24. Noah

NOAH

A s soon as Everett's assailant fled the scene, we did as well.

Lottie talked us into stopping by the bakery for a sweet treat to fill our bellies and an ice pack to try to temper Everett's eye from swelling. Although it's already swollen and bruised and will serve as a perfect reminder for the rest of the holiday season that he's already given the gift that keeps on giving—life.

The scent of fresh baked chocolate chip cookies hangs thick in the air, hypnotizing all of Honey Hollow to follow its scent and get their hands on the goodies—which would explain why the bakery is bustling with enough bodies to outfit a football stadium.

"It seems just about everyone at the Frosty Follies had the same idea," I say to Lottie as she lands a slice of chocolate cake to Everett and me.

"Everyone and their mother is here," she teases as she nods to the corner where Miranda is holding Lyla Nell and showing her off to her friends.

Christmas carols play over the speakers, and Lottie and all of her employees are wearing Santa hats—of the traditional variety, red, while half the patrons have purple Santa hats on because they belong to that club that my mother is in. Speaking of which, my mother steps up with a purple Santa hat firmly planted on her head.

"Here you go, Essex," she says. "More ice for that shiner." She slides another bag of ice cubes his way. "It looks as if someone out there didn't think your judicial snowman was all that clever."

"Someone out there doesn't appreciate his genius, all right," I tease and Lottie shoots me a firm look that suggests I don't go much further than that. "Aw, come on, Lot. I have a feeling this is the first of many bruises Everett will amass thanks to his new claim to fame."

"Don't feel too bad, Essex"—Mom says, slicing another piece of chocolate cake and pulling the plate to herself—"I hear there's a new trend among millionaires and billionaires to sire as many children as possible." She glances at Lottie. "Men can't expect one woman to do all the work, you know."

"Well"—Lottie ticks her head at the thought—"I'm not interested in sharing my man in that respect. From here on out, Everett is only allowed to have babies with me." Her gaze drifts my way for a moment.

"Don't worry, Lot," I tell her. "You have my commitment on that issue as well."

She winks my way as if to say thank you.

I take a bite of the cake and moan. "What is this dreamy wonder?"

"Funny you should ask. It's actually called a wonder cake," Lottie says, slicing herself a piece, twice the width as the one she gave us, and digging right in. It makes sense since she's eating for three. " Mmm ," she moans through a bite. "It's chocolate chiffon cake with both chocolate pudding and butterscotch pudding between the layers. I opted for a whipped topping with chocolate shavings rather than traditional chocolate buttercream. I've been a bit addicted to this cake for the last few weeks. It's a wonder I'm still able to squeeze through the doors. I should probably slow down with it." She grips her belly and laughs. "Both twins just gave me a wallop of a kick. I'm guessing they want me to keep up with the wonder cake. I'd hate to leave them wondering why they're not getting another bite."

"It is amazing," Everett says, toasting her with the bite on his fork before making it disappear. "You're amazing, Lemon. I'm sorry you have to deal with everything I've landed at our feet these past few weeks. You have enough to think about without me adding to it."

"No way," Lottie is quick to tell him. "This family comes first. No matter how big it gets, it will always be my priority."

Mom shrugs. "The holidays are among us. And Mayor Nash was kind enough to allow the Purple Santa Hat Society to continue their silent auction at the annual Honey Hollow Christmas party."

"Oh, that's great," Lottie says. "Christmas Eve is just days away. I'll put together some gift baskets of my baked goods that people can bid on as well and donate them for the cause."

"Your mother already has them on the roster," Mom tells her.

"Thought so." Lottie frowns past my shoulder. "Let's hope that the Christmas party isn't marred by any irate guests." She plops another slice of wonder cake on both my plate and Everett's. "And let's hope boxing gloves aren't on anyone's list."

I can't help but chuckle. "So how does it feel to be Honey Hollow's newest heavyweight champ, Baxter?" I tease.

"In the event you didn't notice, I didn't win," he says. "Although if this keeps up, I might start holding court in a boxing ring. It might be a fairer fight that way. My secretary just let me know there's still an angry mob down there waiting for me."

"Oh, Everett." Lottie hugs her belly. "We have to fix this. We're going to have to reach out to Harper and get her to tell her fans to stand down."

He nods. "I'll handle it. I don't want you to worry about it, Lemon. I want you to enjoy your holidays."

"With a killer on the loose?" She lifts a brow. "I think we all need to watch our backs."

Mom straightens. "I think I'm needed at the registers." She darts that way and Lottie shakes her head.

"What did Clara tell you?" I ask her point-blank. If Lottie is going to quiz my suspects, she may as well share the wealth with me and she always does.

"Oh, Noah…" Lottie's mouth opens and closes as she glances in my mother's direction and shakes her head. "Not here. I'd better go get the cookies out of the oven and help quell this crowd." She takes off and I glance at my mother as a knot begins to build in my stomach.

"I know what you're thinking," Everett says. "I wouldn't go dark. I highly doubt your mother did this."

"I wish I felt as confident." In fact, I'm feeling the exact opposite. A thought comes to me. "Hey, I forgot to mention I got a call this morning." I lean his way. "I spoke to my contact at the FBI again. He says he has news for you and he's cleared his schedule for a meeting at five if you're up for it."

"Yes," Everett says without hesitating.

"Great. He has your number, so expect a call." I shake my head at him. "He also said he highly suggests you look into the legal history of the Family Tree Tracker app. He thought it might be of interest to you."

"The legal history?" Everett's gone from looking concerned to looking downright angry. He checks his watch. "I'm headed to the courthouse. I've got work that needs to be done and apparently some research into a DNA box kit I picked up on a whim at the grocery store." He jumps to his feet and I catch him by the sleeve of his jacket.

"Whoa, slow down. My buddy mentioned he's got news for you—as in big news. Right now he's double-checking his facts before he delivers. You might find out there are a lot more Baxters running around out there than you thought. Do you want to fill Lottie in on this?"

"No," he says without hesitating and his eyes drift her way. "I've stressed her out enough for one afternoon. It's best I get all the facts before I tell her. I have enough anxiety right now for the both of us."

"Then I'll be with you," I say.

"You have the case to worry about."

"Don't care," I say. "I'll be at the courthouse at five. Whatever lies ahead, we'll tackle it together."

His chest expands, and that shiner of his only seems to grow darker by the second.

"Thanks, I appreciate it." He kisses Lottie goodbye and does the same with Lyla Nell before ducking out the door.

If the law of averages holds true, Everett will have to start buying Christmas stockings in bulk—and maybe building a bigger fireplace because of it.

One thing is for sure, this will be a Christmas to remember—not that Everett will want to remember it.

My mother breaks out into a wild cackle at something a customer tells her, and I shake my head in that direction.

And if all roads to the killer point to my mother, it will be a Christmas I'd rather forget, too.