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unwrap a gift at once.

I head over to Carlotta and my mother just as Carlotta leans my way.

“You just missed a meeting of the cheapskate minds, Lot Lot.”

Mom waves her off. “This is Suze’s living on a shoestring budget club. They meet once a week right here in the conservatory, and I provide the free cookies and coffee.”

I shoot a look to the cluster of conservative looking older women each in either a red or green sweater.

“Free cookies and coffee?” I muse. “Sounds as if they really know what they’re doing,” I say.

Mom leans in. “This is the exciting part. They’re having their annual regifting exchange. Each year they save a gift that someone gave them from the previous Christmas and they give it away to someone else.”

I spot a woman at the end of the table holding up a pair of bright red knit socks with snowflakes embroidered over them.

“Hey?” I strain to get a better look. “I think I gave those to Suze last Christmas. She regifted my gift!”

“Don’t worry, Lot.” Carlotta chuckles. “They’ve already made a pact to give all this junk away to some unlucky sucker for Christmas. You literally gave her the gift that will keep on giving—and maybe even regifting. If you live long enough, those socks just might come back to warm your feet.”

“Wait a minute.” Mom’s eyes bulge with wily intent. “Do you think these women would like a copy of my latest book? I bet once they’re through with it, they’d pass it on, too.”

“Not if they have to pay for it,” I whisper.

“Huh.” Mom taps her chin with her finger. “I’ve got a few dozen copies lying around. I don’t see why I couldn’t gift a few away as a marketing ploy. Once they get addicted, they’ll all be clamoring to buy my next book and Wiley will have to take me on as a client again.”

She takes off, and I shake my head after her. “Wiley is a nutcase. Can’t you do something to spook that man into leaving town or something?”

Carlotta’s chest expands as she considers this. “I could, but it involves a cargo ship, a casket, and some duct tape.”

“It doesn’t sound legal, but I like where you’re headed.”

“Oh come on, Lot. Feed him some of your poison pie and be done with it. And you can pin the whole thing on Suze and not even Foxy would be the wiser.”

My hands glide over my belly. “I’d run with it, but if this baby belongs to Noah, I’d hate to be responsible for pruning an entire branch off its family tree.”

Someone mentions Gloria’s name and my ears pique with interest.

“No fancy funeral for her.” Elodie shakes her head. “Gloria was frugal till the end. A cremation is on order I hear.”

Suze gives an approving nod. “I’m going that route myself. Why light money on fire when I could do it to myself? Besides, I can’t miss out on my one shot to have a smokin’ body.”

The room erupts with laughter, and I can’t help but roll my eyes at Carlotta.

The women quickly circulate around the room before swooping over to the dessert table. Suze stands up front speaking with a couple of women before she cups her hands around her mouth.

“To recap, do not—and I stress—do not spend any money this holiday season. The department stores are nothing short of thieves looking to pry open your wallet. The most cost effective way to spend this holiday season is spending time with your family.”

The room breaks out into cheers at the sentimental thought.

“That’s funny,” I whisper to Carlotta. “I’d spend good money not to spend time with Suze.”

“And yet here you are.”

“Touché, Carlotta. Touché.”

Mom pops back into the room and quickly begins distributing copies of her latest raunchy read, Reckless Mattresses, and soon all of the women are abuzz and asking her to sign their copy. Mom really does look as if she’s in her literary element.

I’m about to head over to Suze when a whole new batch of women pours into the conservatory. But these women aren’t wearing cheery red and green holiday sweaters. They’re all dressed in black from head to toe with long sparkling silver necklaces hanging from their necks. And at the base of each of those necklaces is a triangular amulet. I’m not sure why, but I’m getting a bad vibe from these people.

Carlotta taps her shoulder to mine. “Check out who just walked through the door.”

I glance over and freeze solid, but it’s not because I see the ornery elf from yesterday who had her face slapped silly by the deceased. It’s because I see a wicked witch from yesteryear who once upon a time put her own curse on me—Serena Digby.

Early last spring, Cormack and Cressida teamed up to try to make me disappear out of Noah and Everett’s lives. They hired this charlatan, Serena, to put some wannabe hex on me, but suffice it to say, I’m still standing firmly in both Noah and Everett’s hearts.

“Whoa ho ho!” Carlotta holds her belly and makes it jiggle. “If it isn’t the wicked witch of the East Coast. That’s that Digby dirtbag, isn’t it, Lot? The one who put a pox on you?”

“Yup.” My lids hood low as the woman moves around the room to greet the others all dressed as though they just finished up with a funeral. Serena’s hair is dark as pitch, her eyes glow a pale green, and she has porcelain skin that gives her that half past dead look.

“How did that curse go again, Lot? Oh wait—I think I got it. You will rue the day you trampled on the hearts of Cormack and Cressida. Everything you love, everything you desire, everything you hope for and dream of will turn to ashes and soot. May nothing go your way. May the shadow replace the sun. May the winds of fortune hide their face from you. May darkness descend on you this hour, and may it never leave

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