I shrug back, because what else can I do?
“Thank you,” I say with my voice only slightly strangled. “This is the most precious gift I’ve ever received. I’ll be sure to put these in an extra special place.”
Like a sealed box. In the attic. Behind the Christmas decorations. Where no one will ever find them and I can pretend this didn’t happen.
Okay, scratch that. I think Bernard Thornbury just achieved a place of the highest honor in our home, in the middle of the mantel.
“Well, aren’t those adorable,” Carlotta says, inspecting them with delight. “Really captures the spirit of everlasting love.” She lowers her voice. “And the man still rocks the room. Literally.”
“Carlotta,” I warn.
“What? I’m being honest! Bernard is finally a solid choice. Get it? Solid?” She grins at her own joke. “He used to be kind of flaky,but now he’s rock-solid. Dependable. Grounded. I bet he won’t crack under pressure.”
“I’m begging you to stop.”
“Bernard’s got good bone structure now. Well, mineral structure. You know what I mean.”
“I absolutely do not.”
“You can’t deny he’s a gem.” She winks. “Although he is a bit dull-looking.”
“Please stop talking.”
“Never.”
Percy flutters up from the stroller, his spectral form shimmering in the afternoon light like he’s been dipped in stardust.
“Well, Lottie Lemon, I must be off. Mother Vivi is waiting for me on the other side, and I’m quite excited to see her. She’ll want to know all about her killer being caught—she does so love being right about everything.” He pauses as his tail feathers fan out in a shower of brilliant blue stars. “Do try to stay out of trouble, Lottie. Though we both know you won’t. Trouble follows you like flies to honey. Or corpses to you, as it were. Just promise me you’ll be careful. What’s left of my spectral nerves can’t handle another cast-iron skillet incident. Murder investigations are rather like soufflés. Poke them too hard and the whole thing collapses. Usually onto a corpse.”
“Especially if you’re me.” I nod. “It was nice meeting you, Percy.”
“It was an exceptional honor meeting you, Lottie Lemon. Happy Mother’s Day, honey. You’re doing a marvelous job with those tiny humans. Even the bossy one.” He winks at Lyla Nell, and she waves like mad right back, calling out, “Mine, mine, mine!”all the while.
And then he’s gone in a shimmer of blue stars, and I’m standing there holding painted memorial stones and trying not to think about the fact that I’ve just been given a dead manfor Mother’s Day.
Everett wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me close, and Noah hoists Lyla Nell onto his shoulders. Evie leans against me, and for a moment, we’re just a family—blended, chaotic, covered in various substances, and holding Bernard Thornbury in the form of polished stones.
“I love you guys,” I say, my voice thick with all the feelings I don’t have words for.
“We love you, too, Lemon,” Everett murmurs into my hair.
“So much, Lottie,” Noah adds, and Lyla Nell pats his head like she’s blessing him.
“Love you, Lottie!” she shouts, because whispering is not in her vocabulary, and we all share a laugh at that one. Okay, so my laugh was a little more genuine this time.
“This is just a phase, right?” I say weakly.
Evie shrugs. “You know what’s not a phase?” She squeezes my hand. “You, being the best mom ever.”
And that’s it. The tears come. The dam is unleashed, and I can’t stop them. I’m standing in my mother’s garden on Mother’s Day, holding a dead man’s bedazzled remains, surrounded by my family, and I’m crying like someone just promised me eight uninterrupted hours of sleep.
A bell chimes from the front of the garden, and I quickly wipe away my tears as we all turn in that direction.
Mom stands at the podium near the fountain with a microphone in hand, her sun hat slightly askew from the excitement of the afternoon. She looks absolutely radiant, like a woman who’s just hosted the event of the season and only had one minor murder arrest to deal with.
“Daughters of Honey Hollow!” she calls. “Can I have your attention, please?”
The crowd quiets down. Women drift toward the fountain, glasses in hand, faces turned toward my mother with a rapt attention usually reserved for presidential addresses or clearance sales.
