Nell Sawyer has been a societal staple in Honey Hollow from the day she was born. In fact, she’s Honey Hollow born and raised, so she certainly deserves the big spectacular birthday bash she’s about to get tonight. When Nell turned ninety, she made her daughter Becca, Keelie’s mom, and her son William promise that they would not make a fuss over her. Instead, there was a small family dinner with no gifts per her request. So this year, after a brief health scare this past summer that involved some high blood pressure and fainting spells, Becca swore she would get in a big party even if it killed Nell. I knew what she meant, but I did cringe at the analogy.

“Mom, could you get all those birthday cake cookies off the cooling trays and put them around the pastry platters like this?” I demonstrate by creating a colorful ring just outside the mounds of angel breath cookies, the fudgies—stemless cake pops, Nell’s absolute favorite, the Florentines, and almond bars.

“I don’t need a lesson on how to do it.” She attempts to shoo me away as she gets right to work. “Go finish that cake. It only has four layers, and it needs to have seven!”

“It sure will.” I head over and get right to work spooning on another layer of Bavarian cream before adding the next layer of chiffon cake.

Lainey breezes in looking sharp with her hair pulled back into her traditional librarian bun, her reading glasses still hanging from her nose. She’s wearing a black and white polka-dotted dress, and she’s paired it with red patent leather heels.

“Don’t you look ravishingly retro,” I muse as she sneaks a birthday cake cookie right off a tray. I myself donned a little black dress and coupled it with those diamond stud earrings Noah bought me for Christmas. I can’t help but radiate my love for him whenever I think about him, let alone wear these sparkling rocks. “I suspect Forest will be here tonight?” I’m so thrilled things are finally moving in a positive direction for my sister. As sorry as I am that her previous two-timing boyfriend was killed last month, I’m not sorry that he no longer has the ability to cheat on her.

“Forest and I are having our own little party after Nell’s shindig.” She lifts a sultry shoulder my way and laughs.

“Private party for two?” Mom offers a knowing smile. She’s been more than giddy that Forest and Lainey have gotten back together as well. In fact, I’m surprised she’s not pushing for a wedding. “You do realize that’s how grandchildren are created.” Or that.

Lainey shrugs it off. “At least she’s subtle tonight. How about you, Lottie? Got any buns in the oven?”

“Why yes, I do,” I answer that way just to watch my mother’s mouth round out with hope. “I’m being literal,” I say, pulling out a tray of dinner rolls and placing them onto the cooling rack. “I think we’ll have more than enough tonight. The Honey Pot is going all out, and I have all the sweet treats covered.”

Lainey tries to sneak a dinner roll but recoils once the heat nips her fingertips. “So, do you think the murderer will be here tonight? Forest says it’s not unusual for suspects to congregate in large gatherings.”

“I don’t know. I doubt any of the Hollister kids will be here tonight. Valerie, Eve’s housekeeper, for sure has far more interesting prospects this evening. Maybe Connie will show? I think she knows Nell.”

“Of course, she did.” Mom pulls up another platter to put the finishing touches on it. “Everyone knows Nell.”

Lainey looks to me as she snatches up a chocolate pretzel cookie. “Who’s Connie again?”

Mom swats Lainey’s hand as she goes for another. “Connie Chutney, she volunteers down at the hospital. I’ve decided to go with her husband as far as the conservatory goes. It looks like Bill the Builder, construction done right for a tight budget wins the bid.”

“Bill the builder?” Lainey winces. “Why does that sound familiar?”

“I’ll tell you.” Forest Donovan strides our way looking deathly dapper in a dark suit and elegant blue tie. He’s clean-shaven, and his hair is slicked back looking much darker than it usually is. Forest is so handsome that if that firefighting gig doesn’t work out, he can always get a job as a male model.

He wraps his arms around my sister and lands a tender kiss to her temple. “Bill’s a notorious bootlegger. He doesn’t get half the permits he needs and ends up costing the homeowners twice as much to redo the work. That is, if they’re caught. Most people know what they’re getting into with him.”

My mouth falls open as I look to my sweet, innocent mother—Brad Rutherford and the Jungle Room come to mind. Okay, so she’s not that innocent, but nonetheless.

“Mother, I forbid you to use him. You’re going with Bear. At least we know he’s reputable.”

The bell chimes, and I head to the front. “Sorry. We’re closed,” I call out, but it’s not your run-of-the-mill customers standing there tall, dark, and dapper. It’s Noah and Everett looking every bit dressed to kill.

A wicked grin escapes me, and just like that, the party begins.

The Honey Pot Diner is brimming with bodies, each anxious to start in on the delicious dinner set before them. Becca, Keelie, Naomi, William—who looks like a masculine version of his sister Becca—and his three girls sit up front at the special table set up for the birthday princess. Nell looks ravishing in her cobalt blue gown, a diamond broach sparkles over her heart, and she’s been ear-to-ear smiles all night long. When she walked in, I simply wished her a happy birthday and whispered I love you into her ear. I didn’t have the audacity to shake her down for details concerning my supersensual status. Although, I have a feeling if I mentioned it to Noah, he would take that word in a whole new direction—I’d make sure of it.

The crowd glitters under the duress of twinkle lights strung over each and every branch up above and leading right to the trunk of that resin tree planted in the middle of the Honey Pot Diner. This place has always had a magical appeal, and this night is no different.

Becca lifts her glass, as do the rest of us. I’m seated at a small table with both Noah and Everett, my two invited guests. And for the most part, they seem to be civil to one another. Noah looks amazing in a dark charcoal suit with the faintest of pinstripes. And I cannot wait to get him back to my place so I can rake that dress shirt off the way I love to do. Everett, of course, is living up to his barista-gifted moniker, and, suffice it to say, every woman with functioning ovaries has been sneaking glances in the direction of our table. I can’t help but feel like the luckiest girl in the room.

Becca clears her throat into the mic that Naomi handed her. “My mother and I just want to thank every one of you for coming out tonight. I knew it would be a big crowd, but this is fantastic. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for making my mother’s day so special. Mom, would you like to say a word to your guests?”

Nell waves her off. “Dinner is getting cold! I’ll chew their ears off after we eat.”

The room breaks out with warm laughter as a smattering of conversations explode throughout the room.

“Think about it,” I say to Noah and Everett as we continue the conversation we were having before our food arrived. “Valerie Vernon has every right to be bitter, ashamed at what she could have easily blamed Eve for. If Eve paid her more, then she wouldn’t have to entertain clients in her free time.” I say clients with air quotes.

Everett leans in. “Are you telling me one of the lawyers at my courthouse spends her nights breaking the law?” The muscles in his jaw tense. Everett looks ten times comelier when he’s angry, and about three different women sigh in his direction.

“Technically, she doesn’t.” A chuckle gets buried in my chest. “Valerie painted the Elite Entourage as a dating app. She more or less said that what they do after dark is their business.”

Noah cuts into his steak and gives a wistful shake of the head. “Elite Entourage? Sounds like a club in Leeds.”

Everett points his fork in my direction. “Do you remember how I like my steak, Lemon? Noah thinks I’m winning this bet.”

Noah glowers at him. “What bet?”

Everett’s brows hike. “The one in which my fiancée cooks me a steak dinner.”

I wave the ornery judge off. “Everett thinks the masterminds of this dating ring are in Leeds, and if they are—I have to cook him dinner.”

Noah groans, “Ten bucks says he’ll win.”

A choking sound gets locked in my throat. “Are you betting against me?”

Noah’s dimples depress. “Sorry. I officially take my wager off the table.” He frowns at Everett. “I’ll buy the steaks. And I’ll make sure mine is bigger than yours.” An easy grin glides over his face. “Besides, Lottie is right. A date that ends in a compromising position at the end of the night isn’t a crime so long as the consent is mutual and no cash is exchanged for the coital transaction.”

“So, it’s perfectly on the up-and-up to hire a date for the night?”

Noah shrugs. “I don’t see why not, but they’re walking a very thin line.”

“Wonderful.” Everett gulps down his water as if trying to wash away this entire conversation.

“Anyway, they’re making loads of money, and I was thinking—”

“No,” the two of them flatline in unison, and I glower at them.

“I was going to say, I think this could be connected to some dark overlord controlling all these women.” I nudge Noah’s knee with my own. “It’s obviously a prostitution ring. I think Ivy should go undercover. Permanently.”

Noah’s dimples dig in, and his lids hang precariously low. “Has anyone ever told you how adorable you are when you’re jealous?”

Everett leans in. “I wouldn’t let you feel like number two.”

“She’s not number two.” Noah shoots him a scathing look. “I happen to work with Detective Fairbanks, and there’s simply not a lot I can do about that.”

“Hmm.” Everett digs his fork into that glibbery mass of beef on his plate. “I’d put in for a transfer just to make you feel better, Lemon.”

I hold my hands between them. “Nobody has to make me feel better. I’ll get over it. One day. Hopefully.” A woman’s high-pitched laughter garners my attention. “Ooh, look, that’s Connie Chutney. The only suspect that’s here tonight.” I can’t help but frown at her husband. “My mother came this close to hiring her husband to do the addition to the B&B, but Forest let us know he’s a notorious bootlegger.”

Noah coughs as he swallows his food. “Bill Chutney?” He looks that way before taking down half his wine. “A bootlegger, huh?” He inspects the man with his eyes. “He worked for Eve.”

“And she was miserable the entire time.”

Noah moans as he sits back in his seat. He goes into full-on detective mode, and I won’t lie—he is hotter than a grease fire.

“You don’t think he did it, do you?” I laugh the idea off. “Valerie and each of the Hollister kids had far more motive.”

Everett glances that way while cutting into the last bit of his steak. “Maybe he has a motive. You never know. I’ve seen people kill for flimsier reasons than an argument over a remodel. Usually when that goes south, both parties are hotheaded.”

Noah and I stare one another down a good long while before he nods. “I’ll look into it.”

“You do that.” I offer a sweet smile. “In the meantime”—I say as the staff begins to clear away the dinner dishes—“I’ll go get the cake ready for its seven-layer debut.”

I head back to the kitchen and put on the finishing touches, heaping a few extra berries over the top until they’re flowing right into the custard.

The beauty of my famous, or now infamous seven-layer cake is that it’s virtually unfrosted, just seven layers of cake, a quick crumb coat, and layer after layer of rich buttery Bavarian cream that is, well, to die for.

Keelie helps me wheel the seven-layer stunner out into the Honey Pot on a rolling cart, and just as we enter the bustling room, she lights two candles, a sparkly pink nine and a matching three. Honestly, this cake couldn’t have tolerated much more wattage than that, and I don’t think Nell’s lungs could have either.

The twinkle lights above dim to nearly nothing as we wheel the cake over to Nell, and the crowd begins to sing “Happy Birthday” at top volume.

No sooner does the catchy tune come to an end than Nell blows out the candles, and the room explodes with a raucous celebratory cheer. The twinkle lights come up again, and I bend over and offer up Nell a kiss on the cheek.

“Happy birthday, Nell. I love you.”

“Oh my dear, sweet Lottie.” She pulls me in by the hand, her watery eyes never leaving mine. “You have always held a special place in my heart.”

“And you mine. Go ahead and enjoy the party. Maybe before it’s over you and I can continue our conversation? You mentioned that there was something I was never to do.” Again, that overwhelming feeling of foreboding hits me because I’m sure it’s already been done.

Her sweet face grows heavy with distress, and her mouth opens and closes as if she couldn’t get the words out.

“You have been far too patient, far too kind with me,” she whispers. “I promise you, this night won’t end without you knowing the truth in its entirety. And you will know exactly what to do and why. And what you must never, ever do.” She shakes her head as if admonishing me not to do it right this minute.

My entire body fills with relief, and I give her another quick peck to the cheek.

“Oh, Nell, I cannot wait.”

A gentle smile curves on her lips before vanishing to nothing, and just like that, Nell slumps over, face-first, right into that seven-layer cake I lovingly baked for her.