“I’m not kissing you,” I told her.
Suddenly she thrust her head at my knee.
I inhaled sharply, expecting a bite. But she only nudged me.
“You want a pat?” I asked, reaching out to her cautiously. “Don’t bite my fingers,” I warned. “I need them for baking.”
And she didn’t. Instead of biting, that big, bad goose wriggled her rear in a happy dance.
Back in the kitchen, Aunt Fancy was in charge. She was the cake-decorating expert at Chuckling Goose. She divided us into pairs and assigned each team a frosting. Rain and I got whipped cream, which was the easiest. All it took were three ingredients—heavy cream, powdered sugar, and vanilla—and a lot of beating with a whisk. Aunt Fancy didn’t believe in using an electric beater. “It’s important to stay connected to your cake every step of the way,” she told us. “You have to feel the movement in your wrist and watch how the ingredients respond.”
Rain and I took turns whisking until the frosting began to form peaks that looked like new snow on a sledding hill. By the time it was done, our wrists felt like we’d sprained them in a sledding accident. We used a spatula that looked a lot like a butter knife to spread the frosting over our cakes. Rain came up with our decorating idea, a circle of flowers we made by cutting strawberries into petals and placing a mini chocolate chip in each center.
I was feeling pretty proud until I looked at the older girls’ work. Their cakes were like paintings. Perrin and Nell had used their frosting to create a woodland world of birds, squirrels, and rabbits peeking out from behind trees. Winnie and Pip’s cake had mountains and a realistic waterfall. Aunt Fancy had made a day-and-night cake, half sunny blue sky and half starry night. I guess it represented the perfect day. Suddenly flowers seemed really boring.
To write “Happy Birthday,” the apprentices used plastic frosting bags with piping tips, which was sort of like using a squeeze bottle of mustard to write on a hot dog. Their lettering was even and beautiful. I couldn’t even write that way with a pencil and paper. But Aunt Fancy showed Rain and me how to use a stencil to press the outline of the words into our cake. Then we used a chopstick dipped in green frosting to go over the imprint we’d made.
“Everyone started this way,” Aunt Fancy assured us. “It’s like using training wheels. Just be sure to leave enough room for the birthday person’s name.”
“But if the cakes go to random people, how can we know their names?” I asked.
“We don’t,” Aunt Fancy said. “The names appear on the cakes after they’re delivered.”
I could tell there was another magical rhyme coming, so I took out my notebook. I was worried that I wouldn’t remember the ones I’d already learned.
“It’s short,” Aunt Fancy said as if she knew what I was thinking. “Just repeat after me.
“When this wish cake finds its home
Make the receiver’s identity known
Top and center the name will appear
Written in icing, neat and clear.”
It made me think of a story my dad had told about something that happened when he was a kid. He’d loved magic, so he’d gotten a book from the library that explained how to do tricks. One of them was making invisible ink. He began by dipping a Q-tip into lemon juice, and writing a message to his brother on a sheet of paper: “Hello, Dumbhead!”
When it dried, the message disappeared. Later he gave his brother, my Uncle Bobby, the “blank” paper and told him that magic words would appear if he held it over a light bulb. The paper was supposed to darken from the bulb’s heat, except for the lemon juice writing, which would stay cooler and stand out. Instead, the paper caught fire! Quickly Uncle Bobby poured his glass of grape juice over it, which left a big stain on the rug in their room. When my grandparents discovered it, Dad and Uncle Bobby didn’t get any dessert for a week.
But the names on our wishing cakes weren’t written in advance. The magic was real. Boy, would my dad have liked to see that!
“All right, girls, I think that’s enough for today,” said Aunt Fancy. “Tomorrow morning when the sun comes up, you’ll be setting off with your deliveries.” She looked down at her notes.
“Nell and River will go north with me. Pip and Gray will go south with Aunt Doris. Winnie and Rain will go east with Aunt Bernie. And Perrin and Wyatt will go west on their own.” Aunt Fancy looked up and smiled at Perrin. “We’ve agreed you’re ready. But I’m expecting you to make sure Wyatt doesn’t speed!”
Perrin clutched her spoon and beamed.
“Don’t be late tomorrow!” Aunt Fancy’s bracelets jingled as she shooed everyone off with a pink polka-dot dish towel.
“Wait! You forgot me!” I exclaimed.
Aunt Fancy’s smile drooped. “Oh, Pixie, you won’t be going. Aunt Esperanza wants you to stay here with her. She asked me to tell you to come down extra early to help with breakfast.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Ye Olde Writing on the Wall
I pounded up to the second floor, where the Aunts had their rooms, determined to find Aunt Doris. But when I got to the row of closed doors, I felt nervous about knocking. I had no idea which room was hers, and I didn’t want Aunt Cone Hat popping out like a skeleton in a scary movie.
I’d nearly given up when I heard a gum crack from behind the door opposite the stairs. I only had to tap once.
“Hey, kiddo, come on in,” said Aunt Doris as she opened the door.
At first, her large, square room seemed ordinary. On one side was a neatly made bed with a cherry red blanket that matched the curtains on her window. The other side of the room was set up like an ordinary office, with a desk, a chair, a bookcase, and a table for her computer and printer. But her walls were covered in writing from top to bottom. There was even writing on the ceiling! I nearly tripped over a stepladder as I tried to read it. The print was really small.
She handed me a magnifying glass. “Take your time and look closely, kiddo.”
It was a while before I realized I was looking at dates and addresses. It looked like a crazy mess until I realized they were grouped by month.
“There aren’t any names,” I said, running my fingers down a column. And suddenly, I knew. “This is the list! It’s how you deliver the cakes without knowing who’s getting them, isn’t it?”
“Yup.”
“But where did you get them?”
She waved a hand at the walls. “Oh, we have helpers. Former Goose Ladies who work in town halls, hospitals, schools, libraries, dental offices—and everywhere else records are kept.”
“Wow, Goose Lady spies!”
“Oh, kiddo, you’re a riot,” said Aunt Doris. “But these days, Bernie and I deliver most of our wishing cakes to stores and bakeries. We mix them in with the regular orders and count on people buying the fanciest ones for their relatives and friends who are having birthdays.”
“But what about the magic!” I exclaimed. “I thought the Goose Ladies used their powers to deliver wishing cakes.”
Aunt Doris put a hand on my shoulder. “The truth is, there aren’t enough of us anymore to use magic alone. Don’t you think it’s best to honor Mother Goose’s mission by spreading as much hope as we can, even if our method has changed?”
“I guess so.” I sighed.
“Don’t look so glum! We still preserve our tradition by saving one day each week to distribute wishing cakes the old-fashioned way. Hopefully our future Goose Ladies will do that, too.”
We were both quiet for a moment. But inside I felt more desperate than ever to go on a cake delivery.
“So what’s up, kiddo?” asked Aunt Doris. “I know you have something on your mind.”
I took a deep breath. “Aunt Fancy just told me the most unfair thing! I’m not allowed to help deliver a wishing cake tomorrow! She said it was Old Cone Hat’s, I mean, Aunt Esperanza’s decision. Would you please talk to her for me? I’ve just got to go!”
Aunt Doris sighed. “I’m sorry, kiddo. When we dec
ided to bring you here, we vowed that we would keep you safe.”
“But I’m going to miss all the fun.”
She stared out the window and gave her gum a good, loud crack. “Unfortunately, the Sinister Sisters might have figured out where you are by now. If they catch you, they’d surely seek revenge for what you did to Raveneece.”
“I’m not afraid!” I insisted, although my voice wavered.
“Calm down. Take a deep breath.” Aunt Doris put an arm around my shoulders. “Maybe Espy needs you here,” she said softly. “There’s a rhyme from the Old Times I think you should hear:
“It takes two strands to make a knot
And two brave hearts to foil a plot
Both Grand and Grandie, arm in arm
To keep the Greedy from our farm
For if the bond between them breaks
There’ll be no more of wishing cakes.”
I thought about telling Aunt Doris that I knew Aunt Cone Hat was my great-great-great-grandma. But then she’d know I’d been eavesdropping. I didn’t want to have to explain about what I’d been doing at the barn. If the Aunts found out I had Raveneece’s eye, I’d only get in more trouble.
“I don’t think she wants my help,” I grumbled. “She hates me.”
“She doesn’t know you and you don’t know her. That’s another good reason to stay.”
To: Lucy Chang, Alexa Pinkston
Subject: A Day with Old Cone Hat
Her tall cone hat,
What’s up with that?
Is that mountain on her bean
The thing that’s making her so mean?
Does it sleep with her in bed
Snuggled up atop her head?
Are there spiders under there?
Rats and beetles in her hair?
Her tall cone hat,
What’s up with that?
Miss you a lot!
Pixie
P.S. Wish me luck tomorrow—I think I’m going to need it!
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Ye Olde Garrulous Visitor
While everyone else went to deliver wishing cakes, I stayed at the farm with Aunt Esperanza. She kept me working as if I were Cinderella. After I’d cleared the dishes and scrubbed the pans, she said the potager needed attention. I weeded, watered, re-staked tomato, bean, and strawberry plants, picked beetles off the roses, and hoed the rows till they were ruler straight. Being busy made the morning go super fast, though. I was amazed when Aunt Esperanza called, “Lunchtime!”
To be fair, I should say that she’d been working as hard as me. Her rocking chair hadn’t seen her bony butt even once all morning. Sometimes I’d catch her watching me. But she never complained about the job I was doing.
I stood up and wiped my hands on my shorts. “I’ll just take a peanut butter sandwich out to the meadow,” I told her. “I like to eat with Destiny. La Blanca usually comes, too.”
“Then we’ll picnic together. You can make me a peanut butter sandwich, too. I’ll get Destiny and La Blanca.”
We sat on a scratchy old horse blanket in the field. “When I was young, I used to think I could eat peanut butter sandwiches every day for the rest of my life,” Aunt Cone Hat said. “I actually tried. I ate them for fifty-seven days in a row.”
I stopped chewing and looked at her. “Why’d you stop?”
“On the fifty-eighth day, I couldn’t even look at the jar.”
“How long did you wait before you started eating peanut butter again?”
She held up her sandwich. “This is the first one I’ve had since then.”
“Really?”
“Really.” She took a big bite and burped. Just like Gray!
I couldn’t imagine her as a kid. She seemed like one of those people who’d been born a grown-up. I wondered if she’d had friends, told jokes, or jumped in piles of leaves.
We watched Destiny and La Blanca waddle across the grass together. “Did you hatch La Blanca in an incubator?” I asked.
“No, La Blanca was hatched by a chicken. We had a coop in our backyard and I found her in the middle of a bunch of baby chicks.”
I grinned. “Kind of like the ugly duckling.”
“Oh, no.” She shook her head. “La Blanca wasn’t ugly a day in her life.”
“Neither was Des,” I said. “She was the cutest thing ever. She hatched from an egg Gray and I found in our woods. My dad made us an incubator, but we weren’t sure if the egg would ever hatch.”
Aunt Cone Hat was licking her fingertips. She stopped for a second to say, “You were lucky.”
“I know. Don’t you think geese make the best pets?”
She smiled. “Yes, I do.”
I ran my finger over the fluff of cloud I wore on my pinky. “Um, I was wondering . . . what you think of Dewey?”
“Who’s Dewey?”
“The little male gosling with bumblefoot? Gray says he’s getting better, but it will be a while before he’s all healed up. Maybe we should keep him here at Chuckling Goose.”
“We already have our two males, Commander and Alexander, to protect the flock. They made peace with each other a long time ago. I don’t think they’d make it easy for a little gosling. He could get hurt.”
“I know, but Dewey isn’t a fighter. He’s sweet. Besides, Gray’s been working on getting them to accept him.”
“Why don’t I go see him when I have some time,” said Aunt Cone Hat.
I decided not to tell Gray. I didn’t want to get his hopes up.
When we’d finished eating, Aunt Esperanza pushed herself off the blanket. I thought I heard her bones creak. “I have another job for you.”
“Okay.” I’d been hoping I could write to my friends at home, but her list of chores seemed unending.
“I’d like you to take Thomas for a trot.”
“Do you mean ride him?”
“Well, he’s not going to ride you,” she replied.
“But I’ve never ridden a horse before.”
“Oh, Thomas will teach you. I’d do it myself if my knees weren’t bothering me.”
We brought Des and Blankie back to the barnyard and headed to the paddock, where Thomas was waiting. Wyatt must have saddled him up earlier. Had Aunt Cone Hat planned this outing for me all along? I felt a happy buzz of possibility inside.
Although Thomas was old, I thought he was beautiful. He had a coat the color of a golden acorn and a dark brown mane that fell on his forehead like cute bangs.
My mysterious secret grandmother showed me how to sit properly in the saddle and how to hold the reins. Thomas walked me around and around the paddock until I thought we’d both get dizzy. Finally he stopped in front of the gate.
“Okay, he thinks you’re ready,” she said. The latch squeaked as she opened it and let us into the meadow.
Thomas and I headed for the side of the field that was shaded by the deep green hills beyond, the ones I’d thought about running off to. I was enjoying the way my body kept rhythm with a horse, when I began to think of a poem:
The back of a horse is like a throne
It can make you feel the world’s your own
Forget the phone and the TV
You’ve hills and trees for company.
The sight of a van bumping along the deserted road that circled the field interrupted my thoughts. There was black with white lettering on its side, though it was too far away for me to read what it said.
Did the Sinister Sisters have a truck?
Without thinking about how to do it, I turned Thomas around. We headed back to the barn at a trot.
I’d just reached the corral when the truck pulled up. I looked around for something to defend myself with and spotted a rake. Then I saw Aunt Cone Hat was sitting at the entrance to the barn on a folding chair. She didn’t stand up when the driver, a woman in a black T-shirt that said “Garrie’s Grocery,” got out of the truck.
“Esperanza! I haven’t seen you in ages. You never come into town these days.” The driver
shook her headful of choppy gray hair and grinned.
Aunt Esperanza rubbed a hip. “My old bones just can’t take it anymore, Garrie,” she said. I knew that wasn’t the truth. She’d spent the morning doing everything I did, and more. She made half a dozen trips up and down her kitchen stepladder every morning.
Garrie squinted at her. “I see you’ve still got that pyramid on your head,” she said. “Or do you call it a baker’s hat now?”
“You know darn well what it is,” said Aunt Esperanza.
I pressed my lips together so I wouldn’t laugh. But then Garrie said, “Doris didn’t mention you had a new girl.”
“She’s just a maid. Doesn’t know a thing about baking.” Aunt Esperanza flicked a hand at me like she was shooing a gnat. “Bring Thomas into his stall and get him some water,” she snapped.
My eyebrows shot up. But she sent me a quick look warning me not to disagree.
“But Espy, you haven’t even introduced us!” said Garrie.
Old Cone Hat looked like she’d swallowed something bitter. “Jane Garrulous, meet Trixie.”
Trixie! I almost burst out laughing.
“Pleased to meet you, Trixie. You can call me Garrie. Everyone does.”
The word garrulous had been on one of my vocab tests last year. When I remembered what it meant, I had to cover my smile.
“What are you doing here, Garrie? Didn’t you see the sign that says ‘Private Road’?”
“I didn’t think that was meant for your friends, Espy,” answered Garrie. “Besides, I’m doing you a favor. I brought that red felt you ordered. Are you making yourself a new hat?”
“None of your beeswax! And you know Doris could have picked it up for me.”
“True. But I also wanted to talk to you about getting more cakes for the store. Lately I’ve been running out before the end of the week. Some of my best customers have been disappointed. Doris says you’re already on baking overload, but I thought as a friend, you might add a few extra cakes to my order.”
Aunt Esperanza frowned. “Why do you need more now? We’ve been selling you the same number of cakes for years.”
Pixie Piper and the Matter of the Batter Page 8