Page 16 of Twice Baked Risky Whiskey Cakes

Mymother trying to help a dying man?

I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t believe it even if I saw it with my own two eyes and yet that’s exactly what she demands I believe.

That’s her story, and she sure as heck seems to be sticking to it. For now, at least.

But if there’s even a hint of a lie in there somewhere, her story will tumble like a house of cards. I’ve done enough time on the bench to know that a lie snowballs into other lies, and soon enough that avalanche of deception eventually takes down the one looking to deceive. And how I hope that is not the case with my mother.

There’s just no way I believe she stumbled upon that nightmare and the first thing that came to mind was plucking that knife out.

It’s not that my mother is a bad person. She’s more of a believer in letting the help aid in the needs of others, and herself. Not to mention her lifelong phobia of the sanguine liquid that runs through our veins.

There’s no way I’m mentioning any of that to Noah or Lemon. It’s bad enough my mother has managed to land at the top of a suspect list. The last thing I need is to give them a reason to keep her there.

“Daddy!” Lyla Nell giggles as she runs my way and I quickly scoop her into my arms and kiss her cheek. She gets her sweet demeanor and natural curiosity from Lemon, but those green eyes and dimples are all Noah. It’s her ability to argue her way out of a paper bag that she gets from me.

“Morning, baby.” I sneak in another kiss to her cheek and she giggles twice as loud. “Did you sleep well?”

“I hates sleep,” she declares like the truth it is. In fact, I’d go as far as saying Lyla Nell is allergic to getting some shut-eye.

A white furry tornado times two darts past us and Lyla Nell kicks and squeals, unable to focus on anything but it.

“Cancake! Wockles!” she shouts as I set her to the floor. “Get back here!” She takes off, echoing their names through the house as she chasesPancakeandWaffles, a couple of Himalayan brothers—two white balls of fluff whose fur rises in the air like confetti.

Lemon makes her way into the kitchen, her sweet belly leading the way. She looks exhausted but beautiful with her honey-blonde hair twisted into a messy bun. She’s dressed for success in a blue denim dress and a cozy pink sweater that looks soft to the touch, and I quickly confirm it is as I pull her in for a kiss.

“The coffee is ready,” I tell her, sliding a mug of decaf her way, but she wraps her arms around me instead and we share another quick kiss. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a woman housing two future basketball players practicing layups on her bladder.” She gives a wry smile. “How about you?”

“I didn’t,” I admit, touching my forehead to hers. “It’s pretty hard to catch a wink when your mother becomes suspect number one in a murder investigation.”

Things couldn’t possibly get any worse.

She tips her head and a sunbeam crosses her features, lighting her up like the angel she is.

“How did the conversation go with Meghan?” she winces as she asks.

I called my sister once I got home last night and told her exactly what happened. That went about as well as I imagined—which is to say, catastrophically.

“She immediately threatened to hire ten different attorneys. I assured her I’d handle everything on the legal end of things. Suffice it to say, she’s worried sick.” I close my eyes for a minute. “And I had no inclination to tell Evie, but she sent a whole slew of text messages around midnight. Apparently, one of her friends was at the event and saw the whole scene play out.”

“Oh my goodness.” Lemon buries her face in my chest for a moment. “Poor Evie does not need this kind of worry while she’s away at school.”

“She said she’ll be driving home as soon as her midterms are through. And I’m pretty sure there’s no stopping her from worrying.”

Thankfully, she’s at Ashford University, which allows for easy travel whenever the mood strikes her. I just wish it was striking under different circumstances.

And then there are the twins, twelve-year-old Ava and Olivia, that I brought into this world from a one-night stand. In fact, I had no clue about them up until a couple of months ago. Ironically, they knew my mother before they knew me. I’ll haveto talk to their mother Haley and do my best to explain the circumstances. We’ll both want to shield the girls from all of this. They adore their grandmother, who affectionately they call Mimi Lizzy. Heck, we were all at dinner together just last week and they couldn’t idolize her more if they tried.

I nod. “And I feel the need to give Haley a call, too—just in case the girls hear something at school.”

“What a disaster.” Lemon bites down on her lip. “Of course, she didn’t do it.” It comes out more of a question. “I mean, your mother is many things—demanding, she’s a perfectionist, occasionally ruthless in social settings—but she’s not a killer. The thought is absurd.”

A visual of my mother’s crimson-stained hands comes back to me. My mother wouldn’t so much as soil her pinky, let alone bathe her hands in it for that matter. It could have been me there lying with a knife in my chest and she’d command me to pluck it out myself.

Lemon gives my ribs a quick pinch. “Penny for your thoughts, Judge Baxter?”

My lips curve but no smile. “Not sure they’re worth that much today.”

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