Page 64 of Twice Baked Risky Whiskey Cakes

Someone who took the fall for his crimes.

The pieces click together in my brain like the world’s deadliest jigsaw puzzle.

I’ve hardly taken three steps when I spot Eliza and Evie near a cotton candy stand, both of them looking like elegant swans in a pond of rowdy Irish ducks. I waddle over and give them both a quick hug, my belly serving as an inadvertent buffer zone.

“Mom.” Evie gives a little laugh. “I just felt one of the twins kick.” She puts her hand on my belly and it happens again. “How are you feeling? Are these twins ever going to come out into the world?” She bends over and pats my belly again. “Come out, come out, wherever you are. I can’t wait to squeeze you guys!”

“I’m sure they’ll get here soon enough,” I say, craning my neck past them, and not sure I’m believing the words I just said either. “I’m fine,” I assure her, patting my belly as well. “We’re all fine. Eliza, where did Glinda go? I just saw her with you a moment ago.”

“Glinda?” Eliza’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows arch. “She said something about wanting to see the mayor’s big surprise at the lake before heading up north to visit her sister in Canada.”

“Of course.” I barrel ahead, my feet already moving before my brain can fully process the implications.

Canada.

She’s planning toflee. I’m shocked she didn’t do it sooner.

“Mom, you can’t walk to the lake,” Evie calls after me. “It’s like more than three blocks away!”

“The twins and I need the exercise,” I call back even though my lower back is already protesting the idea.

“Wait up, Lot!” Carlotta shouts, hurrying to catch up with me, her beads jangling like wind chimes in a hurricane. That’s basically Carlotta in a nutshell.

Sebby materializes beside me, his ghostly form zipping through the crowd in a spray of glittering stars. “Lolita! Your determination is admirable, but your waddling speed is concerning!”

“I’m moving as fast as a woman carrying the entire future generation of Baxters can,” I pant, navigating through the crowd with the grace of a bulldozer with a flat tire.

In what feels like both an eternity and somehow less than five minutes, we reach Honey Lake, where the parade finish line stretches across the shore.

The area teems with people, band members tuning their instruments, and members of the redheaded roundup gathering for one final photo op. It’s a glorious sea of red in every single direction.

“Well, would you look at that,” Carlotta whistles, taking in the scene. “It’s like someone put a ring of fire around the lake. That’s a lot of carrot tops in one place. I’m sensing a disturbance in the force. Gird yourself, Lot. Something wicked is about tobubble up in this sea of crimson. This is nothing short of a bunch of bad luck run amok.”

“Indeed there are a lot of carrot tops,” Sebby agrees, his ghostly ears perked up. “Though in fox culture, redheads are considered quite lucky. It’s the opposable thumbs we find suspicious.”

“You would,” Carlotta grunts.

I scan the crowd until I spot Glinda talking to Mayor Nash near the dock. They exchange a few words before parting ways, and I track Glinda as she moves to the edge of the lake, on the quieter side, away from the crowd and near the woods.

My heart pounds as I approach her. I take one look at her vivid red hair and that line of not-quite-gray roots and nod to myself. They’re not gray at all. They’reblonde.

“Glinda?” I call out.

She’s staring pensively at the boats all decked out for St. Patrick’s Day, their green and gold decorations reflecting in the water, not at all in tune to the fact I just shouted her name. Because she doesn’t innately recognize it as her name.

“You knew Sebastian Gallagher,” I pant from the trek over, one hand supporting my back, the other resting protectively on my belly.

“Her aura is flickering away like a campfire in a windstorm,” Sebby shouts, circling Glinda with suspicion.

Glinda turns around and squints at me before raking her eyes up and down over my very pregnant form. “Lottie? What’s going on? Yes, I knew of him,” she says with a casualness that feels manufactured. “I mean, he had a very lucrative whiskey business. A lot of people knew him from that.”

I shake my head. “You knew him far better. In fact, I’d go as far as saying you had a romantic entanglement with him.”

Glinda gasps, her eyes filling with fire that could melt steel.

“Unfortunately, that didn’t work out too well for you,” I continue, watching her face for any reaction.

“That didn’t work out too well for a lot of people,” Carlotta chimes in. “The man collected broken hearts like I collect cheap shoes. Which reminds me, I’m due for a shopping spree. Don’t worry, Lot. I’ve still got your credit card.”

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