Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

T he Grim Reaper?

I scan the crowd as if looking for a lost child, but as it stands, I might be looking for a killer as the Christmas party rages all around us.

Unless the person whose thoughts I’m reading are standing relatively close to me, their internal voice can sound a little androgynous, so I can’t tell if I should be on the lookout for a man or a woman. And I certainly can’t give Jasper the heads-up on who to arrest for premeditated murder.

Although it was just a thought. I know better than to give too much credence to it. Heaven knows I’ve wanted to summon the Grim Reaper a time or two myself. And heaven knows if I don’t get my fill of these scrumptious cookies, I might just mow down the entire North Pole.

I sigh at the thought just as the conga line disbands and Georgie and my mother head this way looking slightly worse for wear.

Georgie Conner is a robust eighty-something-year-old woman who lives here on the grounds, and she just so happens to be one of the only people who knows about my supernatural quirk. Since her daughter was once married to my father, I like to joke that I got Georgie in the divorce.

Georgie has a penchant for kaftans no matter what time of year it is, thus the red kaftan she’s wearing printed with white reindeer. Her hair sits on her head like a gray storm cloud and her sparkling blue eyes are laced with more than their fair share of mischief.

My mother is the opposite of Georgie in almost every way. Ree Baker is petite, has red feathered hair, and both her clothes and cherry mane are still stuck in her favorite decade, the eighties. She’s donned a red sweater with a tree knitted on the front and has a white crisp shirt underneath with the collar popped up around her ears. She’s paired the look with dark slacks and gold ballet slippers and looks like the most put-together person in the room.

My mother has been the most put-together person in every room for as long as I can remember.

“Do not try that at home,” Mom grunts, holding her back with one hand.

“Quit your complaining,” Georgie grouses. “We had more action on that dance floor in the last ten minutes than we’ve had in the last ten months.”

Mom gives a weak chuckle. “Try ten years .”

“When it comes to you, try twenty,” Georgie says before winking my way. Don’t worry about me, Bizzy. I’ve given my number to six different men. Let’s just say I’ve got high hopes of getting my stocking filled before midnight.

I can’t help but frown at her. I’ll station extra security around Georgie’s cottage in an effort to deflect any potential perpetrators—even if she would rather call them guests.

Mom chuckles and nudges Georgie. “Now, Georgie, be careful. Bizzy’s got enough to worry about with a baby on the way. She doesn’t need to be stressing over your holiday hijinks. And speaking of which, could you please manage to keep your clothes on this time? Not only was last year’s spectacle a nude eyesore, but you almost froze solid from the waist down.”

Georgie rolls her eyes. “You’re just jealous that the hot hunks from the fire department were taking their time to warm me up, one inch at a time. How about you get me one of those tins of cookies and I’ll let you in on the fun.”

“No thanks,” Mom says flatly. “I don’t need a bunch of hot hunks to keep things heated. I’ve got your little brother to do it for me.”

It’s true. My mother has been seeing Benedict Arnold, aka Ben, for a while now and they’re not just some fly-by-night couple. They’re the real deal.

Ben is pretty much the opposite of Georgie in every way. She’s a happy-go-lucky hippie and he’s a happy-go-lucky retired businessman who prefers suits to sweats. And the best part is that he treats my mother like gold, which is more than I can say for my father—even though I love him dearly.

And terrifyingly enough, my father has managed to hitch himself to Jasper’s mother. Suffice it to say, things had better not go south for them, because that, in turn, might cause things to go south for Jasper and me. Not that I believe for a second they would. I’ve already decided that I’d forgive Jasper if he felt the need to fire a bullet in my father’s direction. Granted, if he does, I’m rooting for him to miss—or graze lightly. Either or.

Georgie gives my stomach a soft pat. “Don’t worry, kiddo. Your granny might be a dud, but your bonus granny here is a handful of fun just waiting to happen.”

Mom grunts, “More like a handful of arrest warrants.” She glances to her left and straightens. “Virginia?” she cries out with a touch of glee at a couple of women about to pass us by. “It’s me , Ree Baker.”

The older blonde, the one in the fair isle sweater whose thoughts I was inadvertently picking up on earlier, gasps at my mother.

“Oh, my dear friend,” she says as they exchange a quick embrace. “What a surprise to see you here!”

“My daughter owns the inn,” Mom says, holding a hand my way. “Virginia, this is my younger daughter, Bizzy. This is my good friend, Georgie Conner, and this is Bizzy’s husband, Detective Jasper Wilder.”

Both Virginia and the redhead next to her inch back with a mixture of surprise and delight on their faces.

“So nice to meet you all,” Virginia says. “This is my old stepdaughter, Noel Brighton.” She wraps an arm around the redhead by her side. She’s younger, about my age, late twenties, has clear green eyes, a button nose, and thin frosted pink lips. She’s donned the requisite ugly sweater, and it just so happens to have reindeer with a blinking red nose. “We own and run the Cider Cove Cookie Company together.”

“Wow, that’s so nice,” I say to them both.

I had no idea Mom knew the owner, but then again, apparently, Mom wasn’t aware of that either.

“And what a delicious business to get your grubby little cookie-loving hands on,” Georgie says, rubbing her belly.

The redhead laughs. Not as delicious as this detective. She takes a moment to sigh. Why are all the good ones taken?

She’s not wrong on either of those accounts.

I’ve long since determined not to hold anyone’s thoughts against them. It’s not their fault I’m listening in. And most people think things that they would never dare say out loud. Although the people with no filter almost always do.

“A detective, huh?” Virginia lifts a brow. “Let’s hope we won’t be needing your services tonight.”

A light scream goes off near the front as the Christmas tree almost gets knocked over by a crowd reveling a little too close to the stately evergreen, and Santa himself just so happens to be a part of that crowd.

Speaking of Santa, women are climbing all over him in an effort to take a picture with the man as the crowd grows that much more rambunctious.

“I don’t think you’ll be needing my services.” Jasper grimaces. “I think Santa has tonight under control.” Not that I believe it for a minute. The guy has obviously been hitting the eggnog a little too hard. Here’s hoping he has a ride home. Having a deputy escort wouldn’t be a good look for him.

I nod his way without meaning to because I so agree.

“The night is young yet,” Virginia says, shaking her head at the debauchery taking place. “It’s nice meeting you all.”

Noel nods our way. “Careful under the mistletoe.” She looks right at Jasper. “You never know whose lips you might meet there.” If I’m lucky, they’ll be mine.

I growl as they take off. That’s one thought that I can’t let slide.

“The night is young yet, indeed,” I parrot. Another errant scream goes off followed by an explosion of laughter. “Let’s just hope this night doesn’t end in murder.”