Page 10 of A Whisker in the Night (Country Cottage Mysteries #29)
T he evening air is sweet with honeysuckle as Jasper and I make our way down the winding path to Emmie and Leo’s cottage.
The grounds here at the inn are peppered with individual cottages available for rent or lease. And it was these exact adorable tiny dwellings that first caught my attention when it came to this place as far back as when I was a child. So when I was in college and heard they were hiring at the front desk, I jumped at the chance. I was quickly moved up to manager, and when the owner passed away a few years back, I was stunned to find out he left the entire sprawling estate to me.
It’s safe to say, I’ve been in love with the grounds here for as long as I can remember, and now I more or less have this coastal gem running through my veins.
The inn is part of me just as much as Jasper, this baby, Fish, and Sherlock are, too. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.
We come upon Leo and Emmie’s cottage and it looks like something straight out of a fairy tale, with pastel twinkle lights strung along the porch rails and plastic Easter eggs hanging from the flowering dogwood in their front yard.
Someone (definitely Emmie) has arranged a family of topiary bunnies near their front steps, complete with tiny Easter bonnets. It’s so stinking cute I stop and take about a dozen pictures of it before we head up.
“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” Jasper asks as our furry entourage—Fish, Sherlock, and our temporary ward Jellybean—trots ahead of us.
“Because Leo’s mother gave Emmie a special gift for two couples and we’re about to have the spa experience of a lifetime,” I tell him, landing a kiss on his lips. “Leo’s mother specifically said she wanted to include us. Isn’t that nice?”
“I guess that is nice.” He ticks his head, looking far more bewildered than taken aback by kindness. “A spa experience, huh? And she does realize that Leo and I will be participating?” He raises a brow. “I’d rather chase down armed suspects while dodging lightning bolts.”
A sharp laugh escapes me. “I’ll hold your hand. I promise you’ll be fine.”
“Why, thank you.” He kisses my cheek and his playful expression morphs into something just this side of worrisome. “I can’t believe I’m stressing over a massage when you have to actually push a human being out of your body. I’d do anything to trade places with you, Bizzy.”
“You’d make both medical history and the news if you did,” I tease.
He gives a mournful laugh. “I mean it, you’re my hero. I owe you everything.”
“Remember that when our credit card bill comes in. My wallet is still smoking from my little trip to the Blueberry and Chocolate Heaven Gift Shop this afternoon.”
I hold up the brimming bag in my hand and he blinks back.
Oh no. I can already see him putting two and two together in his mind.
“You went to Westoff Farms?” He frowns at the thought. “And what exactly happened there?” he adds, in that tone that says he already knows exactly what happened.
Here we go. I run up the porch and quickly give a swift knock on the door, hoping to avoid this particular conversation, though I’m not one to hide things from Jasper. He wouldn’t let me even if I tried.
“My day went well,” I say brightly. “I took Jellybean down to the farm thinking I was taking her home, but it turns out, she actually belongs to Verity Westoff. I guess I’ll have to track her down tomorrow.”
I would have gone straight there after the farm, but I spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning the chocolate carnage out of my car. Once Mom and Georgie realized they were about to be apprehended, they split up like a couple of kids caught raiding an Easter basket. Mom knocked over a wall of colorful sprinkles, Georgie upended a vat of warm chocolate, and they both ended up looking like a far more delicious version of being tarred and feathered. So did my car’s interior. A far tastier event than mudding.
“ Bizzy .” Jasper leans back to get a better look at me. “You spoke to a suspect today, didn’t you? And you’re off to speak to another one tomorrow?”
“I guess you can say I’m efficient,” I tease.
Before he can launch into his “leave the investigating to the professionals” diatribe, the door swings open and we’re greeted by two adorable pooches—a curly- furred labradoodle named Cinnamon and a golden retriever named Gatsby, Emmie and Leo’s sweet fur babies.
Jellybean lets out a yowl and darts straight into the cottage, disappearing to who knows where.
Don’t worry, Jelly Roll , Fish yowls twice as loud. These big oafs are friendly! In fact, I prefer them to Sherlock!
I heard that. Sherlock bounds inside after them. But I smell pizza, so I’ll let it slide.
And judging by the heavenly aroma wafting from inside, I might have to side with Sherlock on this one. The baby gives an enthusiastic kick of agreement.
Inside, Emmie and Leo have transformed their living room into a cozy pizza parlor, with several boxes from Antonio’s, a local pizza shop, spread across their coffee table alongside bottles of sparkling cider.
The interior of the cottage is impeccably put together. Emmie really does have this place looking like a model home. The walls are painted a light hue of gray, the distressed gray wood floors have a thick wool rug over them, and their cream-colored sofa and white marble coffee table give this place an elegant touch. And then there is the endless mountain of baby items, most of which are still in boxes lining all four walls. Come to think of it, maybe Emmie should open a baby boutique?
I quickly exchange hugs with both Emmie and Leo and thank them profusely for including us in the fun.
“I wouldn’t thank us yet,” Leo smarts, looking relaxed in a T-shirt and jeans. Jasper came right over after work so he’s still in a suit and looking as dapper as ever. Emmie and I often marvel at what handsome husbands we’ve nabbed.
As you should . Leo winks my way.
I make a face at him. It’s easy to forget when there’s another telesensual in the room—especially since he’s the only other one in Cider Cove.
“Before we dig in”—I say, holding up the shopping bag—“look what the Easter Bunny dropped off early for baby Granger!”
Leo and Jasper hit the pizza while Emmie pulls me to the sofa and quickly empties the bag of its contents. Her squeals of delight at the matching baby outfits could probably be heard clear in the next county.
“I can’t thank you enough for all of this,” she coos. “We just painted the nursery gray. It’s so neutral we can add pink or blue accents once the baby is born.” She takes a moment to frown at her belly. “That is, if it ever decides to come out. But thank you again in case it decides to make its debut. Like I said, we can’t thank you enough.”
“Well, we can’t thank you enough for this spa day,” I tell her.
“Not so fast,” Leo says with a dark chuckle. “Emmie? Did you tell them about the news?”
Emmie grunts. “It turns out, Leo’s mother is a detective herself. She’s arranged for us all to take one of those DNA ancestry tests.” She shoots Leo a look. “Go on, tell them what you heard her thinking to herself.”
Leo chuckles a little harder. “For some reason, my mother has convinced herself that these tests will prove whether or not I’m the father.”
We all share a riotous laugh on his mother’s behalf.
“I knew that woman didn’t care for me,” Emmie says while trying to calm down.
“It’s not that,” Leo says. “She loves you. She just likes to exercise an overabundance of caution. Besides, we all know these tests don’t work that way.” He ticks his head to the side. “I guess the baby’s paternity will have to remain a mystery.”
“You’re terrible.” Emmie swats him and gets right back to pulling cute little outfits out of that bag. “Oh my goodness, these are adorable! Leo, look at the tiny bunny ears!”
Gatsby turns to Sherlock. I think they should make bacon bunnies for dogs .
Or dog-shaped treats for cats, Fish mewls, and Jellybean snickers in agreement.
“Speaking of bunnies”—Jasper says dryly—“maybe we should discuss my wife’s habit of hopping into murder investigations?”
“ Bizzy ,” Emmie says my name like a dire threat. “You did not. You know how I feel about you getting involved in your condition.”
“ Our condition,” I say, picking up a slice of pizza and handing it to her before taking one for myself. “And speaking of which, sorry, can’t talk now. I think the baby needs to be fed.”
Jasper tips his head my way. “I just want you to be safe.”
The baby gives another kick, either agreeing with Jasper or reminding me that we never did get around to eating those chocolate-covered blueberries. These days, even my unborn child is better at solving mysteries than I am—they’ve already figured out that every investigation leads to chocolate. Or in this case, pizza.
Speaking of which, the four of us get down to business and do our best to devour all six boxes when a brisk knock erupts at the door.
Emmie gives a light clap. “It’s showtime.”