Chocolate Chip Cookie Conundrum (Murder in the Mix Book 32) by Unknown (the lemonade war series .TXT) 📕

I want to be naked, too. I follow everything they do, Lot Lot. Haven’t you been paying attention?”

“No, but that explains an awful lot.” I shudder. “Never mind that. They’re not naked. They’re wearing nude-colored clothing. That must be why Kit’s wearing that matching tank top, too.”

She smacks me on my arm. “Why’d you let me put on this polka dot disaster this morning?”

“I’m not a psychic. How was I supposed to know they’d be here in birthday suit knockoffs? And to be honest, I rarely notice what you’re wearing. I’m too busy noticing your whack-a-doodle behavior, like trying to take off your clothes in public.”

“Oh, who cares if I’m a whack-a-doodle? I want to be a Kellerman, Lot. I’ve seen enough seasons to know they can whack-a-doodle with the best of them.”

“Cut!” someone shouts and the crew starts buzzing every which way, but the Kellermans remain cool as cucumbers, still outstretched over those odd beanbags as if they were readying for a solid afternoon nap.

Carlotta storms the set, and I’m right there on her heels.

“My people!” Carlotta stretches out her arms. “Mama’s home.” She jumps between the two middle sisters and starts chatting up a storm with the two of them. But I gravitate toward Karen and Kinsley. Each Kellerman sister’s name begins with a K, as does their mother’s, and their grandmother’s, and all of their ancestry dating back to the Mayflower.

Karen and Kinsley are each holding a living, breathing doll in their arms, a one-year-old and a six-month-old baby girl.

“I’m a mama now, too,” I whine as I head over and take a seat on the edge of the squishy sofa.

“Of course, you are.” Karen perks up. Karen is the oldest and the shortest of the Kellerman clan, and she also has the most kids as well. She’s sort of Mother Earth in a nutty granola way. And she happens to be Lainey’s favorite sister. “As soon you walked in, I could tell you were ready to pop. When’s the baby due?”

My hand falls over my stomach, mostly out of habit. “I’ve already had her.” Tears come without warning. I can’t blame them for the big-bellied faux pas since I’m still firmly fitting into my maternity wear. Not that I have another wardrobe to squeeze into. I lost all of my old clothes in the fire with the exception of the small wardrobe I forgot about under Noah’s bed, and the clothes that Carlotta borrowed from me and squirreled away at Mayor Nash’s place.

“Aw, you poor thing.” Karen wraps an arm around my shoulders and rocks me. “What’s her name?”

I hiccup as I look at the tiny babe in Kinsley’s arms and tears come to my eyes.

“Her name is Lyla Nell, and I’ve abandoned her,” I wail out those last few words, and soon all five Kellerman sisters are patting me on the back in an effort to calm me down. Carlotta is standing to the side, chatting it up with Kathy Kellerman, the power mother to end all power mothers.

“What do you mean you abandoned her?” Katrina, the youngest and the most successful Kellerman of them all, asks and I can’t help but gawk at how beautiful she is in an exotic, albeit not quite human way. Some of the Kellermans have taken their ability to afford all the plastic surgery in the world to unsafe levels.

“I’ve left her all alone with my mother,” I wail once again, and this time an entire river of tears streams down my face.

Karen laughs as she pulls me into a loose embrace. “I bet it’s your first time without her, isn’t it?”

I give a tearful nod. “And I’m never, ever doing it again.” More wailing and tears ensue, and it feels darn good to let it all out. “I’m a terrible mother. And I knew it! I just knew I would be.”

“No way!” Kinsley is quick to come to my defense. “You’ve just got a bad case of the hormones. When did you give birth?”

“Three weeks ago.” I chop each word into fifteen syllables.

“Three weeks?” Kasey shouts.

Kasey is the most controversial sister of them all, always getting into trouble with the law, always dating the bad boys and letting them be bad to her, time and time again. She’s the one I’d like to talk a little sense into. Not that I can push a single intelligible word out if I wanted to.

“Come here, hon.” Kasey nestles herself between Karen and me. “You’re just a hot mess because neither your brain nor your body has settled down yet. At three weeks I was still in bed stuffing my face with cinnamon rolls and binge watching shows on Instaflix.”

“You’re right!” I practically shout at her. “I’m a hot mess. I miss my bakery. I miss my old body. I miss my boobs. As much as I love Lyla Nell, I can’t help but think everything feels wrong in my world.” I start to weep and my boobs start crying, too. I believe the proper term for when your boobs turn on you is a letdown and that sounds about right.

“You’re just dealing with change, that’s all,” Karen says before flicking Kasey with her foot. “And you’re still stuffing your face with cinnamon rolls and binge watching Instaflix.” She scoots forward and takes a scrutinizing look at me. “Hey, wait a minute! You were on Getting Candid with Candace yesterday, weren’t you?”

The rest of the sisters gasp.

“I never missed a show,” Kinsley says as she bats those extra long lashes my way. “So who’s the father?” she asks, handing me the arm-flapping doll in her arms and I quickly take the tiny peanut and snuggle with her.

“We don’t know,” I say. “We came by the set to get the envelope from Candace’s office.”

“Her office?” Karen gasps. “How creepy. I wanna go.”

“Me, too,” each of the sisters quickly echoes.

“And what about the killer?” Katrina gives me that crazy-eyed look that she’s so famous for, and I squeal with delight and so does