Poison Apple Crisp - Addison Moore Page 0,8

or should I say the killer’s victim.

But nevertheless, I can see and hear the dead. It wasn’t always that I could hear the dead. For a long time I could simply just see them. But as my powers grew, so did the abilities of the ghosts that visited me. Now they can talk, move things in the material world, and the very latest skill they’ve garnered is the ability to eat their fill of anything they desire. Don’t ask me where it goes. All I know is that it disappears into thin air, and in the end, the ghost in question is more than satiated.

Hey? I bet that pompom of a cutie is eating to her little mouth’s content at the dessert bar right this minute.

Brenda Phillips ordered enough individual apple crisps to feed all of Vermont. She said she wanted an apple dessert in keeping with the fall theme, and then she mentioned apple crisp was her favorite dessert. So, without a doubt, I was more than happy to oblige.

I’m about to speed in that direction when Brenda herself waves me down.

“Lottie?” She stalks on over at a quickened pace, while her short dark hair bobs up and down on her head like a wig. She’s donned a heavy navy blazer paired with no-nonsense trousers and looks every bit polished for tonight’s big event. And on her heels is the ash blonde that was with her at the bakery earlier, Rachelle Dalton. Brenda holds up one of my apple crisps in her hand and waves it my way. “These apple crisps are the best thing I’ve ever eaten.” She belts out a laugh, and I’m suddenly relieved.

I don’t know why I thought there was trouble brewing when I saw her headed my way at top speed.

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.