They say that baking is an art, and that with time and patience, and perhaps plenty of hours spent at the mixer, you can hone your chops—or cookies as it were. But when baking on a mass scale, it makes even the most seasoned baker want to throw both the art and the cookies out the window. It can be a little unnerving, but it happens to be where my passion is honed best, against the clock and under pressure.

“Six dozen amaretto biscuits, four dozen anise cookies, and five spiced rum cakes.” Lily wipes her brow after counting all the boxes. “The entire bakery smells as if a spice rack exploded.”

“It does, but in a very good way. And on an up note, I think my sinuses have cleared.”

Lily’s laugh is cut short and she gives someone in the café the stink eye, so I follow her gaze only to find the woman in the red coat back with her oversized baby blue scarf and are those…

“Is she wearing sunglasses?” Those are not just any ocular sun protectors. She’s dawned a pair of oversized Jackie O’s that look as if they eat up half her face.

“She’s been creeping around here all week.” Lily growls at the woman. “I bet she’s casing the place before she robs it.”

“Hmm. I doubt it. But it is suspicious.”

“We should call the sheriff to come out.”

“Good thinking. And I’ll make sure it’s Noah. But not today. Aren’t you coming to Eve Hollister’s funeral?”

“Nope. I hardly knew the woman. I’ll stay back and man the fort. If you see Essex, send him my way. He hasn’t been returning my calls. Do you realize I stopped by his place earlier this week and he wasn’t home? Might I add, it was very late.”

My face heats ten degrees. “I bet he spent the night with another woman.” As in me.

Her mouth opens wide as she sucks in a quick breath. “That two-timer! Nobody gets away with doing that to me.” There’s a flash of anger in her eyes that I’m not familiar with.

“You know with Essex, one day you’re hot—”

“And one day you’re out.” She slumps forward with her elbows onto the counter.

“I was going to say not, but that works, too. Help me load these goodies into the van.”

I make the trek to Honey Hollow Covenant Church in no time at all. I was sort of forced to sit out Honey Hollow’s last big funeral, that of Tanner Redwood, because I happened to be found hovering over his body while holding the murder weapon. But there’s no way I’m missing out on Eve’s big send-off. She was truly a friend to both my mother and me.

One by one, I schlep the sweet treats into the conjoined hall where the gathering after the funeral will be held. And just as I’m about to head into the church, I spot a familiar looking judge striding up in his long wool coat, his black suit, black svelte tie, that I’m still peeved at you look on his vexingly handsome face.

“Lemon.” He smacks his lips with disdain at the mere mention of my name.

“How nice of you to come. Funerals aren’t exactly the most exciting social scene. But I for one am glad you’re here.”

“I ran into Daphne. She extended the invitation and insisted I come. Do you realize she tried to pass off one of your cookies as her own? Not only do I doubt she bakes, but I saw the box in her office with the Cutie Pie stamp over it.”

“Keeping it classy. She has the hots for you by the way. But you already know that because all the women have the hots for you.”

“That would be a fair summation.” Everett glares my way. “You do realize I had to have my favorite leather chair destroyed.”

“Destroyed? That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

“What’s dramatic is finding my fiancée undressed in my chambers and in another man’s arms.”

“Who happens to be my boyfriend, so it was totally acceptable in a roundabout way. And to think you thought I told him about our visit to Fallbrook!” I hiss it out like a threat. “The last time you hinted at something, things ended spectacularly in a very bad way. Let’s not make history repeat itself.”

“Hear, hear. Do you want to know the real reason I showed up this afternoon?”

“Because you like rum cake?”

His lips twitch. “Because I have a very real feeling that this funeral is about to go sideways.”

“I’d ask how you knew, but you have met Eve’s children. I’m guessing you’re right.”

“Care to share a seat next to me?” He holds out his arm.

“You bet.” I thread my own arm through his, and we walk down the aisle of Honey Hollow Covenant Church.

The tiny little parish is brimming with bodies—all but one are alive, thankfully. The entire cast of Hollisters is in the front row, each one with a stoic expression, suspiciously dry eyes. This is nothing more than a formality to them. I’m surprised they bothered to show up at all. I bet there was some stipulation that has to do with the will. Don’t show up for the big send-off and you miss the financial boat entirely.

I spot a face I’ve been trying to track down for weeks and nudge Everett in the ribs. “Nell Sawyer is here! Once the funeral is done, I plan on trapping her in a corner and making her tell me everything she knows about our shared ability to see the dead.”

“It’s not so special today, Lemon. It looks as if we will all get to see the dead.” Everett’s brows pinch as he nods to the front where Eve seems to float in her casket as if she were an angel indeed. Mom says they’re shoving poor Eve into the incinerator asap once the service is over, and if it wasn’t for Mom pulling a few strings herself, Eve would have been a no-show at her own funeral. But Mom was emphatic that Eve would have wanted it this way, and I’m sure she would have, too.

Every bench is filled to max capacity, but Everett manages to squeeze us in a couple of seats right up front on the far right. Nobody in their right mind wants to sit in the front row at a funeral, especially not one with an open casket. There she is, Eve Hollister lying in state with her rose-colored coffin opened wide for all to see. She looks as if she’s sleeping peacefully. Her makeup is on point like never before, and whoever styled her has given her hair a modern spin by straightening that perm of hers. She’s wearing her best blue dress that I’ve seen her wear many, many times before, and she has a blue broach pinning her signature white shawl across her shoulders. She looks so very much like her everyday self, I half-expect her to sit right up and say hello to us all.

Everett leans in. “Why isn’t Noah here?”

“He likes to sneak in the back and observe, in case the killer is among us.” I’ve been to enough funerals with him now that I’m all too familiar with the morbid routine.

The music starts up, and soon enough everyone is in their seats. The pastor gets up and says his usual spiel, starting with a joke about death and taxes and ending with a blessing over Eve Hollister’s very soul.

Not one of her children gets up to say a single nice thing about her. Figures. It’s probably best they cap their bitterness for the occasion. Although, I must admit, if it’s true, Eve was surprisingly harsh with them. That would be like me spoiling Pancake with his Fancy Beast cat food and then bam, kicking him out into the cold hard streets expecting him to fend for his little kitty self. He’s liable to become a gambler, or an angry lawyer, or— I glance to Brenda Lee with her silver hair glinting in the light. It has such a high gloss sheen it almost looks fake. I’d love for my hair to look that healthy no matter what color it was.

What does Brenda Lee do for a living again? Brenda has opted to don a wild looking skirt in a rainbow of colors for the somber occasion that looks as if she ripped it off the nearest Irish Traveller. She has a set of bangles riding all the way up her elbows on both arms, and her earrings look like bona fide chandeliers. Daphne is wearing stark black from head to hose, and Helman looks as if he’s been wearing that wrinkled suit since the day I saw him last at Red Satin. No sign of his wife. Either that or she’s seated in another section entirely.

The pastor looks to the congregation and holds out his hands before offering a benevolent smile. “Would anyone like to come forward and say a few kind words about the dearly departed?”

The room goes silent. You’d think every last one of us was a corpse. I can’t help but notice that surrounding the casket there are only a few meager flower arrangements. Not one floral wreath, no sprawling bouquets. For a woman so wealthy, you’d think one of her rich besties might buy out an entire florist to festoon the altar with. It’s a shame that with a room full of people so few were actually close to her.

“I’ll do it!” a familiar voice cries from somewhere in the middle of the sanctuary, and I look to find my mother detangling herself from her perverted boyfriend, Brad Rutherford. He was into kink with one of Everett’s exes, and his wife tried to kill him but got the ex instead. It was twisted. Mom jogs up wearing her very best navy pantsuit, her blonde hair bouncing in youthful looking ringlets as she takes the mic from the pastor.

“Hello, everybody.” She presses out a pained smile. My mother has a way of always keeping her composure no matter what the situation. A grunt followed by a snort comes from the back, and I gasp before turning around. “Eve Hollister was one of my very good friends. If you don’t mind, I’d like to start at the beginning—exactly five decades ago when we first met as girls.”

A dull groaning grows louder, as does the snorting, and soon enough that oversized black bear comes bounding down the aisle. Its hind leg catches on a leaflet in a little boy’s hand, and I watch as that pastel piece of paper goes flying. Eve’s picture printed on the front floats through the air like a paper kite, and the little boy gets a pop to his bottom from his mother.

“Everett,” I hiss, my voice wobbling in fear. “It’s happening again.”

“What’s happening?” he whispers as he does his best to follow my gaze.

The bear lumbers its way right past my mother and her enthusiastic soliloquy and stops shy of Eve’s casket before letting out an earth-shattering roar.

“Oh God,” I whimper as I sink in my seat.

The bear stands on its hind legs, looking down at Eve as if it were paying her homage. And, dear God, if that bear doesn’t care more about her than her own flesh and blood. But come to think of it, she may have treated it better.

In what looks like slow motion, the bear reaches over and settles its paw on the lid to her casket, causing her coffin to tremble slightly. Thankfully, my mother is regaling the crowd with a cute little ditty about stealing Eve’s first boyfriend and no one seemed the wiser. The big hairy beast circles around to the back of the casket and bumps its snout against the lid.

“Holy mother of all things good and evil,” I hiss as I make a run for the altar, bypassing my mother and stationing myself behind the casket just as the bear slams the darn thing shut. My hand thankfully is sealed to the lid, making the unforgivable foible look like my own misgiving. Just great.

“Lottie!” my mother screeches.

“And on that note.” I look to the shocked faces in the crowd. “We would like to conclude the service.”

Mom shakes her head in protest as a fountain of words struggle to make their way up her throat. “But I didn’t get to the good part. Eve found us in the back of his father’s Impala!”

I try my hardest not to roll my eyes. “Please join us for pastries and refreshments next door.” My voice booms clear to the back where I see Noah’s eyes wide as eggs as he takes me in.

The bear sniffs my neck, my back, my behind, and I do my best to kick him away, but it’s like hitting a solid brick wall.

I spot Nell Sawyer taking off and make a beeline after her.

That horrible beast will probably end up flipping poor Eve right out of her casket, and with Eve’s luck, there will be an entire room full of people willing to watch the show.