Murder in the Mix Boxed Set 28-30: Cozy Mystery Addison Moore (the reading strategies book .txt) 📖

“Well, thank you, Mom. This is very nice of you.” I think.

“Yes, thank you, Miranda,” Noah says as I pass the tablet his way. “And I’m with you on offering as much visual and auditory stimuli as possible in the first five years. Lottie, I can’t wait to start teaching the baby everything we know.”

Evie smirks. “Maybe wait a while to teach it how to hide a body.”

“Evie,” I whisper as I give a nervous glance to the handful of customers sprinkled among us.

She makes a face. “I get it, Mom. Uncle Noah didn’t hide the body. It was all Dad, wink wink. Don’t worry. I won’t say a word. I think it’s super cool my family has dark, disturbing secrets that involve body snatching. For all I know, Uncle Noah, you set my dad up so you could have Mom all to yourself.”

“Not true,” Noah says while watching a cartoon on the baby’s new tablet.

She shrugs. “Dad’s incarceration has already flung me up the popularity ladder a few rungs. And I have a feeling as soon as Ski Week is done, I’ll sail right up to the top.”

“Ski Week?” I tip my ear her way. “Is that why you were home today?”

She glances up at me for a whole three seconds. “Why did you think I was home today?”

“I don’t know. It seems Honey Hollow High has a conference day, a teacher meeting day, or some other excuse to keep you kids out of class every single week. But Ski Week is tantamount to Spring Break. You should invite a few friends over, and we can have a movie night. I’ll bring the cookies. In fact, I’ll whip up some dough and you guys can bake them yourselves if you want. It’ll be fun.”

Carlotta gives Evie a stern look. “Back in my day, they locked you in school from sunup till sundown and then they sent you home and made you rewrite entire encyclopedias every single night.”

“Sounds miserable,” Evie says, scrolling through her phone.

“Oh, it was.” Carlotta nods back at my mother as if looking for a little camaraderie. “That’s why I escaped. I found me an older geezer and had me some real fun. And with my dumb luck in play, I got saddled with your mother. Of course, I dropped her like a lead balloon and took off for warmer pastures.”

Mom squints her way. “You know I don’t know anything about your time in Arizona, Carlotta. What did you do while you were out there, anyway?”

“Never you mind.” Carlotta’s lips knot up. “Lot? Let’s talk about your own lead balloon. What kind of a name are you going to hex it with?”

“Carlotta.” I scoff. “The name I choose to give my little sugar cookie is not going to be a hex. And why do I get the feeling you don’t want to tell us about your time in Arizona?”

“Arizona, huh?” Noah grunts without looking up from the game he’s playing—connecting blue and pink dots to make the shape of a pony. “Is that where you had the conjugal visits?”

“Oh hush, all of you.” Carlotta snags another one of Noah’s chocolate chip cookies. “As far as I’m concerned, I never left Honey Hollow. Let’s change the subject. Miranda, how’s it going at the Rendezvous Luxury Resort?”

“Oh, Mom,” I moan. “We have to move heaven and earth to get that inn back in your hands or not even the ghosts will want to stick around. That hot pink flooring had my morning sickness making a reappearance.”

Mom’s lips swim as if she might be sick herself. “They replaced the carpeting in the rest of the inn this morning. A shocking pink harlequin pattern. I tripped twice just walking to the foyer.”

“I’m sorry, Miranda.” Noah looks incensed. “I can’t apologize enough for this budding disaster. I’ll talk to Cormack and Cressida about buying back the inn.”

“Too late. I beat you to it,” I say. “It’s a no go. You know that old saying everything has its price tag? Apparently, the B&B doesn’t have one. But don’t worry, Mom. I’m going to figure this out for you. And the next time you need a little cash, feel free to knock on my door.”

“Good to know, Lot,” Carlotta answers. “Expect a couple of bangs from me. With all the writing I need to do for my follow-up book, I won’t have time to tend to my massage business. And the candle gig was seasonal.”

Carlotta started giving massages out of her van a couple of months back. The name of her dangerous endeavor? A Whole Lotta Touchin’—an inspiration for that self-help book she just penned.

She sold overpriced candles during the holidays, too, but now that she’s tapped the market as far as selling to everyone she knows, the merchandise has stopped moving. I’m positive about this because I happen to have the remainder of her inventory in my garage.

Carlotta lifts a raspberry tart my way as if she were toasting me with it. “Now let’s get back to names, Lot Lot. Carlotta is a fine name to gift any young woman. And that’s something both your mother and I can agree on.”

Mom chortles. “I do happen to agree. But you know, Miranda is a fine name, too. Or how about Nell? I bet Nell would have been so honored to have her name as a part of your child’s life.”

“Nell is a beautiful name.” I press my lips tightly to keep my emotions in check. “And Carlotta is pretty, too,” I say, looking over at my namesake. All those years ago when Carlotta left me to fend for myself in the Honey Hollow Fire Department—as a newborn—she pinned a note to the blanket letting everyone know I should be named Carlotta. My sweet mother, Miranda Lemon, complied. Although she quickly gifted me the nickname Lottie, and that nickname has sort of stuck. “But there are so many