “Maybe we should teach a class?”
“No,” I answer for Carlotta.
“Oh you.” Mom winks my way. “Now that I’ve got another cute little granddaughter to show off, I’d better get back to the festivities in the conservatory.” She leans toward Carlotta. “We’ll talk.”
