“Carlotta,” I snip with exasperation. “How many times have I told you to lock up your room? I don’t want Lyla Nell anywhere near your things.”
It’s true. Everett installed a deadbolt lock complete with key after a similar incident a few months back involving battery-operated devices that shall remain nameless. Let’s just say the cats weren’t amused then either, and I had to have a very uncomfortable conversation with my two-year-old about the difference between Cray Cray’s toys and actual toys.
“I did lock it!” Carlotta protests. “That little devil must have figured out how to pick locks. She’s clearly inherited the family talent for getting into places she shouldn’t be.”
“What family talent is that specifically?” Everett asks with wariness because he long ago learned that Carlotta’s family revelations are rarely good news.
“Oh, you know.” Carlotta gives a dismissive wave. “Breaking and entering, safecracking, the usual skills that come in handy during a midlife crisis. It’s a condition that gets worse as the Sawyer women age.”
“Please tell me you’re kidding,” Noah says, though his expression suggests he already knows the answer.
“Mostly,” Carlotta grins. “But hey, a girl needs hobbies.”
Evie giggles. “At least she’s honest about it.”
“Honesty is overrated,” I mutter, watching Lyla Nell parade the rhinestone-leashed cats around the coffee table. “And let’s hope that’s all she inherited from you, Carlotta. Some things are better left as mysteries.”
“Like where Mommy’s special chocolates disappear to?” Evie asks with a laugh, and I nearly choke on my pizza.
“We don’t talk about Mommy’s emergency chocolate stash,” I tell her with a wink. “That’s classified information.”
“You’ve got emergency chocolate around here?” Carlotta looks affronted by the news, but before I can say another word, a spray of brilliant blue stars takes over in the middle of the room, swirling and dancing before Lenny the lion materializes in front of us—or at least to the three who can see him. He appears with a mighty roar that would probably terrify anyone who could actually hear it.
“Lenny’s here,” I announce to the room, because apparently my life now includes providing supernatural commentary during family dinner.
“Aww! A real live,deadlion?” Evie whines hard as if she’s just been told she can’t attend the party of the century. “I wish I could see him! It’s so unfair that you, Carlotta, and Lyla Nell get to be supersensual and I’m stuck being boringly dopey and normal.”
“You are not dopey,” Everett is quick to tell her.
“Trust me, being normal is underrated,” I tell her. “Seeing dead people sounds fun until you realize they have no concept of boundaries, bedtime, or why you can’t drop everything to solve a murder.”
Both Noah and Everett hike a brow my way. But thankfully, they’re both in midbite and can’t be bothered to reprimand me at the moment for interfering in a homicide case. But let’s face it, I know it’s coming.
“Lenny!” Lyla Nell shrieks, hysterical with delight. “Mine! My big fat lion! Mine, mine,mine!”
“Oh, good grief.” I cringe as she hops up and down as if a Disney character just dropped through the ceiling.
“My big kitty!” She quickly drops the cat leashes and launches herself onto Lenny’s back with fearless enthusiasm because she’s never met a supernatural creature she didn’t want to befriend—or keep locked up forever. “Giddy-up!” She clings to his ghostly mane, and suddenly she’s riding an invisible lion around our living room, bouncing and giggling with pure joy.
“Geez!” Noah screams and nearly drops his pizza. “It looks like she’s floating! This is not okay.”
“I have to admit, it is a disconcerting sight.” Everett shakes his head with the resigned expression of someone who’s accepted that his life will never be conventional. “Watching your daughter ride thin air takes some getting used to.”
“I think it’s awesome,” Evie says, jumping up and immediately taking nonstop pictures with her phone, snapping shot after shot of what appears to be Lyla Nell levitating around the room. “This is going to get so many likes on social media!”
“Don’t you dare post those!” I warn her with the authority I usually reserve for keeping Lyla Nell from eating crayons. “We have enough problems without Lyla Nell becoming a supernatural meme.” And she so would.
Carlotta waves me off with a dismissive hand. “Aw, let her. Go on and post away, Evie Stevie. With all the filters and editing software they have these days, no one will think it’s real anyway. They’ll justassume it’s some new app that makes kids look like they’re flying high as a kite.”
“Flying children are not a marketing demographic I want to lead the charge in,” I point out.
“Why not?” Carlotta grins. “Think of the possibilities! Flying lessons, aerial photography, superhero birthday parties?—”
“Absolutely not,” Everett cuts her off with stark finality.
And how I love it when he wields that superpower in bed.
Lenny chuckles with warm amusement. “I have to say, this is the most welcoming family I’ve encountered in the afterlife. Most people would be running screaming by now.”
