Page 39 of Macaron Massacre
Everett shakes his head. “Don’t apologize to me, Lemon.”
“Me either.” Noah taps his hand over my knee. “I’m the one that owes everyone in this room an apology. I’m sorry my lack of dating decorum led this entire group astray.”
“Actually”—I clear my throat—“there is something I want to say. I think someone said it best. It all boils down to timing. Noah, your timing was off. Had you explained things to me from the get-go we would be in a different place. I panicked. I wasn’t able to stand by your side and hope your wife would let you go. I’m sorry. I believe too strongly in the institute to take someone’s marriage out from under them. And, Everett, we were sort of on a collision course. I would hardly call you a rebound. We’re far more complicated than that. This is who we are.” I pump my shoulders. “You’re married, Noah, and I’m”—I glance down at my ring finger—“sort of pretend engaged.”
“The facts speak for themselves.” Everett tips his head toward the crowd. “I say this meeting of the minds is adjourned.”
Noah closes his eyes. “Please, Meg, do your thing.”
And Meg does exactly that. After about a half an hour of stretching while looking into one another’s eyes and verbalizing positive affirmations, we’re free to go. I’ll admit, it was a bit odd having Noah look deep into my eyes and tell me he loves me while Everett massaged my feet. I’ve had strange and twisted dreams before, but tonight’s reality took the outlandish cake.
Afterwards, Noah, Everett, and I drive home in our separate cars, only to congregate in my driveway.
Everett put in an order for Chinese, and it’s delivered just as we arrive. The three of us head into my place and eat our fill of Kung Pao chicken and beef with broccoli. Noah and Everett each take one of my sweet cats in their lap, and we discuss Rich Dallas’ murder investigation from every angle we know how. It feels right, so blissfully normal. It almost makes me forget all about the trauma we just endured.
Almost.
It’s easy like this with Noah and Everett—and if I’m not mistaken, it feels like bliss.
I don’t want to analyze my complicated love life for one more minute. There’s a killer on the loose, and I’m about to unleash all of my attention on bringing him or her to justice.
Look out.
Here I come.
Chapter 14
While I was growing up in Honey Hollow, June was blissfully met with the end of another brutal school year—and along with that, the promise of a blissful summer cresting on the horizon. Although I no longer get three full months off of life to spend my days as I wish, June still thrills me in a way like no other month. If a month from the calendar were able to come to life and bestow a kiss to my lips each year, that month would be June.
I’ve been in and out of my mother’s B&B all morning preparing the dessert table for Lainey’s bridal shower. Meg and my mother have decorated the conservatory with a rustic theme per Lainey’s rather hostile request. It seems my sweet sister has transformed into a mini bridezilla before our very eyes, barking out orders, making an extensive wish list that, come heck or high financial water, my mother is determined to foot the bill for. Of course, Lainey and Forest aren’t letting my mother pay for everything, but my mother’s persistence has a way of winning out, and winning out she is.
Felicity Gilbert, down at the Enchanted Flower Shop, furnished the conservatory with millions of peonies and lavender roses, all free of charge. Her gift to our family for helping bring her mother’s killer to justice a few months back. I’ll have to repay her somehow. I know these flowers cost a fortune regardless if she is getting them at cost.
Of course, everything is already running smoothly because Lainey’s fabulous wedding planner, Jana March, is a perfectionist who has left no detail unattended to. She’s the oil that keeps the cogs spinning in this wheel headed straight for wedded bliss.
I head back to the refrigerated van that Everett gifted the bakery last fall. It’s a white cargo van with the wordsCutie Pie Bakery and Cakery, Fine confections, coffee and more!emblazed on either side of it. I have to admit, it makes me smile each time I see it.
No sooner do I lock up the van than I hear the murmur of voices. Probably reporters or volunteers from one of the candidates for the mayoral race.
My mother had the bright idea to hold a mini debate between Mayor Nash and his opponent, Scott Dushane, which will be shown live on local television. Since the B&B isn’t all that big, the event is open to the press and about fifty ticketed constituents, mostly PTA and city council members who will ask the tough questions and hopefully winnow out the best man for the job.
Just because Mayor Nash holds the post doesn’t necessarily convince me he’s the best man for any job. I’ve seen how he drove his marriage into the ground by way of his serial cheating. What’s to stop him from cheating on Honey Hollow behind its back? What if he’s using the campaign funds to fuel some twisted addiction? Or maybe he’s got his hand in the treasury box? What if heisthe killer? If poor Chrissy Nash couldn’t trust the scoundrel, why should we?
I’m about to ignore the humming voices coming from the evergreen belt that surrounds the B&B when I spot a familiar shimmering light coming from that direction and decide to head on over instead.
Nell floats happily between Greer Giles and Winston Decker. Nell is grinning from ear to ear, as is Greer, and I’m suddenly suspicious as to why. Greer Giles was killed a few months back, but she’s since decided to eschew paradise and hang out and haunt the B&B with her ancient boy toy Winslow Decker, a farmer who never could figure out how to leave Honey Hollow. Greer looks beautiful per usual with her long dark hair straight as a pin as if she just had a blowout, and Winslow looks dapper in a suit I’ve yet to see him in and a shoestring tie that sings of an era gone by.
“Lottie.” He nods my way. Winslow has always reminded me of an outdoorsy Mathew McConaughey with his dimples and dark blond curly hair. “Nice to see you this fine afternoon. If you’ll excuse me, I have a mayoral race to haunt.”
“Ooh, fun! Go easy on Mayor Nash. The media has pinned Rich Dallas’ murder on him without the benefit of evidence or a trial, and his opponent is eating up every homicidal minute of it.”
He chuckles as he floats in that direction. “Maybe it’s time to even up the score?”
I turn to the ethereal beauties beside me. “So, what’s new?”
Greer flits her eyes to Nell, and the two of them share a conspiring look.
“What?” I suck in a quick breath. “Oh my goodness, the two of you are hiding things from me, aren’t you?”