14. Noah

NOAH

I t’s been a long day and it’s going to be an even longer night. As much as I’d love to head straight home, feed my dog, and collapse on my sofa, I find myself pulling into the Honey Hollow Bed and Breakfast instead.

I park and jog inside, nearly twisting an ankle on the glazed ice that’s overtaken the stairs to the entry.

That’s a lawsuit waiting to happen. And since it’s my father who’s in charge of the maintenance around here, I’m betting there will be more than one lawsuit to come.

How and why Miranda puts up with him, I will never know.

I head inside and the scent of spiced cider enlivens the air. The B&B is dimly lit, the chandeliers in the hall are flickering, and every last bit of this place holds that haunted appeal that makes it so well-loved by people far and near.

The nexus of the haunted appeal would be the ghosts. And even though most people think it’s a cute gimmick, this mansion is one hundred percent haunted.

I’ll never admit to it, but the place gives me the creeps. I don’t know how my mother sleeps here. I don’t know how my father sleeps here either, although granted, he’s not alone in bed.

Odd that my parents would blow up a marriage that lasted umpteen years only to end up living under the same roof again—and somewhat peacefully this time.

The sound of classical music plays lightly over the speakers, and everything about this place suddenly feels as if it’s rocking me to sleep.

I stride past the reception counter, past the dining hall, and nearly pass up the drawing room when I spot my mother seated by the fire, staring pensively at the flames as if she were making them flicker by sheer will.

It wouldn’t surprise me if she was. It turns out, my mother, much like Lottie, is transmundane. My mother is something further classified as a beguiler, a person who has the power to get others, or even the elements, to do their bidding.

Albeit, my mother isn’t very good at it, thus the divorce, the inability to rub two nickels together, and her inability to foresee any major disasters headed her way like the one she’s embroiled in now. Not including one dead guy hand-delivered to her on Christmas night and one heck of a threat to go along with him.

That’s exactly what brings me here. I’m about to head into the room when I spot a curious sight.

“ Geez .” I wince at the spectacle.

On second thought, there are two curious sights, and suddenly my stomach is churning. Any appetite I may have had has up and disappeared.

Just as I’m contemplating heading inside, or cutting bait and running, a pair of cool hands cover my eyes—and thankfully so.

“ Boo ,” a sweet voice whispers from behind, and not only do I recognize that sweet voice, but I recognize the sweet scent of her perfume, warm vanilla, and the warmth of her body, all of which envelop me with love.

I spin and pull Lottie Lemon into my arms, save for her stomach, which jets out to the left.

“Hello, beautiful.” I offer up a genuine smile.

“Hey, Noah.” She gives a little giggle as she gives my waist a little squeeze. “I was just picking up Lyla Nell. Perfect timing. We can both surprise her. How was your day?”

“The best part is right here,” I say. Hand to God, it’s the honest truth and she knows it. “Word of warning”—I whisper as I hitch my head to the left—“you don’t want to look in that room.”

She makes a face and looks adorable while doing so. “You know you can’t say those things to me. Now I have to take a look.” She cranes her neck past me, gasps, and then squeezes her eyes shut tight. “What in the heck is going on in there? And how can I scrap the image from my brain?”

I glance back, wishing I could do the same.

Yes, my mother is seated by the fire, but just a few feet away, Miranda is sitting in Mayor Nash’s lap and the two of them are getting more than a little frisky with one another. Not to mention that Miranda is wearing a little black dress, and Mayor Nash seems to be making a game of pulling down her spaghetti straps.

As if that wasn’t egregious enough, not six feet away is Carlotta in the lap of my father, doing the exact same salacious deed. Although oddly enough, Carlotta is dressed in a conservative blouse buttoned to her neck and a long flowing skirt. Her hair is spun into a bun, and she’s donned a pair of thick-framed glasses. It’s almost as if she’s wearing a disguise.

“Oh my goodness.” Lottie gives an indignant huff. “I’ll shoot Carlotta and Wiley, and you can take out my mother and Mayor Nash. I don’t have the heart to put a bullet in my poor mother, but clearly, someone has to do it. All four of them are rabid and need to be put down. Good thing I brought Ethel.” She reaches for her purse and I hold her by the arms for a second.

“Let’s see if we can’t talk any sense into them first,” I suggest. “And if that doesn’t work, I’ll take all four of them out. No sense in both of Lyla Nell’s parents serving time.”

“Everett won’t let us spend a minute behind bars and you know it,” she says as she stares down the lunacy before us.

“In that case, I hope there aren’t any other casualties.”

We step into the room, a space that’s usually reserved for rest and relaxation, filled with loungers, sofas, and two fireplaces—one in the front of the room and one in the back. Both fireplaces are tall, brick structures that rise to a vaulted ceiling. There’s a large braided rug that takes up most of the room, and a small table with refreshments sits to the side filled with teapots, mugs, and a smattering of treats from Lottie’s bakery.

“Everybody on your feet before we shoot,” Lottie shouts, not bothering to bury the lead.

The room clears out of its clientele, save for the infamous four and my mother.

“Miranda Lemon,” Lottie snips at her own mother. “What in the name of Jack Frost are you thinking? Clearly, all this snow has frozen your brain cells!” She turns to Carlotta. “And you ”—she seethes, causing Carlotta to inch back in fear—“don’t you think you’re getting away with any of this. I don’t need a road map to tell me that you’re the brains behind this brainless scheme.”

“That she is,” Mayor Nash pipes up.

Mayor Nash has a wreath of gray hair, a paunch belly, and light-colored eyes that twinkle with every kind of mischief. And believe me, he’s gotten himself into quite the variety—most of it was Carlotta’s fault. But he does pretty good on his own as well.

But no one is quite as good at tangling themselves up in a mess like my father.

“It’s your fault, isn’t it?” I seethe twice as hard as I point his way.

“Put that finger down, son,” the older look-alike of myself growls. “This is just four adults having a little fun.”

“Yeah,” Carlotta harps. “It’s called doin’ the ol’ partner switch-a-roo. A little game I learned from the two of you plus Mr. Sexy.”

“Oh, you did not.” Lottie practically gags on the words.

“Nobody is switching anything,” Miranda says while trying to temper the volume on her voice and motioning for us all to settle down. She glances around before leaning our way. “We’re simply acting out a little role-playing,” she whispers. “No harm, no fowl. In fact, Carlotta is playing the part of the naughty librarian.” She holds a hand out her way and Carlotta bounces the glasses over her nose.

“She’s naughty, all right,” Lottie growls. “Where’s Lyla Nell?” Her voice hikes with a whole new level of panic.

“She’s sleeping upstairs.” Miranda holds up her phone and quickly pulls up the live feed of Lyla Nell snoozing on the bed she shares with my father. I’d hate to think what else goes on in there.

“Thank goodness.” Lottie breathes a sigh of relief. “You pull this sick stunt again and I’ll revoke your babysitting privileges.”

Miranda gasps as if she’d just been shot. And little does she know how close she came to live bullets.

“Sick stunt?” Carlotta harps. “You mean sexy stunt!”

Lottie lunges for her and I hold her back. Come to think of it, it’s probably not a good idea that Lottie is running around with a weapon while hopped up on a serious rush of hormones—a double dose no less.

Dad laughs. “Everyone calm down. Why don’t we head to the bar? Drinks are on me.”

Mayor Nash is quick to agree and he shoots out of the door like a missile.

“Not so fast,” I say, pulling my father back by the sleeve and walking him a few feet away from the women. “Has Mom confided in you regarding any of the trouble she’s mixed up with?”

He inches back and shoots her a curious look. “What’s the guy’s name? I’ll punch his lights out and have him fitted for a casket before midnight.”

“Cool it, Romeo. Her honor isn’t yours to defend anymore. You gave up that right when you started tarnishing the honor of everything in a skirt. I’m talking about the dead man who landed on her car with that note. Has she talked to you about it?”

He tips his head. “No, but Miranda filled me in. I tried to mention it to Suze the other day at breakfast and she grabbed her coat and said she was late for work. She seems pretty dedicated to Lottie and the bakery.”

“She’s also pretty dedicated to keeping her lips zipped tight,” I say, blowing out a breath. “Do me a favor and keep working on her. I’ll do the same. If you hear anything, and I mean anything, do not hesitate to call me. If Mom is in danger, then that puts Lottie in danger, and the kids, and Miranda by proxy.”

“Miranda?” Dad straightens as if I just prodded him with a lightning rod. “That’s unacceptable.”

“I’m glad you think so.” I pat him on the back. “And it’s nice to see you genuinely care for Miranda, too. You’re doing something right for once.”

Miranda and Dad head up to retrieve Lyla Nell while Carlotta staggers this way.

“Thanks a lot, you bunch of goody two-shoes.” She shakes her head our way. “And we all know you’re anything but. You think you’re the only ones in town allowed to have some freaky-deaky fun. Well, I’ve got news for you.” She pokes a finger into Lottie’s chest and it bounces right back out. Lottie is a bit pillowy at the moment. Man, how I miss her body. Carlotta leans in hard. “I’ve still got a few freaky surprises up my sleeve and neither of you party poopers is going to ruin it!”

She stalks off and Mom rolls her eyes as she heads this way.

“And then there was one,” I say, pulling her in and offering a kiss to her cheek. “How did you stand being in the same room with them?”

She sighs at the idea. “It’s safe to say my thoughts are in other places these days. And truthfully, they were providing quite the entertainment.” She’s back to glancing at the ceiling. “I’ve never heard such crude words steaming from a woman’s lips.”

“Carlotta can be a handful.” Lottie nods.

“I’m talking about Miranda,” Mom counters.

I’d laugh if Lottie’s eyes didn’t just turn red with rage.

“ Mommy ,” a tiny voice coos from the door and we turn to find Lyla Nell trying to wipe the sleep from her eyes as Miranda holds her. And Lottie wastes no time in speeding that way.

“I’ll be right there, Lot,” I tell her before turning back to my mother. “Mom, have you thought any more about who Tom Darius could be?” I ran the ID on the guy past her last night after the coroner left this place. Another homicide in Honey Hollow, and I hate to admit it, but the bodies are really starting to pile up.

She shakes her head and shrugs. “I’m sorry, Noah, but like I said last night, the name doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Don’t believe her,” Lottie seethes as she rushes back this way sans Lyla Nell. And judging by the look in her eyes, her hormones are running full tilt. “Suze, we all know you have an idea of what went down that night and who that man might be. We all saw you sneaking to the window that whole evening while clutching your pearls, looking as if Santa was about to leave a pile of explosives on our front door. And whoever your big bad Santa is, he sure delivered—a dead guy! No more of this keeping-your-trap-shut business. Spit out what you know or we’ll find a way to shake it out of you—or shoot it out of you. We’re both armed. Take your pick.”

Mom lifts her chin as her features tighten with rage. “I need you both to drop it and drop it now.” She points to Lottie. “Don’t you dare start poking your nose where it doesn’t belong, young lady. The longer I keep my trap shut, the safer everyone in this town is.”

“Ursula Wingate wasn’t safe,” Lottie all but riots.

Mom’s eyes widen to the size of tennis balls. “And that is exactly why I’m taking what I know to the grave.” She turns my way. “Should your investigation progress in any manner, it won’t be because of me.” She takes off for the exit and Lottie leans in that direction.

“That’s because you’ll be in the next casket ,” she shouts and Mom turns and gasps before scooting out of the room.

“So much for getting anywhere with my mother,” I grumble as we head over and scoop up Lyla Nell.

We head out of the B&B and I help buckle Lyla Nell up in Lottie’s minivan before closing the door.

“Now what?” Lottie says, holding her belly.

Lottie Lemon glows like a star on this dark and snowy night.

“Now you get some rest. I’ll handle things from here.”

“Just like you handled your mother?” She lifts a brow defiantly. “Let me solve these cases with you, Noah.” She places my hand on her belly and one of the twins gives me a kick. “Let’s track down whoever took the lives of those peoples—whoever is threatening Suze and stealing our peace— together .” She pulls me in by the tie just rough enough to let me know she means it. “You know we’re a great team, Noah. Together we’re unstoppable.”

I lean back and examine her.

Lottie Lemon knows exactly the words to say to get me to do just about anything.

I shouldn’t do it.

I shouldn’t agree.

I shouldn’t say a single word.

She nods my way and bites down on a smile in the exact way that drives me insane.

So I say the only word I can say. “Okay.”