A Christmas to Dismember, Page 2

  “What’s wrong with that?” Georgie howls.

  “We don’t sell hookahs!”

  The two of them take off for the ballroom with a start, and I’m not too sorry to see them go.

  I spot my best friend, Emmie Crosby, headed this way along with her boyfriend, Leo Granger, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Emmie and I not only share the same black hair and icy blue eyes, but we share the same first name as well, Elizabeth. But to keep things simple, we’ve gone through life with the nicknames our families gave us and we’ve never been happier.

  Leo, her official plus one, happens to hold my special supernatural ability—that little detail about reading minds. That’s how we met about a year ago. Since then, he’s fallen in love with my beautiful bestie, and he just let me know about a week ago that he’s about to pop the question on Christmas Eve. Leo has enlisted my help in both finding the perfect ring and helping him pull off the perfect proposal, whatever that might be.

  “Bizzy!” Emmie gives me a warm embrace while holding out the platter in her hand brimming with peppermint bark. “Please take one—or take a fistful. You look as if you could use it.”

  “Can I ever.” I quickly snap one up and take a bite of the creamy white and dark chocolate combination, sprinkled with just the right amount of candy cane bits. “Mmm, this is to die for.”

  Leo winces. “Watch what you say.” Leo has dark hair and dark eyes, and a dark sense of humor to match. He’s a deputy down at the sheriff’s department where Jasper works, and I couldn’t have picked a better man for Emmie. “I’d like to go at least a month without a homicide.”

  “You and me both,” I tell him as I indulge in another sweet bite of the magic that Emmie has produced en mass for tonight’s event. Emmie isn’t just in charge of the Country Cottage Café, she pretty much does all the baking. Good thing, because I can’t go within ten feet of a stove without burning something in my wake. It’s safe to say Emmie shines where I go dim.

  Emmie just found out about my mind reading abilities a couple months back, and I’m thankful she’s still speaking to me. Only a handful of people know, like Jasper and Georgie, too, and I don’t plan on broadening that number anytime soon.

  What do you think of this dress? She wiggles her shoulders my way. Emmie has donned a sparkling silver number, with a little more va-va-voom than I’m used to seeing on her. I just threw on a simple black dress and called it a night, but I can tell Emmie is set to impress. Leo’s mother will be here tonight, and I want to make a good impression.

  “Oh shoot.” She stomps a matching silver heel as she turns to Leo. “I keep forgetting you can hear my thoughts, too. So not fair.” She wrinkles her nose at him before going in for a kiss.

  “You look stunning,” I tell her as my eyes dip to her plunging cleavage. “Maybe ask my mother if she has a brooch in her purse?” I give a little shrug. “If not, I can loan you a paperclip.”

  “You keep your paperclips to yourself.” She gives me a playful swat on the arm. “I’d better get this to the ballroom,” she says, holding up the platter in her hands. “I still have three trips to make at least.” She takes off and Leo steps in my way.

  “You ready for tomorrow?” he asks with a twinge of something that looks to be nerves skirting his face.

  “Preston Jewelers, eleven-thirty,” I say. “How can I forget?” Actually, I can’t forget because I’m also meeting my brother, Huxley, there at the very same time. He, too, is about to ask his girlfriend for her claw, or hand as it were, in marriage this Christmas Eve, and he’s enlisted me as his consultant as he walks the green mile.

  Leo’s chest bucks with a laugh. “You really don’t care for Mackenzie Woods, do you?”

  I’m about to let him know exactly how right he is when Mack and Huxley step this way.

  Mackenzie Woods and I grew up together, and we were close up until we weren’t. She’s a stunning chestnut brunette who happens to be following in the footsteps of her father and her grandfather before that as the acting mayor of Cider Cove.

  Huxley Baker is my warm, funny, serial womanizer turned family attorney of a brother. He’s handsome with his dark hair and dark smile and has a penchant for making poor decisions, but I won’t hold it against him.

  Mackenzie bleeds a wicked smile my way. “I heard that comment. Of course she doesn’t care for me, Leo. I’m sure she let a real zinger fly. Funny how I don’t have any negative things to say behind your back, Bizzy. I save them all to share right in front of your face.” She heads my way and leans her lips to my ear. “Any luck getting the class ring?” she whispers through the side of her mouth.

  I make a face over at my brother before whispering back, “My mother has it.”

  Mackenzie nods as she stalks toward the ballroom in a red glitzy dress that garners the attention of every male in the vicinity.

  About a week ago Mackenzie clued me in on the fact she plans on proposing to my brother come Christmas Eve. Little does she know he plans on proposing to her on the very same night. I’m not sure why, but a part of me feels as if things will go explosively wrong. Most things do when Mackenzie is involved.

  Hux growls, “Good going, Biz. Whatever you whispered to her really ticked her off. Keep up the good work and she’ll want to divorce me before I get to pop the question.” He takes off after her.

  “That’s not what happened,” I shout after him.

  Leo chuckles. “I have a feeling his entire future will involve chasing her and wondering what ticked her off. See you inside.” He takes off, and I’m about to follow him when I spot a blonde with dark-framed glasses glaring at the trio of men by the tree with a look that could slice a mountain down the middle. She’s wearing a heavy red gown that looks as if it’s comprised solely of red rubies, and it glitters with her every move.

  I step her way and smile. “Can I help you?”

  Her affect brightens once I manage to steal her attention.

  “Yes, actually. I’m Angelica Chatfield.” Her lips crimp. “I’m a part of the production tonight and wanted to see where I should go to prepare.” Her eyes stray back to Quinn and his guests as they share a riotous laugh. Prepare to kill perhaps. Or should I say, prepare to die? I’ll have your head on a platter tonight, my friend.

  My lips part as a breath hitches in my throat at the ornery thought.

  “Right this way,” I say, leading her away from those men, one of which has really lit her fuse. “The ballroom is waiting for you.”

  Tonight promises to bring merriment and pleasure.

  Let’s just hope it doesn’t bring murder, too.

  Chapter 2

  The ballroom at the Country Cottage Inn sparkles with holiday magic from both the crystal chandeliers to the three fifteen-foot tall evergreens festooned with every Christmas bauble and twinkle light this season calls for.

  Quinn emailed me a list of instructions long before he ever touched down this afternoon regarding every last detail of today’s event, from the live reindeer out front to the stage he had Jordy construct in the front of the room, complete with black velvet curtains to close between acts. I’m going to keep the setup because it’s just so gorgeous, and I’m sure I can utilize it for many events to come.

  Quinn hired a theater company to arrange all of the acts and deliver props and stage decorations, and they’ve been in and out all week working hard to make the magic happen. The backdrop set across the stage is a well-lit flocked Christmas tree with large boxes set around it, each wrapped in red and green foil. There’s even a crew here just for the lighting, and it looks as if we’re about to be treated to a genuine holiday extravaganza. It reminds me of when I was young, my mother would take us to see The Nutcracker every year. How I miss that, and now thanks to Quinn, I have some of that holiday magic back again.

  “Here Comes Santa Claus” plays softly over the speakers as throngs of exquisitely dressed people mingle freely. I’ve never seen so many designer holiday dresses and men in suits with gleaming silk ties.
The refreshment table is laden with Christmas cookies from the Country Cottage Café and, of course, the platters of Emmie’s peppermint bark are quickly being depleted. I’m sort of a disaster in the kitchen, contrary to my maiden name, but that’s what best friends are for, and quite literally in this situation, seeing that she’s the head baker and manager of the café. Rows and rows of chairs have been set out, some of which are already filled, and a thicket of people are milling around on the stage as well.

  I spot Georgie and Juni near the front with a small crowd of women gathered around them. Most of the women are lavishing attention on Fish and Sherlock, both of which appear to be in back scratch heaven. And by the looks of it, Georgie has convinced Juni to put on one of her wonky quilt dresses as well. Juni pretty much is a duplicate of Georgie, but her hair is light brown with far less gray, and her face has a few less wrinkles. That quilt dress she’s donned isn’t Juni’s usual fare. She’s more of a leather and lace girl, but it’s nice to see her teaming up with her mama to peddle her wares.

  But something to the right of them catches my eye, and I crane my neck to get a better look. Standing just behind the heavily flocked evergreen with its bright red ornaments, I see Quinn and that blonde woman with the dark-framed glasses, Angelica, having what looks to be a tense conversation. He sets his coffee down on the small table behind them laden with hot cocoa and a plate of sweet treats. They’re props for one of the acts, but I happen to know they’re real because Emmie and I placed them there earlier. Angelica picks up a cookie and takes a bite just as a one of the stagehands comes over and steals Quinn away for a moment. Angelica watches them go before quickly rummaging for something in her purse, and then her hand moves over Quinn’s coffee as if she were shaking something into it.

  Every muscle in my body freezes.

  Did she just spike his drink?

  Quinn reappears and picks up his drink, taking a sip without missing a beat.

  “Bizzy!” Macy strides up with her friend Eve in tow, and this time there’s a teenage girl with them who shares Eve’s glossy dark hair and almond-shaped eyes. All three of them have a small dessert plate filled with goodies but mostly with Emmie’s peppermint bark. “I must sell this in my shop.” Macy holds up a shard of peppermint bark my way.

  Eve nods. “I want in on this deliciousness, too. My customers would buy boxes of this by the dozen. And this is the best I’ve ever tasted.” Her eyes drift over my shoulder and she gives a light gasp. And finally we meet again. Now to let him have it. “Would you ladies excuse me a moment?” She darts off, and I turn to see her heading straight for my dapper boss.

  Macy shrugs. “Bizzy, this is Elsie, Eve’s daughter.” She turns to the girl. “How old are you again?”

  “Fifteen.” She rolls her eyes at Macy, and I can’t help but chuckle at her teen-sponsored enthusiasm.

  “Nice to meet you, Elsie. I’m Bizzy. I run the inn. Quinn, the man that’s putting on the event tonight, is my boss. So I take it your mom knows Quinn?” I know so much because she told me so herself when we met in the lobby. “Did she work for him at one time?”

  “I don’t know anything about her working for him.” She tugs on a lock of her hair as she glances their way. “But she’s, like, low-key thirsting on him. It’s been going on for years. She’s convinced he should have been my daddy.” She says daddy in air quotes. “But he’s not, and I think she blames him for everything that’s gone wrong for her. But don’t worry. My mom is a pro at revenge.” She gives a wild wave to someone behind me and takes off screaming with laughter.

  Macy makes a face. “I need that kind of energy.”

  “What did she mean by ‘low-key thirsting on him’?”

  “Who knows?” Macy shudders. “This is why I don’t have kids. I don’t have the energy to decode what they’re trying to say. Which brings me to my next point—have a couple of kids already, would you? I can’t be the cool aunt without a crew of littles to be cool to. By the way, they’re missing out on some majorly awesome gifts this year. I had an opportunity to snatch up one of those hard to find game consoles.” Her attention quickly gets hijacked to something or someone behind me. “Ooh, I see a hottie, and I bet he rides a Ducati. This place is crawling with billionaires. Good work on hauling in the upper echelon. How much do you charge for this dating service? Never mind. I’m family. Wish me luck.” She darts off, and I follow her with my gaze, only to see her stop cold in front of that man with the partially shorn head of hair that was speaking to Quinn out in the lobby.

  I can’t help but shake my head at my lust-driven sister. I have to give her credit, she doesn’t miss a beat when a good-looking man is in the vicinity. Here’s hoping he’s unattached. I’m not sure what my sister’s boundaries are anymore. My eyes drift toward the crowd, and I spot a tall, dark, and unstoppably handsome homicide detective headed this way.

  Jasper’s lids hood over his lightning gray eyes, his dark hair is freshly slicked back, and he slays in a dark suit with a crimson tie. And as he strides past the masses, an entire line of socialites is left fanning themselves in his wake.

  His lips curl up with wicked intent. “Kiss me if I’m wrong, but those reindeer out front really do know how to fly.”

  “Ha-ha, very funny,” I say, pulling him in by the tie. “You should be careful when hitting on women like that. There’s a hot homicide detective who happens to find his way into my bed every night—lucky, lucky me. He’s liable to arrest you. And have I mentioned he shoots on sight?”

  He pretends to frown. “Maybe I should call the cops and have you arrested?” He glances down at my dress that hugs my curves in all the right places. “Because it’s illegal to look this good.” Jasper comes in for a kiss, and I don’t stop him. Instead, I reward him with something to look forward to.

  “Macy thinks we should start on a couple of kids.” I bite down a smile. “But I’m not quite ready for them.”

  He feigns disappointment. “I’m not either, but you know what they say, practice makes perfect. No point in not trying.” He waggles his brows. “I’ll boot that homicide detective from your bed tonight and we’ll get cracking at it.”

  A laugh pumps from me, and I turn my head slightly and spot Quinn by the refreshment table with that man Macy was trying to hit on. The man looks red-faced and angry, and Quinn looks disturbed as well.

  “I don’t think Quinn is having the best night,” I say to Jasper, and he turns their way.

  Warwick, the stalky man with the white beard I met earlier, steps between the arguing men and the younger man leaves in a huff. Warwick jabs a finger in Quinn’s chest as they exchange a few words of their own, and soon Warwick takes off in the opposite direction.

  Quinn’s eyes drift my way and he manufactures a smile for both Jasper and me, raising his cup our way before taking a sip.

  “Oh, I’m so embarrassed,” I say to Jasper as a crowd moves between my poor boss and us. “That man traveled all this way. I hope he has a good time tonight.”

  Jasper’s chest widens as he scans the room. “How can he not? He’s surrounded by five hundred of his closest friends and you, his beautiful manager.”

  “Therein lies the problem. Have I mentioned that he hasn’t stopped hitting on me since he arrived?”

  Jasper’s eyes widen. “The man dies tonight.”

  The lights flicker, and everyone scurries to their seats, including Jasper and me. The curtains close for a moment then reopen with a single spotlight shining down on the stage as the rest of the room remains enveloped with darkness. Soon, we’re treated to an adorable play about Santa getting stuck in the chimney and watch as a group of teenagers uses an axe to break him free.

  An elegant choir is up next, each member in a pristine cranberry colored robe as they sing an awe-inspiring rendition of “Silent Night”.

  A few more skits take place, and there’s even a comedian who takes the stage, leaving us all in stitches. But the pièce de résistance is the lady in the dress that looked as i
f it was comprised of red rubies, the woman I met in the lobby, the one who looked as if she was slipping a mickey into Quinn’s coffee, Angelica Chatfield.

  She sings a stunning aria that brings everyone to their feet once she’s through. The last to rise from his seat is the guest of honor himself, Quinn Bennet. His arms remain folded across his chest as the rest of the room breaks out into a raucous applause.

  His behavior seems odd. Disturbing even. Hers was the best performance of the night by far.

  The applause dies down, and Quinn heads to the stage, bowing slightly to Angelica as she speeds to the audience with her chin in the air. It’s clear she didn’t take too well to his snubbing.

  “Thank you all for coming out tonight,” he says above a whisper into the microphone. The dramatic lighting only magnifies his dashing good looks. “How about another round of applause for the effervescent Angelica Chatfield?” Another short-lived round of applause circles the room. “Angelica always did know how to bring the men to their feet.” A burst of laughter erupts from the crowd, and I glance to Angelica seated in front and she doesn’t look amused in the slightest.

  Quinn lowers his hand to the crowd, and everyone finds their seats once again.

  “I want to give a special thank you to Bizzy Baker and the wonderful staff at the Country Cottage Inn. Out of all of my holdings, this treasure on the Atlantic has always held a special place in my heart.” Another light round of applause breaks out.

  I give Jasper’s hand a squeeze as I lean in and whisper, “I swear I told him my last name was Wilder twenty times.”

  It’s easier to hit on a married woman if you deny her husband exists.

  I nod up at him because I think he’s onto something.

  Quinn needles his gaze to his left. “And if Arthur Silver would please stand. If anyone deserves a trophy for dealing with me, it’s this man. Arthur is my accounts manager. He makes sure the bills are paid, and more importantly, he slips all of the beautiful women my phone number.”