Page 5 of Poison Apple Crisp
The cinnamon-colored Pomeranian lets out a few sharp barks.
“Oh no!” I say. “Everett? Could either you or Noah help out with that cute little critter? The ladies who came for the apple crisps must have forgotten him.”
Everett gives a brief glance in the general direction I’m looking in. “What dog?”
My muscles freeze solid when he says those words.
“Noah?” I glance his way. “You see it, don’t you?” I ask as I point down at the tiny cutie pie dancing in a circle.
Noah squints in that direction. “Nope.”
The tiny pooch turns and winks my way before trotting right on out, by way of floating through the wall.
“I guess we know what this means,” I sigh as I say it. “I’m not just expecting a baby. I’m expecting a homicide.”
Chapter 2
It feels as if it’s been light years since I’ve last visited Honey Hollow High, let alone stood in the colossal gymnasium.
It’s funny how the glossy wood floors, the dull blue padding against the back wall, the hoops, the buzzer, and the grandstands all take me right back to the time I was a student here. Of course, I’d never want to go back to high school. No thanks to my ex, Bear Fisher, he turned up the volume on this teenage trauma.
But I can’t help but give a wistful smile as I look around at all the tables set out brimming with baskets and goodies for the silent auction. Pumpkins, fall leaves, bales of hay, and even a few scarecrows are scattered around the gym as if autumn itself were campaigning hard for our attention.
Off to the side, just past the dessert table, catered by yours truly, there’s a table laden with cakes of every shape and size that I’ve provided for the dessert dash they’ll host later tonight. There’s a carrot cake, a chocolate fudge fantasy, a red velvet, a black forest, and a vanilla filled with Bavarian cream, just to name a few that seem to have garnered a crowd around them. Brenda, the head of the PTA, mentioned that the dessert dash was a twist on a traditional cake walk when we spoke earlier this week.
There’s a taller table next to the desserts, covered with a black velvet cloth and has a single gilded birdcage sitting on top of it. And nestled in that birdcage is a sparkling emerald necklace. There’s a large lock securing the treasure inside, and in order to win the sparkling prize, all you need to do is purchase a key in hopes it’ll open up the lock. Only one key holds the ability to unlock the cage and garner the prize for the winner. I’ve already purchased ten sets of keys. Here’s hoping it’s me.
Although, I don’t feel so lucky these days. Death seems to be stalking me at every turn. Well, notme, but some unfortunate soul. And I have a very bad habit of stumbling upon that poor unfortunate soul once they’ve met their demise.
My hand magnetizes to my stomach, and I press my lips tight in an effort to hold back my emotions.
What kind of a mother am I going to make? I might be a darn good baker, but I seem to have a knack for tripping over corpses as well. I’m pretty sure that’s no way to raise a baby.
I try my hardest to focus on the room quickly flooding with people. Men and women in a wide age bracket swell into the gym like the tide, and soon the din of voices echoes throughout the room. A large blue banner is stretched over the concession area, and in white lettering it readsWelcome to the Honey Hollow High School Annual Fall Fundraiser!Open your hearts and your wallets to a brand new year!
Everett steps into my line of vision as he quickly strides this way. He’s donned a dark suit, navy tie, and that signature devilish look in his eyes. Already half the mothers here are panting after him in his wake—not to mention Principal Hickman. I’ve already caught her leering at him while he helped me set out my sweets. The way her mouth was openly watering, it was clear he was the dessert she was hungry for.
For a fleeting moment I hoped that it was Principal Hickman who owned and loved that ghostly Pomeranian pooch at some point in her life. I’m pretty sure that makes me a bad person.
I’mterribleis what I am.
Who wishes a homicide on someone? Even if that someone is openly ogling your husband. Everett is hotter than a kitchen fire. And honestly? Who the heck could blame her for noticing?
To the right of the welcome banner is an enormous picture of a honeybee, painted right onto the gymnasium wall. It’s the school mascot, Sting, and he looks just as happy and charming as I remember him to be.
Tears come to my eyes for seemingly no reason.
What if my baby hates school? What if he or she is a delinquent and never even makes it to Honey Hollow High? What if this is the very last time I see that goofy grin on Sting’s furry little face?
“Whoa.” Everett wraps his strong arms around me, and the thick scent of his spiced cologne fills my lungs with what feels like his love for me. “Hey?” He brushes the hair from my face. “Everything okay? Are you feeling sick? Do you need water? A cookie? Noah is still on his way. I can have him pick up a pizza from Mangias.”
“No, no.” A dull laugh evicts from me. “I just got to thinking about the baby.” My hand floats to my stomach once again, as it has been doing rather absentmindedly for the last two weeks. I thought for sure if my mouth didn’t give my secret away, my hand would have. I look up at his cobalt blue eyes. “Everett, what kind of a mother am I going to be? What if I’m just not genetically programmed to be a good mother? My own mother abandoned me on the cold floor of the local fire department. What if I get the urge to do the same?”
“Lemon,” he says it sternly, and that’s all that’s needed for my mind to take a U-turn.
“I’m sorry, Everett. I’ve been online every night this week looking up the negative side effects of pregnancy. Did you know I could be puking right up until delivery? What if my teeth fall out during the next few months? What if I keep tripping over corpses? What if I have to start wearing a diaper myself because I can’t control my bladder when I laugh? These are very real issues. Loads of women were complaining about them on just about every mommy message board I went on. Okay, fine. Maybe not the part about the corpses. But my hair is going to fall out! My boobs are going to grow so big they’ll be the size of bowling balls and feel just as hard after I give birth!”
The hint of a wicked grin curves on his face.