Everett and I emerge from the woods and step back into the garden party. He looks like a judge who just wrestled justice to the ground. I look like I’ve been rolling around in dirt and leaves, which I absolutely have.
The sun warms out back, slanting through the maple trees and making everything look extra golden. The air smells like fresh grass and dessert—lemon bars, chocolate cake, and approximately three hundred servings of banana pudding. Jazz plays softly from wherever Mom hid the speakers, and the fountain bubbles away like nothing dramatic just happened twenty yards into the woods.
Which is very Honey Hollow, honestly.
Women in vintage dresses cluster in groups, sipping lemonade and iced tea, their laughter floating in the spring breeze. Most of them have no idea that a double murderer just got arrested behind them in the woods.
I’m still catching my breath, half from running, half from the sheer adrenaline of tackling a killer in kitten heels, when Mom appears through the crowd, pushing the double stroller with my sweet baby boys inside.
And my mother is not alone.
There’s a young woman beside her with long dark hair that catches the sunlight, brilliant blue eyes, and an effortless beauty that makes strangers do double takes. She’s wearing jeans and a soft pink sweater, and she’s holding Lyla Nell tight.
“Oh my goodness! Evie!” I gasp as I lunge her way.
Lyla Nell squeals as she reaches for me. “Lottie! Lottie! I missed you!”
“Happy Mother’s Day to the best mother ever!” Evie shouts, and before I know it, she’s hugging me so tight I can barely breathe.
“Evie.”
She’s finally home from college and apparently here to make me cry on a day when I’ve already been emotionally compromised by a double murder confession and some serious forest wrestling.
“Evie!” I pull back to look at her, my heart doing that swelling thing that makes my chest feel too small. “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming home until?—”
“Surprise!” She grins, and she’s got Everett’s smile—the one that makes you feel like everything’s going to be okay even when the world is upside down. “Finals are done, and I couldn’t miss Mother’s Day with you. Plus, I heard there was a murder to solve, and I wanted to make sure you didn’t get yourself killed.”
“Too late,” I mutter. “I almost did. Like ten minutes ago. But I caught the killer.”
“Of course, you did,” she says with a laugh. “Would it even be a holiday in Honey Hollow if you didn’t narrowly escape death?”
“I haven’t had one yet.”
Noah jogs over from the direction of the house, slightly out of breath. “Ivy Fairbanks is graciously taking over for me.” He offers Evie a quick hug, and Lyla Nell jumps straight into his arms. “She said, and I quote, ‘Go enjoy your family, Fox. You’ve earned it.’”
“I’ll bake her a cake as athank you,” I say.
“If you’re passing them out, I’ll happily take one, too,” Noah says with a wink.
“Lottie, bake Daddy cake!” Lyla Nell chimes, and we all share a little laugh. A very little laugh on my part.
“I’ll bake your daddy all the cakes he wants,” I say, stealing a kiss off her nose.
“We’ve got something for you, Mom!” Evie bounces on her toes like she’s got springs in her shoes and pulls a pink gift bag from behind her back. “It’s something we’ve been working on.”
“Oh, Evie.” I sniff as she hands me the bag. “I’m going to cry.” And I’m not kidding. I can feel it coming like a sneeze I can’t seem to stop.
“Presents!” Carlotta appears at my elbow, still in her turquoise vacuum-sealed dress, looking like she’s had the time of her life this afternoon. And, knowing Carlotta, she probably has. “I love watching people open presents. The tears, the drama, the fake gratitude when they get something ugly. It’s free entertainment.”
“Thanks, Carlotta. That’s very supportive.”
“That’s what I’m here for, Lot Lot. Now, let’s see the loot.”
Percy materializes on the edge of the stroller, fanning out his magnificent tail feathers, and it’s like a hundred blue eyes are suddenly fixed in my direction. “Gift-giving! How delightful. This should be emotionally devastating in the best possible way. Have you thought of pairing it with a trifle? Nothing saysI love youquite like layers of cake, custard, and maternal guilt. Possibly sponge cake,” he adds. “It absorbs the feelings.”
Carlotta lifts her chin his way. “You’re not helping, hot stuff.”
“I’m a ghost, honey. Helping is optional. Entertainment is mandatory.”
