25. Lottie

LOTTIE

W ith Everett and Noah busy basking in the glory of their lumberjack showdown, or gathering splinters as they gather the newly cut firewood, I finally make my way to Agatha Reed’s booth.

The crowd around her has thinned out, leaving a perfect opening for me to swoop in and start asking questions—after I taste a few of her famous comfort foods, of course. I’d hate to be rude. Or hungry.

My hand settles over my belly as the crowd disperses.

Agatha Reed’s booth stands before me, and now that the testosterone-fueled spectacle is over, it’s time to get down to brass tacks, or butter buns. Obviously, the twins and I are rooting for the latter.

But as I start toward the woman, I can’t shake the feeling that despite my winning streak last night, my luck might be on the verge of running out. And there’s no telling what kind of mess I’ll be left to clean up.

Noah and Everett are right. Whoever is after Suze—whoever killed Tom Darius and Ursula Wingate—is dangerous. They’re not afraid to kill people to make a point, and if that scarf that strangled Ursula was truly meant for Suze, then they’re not afraid to make mistakes either.

Agatha spots me as I approach, her face lighting up with the kind of warmth you’d expect from someone who’s spent her life feeding people.

“Well, if it isn’t Lottie Lemon!” she exclaims, wiping her hands on a checkered apron. “I remember you from the shower. Your mother can’t say enough kind things about you. Now come on over, hon. You must be starving! I’ve got just the thing to fill you up.”

Before I can politely decline—not that I would—she’s already scooping a generous portion of chicken pot pie onto a plate and shoving it into my hands. “Here, try this. It’s my special recipe, and I promise you, it’ll warm you up from the inside out.”

“Ooh, thanks, Agatha,” I say, smiling as I take a bite. The flavors hit me all at once—rich, savory, and oh-so-comforting. “Oh wow. This is amazing .”

I’m not sure if it’s better than mac and crack, but then, I’m not sure it’s not either.

“I knew you’d like it.” Agatha beams, clearly more than happy with my praise. “But don’t stop there. You have to try my mac and cheese. And the beef stew. And don’t even think about leaving without tasting my apple crumble.”

“You don’t have to twist my arm,” I tease as she piles more and more food onto my plate. “Wow, thank you. I’m starting to feel like I’m in a food-eating competition all on my own. But don’t you worry, the twins will be more than excited to help me go for the gold.”

Just as I’m about to strategize how I’m going to manage all this yummy food and an interrogation, a familiar chill sweeps over me.

Petey materializes beside me, eyeing the food with that I’ve-never-eaten-before half-starved glint in his eye.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” he practically purrs and his fur glows an ethereal shade of blue. “Looks like a feast fit for a polar bear. Or two. I think you’re going to need my help with that, Lottie.”

I shoot him a look that says keep your paws and claws off my yum yums , but deep down I know it’s a losing battle. I can’t go up against a polar bear and win—not when his appetite rivals my own.

And just as I suspected, he digs right in with his ghostly paws scooping up mashed potatoes and scattering pot pie in his wake faster than I can blink, wink, or pick up a fork.

Agatha, of course, can’t see Petey, but she can see the food disappearing at an alarming rate.

“My goodness, Lottie,” she gasps as she says it. “I didn’t realize you would be licking the platter clean in record time. You must be really hungry. But then, you are eating for three.”

I force a smile as I hold up my still unused fork as Petey demolishes the plate in front of me.

“What can I say?” I shrug. “I don’t fool around in the kitchen.”

“You certainly fool around in the bedroom.” She winks as a lusty laugh rumbles out of her. “I’m sorry, that was crass. You’ll have to excuse me. It’s been a busy day. And once I get tired, the real me comes out.” She finishes with a laugh once again.

“Please, no need to apologize,” I say as she promptly refills my plate. “And thank you. I will gladly pay you for each and every bite.”

“No way.” She waves the thought off. “After what you went through during your baby shower? I felt so bad for you girls. The last thing I want you to worry about is giving me a dime.”

Petey nods with a mouthful of mac and cheese. “You know, this stuff is really good. But it doesn’t compare to Francine’s lobster mac and crack.”

I take a bite and moan, because, well, the mac and cheese is heavenly. Petey is right; Francine wins this competition hands down.

Agatha holds a finger my way before calling over her shoulder, “Mary! Bring out some more of the pot pie, would you? I’ve got a guest who’s going to need seconds! And maybe thirds. Possibly fourths.”

My eyes widen as a young woman hustles over with another heaping plate.

“Really, Agatha, I don’t want to impose…”

“Nonsense!” Agatha waves me off once again. “You’re not leaving here hungry. Besides, I’m always happy to see someone who appreciates good food.”

Petey’s already working on my second plate, and I’m doing my best to look like I’m the one devouring it. It’s a good thing I’m pregnant, and that’s not something I say often these days.

Finally, as the last of the pot pie vanishes, I take a deep breath and seize the moment.

“Agatha, I’m so sorry about Ursula. I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you, losing your best friend like that. My mother told me how close you were.” Not in so many words, but she did introduce them as best friends that first day.

Agatha’s cheerful demeanor falters for a moment. “Thank you, Lottie. It’s been difficult, to say the least. Ursula was like a sister to me. We did everything together. She had such a zest for life, always pushing me to try new things, to take bigger risks.” She closes her eyes a moment too long. “I miss her more every day.”

“I’m sure you do,” I say softly. “She sounded like an incredible woman.”

“She was,” Agatha agrees as her eyes mist over. But then she frowns, sending a crease forming between her brows so deep you could lose your car keys in it. “But I’ll tell you something, Lottie. Not everything was perfect in Ursula’s world.”

I give a little nod because I know for a fact the dirt is about to start flying.