She gives Suze a thorough once-over, lingering on the pin curls and pearls like she’s cataloging evidence.
“Well, well,” she coos. “Someone is taking this very seriously.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m in the lead,” Suze says smugly. “No phone, full wardrobe commitment, and I even made my eggs on a cast-iron skillet this morning because Teflon felt too modern.”
I happen to know Suze cooks her breakfast right here at the bakery because not only does she live at my mother’s happily haunted B&B, but she’s too cheap to buy eggs. And at the prices they’re going for these days, I cringe a little when making the purchase myself.
Mom offers Suze a smile that’s bright, polished, and just a little bit dangerous. “We shall see. The competition is fiercer than I anticipated.”
Oh wow. They’re actually competitive about this.
“Speaking of competition,” Lainey says, turning to me with an expression that immediately makes me suspicious. “I just dropped Josie off at preschool, and they’re doing a free preview week. Just thought I’d pass it along.”
Josie would be her three-year-old baby girl.
I inch back like she just suggested I donate a kidney. “I already checked out their school a year ago, remember?”
Lainey is forever trying to pressure me into sticking Lyla Nell in preschool when it’s clear neither of us is ready for that level of separation anxiety.
“A year ago.” Lainey nods. “As in, it’s time now. You do want her to start in the fall, don’t you?”
“Well...” I glance at Lyla Nell, who has progressed from threatening her cupcake to smearing frosting all over the highchair tray and flicking crumbs at her brothers.
I cringe just as she shoves a wad of frosting up one nostril.
“She’s clearly not mature enough,” I’m quick to point out.
“Lottie.” Lainey laughs. “You treat her like a baby. Look—you have her in a highchair. She could easily sit in a booster in a booth.”
Mom nods in solidarity with my sister, the separator. “Lyla Nell always sits in a booster seat at Glam Glam’s. Isn’t that right, my little cutie pie?” Mom is quick to stamp her bright red lips all over Lyla Nell’s cheeks. Wonderful. “And that always makes her feel like a big girl.”
“I big girl,” Lyla Nell says, jabbing her pretty pink blouse with chocolate frosting. “I not baby,Lottie.”
I jump a little and gasp as she calls me by my proper moniker. Everyone around me breaks out in titters, but I’m not laughing. Because it’s so not funny. It’s happened a time or two before, and I wasn’t laughing then either.
“I know you’re a big girl, honey, but?—”
“No buts.” Lainey swoops in and plucks Lyla Nell out of the highchair without consulting the woman who pushed her through her loins. “I’m driving her to the preschool myself. I’m the afternoon helper, so I won’t be leaving her there.”
“Wait, what?” I gasp like she just announced she’s joining a cult and taking my daughter along withher. “No, thank you. Mom is watching the kids today. Lyla Nell has a playdate with Glam Glam.”
Mom shakes her head, and I watch my childcare plans crumble. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I’ve got to take my role as co-chair seriously. I’ll be making rounds all day—checking participants, verifying commitment, confiscating contraband cell phones.” She says this like she’s describing a military operation. “Plus, there’s an event at the community center in a couple of hours. Given the grim circumstances with Vivienne’s murder, we’ve decided to combine the Casserole Competition and the Jell-O Jubilee.”
“See?” Lainey looks way too pleased with herself. “You can’t rely on Mom. Besides, Keelie will be at the school this afternoon, helping with Mother’s Day crafts, and you know Lyla Nell is obsessed with Little Bear.”
I frown openly because Lainey is not fighting fair.
Although the mention of my bestie and her adorable baby boy does make me feel slightly better.
“Come on, Lottie,” Lainey pleads.
“Come on, Lottie!” Lyla Nell parrots her aunt’s words with the exact same tone.
Half the bakery erupts in laughter once again.
Great. Now my parenting decisions are public entertainment.
“Hey,” I say, giving Lyla Nell a mournful laugh. “It’s Mommy to you.” I kiss her cheek, breathing in that distinct Lyla Nell scent of baby shampoo and cupcake frosting before looking at my sister. “Okay, fine. But promise you won’t leave her.”
