Lovely.
“Mom,” I start. “I have questions. Why is the floor pink? And what’s going on with that dress you’re wearing? It looks as if you can hardly move in it. Please tell me you can breathe.”
She attempts to bend over to take a better look at the hot pink disaster she’s shoved herself into, but her movements are constrained, thus proving my theory.
“It’s couture, Lottie.” She sighs my way. “Cormack and Cressida have enlisted a very strict dress code. And since I’ve been hired on as the manager, I have to adhere to it. And the floor, well”—she grimaces a moment—“it’s a part of the flash facelift they spent the last few days giving the B&B.”
“Do I want to see the rest of the B&B?”
She buttons her lips in lieu of a response.
Thought so.
A couple of women head in this direction, stopping just a few feet away from us. There’s a tall blonde in a white sheath of a dress who has her hair teased into a beehive that sits a foot on top of her head. She has the biggest brown eyes I’ve ever seen and she’s glammed up to the hilt with extra-long false eyelashes and ruby red lips.
The woman with her is a petite brunette with bone-straight dark hair cut in a blunt bob below her neck. She’s plain in comparison to her blonde companion, no false lashes, no ruby red lips, but her sharp features give her a natural appeal. She’s donned a pair of navy corduroys and paired it with a red wool sweater and matching mittens. Both women look about my age, late twenties, but they might have ten years on me for all I know.
“Look”—the brunette pulls the blonde in by the arm—“you’re a very important person now. I know you can do a lot for me. Just like I used to do a lot for you.”
“Just like you used to do for me? As in, you’re through with doing it?” Those large dark eyes reign wrath over the brunette and they seem to be issuing a silent threat.
Evie glances back at the women and gasps, and my mother does a double take in their direction as well.
“Oh!” Mom snags the blonde into our circle. “Verity! You have to meet my family. You’ve already met Carlotta, but this is my daughter, Lottie Lemon. She’s about to have a baby, as you can see. And this is my beautiful granddaughter, Everly Baxter.”
“Glam Glam,” Evie grits the words through her teeth. “It’s Evie,” she practically pants at the blonde who easily towers above us all. Evie is a few inches taller than me flat-footed, but tonight, in heels, she’s almost an entire head above me. And Verity? Well, she’s a head taller than that. “OMG, Verity Prescott is right here in my Glam Glam’s B&B! Well, it was her B&B until she sold out to write a few dirty books. But who cares about any of that?” she shrieks as she closes the distance between her and the blonde. “I like freaking love you! I have to call all my friends and get them down here now.” Evie takes in a dramatic amount of air. “Do you think I can get a picture with you?”
“Sure.” The blonde laughs as they snap a few selfies of themselves, both of them pouting and lifting an eyebrow at the very same time as if they were pros at channeling their best physical attributes, and I have no doubt they are.
Verity’s thumbs zip across the screen of her phone. “I just posted to my Insta Pictures account.” Verity holds it out for us to see, and I squint to make out the words beneath it that read Meet my new fab friend, Evie! I’m passing the baton to her once I’m dead and gone. Meet your new leader!
Evie lets out a high-pitched squeal. “Mom! This is like freaking huge! It’s going to be life changing. Verity Prescott is Leeds famous!”
“Leeds famous?” Leeds just so happens to be the dicey town that sits below Honey Hollow, and it’s rife with mobsters and strip clubs. I’m pretty sure I don’t ever want Evie to be Leeds famous.
Verity belts out a laugh. “I’m a content provider. You know, an influencer?”
Evie scoffs. “More like a content queen. Oh, mighty one, ruler of the internet, teach me thy ways!”
Verity laughs again. “You’re in luck, kid. I’m about to give a content tutorial in about twenty minutes. Stick around.”
“A content tutorial? I’ve got to get my friends down here right freaking now.” She spins on her heels as she begins tapping away into her phone like mad.
“Lovely to meet you all.” Verity gives the delicate wave reserved for beauty queens and toddlers in tiaras alike just before the dessert table snags her attention. “Are those my raspberry tarts?”
“Yes, they are,” Mom sings with pride. “Lottie made them herself. She owns the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery right here in town. You should stop by. It’s the most adorable little bakery on the planet. Oh! And you should take pictures of yourself while you’re in there eating all of her luscious desserts. The lighting is excellent. I’m sure Lottie wouldn’t mind being Leeds famous herself.”
“Spoken like a true mother.” I shrug up at Verity with a laugh caught in my throat. “You are most certainly welcome to stop by.”
Carlotta snorts. “Lot Lot is already Leeds famous.” She nudges Verity in the ribs. “She’s taken a spin or two on those poles at Red Satin, if you know what I mean.”
My lips cinch to the side just thinking of my time on those dicey poles.
It’s true. It wasn’t my finest moment, but I was doing it for the sake of an investigation. Besides, my
