Page 25 of Bobbing for Bodies
Days drone by, and no matter how much I text, visit his office, or stalk at his house, Noah Fox always has a seemingly good reason why we can’t meet up.
Apparently, his cases have given birth to baby cases, and he’s up all night with those, too. He doesn’t have a free moment to spare for me it seems. I can’t blame him. Here he was giving me the best his lips had to offer and how did I repay him? By doing exactly what he kindly asked me not to do—with his sexy stepbrother no less.
Darn Everett for having such an adorable and frighteningly accurate moniker. Not that this is all Everett’s fault. As it turns out, he’s not so pleased with me either. Everett has been busy these past few days, too, and for that I’m feeling thankful. I’m also thankful that the bakery has been filled to the brim at all hours of every day. At least this way I’m too busy baking up a storm and eating my feelings to digest what a dumpster fire I’ve managed to turn my life into.
An ear-piercing cackle comes from the large group near the window. Apparently, Naomi Turner has started up a naughty book club for the pre-menopausal—her word choice, not mine, and the who’s who of said non-hormonally challenged age bracket is all present and accounted for.
Lily Swanson, Naomi’s mean and bitter bestie, sits dutifully by her left side. And ensconcing the queen of mean on her right is my bestie, Keelie, who apologized through the roof for not getting their sleazy read to me in time to participate. But she did politely point out that while they were doling out the bawdy book, I was up to my eyeballs trying to solve poor Merilee’s murder last month. Speaking of Merilee, her cousin, Cascade, is here cackling right along with the rest of them. With that long, dark hair of hers and her penchant for crushed velvet, she seems to be carrying on the legacy of the Simonson sisters nicely. Ellen Rawlings from the bank showed up. She hasn’t stopped showing off those illuminated teeth of hers since she sat down. Funny, I’ve never once seen her smile during our banal monetary transactions. Nice to know she’s capable. Darlene Grand, whose family owns the apple orchard, and Janet Darren, Travis Darren’s lookalike sister, sit attentively as if there will be a quiz later—and knowing Naomi, and her need for dominance, there might be. Travis Darren was the one dating Merilee and Mora Anne at the very same time—thus driving Mora Anne to the brink of insanity. He’s basically the primary reason Merilee was stabbed to death by her sister. Some men are heartbreakers. Travis was quite literally a heart taker in a roundabout way.
Collette Jenner shoots me a sharp look from over her shoulder, and I can’t help but snarl at her slightly. Collette can’t seem to keep her paws off of her legal eagle ex, and, yet, Everett has said a thousand times he’s not interested in pursuing anything romantic with her again. Some people just can’t take the hint. Speaking of which, it reminds me. I need to text Noah again at some point today. You never know when his schedule will free up.
Lainey waves me over, and I can’t help but think she’s a little traitor. I’ll admit, it stung a bit not to be included on this innovated literary effort that just about every woman from Honey Hollow in my age group seems to be a part of. I grab my carafe and head on over. Lainey is seated next to Molly McMurry, so I’ll hold any snippy comments for later. I’m still blown away by the fact Molly wants me to provide all the cupcakes for the Fall-O-Ween event next week, and the last thing I want is for her to see me sporting a bad attitude.
“More coffee, ladies?” I hold up my carafe, but they’re all too engrossed in the steamy passage they’re dissecting to notice me, so I do a quick round of refills anyhow.
The bell tied to the door chimes and in breezes a pale Micheline Roycroft with her copy ofFit to be Tiedin her hand as she breezes to the seat next to my sister.
“Did I miss anything?” Her entire face brightens as she smiles up at me. I’d swear her smile just warmed the whole place. The last few times I’ve seen Micheline she’s looked miserable beyond recognition. I guess she’s coming to terms with Hunter’s death, as she should.
I shake my head. “I don’t know. But they’ve been here for an hour and there have been lots of spontaneous outbursts of—” I’m about to saylaughterjust when the room explodes with wild cackles once again.
Chrissy Nash and Eve Hollister amble in and give the younger sect the stink eye.
I head over and take their orders, two lattes, two chocolate-filled croissants, an order that’s quickly becoming their usual.
Eve leans over to Chrissy. Eve’s salt and peppered curls are certainly looking more salt these days than pepper. “I suppose our blood pressure is too high to be a part of that club,” she huffs, indignant.
Chrissy, a fit blonde whom the mayor dumped because, well, let’s face it, he’s an idiot, chortles away. “I’m guessing you’re right. I guess it’s a good thing that our book club meets at the B&B this month.” She looks my way. “Your mother is hosting a haunted high tea.”
“Sounds delightful.” I know all about it because my mother has put me in charge of providing all the petit fours for the aforementioned event. “And what book will you ladies be reading? A steamy historical romance, perhaps?”
Eve smirks as she waves me off. “You know us all too well, Lottie.The Duke’s Haunted Bedchamberhas been steaming up my glasses for weeks.”
Chrissy’s mouth falls open. “Since when does it take you weeks to finish a book?”
“It doesn’t. I’m on my third go-round. Some books are so hauntingly delish they deserve a reread or two. Besides, with my house in shambles, I’ve nothing better to do than read by the fire.”
“Still working on the remodel?” I ask. It’s a well-known fact that Eve Hollister’s retrofitting of her mansion has been going on for a small eternity.
“There’s no end to it, Lottie. For the love of all that is holy, do not invest in a fixer.”
A dull laugh thumps in my chest. A fixer to Eve would be a model home to most.
I hand them their coffee and croissants and sigh dreamily at that house across from Noah’s with its white picket railing. I haven’t heard word back, but a part of me wonders if Noah has told the realtor to forget it. There’s no way he wants to live in close proximity to me after that fiasco down in Leeds. Face it, I’m the fiasco he wants no part of.
The book club commences, and all dozen or so of them stand at once.
Naomi claps the murmuring crowd back into submission. “The next book we’re reading isThe Thankful Subservient. I think it will tie in nicely with Thanksgiving.”
“Get it?Tiein?” Lily guffaws right in her bestie’s face, but Naomi is quick to brush her off.
Collette Jenner pulls on a black pea coat, and her bright orange curls cascade off the back. The black and orange give off a Halloween vibe that I’m sure she wasn’t going for, but she is scary. I’ll give her that.
“You never let us pick our next read. We should take it to a vote.” Collette dares defy the head witch of this unholy coven.
But Naomi doesn’t flinch. “We don’t need a vote. The books I pick are fantastic. Did I let anyone down with this month’s selection?”
A round of approving giggles circles the small crowd before it officially disbands.