Page 7 of Poison Apple Crisp
She moans through a bite. “I just want to give you the heads-up. I’m getting married next month, and I’m so impressed with the cakes and cookies you’ve brought, I think I just found the perfect baker to create my wedding cake.”
Rachelle rolls her eyes. Not in the oh-boy-here-we-go-again way that I do sometimes—like when my mother talks about Noah’s father as if she was serious about the guy. No offense to Noah, but his father is a piece of work who’s made a living from bilking widows out of their retirement—namely Everett’s mother. That’s how Noah and Everett came to be stepbrothers for a short time in high school. Long story short, Noah stole Everett’s girlfriend, and they’ve never really recovered. Wiley and Eliza didn’t fare so well either.
But Rachelle rolled her eyes to the side, and her jaw squared out as if she were furious about the topic at hand. Furious about a wedding?
“A wedding! Congratulations,” I say, still gauging Rachelle’s peculiar reaction. The blonde is wearing a dark chocolate corduroy dress with a turquoise turtleneck underneath, and once again I’m admiring her cute fashion sense. “I’d be honored to bake your wedding cake,” I say to Brenda. “Feel free to stop by the bakery some time and we’ll go over design options, flavors—all in keeping within your budget, of course. I’m not one of those bakers who charges a mint for a wedding cake.” Although they don’t necessarily come cheap either, but I leave that little fiscal tidbit out of it for now. No need to get the bride’s bouquet in a bunch so soon.
Brenda’s lips twitch side to side. “Actually, I was thinking that since I’ve given you all this free advertising, you’d return the favor and reduce the price of the cake to nothing. I’ll make sure the school utilizes your services for the homecoming dance, winter formal, prom, and graduation.” She nods as if this were a coup I couldn’t resist. It is, but I’m not about to let her in on that either. “We’ll talk.” She gives my hand a pat before turning to Rachelle. “Well, don’t just stand there. Those keys aren’t going to sell themselves. Hike the price from ten to twenty dollars apiece. Use your brain for once, would you? There’s an emerald necklace in that cage, for Pete’s sake. And don’t think you’re getting away with not giving me that foot massage later. You are the pro, remember?” She takes off. “Come, Rachelle!”
My lips part as I glance to the poor blonde with a sympathetic look.
“Are you okay?” I wince as I ask. “I certainly wouldn’t want anyone talking to me like that.”
Rachelle’s chest bucks with a dry laugh. “I’m more than fine. And she won’t be speaking to me like that much longer.” One of her brows fishhooks into her forehead as she looks in the direction Brenda took off in before she does the same.
That sounded cryptic.
Before she’s out of sight, I glance down at her shoes and note they’re short brown boots—not a gold buckle or pink pump in sight—so there’s that.
“Lottie!” I turn to find my mother and Carlotta running this way, each with a champagne flute in their hand brimming with the bubbly.
“Would you look at this?” My mother hikes it in my face, and I inch back. “Oh, you have to take part in the glitz in a glass event.”
Carlotta gives a frenetic nod. “That’s right, Lot Lot. You buy a glass of champagne for just fifty bucks, and it comes with this little mesh bag attached.”
“And there’s a ring in it!” my mother trills as if she’s never seen the circular piece of jewelry before.
“Fifty dollars?” I say, trying to swipe the glass from my mother, but she’s quick to move it out of my reach.
“No more liquor for you, young lady.”
I make a face. “I was never a drinker to begin with. And didn’t you just tell me to take part in the giveaway?”
“For the ring,” she clarifies. “One lucky winner is going to get arealdiamond ring in their mesh bag. Carlotta and I have already inspected ours, and they both look like they could be the real deal.”
Carlotta nods. “We won’t know for sure until nine o’clock when they announce which ring was the real bling. But you get a snazzy piece of crystal out of the deal, too.” She holds her flute up to the light. “Hey? Maybe you could slap a nipple on it and use it as a baby bottle? If you’re toting Mr. Sexy’s kid in your belly, you’ll be required to shove a silver spoon in its mouth the second it’s born.” Mr. Sexy is a nickname that the baristas that work nearby Everett’s courthouse gave him—for obvious reasons. “You’ll have to go first class with the kid all the way.” She looks to my mother. “Do they make diamond nipples?”
Good Lord.
It’s going to be a long nine months—more like seven or six and a half. But I’m not exactly privy to that timeline just yet because my very first appointment isn’t even booked. But it’s on my to-do list.
Mom gives a long blink. “Don’t you worry, Lottie. I’ll make sure your baby has nothing but the best, even if it is Noah’s.”
“Mother, what’s that supposed to mean?”
Carlotta chuckles. “It means Foxy comes from a common stock. Plus, you have those unfortunate genes the kid has to work with. Suze is nothing but a sourpuss on heels, and Wiley is a swindler whose only saving grace is his dimples.”
She’s not wrong.
“Oh, you.” Mom knocks back her drink. “But isn’t this fundraiser fabulous? Both Noah and Everett have signed up for the trivia challenge. Winner gets dinner at a snazzy restaurant. I’m sure it’ll be a standoff between Noah and Everett once all of those other competitors are eliminated. And then you’ll find out which one really has the brains.” She winks my way.
Carlotta grunts. “Don’t be fooled, Lot. They’re not playing to see which one has the bigger brain. More like who has the bigger—”
Wiley calls for my mother from the makeshift bar just in the nick of time.
“I’m needed,” Mom coos. “We’re making appletinis and calling them schooldaze.” She giggles as if she’s tested one too many of those appletinis. That or the champagne just went straight to her head.
She takes off just as Everett and Noah make their way over.