Eggnog Trifle Trouble (Murder in the Mix #28) - Addison Moore Page 0,2

those pine trees that line our cozy little town a run for their verdant money. “The paint is dry, the house has been airing out all day, and I think tomorrow we’ll be able to move all that furniture you ordered online out of the garage and into the living quarters.”

“That’s great news,” I beam as I give his arm a squeeze.

Two familiar females pop up in our midst. One happens to be my birth mother, and the other happens to be my daughter.

“What’s great news, Lot?” Carlotta asks as she glitters in a dress that looks as if it’s made of silver tinsel. Carlotta is my biological mother. She left me on the floor of the Honey Hollow Fire Department when I was just a few hours old. It turns out, it was perhaps one of the best decisions she’s ever made for the both of us. We share the same caramel-colored hair and hazel eyes, but Carlotta’s got a few more wrinkles and gray hairs on me. “Did you find out you’re having twins? One belongs to Foxy and the other to Mr. Sexy?” The tinsel-inspired gown she’s wearing shimmers like a seizure of light when she laughs.

Mr. Sexy is the moniker gifted to Everett by the baristas of the world. And they’re not wrong in calling him that.

Evie Everly Baxter, my stepdaughter that I share with Everett, retches on cue as she knocks her shoulder to Carlotta’s.

“Please refrain from calling my dad sexy whenever I’m around.” She sticks her finger down her throat and pretends to gag. “All I want to hear is Everett or Judge Baxter.” Evie just so happens to be a sixteen-year-old female version of her daddy. She has brilliant blue eyes, long, glossy black hair, which happens to be perfectly coiled for tonight’s event, and she’s just as sharp as her father.

Carlotta chuckles. “How about I call him Essex?” She winks over at Everett. “Better yet, how about you take me out back, Judge Baxter, and earn me the right?”

Now it’s both Evie and I groaning in unison. Aside from a select few women in Everett’s life, namely his mother, his sister, and on occasion Noah’s mother, the only other women who call Everett by his proper moniker are women he’s bedded. It’s sort of a naughty door prize he bequeathed to them. He was quite the playboy before he met me. Let’s just say the good judge could easily fill an entire correctional facility with the number of women he’s bedded.

I’d reprimand Carlotta on the fact that her indecent proposal was wildly inappropriate, but I know that won’t do any good.

I lean her way. “The great news is that tomorrow is our official moving day.”

Both Carlotta and Evie whoop and holler—right before they link arms and kick up their feet in unison. It’s an odd sight, which only goes to show that Evie is spending way too much time under Carlotta’s influence. Carlotta has been living with me while my grandma Nell’s house was torn down due to black mold. That was forever ago and the house is still in the process of being rebuilt, and ironically, my sanity is still in the process of being torn down by Carlotta.

“We’re moving!” Evie grips onto Carlotta’s shoulders and gives her a violent shake. “I’ve got to tell my boyfriends.”

Yes, sadly, boyfriends, as in plural.

Carlotta gives Evie an equally violent shake right back. “I’ve got to tell Mayor Nash!” Mayor Nash is Carlotta’s plus one, and he just so happens to be my biological father. Although I didn’t learn of that until just over a year ago.

Evie takes off, and Carlotta is about to do the same before she backtracks.

“Don’t any of you move a muscle,” she warns. “Just twenty more minutes and they’re going to unveil the big mystery item up for auction.”

She’s right. There’s a huge velvet sheet covering something tall and slender in the middle of the auction area that’s still more or less a mystery to the partygoers, including me.

I glance back at the dessert table and note the eggnog trifle is all but gone.

“I’d better hurry to the kitchen and replenish the dessert table. When people pull out their wallets, their appetites tend to increase.”

Carlotta’s eyes widen in a way that almost always spells trouble.

“What are you up to?” I snip without missing a beat.

“Nothing.” She lifts her chin. “I just remembered I left something in the kitchen myself. I’ll meet you there.” She zips off like a bat