Page 26 of Macaron Massacre
“It’s Lizzy to you.” She pulls back and gifts Everett a kiss on the cheek. “I bet this beautiful fiancée of yours is keeping you on your toes.”
He ticks his head to the side. “That’s an understatement.”
“So, when is the blessed event?” She looks my way. “I heard all about the baby. I’ve already placed a hold on an au pair from Sweden and reserved a spot for the precious child at all the local private schools. You’ll live in Fallbrook, of course. There is no better place to rear a child. I’ll have the country house renovated by fall, and the two of you can reside there until you purchase a proper home of your own.”
Wow. I think I just had a very real taste of what it would be like to have Eliza Baxter as my mother-in-law.
I’m about to say something when Everett picks up my hand and gives it a squeeze as if to say he’s got this.
“We’ve chosen to remain in Honey Hollow for now,” he offers.
Her penciled in brows heave into her forehead with judgment, but she doesn’t dare say another word.
Funny. Everett didn’t exactly straighten her out on the barren state of my womb. Why do I get the feeling Everett enjoys toying with his mother? After all, he has let her believe we’re engaged—and there doesn’t seem to be an end in sight to that farce either.
Eliza—I can’t bring myself to call her Lizzy—leans in and points to the corral behind her where women and men alike lie over bright purple mats, stretching their torsos to the sun.
“She’s in there. Third from the left.”
I crane my head and squeal when I spot her. “Everett—it’s Gloria Dallas!”
He gives a sly wink, but Eliza gags upon hearing her name.
“I can’t stand the woman. And her husband? Let’s just say I’m not too sorry he’s no longer with us. Can you believe he tried to show me a good time?” she says that last part in air quotes. “Not even with a lobotomy would I have been associated with that beast of a man. He’s a control freak. Anyone with half a brain could see that. Rumor has it, he duped some poor woman into an engagement. What in the world could that poor soul have been thinking? It’s obvious she was desperate if she felt the need to leash herself to a man so vindictive, so full of psychotic rage. If I ever found that woman, I’d have her committed. Clearly, she’s unable to make sound decisions for herself.”
I give an audible gulp. “I might have to agree with you on that one.”
Everett leads us into the corral, and I spot yet another familiar face I didn’t expect to see.
“Meg?” I trot over to my raven-haired beauty of a sister. “Well, fancy meeting you here.” For a second, I forgot all about the fact my sister teaches yoga at this hoity-toity establishment—most likely because the last time I took a yoga class at this fine institution we were indoors.
“I see you’ve brought your man.” She slugs Everett playfully on the arm, and he winces as if she backed it up with some muscle—and knowing Meg, she might have. “I’d ask what brings you out this way, but I already know.” She nods over to where Eliza and Gloria are yucking it up as if they were great friends. “Looks like that Dallas chick is hamming it up with some old cow.”
I suck in a quick breath and don’t dare look at Everett, but I can see his chest bouncing in my peripheral vision, and I’d swear there’s an undercurrent of laughter in the air.
“Meg, the old cow happens to be Everett’s mother,” I practically mouth the words.
She casts her dead eyes at the handsome steed by my side. “That actually explains a lot. Now, let’s get you two on your stomachs.” She claps up a storm and instructs everyone to do just that. Everett and I grab a mat and do as we’re told.
Meg instructs us to close our eyes as she systematically commands us to loosen one muscle at a time. She starts at our feet, and by the time she gets to our shoulders, audible snoring can be heard all around us. It’s so relaxing I’m about to fall asleep myself when a horrible spike of pain explodes over my lower back—then another and another.
“Oh my God, someone is stepping on me!” I howl as I lift my head in a panic, only to find that I’m not only virtually immobilized, but Everett has an entire herd of hairy creatures crawling over his back. “GAH! We’re under attack! The goats must have wandered over while Meg was busy casting a spell over us, and now they’re eating our hair and clothes for sustenance!”
A round of titters breaks out around me.
Everett pries an eye open to look my way without so much as putting in an effort.
“It’s goat yoga, Lemon.”
I gasp as I take the weight of the tiny tot bouncing over my back.
“This is what you meant by kids?” I balk as the furball on my shoulders gives an eerie human-like scream. “I hope you’re enjoying your massage, Baxter,” I grunt as another baby goat uses my thighs as a ramp, and before you know it, I have World War III breaking out on my back over the small amount of real estate I can offer.
A hard cackle comes from above, and I recognize that witchy laugh as none other than my devious baby sis.
“Enjoy the ride, Lottie!” she belts the words out, and I cringe as I hear my name echo throughout the corral.
“Lottie?” a sharp female voice, just as vindictive as Meg’s, spouts from my right, and I turn my head to find Gloria Dallas wide-eyed with surprise, half her face pressed flat to a lavender yoga mat. “Lizzy mentioned you were engaged to her son. Con-grat-u-la-tions.” That last word comes out in about a dozen broken syllables as a goat does its best to trample her.