Eggnog Trifle Trouble (Murder in the Mix #28) - Addison Moore Page 0,7

the both of us while staying at Noah’s.

Noah graciously gave us his bedroom, mostly because I might be having his child and also because Everett risked his life to rescue him from a burning building. But by and large, Noah and Everett haven’t gotten along in years. They were once stepbrothers, and during their familial internment, Noah saw fit to steal Everett’s girlfriend. Things only went downhill from there. Now they tolerate one another for my sake.

“Lottie Lemon!” a female voice snips, and I turn to see Naomi Turner speeding this way. Naomi is my best friend Keelie’s twin sister. Naomi has dyed her blonde locks as dark as a raven’s wing and looks like your typical brunette stunner. But she’s just as mean as she is pretty. We’ve never gotten along. And judging by that scowl on her face, things aren’t about to change now either. When Carlotta came into my life a few years ago, I discovered that both Keelie and Naomi were a part of my extended family.

“You’re a jinx!” she shouts loud enough for a handful of people to turn their attention our way. “Aunt Carlotta just told me you nearly burned down my kitchen! This is the very last event you’ll cater at the Evergreen. I suggest you count your unlucky stars that the town hasn’t given you a boot in your patoot yet. Steer clear of the Evergreen and steer clear of me. You keep your bad juju to yourself!”

She stalks off, and I’m about to say something, or find a hole to drop into, when I see Carlotta pushing that grocery cart through the crowd.

“Candles!” she bellows. “Get your red-hot kinky Christmas candles for the low price of twenty-four ninety-nine. Get your shopping done early and with free shipping!”

“Oh, my stars up in heaven,” I moan as my nausea kicks in once again.

Evie jumps over and takes up both my hand and Everett’s.

“Come on, guys,” she says, pulling us toward the back of the room at lightning speed. “It’s our last Christmas together as a family before the little runt makes an appearance, and I want to remember us in this pristine state before it’s nothing but dirty diapers and baby puke.” She shoots Everett a look. “Dad, you’re going to have to wear a bib around the kid or it’s going to ruin those expensive Italian suits of yours. Mom, you don’t have to worry. No one will be able to tell the difference between chocolate cake batter on your shirt or baby poop.” She shrugs. “That’s pretty much why I’ve made the decision to admire the kid from afar.” She quickens her clip. “Look, there’s no one in line to take a picture with Santa. This is going to be epic. I vote we all sit on his lap.”

“No way,” Everett doesn’t hesitate to protest. “I’m not sitting on any man’s lap. Neither are you, Lemon. Come to think of it, neither are you, Evie.”

Evie clucks her tongue and gives Everett some snappy comeback, but I pretty much miss it because Mrs. Claus seems to be having a rather tense exchange with a tall brunette dressed as an elf just shy of the velvet throne. The poor thing is wearing the requisite green tights, curly shoes, and multi-pronged hat with bells sewn on it. And truth be told, if I were forced to dress like that, I’d be a little ornery, too.

The woman plucks at Mrs. Claus’ wrist, and Mrs. Claus hauls off and slaps her right over the face.

A breath hitches in my throat and my muscles go rigid as I witness the attack. No sooner does the smackdown happen than the testy elf stalks off looking visibly upset, but Mrs. Claus heads over to greet us as if nothing out of the ordinary happened.

The photographer does his best to situate us in the traditional pose, but Everett chooses to stand behind Santa, as do I, while Evie lies lengthways in his lap. Once Evie makes up her mind about something, she’s pretty much unstoppable.

And once we’re efficiently blinded by the blast of the flash, Evie takes off again while Everett steps over to the side to take in the crowd—on the lookout for a killer, no doubt.

Santa gets off his throne and plucks down his beard a notch.

“Geez, Gloria,” he grouses to Mrs. Claus. “I knew you hated me, but I had no idea how much until tonight.”

Gloria, aka Mrs. Claus, moves in close with her red sequin, barely-there