to the cackling trio, bewildered.
Meg swipes one of the mini eggnog trifles up as well. “You just basically admitted to what we all suspected. You should look into ordering one of those extra-large heart-shaped beds.”
I growl at the three of them and Meg heads back to the Honey Pot laughing.
Keelie moans through another bite of her trifle. “What’s your secret, Lottie? This is phenomenal.”
“Instead of angel food cake, I make them with gingerbread cake. It adds that extra layer of Christmas cheer.”
An entire slew of new customers head through the door, and along with them are Carlotta and Evie.
“Happy moving day!” Evie sings.
It’s true. Noah and Everett are currently hauling all of the furniture Evie and I spent the last month ordering. Of course, Everett had his say in it, too.
Evie wanted to go full modern, clean lines, no color, and I reeled her back just enough to make it cozy.
Both Noah and Everett shooed me away from the scene this morning after I was spotted picking up a heavy box. They suggested I head to the day spa at the Evergreen Manor, but I opted for something far more delicious: working at the bakery.
Keelie gasps. “Oh my goodness, that’s right! You’re getting your own place again. I bet Noah is really bummed.”
Evie nods. “You should have seen him after you left, Mom. He was moping around and kicking things, mostly the boxes that belong to Dad. He said it wasn’t fair that you and Dad get to move in together because he never got to do that with you.”
That might be true, but oddly enough, Noah and I were married for a short spate of time ourselves. Unfortunately, he happened to be in the hospital for almost the entirety of our short-lived union.
Carlotta nods as she offloads a giant tote bag onto the table. I can see her green minivan parked outside the bakery with a giant magnetic sticker slapped to the side of it that reads A Whole Lotta Touchin’ Massages. Inquire within. You won’t need a loan for a few cheap moans.
I can’t help but roll my eyes. A few men have already knocked on the windshield of her van, but I don’t dare tell Carlotta she’s losing some of her dicey customers. Needless to say, I don’t approve of that particular business venture.
“Evie Stevie is right,” Carlotta says as I set a couple of eggnog trifles in front of each of them with a spoon spiked through it. “In fact, Foxy got feisty and blamed Everett for stealing his life, his wife. And then Mr. Sexy pointed to his busted arm and said the next time Foxy found himself in a burning building, he was going to enjoy a cold drink and watch the thing burn.”
Evie nods as she digs her spoon around in the trifle. “And then Uncle Noah said that baby in your belly is his, and that no matter what Dad did, he couldn’t break the bond between the two of you.”
Carlotta shrugs. “And then Sexy said he was going to break something right then, and the two of them came to blows.”
“Are they still alive?” I ask, still unsure which way my emotions are about to run with this one.
“As far as I know,” Carlotta says as she unzips her bag. “I told ’em to keep their mitts off my painting once it’s delivered. I can’t wait until it gets to the house. I think we should put it right above the fireplace.”
“No way.” Just the thought sends a hard roll of nausea through me as I grip my belly and moan.
“I got this,” Keelie shouts as she jumps behind the counter and shoves a fried pickle into my hand.
“Thank you.” I sigh as I take a crunchy bite. “Carlotta, that painting is creepy. I’m shocked you wanted it. And I don’t even want to know how much it set you back.”
Evie nods. “She spent three thousand dollars on that Van Gauche.”
Keelie and I suck in a quick breath.
“Three thousand American dollars? Are you insane?” I shriek her way. “Never mind. I know the answer. Boy, someone out there is getting the last laugh. That painting isn’t haunted, Carlotta. You and I can both attest to that.”
Neither Evie nor Keelie has any idea about our transmundane status, and I plan on keeping it like that for a long time to come. Evie has enough to deal with, especially now that she’ll be living under the same roof as Carlotta—not that she hasn’t