Lock, Stock, and Feral by Addison Moore (free e novels .txt) 📕

“You don’t have to host anything. Actually, I prefer if you didn’t. My mother has been threatening, too, and I’ve already shut her down over it.”

“I’m calling your mother, and we’re having it here at the inn. We’ll do high tea with little petit fours, macarons for dessert, and a lush cake, of course, along with lots of pastel balloons. You’d better get online and start creating an inventory so we can navigate the guests in the right direction. I’ll have to send the invites out in a week if I want to pull this off.”

“Bizzy, don’t you dare. What am I going to do with a service for twelve fine china?”

“You’re right. We’ll ask for twenty-four. That way if you have an extra guest or break a few you’re covered.”

She bubbles with a laugh “No, thank you. Have you met me? I’m more of a bring-your-own-food-and-meet-me-at-the-grill kind of a girl. Besides, both Leo and I are already having a hard time consolidating so we can fit into my cottage.”

“Aw! I’m so glad you’re staying on the grounds. We’re going to do couple things all the time. We should plan a vacation together.”

“You won’t have to,” a familiar voice says from behind. “You live at a resort.”

I turn around to see my mother holding a folding chair while wearing a see-through cover-up over her skirted one-piece bathing suit. My mother has always been modest at the beach for as far back as I can remember. Macy used to tease our mother about her mid-thigh-length swim dresses by calling them our mother’s beach formals.

Georgie is right there with her with a folding chair of her own, but she’s chosen to remain sheathed in one of her famed kaftans, a light blue number today.

We exchange polite greetings as my mother and Georgie get settled next to us. And no sooner do they sit down than Jordy stakes another umbrella in the sand for them.

“Hey, Bizzy.” Jordy’s lips twitch, but he doesn’t flash one of his signature smiles my way. He’s got sunglasses on, but I don’t need to see his eyes to know he’s still pretty down about being a suspect in Patterson Higgins’ murder investigation. “Any break in the case?”

“Not really. But I wouldn’t worry. You’re so far down the suspect list, the only thing killer about you is your looks.”

“Funny.” He attempts a smile, but it never initiates. “I just can’t wait to have this behind me. And I can’t wait to see who the real killer is. I’m emotionally invested in getting them behind bars. I feel as if they targeted me that night to take the blame. I bet they’d love for me to serve their time, too.”

Emmy laughs at her brother. “Don’t worry, Jordy. You won’t have a single excuse to miss my wedding.”

“I’m not missing that bachelor party either.” He mock shoots her before taking off back toward the inn.

“Speaking of painting the town with banana hammocks”—Georgie starts and Emmie is already groaning—“don’t think we’re going to miss out on throwing you the wildest Irish wake you’ve ever seen.”

“Irish wake?” Mom balks. “Georgie, that’s akin to a funeral. I’d ease up on those magical brownies you’re eating. You mean bachelorette party.”

“I’ve been married, Preppy, and so have you,” Georgie says. “I mean wake. But don’t worry, Emmie. The first two or three years aren’t that bad. It’s when he finds a young twenty-something named Tina that it really starts to stink.”

“Sometimes her name is Juni,” Mom muses while slathering herself with coconut-scented suntan lotion.

It’s true. Juni replaced my mother as my father’s new bride at some point, but I think she was farther down the matrimonial line.

“And life gets expensive once you get married, too.” Georgie lifts a brow toward my mother. “And apparently, being single costs a fat roll of nickels, too. Tell ’em what you did, Prep.”

“Georgie,” Mom hisses while swatting her over her armrest with the book in her hand—a copy of The Duke and the Lady. “You promised you wouldn’t say anything.”

“I’m not saying anything.” Georgie swats back before scooping up Fish. “I’m letting you do the honors.”

All four pets are suddenly rapt at attention for whatever is about to transpire.

“Okay, fine.” Mom tosses her hands in the air and Fish bounces in her lap. “I negotiated with the person who was threatening me, and I got them down to a decent price.”

“You got them down to a decent what?” I shout so loud half the cove looks this way momentarily.

“You know they wanted twenty-five grand,” she continues. “And I got all the pictures back for a cool two thousand. That’s a twenty-three thousand dollar negotiation.”

“You negotiated with terrorists?” I balk. “What does Huxley have to say about this?”

I won’t even ask about Macy. For all I know it was her idea.

“Hux doesn’t know, and he’s not going to know. Bizzy, those pictures were humiliating. All that Hux and Jasper were able to do was try to track the pictures and the emails electronically. They admitted it could take weeks if they discover anything at all.”

“Mom.” I close my eyes an inordinate amount of time. “Please promise me you will never do that again. And while you’re at it, please don’t engage in any more text messages with that Romero person—who as evidenced by yesterday’s phone call is a woman.”

“Oh, he is not a woman. It was all a mix-up. His aunt picked up the phone while he was in the shower and she doesn’t speak good English. Besides, I won’t have to text him for too much longer. He’s coming here to Maine.”

Emmie and I exchange a look.

“Go on.” Georgie motions for her to continue. “Get to the good part, Preppy. The part where you had to send him a couple grand as well.”

I inhale so sharply I’m positive my lungs are full of sand.

“Do not tell me that,” I grit the words through my teeth.

“Fine.” Mom relaxes back in her seat while giving Fish a hearty massage. “I