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

still in close proximity to her two sons. And her ex-husband just so happens to be shacking up with my mother at the B&B as well. I can’t imagine living with my ex. That sounds like a nightmare. Unless, of course, the ex in question is Noah Fox. And that happens to be my exact living situation today.

“Son.” She bares her fangs at her oldest child before looking to Everett. “Essex.” Her lips pull tug to the side with disapproval at the sight of me. “Lottie.” She sighs as if it were a chore to merely say my name. “I’d love for you all to meet my good friend, Gloria Abner, the chair of the Christmas Angels—aka Mrs. Claus.” She nods to the woman with short red hair and topaz eyes. She looks to be about the same age as Noah’s mother, mid-to-late sixties, but unlike Suze, she has a sassy smile and a naughty gleam in her eyes. The woman takes a moment to size up both Noah and Everett, and I can’t help but frown at that.

“Well, well”—Gloria shakes Noah’s hand first, then Everett’s—“it seems Christmas came early.” She gives a husky laugh, and her bosom does its best to bounce right out of the tight little sparkly number that’s piped with a feather white boa. She’s more of a naughty Mrs. Claus in that vampy little sequin getup, and it makes me wonder if she bought that outfit in the lingerie section rather than a costume shop. “Who in the heck knew Honey Hollow was where all the handsome men were hiding? And that Wiley?” She fans herself at the mention of Noah’s father. “Suze, I have to question your sanity as to why you’d ever let a man like that go.” She leans toward the three of us. “Don’t tell Santa I said so. He just so happens to be my fiancé.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Well, your secret is safe with us.”

Noah nods. “Great party, Mom. The Christmas Angels really pulled off an extravaganza.”

“It’s a Marshmallow World” begins to play overhead, and I can’t help but rock to the cheery music. It happens to be one of my favorite Christmas songs. And it always has the ability to put me in a good mood—despite the presence of the queen of mean.

Mrs. Claus, aka Gloria, flashes a toothy smile to Noah. “Your mama was supposed to be an elf tonight, but she decided she’d rather team up with her ex and dole out liquor at the bar.”

Noah’s father is a part-time bartender. He’s here working the bar, along with my mother, Miranda Lemon, the woman he happens to be taking advantage of at the moment. Wiley Fox, yes, his aptly given moniker, is notorious for robbing widows blind. My mother is his next victim, but she’s too dazzled by his dimples to see straight. I can’t blame her all that much. Noah is basically a knockoff of his father, and those Fox men have the ability to make a heart or two go pitter-patter.

“Not that I blame her.” Gloria winks to Suze. “That Wiley Fox is a looker!” She indulges in another bosom jiggling laugh just as a pretty caramel-haired girl about my age, in her late twenties, steps up.

She clears her throat as she enters our circle. “Excuse me, Gloria, but those friends of mine I wanted you to meet are standing by the mystery auc—” Her lips round out as she looks to Noah and Everett.

It’s not an uncommon occurrence for either of these men to stop an entire herd of women in their tracks, or midsentence. I’ve witnessed Everett cause a car wreck or two from women craning their heads just to get a better look at him. And Noah has caused more than his fair share of kerfuffles as well.

“Well hello, Honey Hollow.” The young girl’s eyes spin wildly like a slot machine in Vegas once it greedily eats your money. Only, instead of dollar signs spinning in her eyes, I see Noah and Everett’s reflection in them.

“Come now,” Gloria snaps. “Keep it in your pants, honey. Don’t you know by now I get first dibs around here?” she teases as they head off toward the auction area where that sheet of black velvet lies over something that appears to be at least six feet tall.

“Gloria Abner is one of my dearest friends,” Suze snips my way. “I haven’t told anyone at the Christmas Angels about your floozy ways—partly because I don’t want to be kicked out of the league for being associated with someone with such loose morals. And I’m embarrassed that my own son has found himself tangled in this situation to begin with. Lottie, I’d appreciate it if you kept your pie hole shut for the remainder of the evening should you come across her again.”

I gasp so hard at the audacity, I nearly inhale my earring.

“Mother,” Noah snaps as he pulls her to the side.

“Don’t let her get to you,” Everett says as he wisely navigates the two of us straight to the kitchen, where we find Carlotta lighting an entire row of jarred candles across the island.

But I’m not focused on that odd sight right now. All I see is red.

“I can’t believe that woman,” I rant as Everett wraps his arms around me. “Did you hear the way she just outright insulted me? I mean, not that she was technically wrong, but it’s all about delivery, and Suze Fox doesn’t have one nice bone in her body.” Another groan works its way up my throat. “And exactly how alarmed should I be that her DNA might be mingling with mine in my belly? Everett, what are we going to do if this baby is Noah’s? Is a newborn a good candidate for psychological counseling? Because if Noah’s genetic material is involved, this kid is going to need it.”

Noah steps in next to Everett, and I wince.

“Sorry you had to hear that, Noah.”

He holds up a hand.