Both Mom and Georgie groan as Sherlock heads that way and sniffs the air as if he, too, were trying to sniff Ember out.
“Sherlock, come back,” I tell him. “There’s broken glass. You could get hurt.”
Georgie pulls a strip of bacon out of her kaftan and tosses it his way. “Hurt yourself with this, kid.”
Mom grunts while pulling out a dustpan, “I was hoping to keep that one.”
Georgie waves it off. “I’d rather keep the ghost.”
Macy shudders. “I want a sexy male ghost. One that really knows how to make me moan in the bedroom.” She scowls at the broken picture. “It really does feel as if she’s haunting me.”
“It’s not true,” I tell her. “It’s either all a big coincidence or there’s a perfectly good explanation behind everything. The other night I woke to the window being wide open and then it shut on its own. Jasper later told me that he opened the window because he got hot and forgot to shut it. And the reason it shut itself is because it’s an old wooden window—it was nothing more than gravity.” I hope.
She squints my way. “Just what are you doing in that bedroom of yours to work that man into a sweaty frenzy?” Her lips pull back with a naughty smile. “Never mind. I guess you could keep him. He sounds as if he’s good for some things.” She makes a face again before getting back to work.
Marigold and Willow come in through the back, and I head in their direction. Marigold stuns in a thick burgundy sweater that looks luscious to the touch. I swear, no matter what that woman wears, it looks luxurious on her. A matching chiffon scarf floats around her neck, and that, too, looks decidedly expensive.
“Hey, ladies.” I give a cheery wave as I make my way over. “How’s it going?”
Sherlock barks for her attention, and Willow quickly gives him a scratch that makes his hind leg dance all on its own.
Marigold groans. “There’s a reason people hire movers.”
Willow laughs as she wipes her forehead down with her arm, and it’s only then I notice her hair has been dyed a warm shade of crimson.
“Your hair!” I gasp. “It looks great.”
“Thank you.” She glances over to Macy. “I figured no one is holding me hostage to be a clone of your sister’s anymore.” Hostage is a much more honest term than any of them realize. Boy, did I learn my lesson. Never tell a living soul what you don’t want others to know. My little petty theft secret is safe with me, and that’s exactly where it’s going to stay.
It’s safe with me as well. I think this is one injustice I’ll let play out on its own. Besides, I think Willow has learned her lesson. Or at least I’m hoping she has.
Marigold nods. “Willow and I were just exchanging war stories from the Ember Sweet frontlines. As much as I loved my stepdaughter, she had a way of making others do her bidding.” She picks up a box marked bubble bath. “I’ll take this to your car and be right back.” She nods to Willow before making another trip outside.
Flint and his dicey connections to Laurel Crabtree run through my mind.
“Hey, Willow? Have you ever heard Ember mention a woman by the name of Laurel Crabtree?”
She grimaces a moment. “Laurel? Wasn’t that some pet name Flint had for one of his concubines?”
“Pet name?” I blink over at her. “As in—a fake identity?”
She belts out a laugh. “That sounds dramatic. It was a nickname of sorts. I think her name was Lauren Comfort. And boy, was she bringing Flint comfort.” She rolls her eyes. “Turns out, she lied to the guy. She wasn’t eighteen, she was sixteen. Let’s just say Flint pulled out his wallet and paid her enough in hush money to make her go away.”
“What?” I huff at the thought. “Where did she go? I mean, she was sixteen. I’m sure she lived with her parents.”
She cocks her head to the ceiling. “I don’t know about that. I guess you’d have to ask Flint. Ember was the one who told me all about it. But I’m guessing it’s nothing our councilman wants brought to his attention.”
“I’m guessing you’re right.”
She picks up a box and takes off.
Well? Fish touches her paw to my chest. That’s the end of one mystery.
Sherlock barks. Not if he killed her.
I glance out the window and spot a man stopping to look in before moving on, and I recognize that dirty blond hair and affable smile.
I speed out the door in record time, nearly tangling myself on Sherlock’s leash.
“Hunter,” I shout, and he turns on his heels.
“Hey, Bizzy.” He nods as he strides back my way.
Hunter! Pumpkin nearly leaps right out of my wonky sack. Oh, he’s just as dreamy as I remember.
Spice jumps up and pokes her fuzzy little head his way. Cuter than ever if you ask me. Oh, can’t he hold us, Bizzy?
The two of them campaign hard for his attention as they mewl his way. The parade is in full force and the crowd cheers as a group of cheerleaders does a little routine while walking along the route.
“Hey, girls.” Hunter plucks them both out and gives them a playful snuggle before laughing my way. “My sisters had cats growing up, and I’ve been a sucker for cute little kittens ever since.”
Both Pumpkin and Spice mewl up at him adorably.
I shake my head. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think they were smitten with you.”
Fish mewls herself, Oh, they are. It’s nothing but Hunter this, Hunter that. At least they’re getting their fill of the guy before you haul him in, Bizzy.
Which brings me to my next point. “Hunter, I hope you don’t mind me asking again, but what’s your take on Flint Butler?” Here’s hoping I get a confession out
