Page 19 of Twice Baked Risky Whiskey Cakes

I’m not sure exactly what she said, but it sounds about right.

I head to the counter to greet my bakery brigade where Suze, Noah’s mother, is busy arranging pastries with military precision. Her stocky frame moves with efficiency, and her short blonde hair with those long, impractical bangs sweeps into her eyes. Her smile tightens when she sees me—forced andpointless, the usual fare. Suze doesn’t much care for me, but her paycheck seems to ease the pain of our interactions.

Next to her, Lily Swanson arranges colorful macarons into a cookie rainbow. The dark-haired beauty is currently involved with Alex, Noah’s younger brother, and helping raise his baby boy Levi—a situation that sounds like the plot to a romance novel and thankfully works for them, and not just in the parenting department but in the romance department, too.

Fun fact: Lily isn’t in my fan club either. But as long as she smiles for my customers, that’s all I care about.

And then there’s Effie, our resident queen of comebacks, who just so happens to be busy at the register. Her coffee-colored eyes sparkle as she banters with customers. Her sarcasm is legendary. It’s less of a skill and more of a superpower.

“Morning, sugar slingers,” I call out with a wave.

“Oh, look, it’s our killer boss.” Suze chuckles to herself as she says it. “I heard all about that poor man last night.” She rolls her eyes. “This is exactly why I avoid public outings when you’re involved, Lottie. I’ve cautioned Noah to do the same, but that boy has never listened to me.” She picks up a green frosted cupcake and sticks a chocolate gold coin into the buttercream. “I heard there was a community center showdown with none other than Eliza Baxter. The husband-thief herself.”

I sigh. For the record, Eliza didn’t steal Wiley from Suze—he left of his own accord—but facts rarely get in the way of a good grudge in this town.

“Now, Suzie Q”—Carlotta interjects—“let’s tell the truth. Eliza didn’t steal your man. She just borrowed him until she realized he was a defective model and threw him back into circulation.” She leans my way. “I came within an inch of my hoo-ha from having my own fortune stolen by the Feckless Fox.”

I avert my eyes at the thought. Carlotta has no fortune to speak of. Unless, of course, she’s somehow found a wayof siphoning from my own. Other than that, she already blew through the money Nell left her in the will. Nell would be my grandmother who left me the bakery, the Honey Pot Diner, and an entire list of other real estate endeavors. Carlotta got cash—which she quickly made disappear. Funny howshe’syet to disappear, though.

Suze’s eyes narrow to dangerous slits. “At least I had a husband to lose. Some of us can’t even manage to keep a man around long enough to learn his middle name.”

Carlotta gags and scoffs. “I’ve got Harry! Harry as in MayorHarryNash, my girls’ baby daddy.” She looks my way and squints. “What’s Harry’s middle name again?” She waves me off. “Never mind. Everyone knows middle names are overrated,” Carlotta fires back. “And so are husbands, from what I hear. They’re like appendixes. You don’t notice them until they cause trouble, and you’re better off once they’re removed.”

A titter of laughter breaks out in the bakery and I can’t help but join in.

Although I very much love my husband. I love Noah, too. It’s complicated.

I’m about to warn Carlotta not to mention internal organs around my customers when a familiar spray of blue and pink stars glitters near the walkway that leads to the Honey Pot Diner. And I certainly know what that means.

“Duty calls,” I whisper to myself, already moving toward the connecting doorway. “Hold down the fort, ladies.”

“Where are you off to now?” Suze shouts after me. “I’d like to know the places to avoid.” She titters to herself as she says it.

Very funny.

“She’s off to see the dead about a dead guy.” Carlotta laughs, and oddly enough, evokes a few laughs from Lily and Suze as well.

I’m already racing toward the Honey Pot Diner, determined to catch that slippery supernatural trickster before he or she causes another round of magical mischief in my bakery.

Some women chase dreams. Some chase men. I chase the spirit of a long-gone fox with a penchant for dead men and terrible timing—and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

LOTTIE

The moment I cross the threshold into the Honey Pot Diner, the temperature drops a few degrees.

Not the usualsomeone left the door openchill, but the unmistakable icy fingerprint of the otherworldly. And oddly enough, this is the first time that icy fingerprint has made itself known.

I scan the room, my eyes following the trail of glimmering stars floating like radioactive dust through the cozy establishment.

The Honey Pot Diner is already brimming with customers, mostly those enjoying eggs and bacon with a side of the Honey Pot’s famous red velvet waffles—made to order in my bakery. And boy, the scent of bacon is calling me like a salty, sizzling siren song.

It’s bright inside from the morning light pouring in through the giant bay window, and the sound of easy-listening music coming from the speakers puts just about everyone in a jovial mood.

Everyone except for me.

There—next to the oak tree centerpiece—that adorable furry fox sits patiently with its luminescent eyes fixed on me as if I’mlate for an appointment. Its translucent fur shimmers with an internal glow that trails with pink and blue stars that quickly dissolve into nothing.

I speed that way and nearly bump right into my sister.

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