Page 2 of A Whisker in the Night (Country Cottage Mysteries #29)
“ T
he winner is—Hammie Mae Westoff, ladies and gentlemen! The chocolate bunny queen herself!” Mayor Mackenzie Woods shouts to the crowd gathered here at the Chocolate Bunny Hop Festival just as the chocolate bunny eating competition concludes.
Hammie Mae stands and waves as her cheeks flush with triumph. She looks to be about my age, late twenties, has strawberry blonde hair, freckles, and a baby bump to rival my own.
“I’d better go congratulate her,” I say as Jasper helps me up and Leo does the same with Emmie.
“I’ll go with you,” Emmie says as she places her hands over her enormous belly.
Emmie is one week overdue and looks as if she’s hidden a beach ball under that paisley dress of hers. But she’s just as gorgeous as ever. Emmie and I share the same dark hair, blue eyes, and the same formal moniker, Elizabeth . We were practically destined to be besties from the moment we met in preschool, and we have been.
Leo nods to Jasper. “How about we grab some drinks? Something manly like beer,” he teases as he wags a half-eaten chocolate bunny our way.
“Make it chocolate milk and I’m in,” Jasper says. “It’s not called the Chocolate Festival for nothing.”
“The Chocolate Bunny Hop Festival,” I say, offering him a kiss. “I’ll take a glass, too, if you don’t mind.”
Jasper and Leo have been best friends for almost as long as Emmie and me, and that makes the friendship among the four of us that much more special.
They take off with the promise of bringing us both back a glass of something creamy and dreamy, while Emmie and I head over to where Hammie Mae is speaking to my mother.
Mom spots me and waves us close. “Girls, meet your competition. Hammie Mae, this is my daughter Bizzy, and her best friend Emmie—a couple of chocolate lightweights.”
“Very funny,” I say as I extend my hand to the woman. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too, Bizzy,” Hammie Mae says with a laugh and her freckled face lights up as she offers me a handshake. “I just love what you’ve done with the inn—especially the café.”
“Thank you,” I say. “This is my best friend Emmie. She’s the one in charge of the café and she gets all the credit.”
Before Hammie Mae can respond, another woman strides over. An older redhead with a silver streak lying thick over the top of her crown with pride. She’s tall, statuesque, and exuding an executive level of poise. She also happens to be a vision in a lavender blouse and matching tailored slacks. She’s holding a gold foil bunny with a dark flat bottom, and by the looks of it, it seems as if it has some serious heft to it. I bet that’s solid milk chocolate! Thankfully, the chocolate bunnies in the competition were hollow, not that it gave me much of an advantage. It almost seems unfair that Hammie Mae won, seeing that her parents own the company. But then, I suppose she’s been training her entire life for this day.
My mother’s eyes light up at the sight of the older woman. “Matilda!” she cries with glee as they share a quick embrace. “Bizzy, Emmie, this is Matilda Westoff, Hammie Mae’s mother. She’s a legend in the lifestyle world. You’ve probably seen her on TV.”
“Only on every channel,” I say, offering a smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Emmie gives a quick nod. “I echo the sentiment.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” Matilda purrs with genuine warmth.
“That bunny looks delicious,” Mom says, nodding to the gold bunny in the woman’s hands. “Your chocolates are simply the best. Thank you for sponsoring today’s events.”
“Of course!” The redhead beams. “And thank you for the compliment, but this bunny is actually a wrought iron bookend. He’s part of a set. I was just showing him off to a few of my friends. We have a fully stocked gift shop back on the farm with so much more than just chocolate. In fact, I’ve opened a booth here at the festival and these beauties are in abundant supply.” She offers me a peaceable smile. “Bizzy, I hear you run the inn. You must be the one keeping this festival running so beautifully.”
I blush under her praise. I’m about to tell her that it’s a team effort when an older man with a head full of glorious white hair steps into our circle. He nods over at Hammie Mae, then Matilda, and that mischievous smile on his face only widens. And in his arms happens to be the cutest black and white spotted cat I ever did see with a pink bow tied around her collar.
Fish and Sherlock bolt this way as well.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Matilda snips at the man and both Emmie and I gasp at her sharp and unexpected word choice.
The man’s mischievous smile widens twice its size and that little black and white cat in his arms sighs.
Here we go again, she purrs. I wonder if they’ll actually kill one another this time? Although at this rate, it’s not a matter of if —it’s just a matter of when .
A breath hitches in my throat at the thought.
The last thing we need in Cider Cove is another homicide.
Although with our track record—it’s not a matter of if —it is indeed a matter of when .