Murder in the Mix Boxed Set 28-30: Cozy Mystery by Addison Moore (books for 7th graders .txt) 📗

and think about that deal, too. If we can’t come up with a rock solid measure to infiltrate that jury’s mind with doubt, I’ll make sure you get a room with a view at Fenwick.”

She takes off and any hope I had of avoiding a sentence takes off with her. I can’t bring myself to look at Lemon. I don’t dare offer her a smidge of hope when I don’t see any myself.

Noah’s chest inflates with his next breath. “You’re not going down for this, Everett. At least not alone. It’s just not happening. I’ll tell Fiona the truth. I’m culpable.”

“Fiona doesn’t care about the truth.” I shoot daggers at him for the audacity. “You have one job, Noah. You keep your nose clean. Lemon is going to need you, and that baby will need you, too.” My jaw clenches tightly because I know what I have to do. I have to somehow find the strength to send Lemon into Noah’s orbit once again. The last thing I want is for her to worry about me, worrying about anything once she has this baby.

She deserves to be happy. Hell, so does he. And that baby deserves to have a father around.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t look as if that father will be me.

My phone pings and I pick it up to find a calendar reminder flashing on my screen.

“It’s time for your prenatal appointment, Lemon.”

A weak smile plays on her lips. “You’re already a great father, Everett.”

I could have been.

Instead, I’m forced, once again, to hand everything over to Noah Fox on a silver platter. Evie, the baby, Lemon.

Life couldn’t get any worse.

My phone pings again and I pull it forward. This time it’s a text from Jimmy Canelli.

We need to talk.

I was wrong.

Things just got worse.

Lottie

Dr. Barnette’s office is swarming with pregnant bellies and rather bored looking men, both of which have their heads buried in their phones.

Soon enough, Everett, Noah, and I are ushered to the back, and I do the usual peeing in a cup and stripping into a paper gown routine, while Dr. Barnette gives me a looksee under the hood.

Dr. Barnette is a pretty brunette with a white toothy smile, and is as sharp as a whip.

“Thank you for the raspberry tarts, Lottie. My staff is raving about them already. And the fried pickles, too,” she says that last bit a little unsure as she pokes and prods me before giving my thigh a tap, signaling I can sit up. “Everything looks great. The baby is right on track. Its head is already down and ready for takeoff next month. Your belly is measuring right where it should be, but you’ve gained another twenty pounds since your last visit. I’d ask what you were eating, but judging by your occupation, I’m sure I can guess.” She shoots both Noah and Everett a wry look. “Essex, see to it that your wife includes a few cruciferous vegetables into her diet.”

And yes, Dr. Barnette has very much earned the right to call my husband by his far more carnal moniker. And shockingly, this does not surprise me in the least.

“Lottie?” Her attention swings back my way. “Do you have any constipation? Any sign of hemorrhoids?”

I gag at the thought of discussing my bathroom habits in front of Noah and Everett.

“No,” I frown as I tell her. “I’m as regular as the sunrise. But I will include a few more cruciferous vegetables per your request.” As soon as I google what veggies qualify for that three-dollar word.

Noah steps up. “Any chance we can see the baby today?”

“You bet.” Dr. Barnette pulls the equipment toward her. “So tell me, Lottie, is the nursery ready? At this point the baby could very well arrive whenever he or she likes. We’re out of the danger zone and preemies aren’t all that uncommon.”

“The nursery?” My entire body seizes at the thought. “You mean it’s that time already?”

A laugh bubbles from her. “Of course, it’s time. And don’t think for a minute that the next four weeks won’t fly by.”

“We’ll get on that nursery today,” Everett is quick to assert.

Poor Everett. He’s been brooding and angry just under the surface ever since Fiona left the bakery this afternoon. And I know for a fact there’s not a darn thing I can do to cheer him up. I hate feeling helpless.

Noah nods. “We could hit the hardware store after we grab a bite, Lottie. You can pick out the exact color you like. Was it Granny Smith apple green you mentioned before?”

“Probably. It’s the color I’ve been thinking about,” I say as my breathing picks up. I can feel the panic rising in my throat, and suddenly it’s impossible to catch my next breath. Dr. Barnette is right. The next four weeks are going to fly by.

“Don’t worry about the paint.” Dr. Barnette waves the idea off. “The baby will most likely sleep in a bassinet in your bedroom for a while. You have up to a year before you need to worry about putting the nursery together. As long as you have a bassinet, you’re all ready to meet your new addition.”

“I don’t have a bassinet,” my voice spikes. “I don’t have a crib, or that thing Keelie uses to warm her baby wipes. I don’t have a fancy rocking chair like Lainey that feels as if you’re gliding through the clouds, and I don’t even have a single diaper in my house.” My mouth falls open as I look to Noah and Everett. “What are we thinking rolling around my bed watching my naked belly move like a bunch of cave people? We’re going to be parents! And we’re ill-equipped for the effort. I need a baby bag. I need clothes for this poor child. And if Suze is a blood relation, I might need an exorcist, too. Sorry.” I cringe over at Noah as he shrugs it off.

“I’m right there with you, Lottie.” He picks up my hand and kisses the