10. Lottie

LOTTIE

T he bakery is alive with the sound of "Jingle Bells," with each note slightly off-key more than the last but sang with such enthusiasm that it fills the room with unmistakable joy—holiday joy to be exact—as a couple of dozen pint-size cuties belt it out at the top of their lungs.

The scent of fresh brewed coffee competes with the aroma of freshly baked treats, and it's a hypnotic scent I don't think I could ever get enough of.

Tiny Santa hats bob up and down as the adorable class from Honey Hollow Preschool, including my niece Josie and my bestie's son Bear, gather around the large wooden table. Each child is feverishly decorating a gingerbread cookie that consists of more frosting and sprinkles than it does an actual cookie.

Lyla Nell, my sweet little baby girl, is right there with them. Her tiny hands greedily spread green icing over a cookie that's supposed to be shaped like a Christmas tree but looks more like a green blob at this point.

Lyla Nell is all Noah with her dark hair that turns red in the sun, deep-welled dimples, and bright green eyes. I can't help but bite down hard on my lip because just a couple of hours ago I learned that Everett's four bonus girls are all him as well. I guess it's true what they say. Girls really do take after their daddies.

" Mine! " one of the kids shouts as he proceeds to get into a tug-of-war over a tube of icing and an entire swarm of teachers quickly puts that fire out. But not before Lyla Nell shouts mine happily over and over again as she decorates her cookie.

As of late, that just so happens to be her favorite word— mine , not cookie. Although cookie is a close second.

My eyes swell with tears as I look at all of the tiny cuties happily desecrating my baked goods while singing at the top of their lungs.

I've provided the Santa hats as a little extra touch, and seeing them all bobbing about, with their faces bright with excitement, it's like a scene straight out of a holiday card.

I passed out Santa hats to the teachers and parents who showed up this morning as well. In fact, it's mandatory for each member of my staff to wear a Santa hat straight through December. Not only is the bakery decked out in its holiday finest, but so is my staff.

The Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery is a haven of warmth and sweetness, with its butter yellow walls that wrap around you like a nice, warm hug the moment you step inside—not to mention the nice, warm hug the scent of my cinnamon rolls baking in the oven gives you. I credit most of my business to those heavily iced beauties. You can smell them baking halfway down Main Street.

The festive spirit of the season has definitely taken over my shop. Evergreen garlands wrapped in twinkle lights are strung up next to the ceiling, casting a soft, cheerful glow. A tall Christmas tree stands in the corner, covered with an assortment of ornaments that have to do with baking, like miniature rolling pins and tiny cookie sheets filled with cookies that look good enough to eat, and there's even a sprinkle of snow on the boughs to add to the cheer.

There's a walk-through in the east wall of the shop that leads to the Honey Pot Diner, the cute little restaurant that once belonged to my grandma Nell and is now lovingly run by my sister Charlie.

The walk-through is framed by a festive archway draped in greenery, red ribbons, and a row of gingerbread men that I baked myself. We've got Santas and reindeer set on the counter, a stuffed snowman dots each of the tables, and I hired a local artist to paint a festive scene on each of the windows.

I've even made sure to fill the display cases with the most scrumptious holiday treats I could think of. And don't think for a minute that my plum pudding isn't flying off the shelves—especially after what happened last night. People can be twisted that way. My mother is really to blame, but that's a story for another time.

Keelie, my blonde bestie, trots over. She looks adorable with a hot pink Santa hat of her own and bundled up in a matching coat as well. Keelie and I have been best friends since we were in preschool ourselves, and just a few years back we found out we were cousins. She's the manager of the Honey Pot Diner, but today she's simply playing the part of a doting mama.

"I can't take how cute they are," she says, offering me an impromptu hug.

"I'm right there with you," I say with a sigh. "Little Bear isn't looking so little anymore. And he's the spitting image of his papa." Fun fact, I dated Papa Bear all through high school, and all through high school he cheated on me and made me cry. Thankfully, he's changed his cheating ways. "And how is Lyla Nell suddenly fitting in with these kids? She's just a baby."

"You think that now, but she'll be starting preschool next fall. And with the twins coming, you won't think it's soon enough."

I give a mournful laugh as I hold my belly.

"You're probably right, but I'll never admit it."

My thoughts dart right back to Everett and his shiny new daughters. My heart just breaks for all of them. How very sad to have gone this long in life and not know that you had a wonderful father out there somewhere. And all the time that Everett has missed with his precious babies? It's almost too much for me to bear.

"Whoa," Keelie says, pulling back to get a better look at me. "Lottie Lemon, what's going on? I know you like the back of my hand, and right now you look as if you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders."

I close my eyes a moment because she's not kidding. It definitely feels that way.

"Oh my word." She gasps, pulling me to the side. "What is it? This must be big. You look worried sick. Is it the twins? Is something wrong?"

"No, no," I'm quick to assure her. "The twins are fine. In fact, I just saw Dr. Barnett for my checkup. Everything looks great and the twins are healthy. But there is something that's getting to me." I glance over my shoulder and the customers at the counter are all being well taken care of by Lily, Effie, and Suze.

The preschoolers, including Lyla Nell, have moved on to bellowing out "Jolly Old Saint Nicholas" and every cell phone in the room is pointed right at them.

"Okay, I'll tell you," I do my best to whisper. "But you have to swear you won't tell a single soul what I'm about to say."

She sucks in a breath and nods. "Cross my heart." She quickly does just that.

I hesitate for a moment. I know that I solemnly swore to all the people I love to pieces that I wouldn't tell Everett's secret—but well, Keelie has known all of my secrets from the time we were three. Plus, we're like sisters, closer than sisters, in fact. I've slept with her husband, for Pete's sake. Okay, so that may not be a selling point, but still. She's practically an extension of myself.

She gasps again. "You're trading Everett in for Noah again? I mean, I get it. You get bored so easily in that department. But don't you think you should at least wait until the twins get here?" She blinks at the ceiling. "Unless, of course, you could convince Everett and Noah to just take turns in the bedroom. I mean, Lyla Nell is already used to having two daddies. I don't think it would be all that big of a deal if Noah, say, took Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Everett could have Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. And that way you can take Sundays off. After all, the good Lord does want us to rest eventually."

"Would you stop?" I swat her on the arm for even going there. "That is not what I was about to say." Although I will admit that at least once a month I have a dream that goes something like that. It's not my fault. I can't help where my subconscious leads me in the night. "This has to do with Everett," I whisper so low, I practically hiss the words out.

Then I glue my lips to her ear and spill every last detail—from the Family Tree Tracker app to the fact he bought those kits for us all because he was afraid he thought his father was Carlotta's father, too. Then I get to the nitty-gritty with the fact that Everett had four little DNA matches, which led him to some surprising paternal news. I tell her about each girl and all we learned about their mothers, too.

"Wow." Keelie gives a few wild blinks as if she were dizzy.

I don't blame her. This entire event has made my head spin, too.

"Four more daughters?" She shakes her head. "All under eighteen? Four? As in, one, two, three, four? And here I thought Bear was a handful."

I nod. "Yes, four. And I've sworn myself to secrecy, Keelie. You can't tell anyone."

Her hand flies to her heart in a mock oath. "Cross my heart once again. But wow, Lottie. That's a lot of Christmas presents."

We share a mournful laugh because she's not kidding.

"What's the next step?" she asks.

"He's going to contact their mothers. I hope it goes well for him. He's already feeling lousy over the fact he's missed so much time with the girls."

"Which girls—the mothers or the kids?"

I swat her again.

"Sorry." She laughs. "Lottie, I think this is a blessing in disguise for all of you." She cringes a little. "I hope."

"I hope so, too."

We share another mournful laugh and the sound of our voices blending with the off-key singing somehow makes this moment perfect.

"But seriously," Keelie says, shifting her tone, "how are you feeling about all this? This is a pretty big deal, Lot."

My lips invert as I watch Lyla Nell triumphantly place a single chocolate chip atop of the green blob in front of her.

"I don't know." I sigh. "Overwhelmed, I guess. Excited, but scared. It's a whole new chapter for us, and I just want to make sure Everett and I handle it right, you know? For Lyla Nell, for his new daughters—for all of us."

Keelie reaches out and squeezes my hand. "You two are the best parents I know. And hey, if anyone can turn a surprise like this into the best Christmas miracle, it's you and Everett. Just think of the holiday dinners! You'll need a bigger table."

"A bigger table," I muse as my gaze drifts to the preschoolers, their laughter a reminder of the simple joys of life. "And a few more gingerbread cookies to decorate."

The chime rings on the door and my sisters, Lainey and Meg, speed inside along with Noah's sister, Sam, hot on their heels. Each one is as pregnant as the last and each looks ready to burst.

" Ho, ho, ho , the holidays are near and so is a Honey Hollow baby boom," Keelie says with a laugh.

And Honey Hollow doesn't know the half of it.