Raspberry Tart Terror (Murder in the Mix Book 30) Unknown (christmas read aloud .TXT) 📖

“Hello, all!” Mom trills as she snaps a raspberry tart off the platter before us. “Oh, Lottie, these are divine. I just wanted to stop in because I forgot to give you this gift last night. It’s for the baby.” She hands it my way before shimmying her shoulders over at Noah. “Wiley has his money on you as the baby’s father.”

“He always did know how to pick a winner in every aspect of his life.” Noah flashes those dimples. “He is dating you.”

Mom giggles like a schoolgirl before thrusting the gift my way.

“Glam Glam.” Evie presses a hand to her chest with all the drama a sixteen-year-old can afford. “As soon as Mom rips that thing open, I have big news.”

“Go on, Lot”—Carlotta snaps up one of Noah’s chocolate chip cookies—“let her rip. Let’s see what the little lemon tart has coming to it.”

I send the tissue paper flying before pulling out a tablet a little bigger than my hand with a purple rubber case around it.

“Is this an e-reader?” I ask as the thing powers on all by itself.

“It is.” Mom’s voice is thick with enthusiasm. “And it’s so much more. They have all sorts of games for the baby to play. The entire thing is chock-full of learning software. Wiley helped me pull it out of the box and load it for you. It’s all ready to go. It’s childproof and everything. You want to give it to the baby as soon as it’s born. I wouldn’t wait five minutes.”

“Mother”—I can’t help but laugh—“I’m not shoving this in its face as soon as it gets here.”

“Oh, but you have to,” she insists. “It has all the latest technology. It’s pertinent the baby is proficient in it right away. I don’t want the child to be like me. The digital divide is not an easy thing to live with.”

“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