Page 14 of Twice Baked Risky Whiskey Cakes (MURDER IN THE MIX #53)
LOTTIE
I waddle—because let’s be honest, I’m way past the point of walking gracefully—over to the flower-laden picnic table where Venus’ mother, Keegan Meryl, is currently engaged in a one-woman battle to create an acceptable bouquet.
The sweet scent of roses mingles with lavender and something citrusy, creating a fragrant oasis amid the chaos of screaming children and clinking champagne flutes.
A gentle breeze carries the melody of the harpist from inside, competing with the carnival sounds from the backyard attractions—and Keelie screaming with joy now that she’s up at bat with the unicorn. That’s exactly why I love my bestie.
By the look of sheer concentration on Keegan Meryl’s face, you’d think she was defusing a bomb instead of arranging carnations.
Her red hair catches the sunlight as she snips a wayward stem with surgical precision.
She’s beautiful, much like her daughter, and in this light, she looks exactly like Venus plus twenty years.
“Mind if I join you?” I ask, accidentally miscalculating the distance of the bench and landing with a pfft that sounds borderline inappropriate.
Oh, who are we kidding? I can no more control my bladder these days than I can other questionable bodily functions and poor Keegan had to hear my malfunction firsthand.
She gives a little laugh once my body decides to break the ice or break other things as it were.
But who cares about a little public humiliation? My feet throb with relief the moment they’re no longer supporting the combined weight of twins, this particular bakery owner, and the approximately seventeen cupcakes I’ve sampled today. Sure, I might regret them, but boy, were they good.
Keegan’s blue eyes sparkle. “Oh! Lottie, of course. Sit, sit.” She flutters a hand toward me. “You don’t need help, do you? Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, no. And please excuse my body’s dramatics. It’s just its way of announcing that I’m very, very pregnant.”
Her mouth lifts at the corners. “Yes, well, you certainly have a glow about you.”
“Ha! That’s just the result of being approximately two percent human, ninety-eight percent pastry at this point.”
We share a quick laugh and it feels like a win in my favor.
Keegan Meryl is polished and elegant, the kind of woman who looks like she has a standing weekly appointment for facials and imported tea, but she’s also sharp, and I’m getting the feeling she’s very controlled.
And that’s certainly something that would work in the favor of a killer looking to get away with murder.
“You’re not inside enjoying the Enchanted Forest Princess Open Bar?” I ask, gesturing toward the house, where the sounds of screaming toddlers and clinking champagne glasses harmonize in a caustic symphony.
Keegan purses her lips. “Believe it or not, I prefer a quieter setting.”
“As a mother of almost three, I can already relate.” I nod, plucking a sprig of lavender from the assortment in front of her. “This party is really…"
“A lot ,” she finishes for me. “Vivian has never been one for subtlety.”
That earns a genuine laugh from me. “So, I’ve sort of noticed.” I wrinkle my nose.
“There’s a Shetland pony in a tiara being shown up by a unicorn.”
We share another quick laugh.
She hums in amusement before setting down a pair of floral shears. “Are you actually here for the festivities, or is this more of an accidental attendance?”
“Bingo on the latter. Venus was kind enough to extend the invite. I provided the desserts for the party sans the cake.” I glance back at the house just in time to see a seven-tiered wonder being wheeled out of the house. “Wow,” I muse. “I wonder where she got that?”
“Paris,” Keegan sighs. “Actually, she flew in an entire herd of pastry chefs from the City of Lights and they worked nonstop for three days straight to finish it—to Vivian’s standards, of course. And because they had to keep revising their project, there was no time for other desserts to be made.”
“Oh, I get it. That’s where I came in. I’m sorry Venus wasn’t allowed to contribute. She really does the most spectacular sugar work I have ever seen. Everything in her shop looks as if it was made in a magical castle.” Hand to heaven, that is the truth.
“Well, Vivian won’t allow for another family member to steal the spotlight. It was a part of the contract she drew up when she married my son.”
She says it so nonchalantly it sounds almost sane.
Almost.
“I’m sorry to hear it.” I cringe a little. “But well, Venus made such a compelling case for me to be her emotional support friend. And where my desserts lead, I follow. This is all so fun for me to see and take in. And my little girl is here and she’s having a blast, too.”
I decide to leave Carlotta out of the fold for obvious reasons.
Speaking of which, I cast a quick glance around and suspiciously I can’t seem to spot her.
That alone sends my stomach in knots. Carlotta is like a bomb waiting to go off at all times, but when she's out of sight, it’s practically a countdown to detonation.
“Oh, I’m so glad you brought your daughter along,” Keegan says while arranging a sprig of baby’s breath into a bouquet that looks like it belongs in a bridal magazine. “Fondu loves collecting little friends.”
Something about the way she says collecting disturbs me on an intrinsic level.
I’m about to deep dive into the real reason I’m here when a spray of pink and blue miniature stars appears, shimmering in the sunlight like itty-bitty fireworks.
And soon enough, Sebby materializes in all his otherworldly foxy glory, perched on the edge of the picnic table with his tail swishing with glee.
Here’s hoping we can join forces and shake the truth out of our first suspect. And for Venus’ sake, I hope Keegan Meryl points me in the direction of the real killer—so long as the real killer is not Eliza Baxter.