Wicked Whoopie Pies Addison Moore (the false prince series TXT) 📖

Breakfast has morphed into the Rendezvous Luxury Resort and Razzle Dazzle Day Spa no thanks to a financial blunder caused by my mother’s wily boyfriend.

Noah’s father, Wiley, caused my mother to lose half the B&B to Cormack. It was worse last month when she lost the entire B&B to Cormack and Evie’s nutcase of a biological terror, Cressida Bentley, but Cressida was bought with a song—and a little public humiliation on my part. My mother’s B&B was the only reason I agreed to have Lyla Nell’s paternity determined on live TV. But now that’s all in the past.

“Cormack has ten screws loose? That’s funny.” Charlie squints my way and a shiver runs up my spine because it’s like looking in a mirror. “I don’t remember asking your opinion on people. I think I’ll have one of your desserts. I highly doubt they’ll try to boss me around.”

“But”—I hardly sputter out a rebuttal before she joins Carlotta and Mayor Nash as they do a clean sweep of my whoopie pies. And sure enough, everyone else in our small circle has retreated to the dessert table as well. “That’s not what I meant,” I mutter, but no one seems to notice.

“Sergio!” Noah calls out as Sergio Sorrentino steps into our midst.

Sergio is tall, dark hair, dark eyes, and muscles for days. He’s one of the co-owners down at our favorite Italian restaurant, Mangias, and at this point Sergio feels like family to us.

“Good stuff today,” Sergio says as he gives the three of us a friendly nod. “You’ve got a beautiful family. It may not be your traditional family, but hey? The more the merrier, right?”

Something to our left snags his attention, and I follow his gaze to see Terri Norris having it out with a familiar woman with brassy blonde hair and dark roots. I recognize the woman as Clementine Greenbaum. She happens to be one of the teachers at Honey Hollow High.

Now that Evie is at the school, I’ve been getting regular emails from all of her teachers, and Ms. Greenbaum is one of them. She seems so friendly and even-keeled. I wonder what the heck those women might be arguing about?

“I’ll see you in a bit.” Sergio takes off in the other direction and says something to Clementine before she stalks off into the crowd. And before I can breathe a sigh of relief, he looks as if he, too, is having a heated exchange with Terri.

Huh.

“Looks as if Terri Norris is having a bad day,” I whisper.

Noah leans in. “You don’t think she’s the potential victim, do you?”

I give a quick glance around for that potentially stinky specter but come up empty.

“I don’t know. I guess no one in this room is off the table.”

“You mean chopping block,” Everett corrects.

I’ve always been privy to see the dead. That’s odd enough on its own, but typically it was just a once beloved pet that crossed the rainbow divide to come back to serve as a harbinger for some less than lethal fate that was to befall their previous owner, such as a twisted ankle or a knock to the noggin.

But these days these furry little harbingers are more like omens that usher in the Grim Reaper. On occasion, a genuine person has come back from the other side as well, but it seems today’s deadly reprise is the stinky skunk in question.

The squeal of a microphone goes off as Pastor Dave waves the room to attention.

“I would like to invite all of you back into the sanctuary where the church business meeting is about to take place. I know many of you have opinions, and this will be your last chance to let those be known before we vote later this month. Also, please be sure to thank Lottie Lemon for all of the delicious desserts she’s provided here today. And stop off at the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery this week as a show of your appreciation.”

A light applause breaks out, and soon every last soul, including us, is right back in the sanctuary as people hustle to find a seat near the front.

We’re about to pass a lanky man with a bristle of brown hair, serious eyes, and a notable cleft in his chin just as he blocks our path. He offers a loose smile our way before his eyes widen a notch.

“Detective Fox?” His countenance brightens as he nods to Noah.

“Hey”—Noah offers him a friendly pat on the arm—“Lottie, Everett, this is Nelson Stalwart. He works down at the station with me. Nelson is in charge of the dogs taking part in our new K-9 division.”

“Oh, that’s great,” I say as the three of us exchange a quick hello.

“Are you ready for the fireworks?” He hitches his head toward the pulpit. “Terri Norris is leading the charge with the pitchforks. I’d stay out of the battleax’s way if I were you.” He gives a sly wink as he passes us by.

Lyla Nell starts to fuss in Everett’s arms, and I quickly scoop her up.

“Why don’t the two of you run down and find us some seats? I’ll see if she needs to be changed.”

They’re about to protest when I successfully manage to shoo them off. I’m about to head to the restroom with my precious peanut, but after less than a few seconds of investigating, I find Lyla Nell’s diaper as dry as one of those liquor bottles in Carlotta’s bedroom.

“How do you like that?” I give my pretty girl a kiss to the nose and she rewards me with a groggy dimpled grin. I’ve never met a happier baby than Lyla Nell. If only the entire world held her sunny disposition, it’d be a better place.

I’m about to head back toward the front when I spot Nelson Stalwart holding Terri Norris by the elbow not more than six feet away from me. They’re standing behind a pillar, out of the view of every other roving eye, and my feet land me a few steps in