The Honey Pot not only guarantees a five-star dining experience—a bit of a surprise for what it is—but it also guarantees a great photo op. In fact, the Honey Pot Diner was voted Vermont’s most photographed restaurant last year in some hokey poll on the internet. Years ago, when Nell and her husband opened this place, she wanted something to set it apart from what used to be a competing restaurant across the street, so she had an oversized fireplace built against the north wall and a large resin tree planted right in the middle of the restaurant. The tree itself is modeled after the spreading oaks Nell said she used to swing from as a child, and each of the dozens of branches extend to the far corners of the ceiling. It wasn’t until about twenty years ago that Nell finally had the idea to wrap each of the individual branches with twinkle lights. That little detail alone has made the Honey Pot what the locals call the most romantic restaurant in the state. We keep them lit during daylight hours too, and even though the effect isn’t nearly as dramatic, it’s stunning nonetheless. The trunk of the tree is hollowed out and inside sits a honey pot with what looks to be honey dripping down the sides. That right there is what cemented this place as a Honey Hollow treasure. We’re practically a landmark at this point, and, according to the tourists who keep this place hopping on its toes, we are just that.

I’ve finished my baking duties for the day, and just as I’m about to head home and start on the arduous task of packing, I spot a familiar dark-headed man seated at a booth perusing a menu as if he were just some ordinary customer.

“Is that really…” I suck in a quick breath as he turns his stubble-peppered face my way, and I choke on my next thought. “What in the heck?” I head on over just as Keelie waves to me from across the restaurant and points his way. I’m quick to avert my eyes. Keelie is in love with the idea of love. She is obsessed with men. But as fate would have it, she’s had just as much luck with them as I have.

“Excuse me?” I no sooner arrive at his table than I set my feet in a defiant stance. There’s only so much disruption I can take in my life, and I hit my limit the second I spotted Merilee’s face buried in one of my cutie pies. “Judge Everett Baxter?”

He glances up and does an immediate double take. “Keep your distance,” he teases with a sardonic look on his face. “I’d hate for us to inadvertently wrestle it out in such a nice establishment.” He looks back to his menu as if I were suddenly invisible.

“Very funny. You are a riot. What are you doing here?” My voice is laced with malice, and I can’t help it. It was that unfortunate run-in, and I mean that in the physical sense, that kick-started an entire chain of unfortunate events that followed.

“What are you doing here?” He pauses a moment as if reflecting on something. “That’s right, this is your neck of the woods, isn’t it? The Simonson sisters’ shop is in Honey Hollow.” He glares at the window as if he sees that Busy Bee of a malfeasance.

“So, do you know?” Suddenly I’m a lot less ticked and a lot more curious. “About Merilee?” I whisper. “You know she’s dead, right?” I practically mouth the words.

“What?” His head inches back a notch, and it’s only then I note he’s dressed to impressed in a three-piece suit, a silver tie that dips down to his nether regions like a spear, and something in me heats at the prospect. “What do you mean she’s dead?”

“She’s dead. Dead as a doornail. Met her maker. Is about to take one long dirt nap.”

He frowns at a moment, and his eyebrows dance like dark caterpillars framing his handsome face. “You’re kidding, right?” he flatlines. “After all, it was you who told me you wanted to wring her neck. For your sake, Ms. Lemon, I hope you’re speaking in metaphors.”

“What’s this?” a decidedly male voice pipes up from behind, and I turn around to find another tall, dark, and equally handsome man—sans the three-piece suit, but equally obnoxious nonetheless.

I stand up straight at the sight of him. “Well, if it isn’t my new boyfriend, Noah Private Eye Fox. What do you want?” I snipe just as enthusiastically as I did with Everett.

Everett bucks and coughs as if he had suddenly inhaled hard candy. “You’re seeing this woman?”

I suck in a quick breath as I look to the surly judge. “You know this man?”

Everett and Noah exchange steely glares, and suddenly it feels as if a volatile situation is about to erupt.

“Yeah,” Noah says it just above a whisper. “He knows me.” His scathing gaze remains for a moment more before he looks to me and softens. “I’ll stop by some other time.” He takes off toward the door just as a bubbly redhead makes her way over with a deep, husky laugh already working its way up her throat. I recognize that bombastic bombshell as none other than Collette Jenner. She’s a few years older than me, and if I’m not mistaken, she graduated with Lainey.

“Essex!” She lets out a riotous cackle, garnering the attention of every unfortunate soul in the room. “How I love to say your name.” He stands as she lunges over him with a hearty embrace, and I take that as my cue. I don’t stick around for the Essex-Collette Hour. Instead, I make a beeline outside and catch the faint shadow of Noah Fox as he makes his way toward his office.

“Noah!” I call out, and a plume of fog bursts from me, pale as a paper lantern into the moonless night.

He turns around and lifts an arm.

“Did you stop in to see me?” My heart riots against my chest as my adrenaline kick-starts for seemingly no reason.

“I did,” he calls back, and his teeth glow a moment as if he were smiling. “I’ll stop by another time.”

“Sounds good!” My entire body turns into one giant heartbeat, and for the life of me I can’t figure out why. It sure as heck isn’t because of some real or imagined boyfriend.

I’m not really looking forward to meeting up with Noah again, am I?

A part of me already knows the answer to that.

To quote Keelie—“Lottie Lemon, I never knew you.”