Wicked Whoopie Pies by Addison Moore (english novels to improve english TXT) 📕

“You don’t get to ruin anything for anyone ever again,” he seethes right at her. “This ends today.” He stalks off and Terri turns to do the same when our eyes lock.

“Lottie?” She walks on over and I suddenly wish a hole would open up and swallow both Lyla Nell and me. I feel guilty having heard such an ugly exchange.

“Terri.” I force my voice to brighten. “I was just checking the baby’s diaper. Sorry, I didn’t realize you were having a private conversation. But since you’re here, I was hoping to talk to you at some point before we left. I’m thinking of having the website for the bakery redesigned. It’s outdated and needs a facelift, and you’re the first person I thought of.” Partially true.

“I have no problem doing that.” She makes a face as she fumbles for something in her purse. “How about instead of a payment we do a little bartering?”

A flood of relief hits me. “Now that sounds right up my alley,” I say, hoisting Lyla Nell a little higher onto my shoulder. She might be only two months old, but she’s chunking up nicely and can get heavy after a while. “What do you have in mind? Free desserts for a month? One cake each month, for a year? I’m open to just about anything.”

Terri pulls a piece of paper from her purse. “I was thinking something more along the lines of your investigative services.” She unfurls the rectangular piece of paper no bigger than a bookmark and I lean in to read the words, I know what you’ve done. “Found this on my windshield before I left the house,” she says. “I’ve got an entire drawer of notes just like this one at home, too. I’ve been getting them for a while now.”

“Oh, Terri.” My heart thumps wildly just looking at the threat. “I’m so sorry. Of course, I’ll help you. Have you taken these to the sheriff’s department?”

“No. I thought I’d try you first. If I go to the sheriff’s department, whoever is trying to scare me might back away, and I definitely want to catch them in the act. Believe me, I’ve tried on my own. But this was the first time I’ve had a note on my windshield. Usually they’re tucked away in my mailbox, my desk at work. I’ve even found one on the seat of my car. I left the window open an inch so that last one was my fault. They had access to the interior. Lottie, I’m counting on you to help me out.”

Feedback from the microphone starts in, and that woman with the navy pantsuit and the bun runs over from the front of the room.

“Terri, there you are,” she says. “Hurry up, you’re practically the star of the show.”

She takes a bite of the whoopie pie in her hand as she waves Terri in her direction, and soon enough, both Terri and I have taken our places up front.

Up on the stage there’s an elongated table with three of the elders of our church seated behind it—Terri being in the middle. And they each have a plate of my whoopie pies and a cup of coffee situated before them. If anything can make this run smoother and put everyone in a good mood, it’s one of my whoopie pies. In fact, once this is over, I plan on going home and eating twelve myself.

Pastor Cleary, a sweet man in his eighties with a thick head of gray hair, kind eyes, and a peaceful smile, sits side-by-side with Pastor Dave just to the left of the elders. He leans into the microphone in his hand.

“Welcome one and all to the first official business meeting this May. I’d like to open the floor for questions for the elders at this time. I realize a lot of people are feeling a bit charged, so I’d like to open in prayer and implore each one of you to remain civil toward your brothers and sisters. Please state your case. You will get to vote in a few weeks. Just know that it’s the elders here who will be making the ultimate decisions when it comes time.” He leads us into a simple prayer, and soon an entire line is snaking down the center of the middle aisle.

“Wow,” I muse to Everett and Noah who are seated on either side of me. “It looks as if a lot of people have something to say.”

“Ba ba!” Lyla Nell chirps so loud her voice echoes over the vaulted ceiling.

“Come here, princess.” Noah laughs. “I’d rather listen to what you have to say any day of the week.” He scoops her out of my arms. “I’ll go outside and enjoy a little sunshine with her. I called for backup and Ivy is on her way, too.”

Ivy would be Detective Ivy Fairbanks, Noah’s partner down at the Ashford County Sheriff’s Department Homicide Division. She’s a leggy redhead who can’t keep her eyes off Noah. I’ve told him as much over the years, but he didn’t believe it until Ivy confessed to crushing hard on him a few months ago. Suffice it to say, I’m not Ivy’s biggest fan and vice versa.

Noah takes off and Everett wraps an arm around me. “I vote we hit Wicked Wok afterwards.”

“Ooh,” I coo as I look up at my blue-eyed husband. “I would love that. I really miss coming to church and then heading off to have a buffet of delicious Chinese food afterward.” Lyla Nell sort of put a monkey wrench in my church going mojo, but now that she’s settling in at home, I think we can get back into the swing of things. “Not that you don’t bring Wicked Wok home at least three times a week. And thank you for that, by the way. I don’t know how I could ever repay you for all you do.”

The hint of a sly smile rides up his cheek. “I’ll take your kisses as payment.”

“You’ll