3. Hattie

HATTIE

“ T here’s been a death?” I repeat Mom’s words as Winnie and I exchange a worried glance.

Oh, for Grim Reaper’s sake, what now? I want to blurt.

As it stands, there have been two unsolved homicides in Brambleberry Bay since July—and I didn’t stumble upon either of those bodies. Not that I haven’t stumbled upon a body before. In fact, I was starting to think it was my rather morbid destiny. But thankfully for me—not so much for the deceased—I’m not the one the Grim Reaper is looking to pull into his lethal shenanigans as of late.

Cricket mewls up at me, I know what you’re thinking. And isn’t it a relief to know death is no longer interested in pulling you into its murderous schemes?

Rookie gives a soft bark. Killion says he’s just waiting for the other body to drop when it comes to Hattie.

I shoot a wry look at the cute pooch. So much for Killion having confidence in my newfound ability to avoid danger.

Nora steps in with a grin that looks out of place given the context—honestly, given any context. The only reason this woman smiles is to tear someone down. Most of the time, that someone is me.

“Yes, girls, a death at the headstone decorating table,” she says as she and my mother give a conspiratorial giggle, sounding like a couple of schoolgirls. Mean girls to be exact. It’s hard not to when you’ve been perfecting your mean girl stance over a lifetime—that being Nora. My mother is more or less a novice in that category.

Winnie’s shoulders sag with relief and she bursts into laughter. “You two! You nearly gave us heart attacks!” She glances my way. “That whole decorating tombstones thing is a fun little game we’re doing here.”

Winnie is a natural at all things arts and crafts because she happens to be the owner of the Crafty Treehouse, an arts and crafts shop down on Main Street. She’s been the creative genius behind countless community events, and her talent for transforming the ordinary into the extraordinary is unmatched. In fact, she helped me decorate the country club in all things not-so-spooky.

My boss, Peyton Blakely, who is a genuine witch in the personality department, wanted me to steer away from cheap and aim for elegance. So, the club is adorned with crystal chandeliers draped in cobwebs, sterling silver candelabras with black taper candles, and dark velvet tablecloths that shimmer under the dim lighting. It’s like a scene from an old Gothic novel, perfect for setting a spooky yet sophisticated Halloween mood.

Winnie gasps my way. “Hey, you should make one of those tombstones yourself. You’ve practically got an in with the Grim Reaper.”

I shoot her a look for even going there.

She’s got a point, Cricket says and my mouth falls open as I glance down at her.

Et tu, Cricket?

“We’ll be letting the masses judge the event on Halloween night,” Winnie goes on. “The top ten entries will each win a prize.”

And knowing how filthy rich Fitz Willoughby is, those prizes will most likely be fabulous. I’m thinking Louis Vuitton Neverfull bags that can double as posh trick-or-treat bags, or maybe some pricey baubles to bejewel myself with.

Winnie wrinkles her nose. I hope no one minds that the prizes will be three-wick candles and boxes of chocolates. Or maybe I should think bigger?

Three-wick candles and boxes of chocolates? Even I can afford those. Almost.

“You should definitely think big with the prizes,” I’m quick to tell her. “Maybe a cake from the bakery or a fall wreath for their homes?”

I would never splurge on those. At least that way it would feel like a genuine prize.

“Ooh, I like that—especially the wreaths.” Winnie wiggles her shoulders with delight. And if others like the wreaths I give away as prizes, maybe they’ll mosey on down to the Crafty Treehouse and buy a few for themselves. Ha! I’m a marketing genius.

I clear my throat and wink her way. I’m always happy to give other people a genius idea or two. Not that I have many. And when I do have these so-called genius ideas, they usually backfire spectacularly. Here’s hoping that’s not the case with Winnie.

Only Killion, Clarabelle, and Peggy know that I can pry into people’s gray matter. I do feel bad about keeping it from Winnie all these years, but we’re so close I always thought it might actually drive her away from me. Lord knows I wouldn’t want her or anyone else to be privy to the thoughts that are knocking around my own noggin.

Rookie gives a soft bark and my mother quickly gives both him and Cricket an aggressive pat.

“Oh, here are our furry little grandbabies,” Mom sings. “And hopefully soon enough we’ll hear wedding bells from your mama and your papa so they can give us some adorable human grandbabies as well.”

Winnie laughs under her breath. Better Hattie than me, she muses to herself.

She would.

Although Nora isn’t laughing. In fact, she looks darn right horrified.

“Ruthanne, I think our headstone is a strong contender,” Nora says, a hint of pride in her voice as she expertly changes the subject. “It’s got a real end-of-life go-getter charisma.”

“End-of-life go-getter Charisma?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “Do I want to know?” And something tells me Nora will be a real go-getter long after the end of her life. I wouldn’t put it past her to haunt me from the grave. A part of me thinks there are no supernatural lengths in which she’d stoop to keep Killion and me apart.

Mom gives an enthusiastic nod. “We used every speck of glitter and every last gemstone we could get our hands on. Our tombstone sparkles in the moonlight like nothing else. Your brother stopped by and said it could double as a homing beacon for ships lost at sea.”

My brother, Henry, does have quite the sense of humor. He’ll have to since he’s been spending an awful lot of time with a certain socialite from my book club. But I try to push that out of my mind for now.

“Well, if anyone can make a headstone fabulous, it’s you two,” I tell them.

Winnie nods. “You should see some of the other entries. People have really gone all out. There’s one that’s a mini haunted house, complete with a machine that generates a scream whenever anyone walks past it.”

“That sounds amazing,” I say. “It sounds like the competition is going to be tough.” I nod to my mother and Nora. “But I have faith in your sparkly headstone.”

“Oh, thank you, Hattie,” Mom says, giving me a quick hug. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’re off to rally some votes.”

Before they can take off, Killion strides over with a grin on his face. Killion Major Maddox is just a little older than me, early thirties, fit enough to cage fight the Hulk, and handsome enough to stop the beating heart of just about any ovary-bearing human.

Killion works for the Eagle County Sheriff’s Department as a homicide detective. You might say death is what initially brought us together, and I’d like to think our lust for living—along with our lust for each other—is what keeps us glued to the hip. We’re still new, more or less.

“Mom, Ruthie.” He gives a quick nod their way. “You look as if you’re ready to cause quite the raucous.” He offers me a kiss to the cheek. You look beautiful tonight.

I bite down on a smile as he wraps an arm around my waist and gives both Cricket and Rookie a quick scratch between the ears—and one for Jolly Beary, too. Since both Rookie and Cricket are so attached to that stuffed ball of fluff, Killion and I have grown rather attached to him, too.

And even though both of our mothers are well aware of our relationship every time he kisses me in his mother’s presence, it feels like a death-defying brazen move.

Good grief. Nora rolls her eyes. Must he gnaw on her like some teenager who can’t keep his hormones in check? And in public no less. I’ve obviously failed him. The boy has no couth.

I rather like Killion’s ability to gnaw, but I’ll never say that out loud—at least not around our mothers.

Nora growls my way as if she heard, before forcing a smile. “Ruthie and I were just adding a little sparkle to the event. You should appreciate our artistic contributions—especially on Halloween night when the votes are cast for best headstone here on the grounds.”

He frowns for a moment. Why am I mildly alarmed by this?

I give his ribs a quick squeeze because I feel the exact same way.

“Artistic contributions?” Killion teases. “I’ll have to check it out. Make sure it doesn’t break any safety regulations.”

“Oh, Killion.” My mother is back to giggling like a schoolgirl and blushing, might I add, as if the cute boy in class were paying attention to her. And he is. “It’s just a silly little headstone. It’s not like we rigged it with fireworks.”

“Thank goodness for that,” he quips. Although I wouldn’t put it past either of them.

I nod up at him because I wholeheartedly agree.

“I’ll leave you two to rally your votes.” He nods their way. “Have fun.”

“We will,” Nora assures him. “And Hattie, please don’t forget to vote for our headstone.” Heaven knows the girl needs reminding to brush her hair. Speaking of which… She inspects my locks and shakes her head before the two of them take off.

Killion looks my way. I take it she said something that wasn’t too kind.

“How can you tell?” I whisper.

The look on your face says it all. He takes a moment to glower in the direction she took off in. Please forgive her on my behalf.

“ Aww ,” Winnie coos. “It’s as if the two of you have that whole couples telepathy thing going.” She looks past us and gasps. “Here comes trouble.”