But my blood ran even colder than the night when I saw the message in the frost.
Shouldn’t you be baking?
Maple appeared at my side. “That’s weird. Do you have a stalker, Reese?”
I shrugged, my heart pounding in sudden fear. I certainly had something.
Four
Pecan Pie with Summer’s Last Warm Day
I turned the newly-installed deadbolt as the delivery boy left with the day’s pies. After the message on the window last night, I wasn’t taking any chances.
But now it was time to focus on bigger matters: the Harvest Festival dessert.
I strode over to the small bookshelf in the kitchen and carried all my cookbooks to the table. And I do mean all. Even the ones that just had soup recipes...though I quickly set those aside in my pursuit of the perfect pie.
I needed inspiration. After all, a contract like the one being offered by the Prince could lead to an annual agreement. Guaranteed five thousand dollars every October? I’d take that in a heartbeat. The small business life was hard. Especially with the site down.
And I only had a few days left to perfect a pie. Something new and bold and every shade of autumn.
I began flipping through my books, looking at the pictures, reading lists of ingredients, searching for something that would speak to me, something I knew the Autumn Court would fall in love with.
My nose was deep in the fourth book when something hit the big picture-window in the kitchen. I stood up from the table, placing my phone on the book to hold my page, and wandered over to peer outside.
The yard was empty.
I looked up, through the slanted window that arched over this part of the kitchen, up at the maple tree that spread its wide, shady branches toward the cottage. Nothing but bright sunshine-yellow and scarlet leaves.
No, not quite. One of the branches, and only one, waved at me. Definitely not wind. Was something watching me? Was it the stalker (or whoever had written that message on my window)?
I leaned closer to the window, and my breath fogged the glass like the morning frost. But no matter how hard I stared, I couldn’t see whatever was in the tree. I stood that way, mesmerized, for several long minutes.
My phone started buzzing on the table, yanking me out of my anxious thoughts. I slapped a hand over my heart as it galloped away, then pulled my oversized cardigan closer in front of me, as if warding off some chill. Then I grabbed up the phone, hit the green button, and held it to my ear.
“Hey, Mom,” I said, doing my best to keep my voice even. She didn’t need to know how much she’d scared me. “What’s up?”
“Reese, did you ever figure out what happened to your website? You never called me back!” she said.
I closed my eyes, holding a hand to my forehead. “No, Mom. The IT person I hired is still trying to figure it out.”
And he was logging every single second he spent trying to fix it. In my head I could hear the cha-ching with every passing minute.
“Well, what are you going to do in the meantime? No one can place orders if the website is down!”
“It’s fine, Mom.” It wasn’t, really, but I couldn’t tell her that. She worried enough as it was. “I still have regular customers. And there’s a contest this weekend that might make up for any lost business.”
The tree branch waved again, and for a second I thought I saw something brown scurry toward the trunk of the tree. Maybe it was a squirrel? Or even a rat?
Should I call an exterminator? My dad?
Or was it something worse? My mind drifted back to the words on my window, and I shuddered.
Should I call the police?
“What competition?” Mom said, her voice pulling me out of my head and away from the window.
I shrugged, filling my mom in as I put water on the stove to boil for tea, then settled into the chair at the table, cookbooks stacked around me and apple cinnamon wafting through the air.
***
The next morning, I woke to Thea shaking me again. I cracked open my eyes, pulling the blankets tighter around me. Why was it so cold in here?
Thea jumped on the bed next to me, barely making a dent in the quilt. She rubbed her arms with her tiny gray hands, and puffs of white accented every word she said. “You need to fix this!”
I shivered, knocking the hob off balance. “W-w-why is it so c-cold in here?”
She grunted. “I don’t know. Just fix it!”
She jumped down and scurried into the gingerbread house.
I turned my head to glance out the window. Still dark, but the clock read 5:05. I shifted under the quilt and eased one socked foot into the house air, pulling it back quickly as if the cold had bitten me. I grumbled, rubbing at the grit in my eyes.
I slid toward the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb Nutmeg, who had crawled under the quilt with me. I clutched the quilt around me until the last possible second. Then I hopped out and grabbed another, smaller blanket off the catch-all chair in the corner that held all my discarded, but still clean, clothes.
My jaw cracked as I yawned, and I shuffled toward the cellar door, flipping on the lights as I went.
“Shouldn’t you be baking?” I thought I heard in the otherwise quiet house.
I froze, listening for any sound, but nothing other than silence met my ears. Perhaps it was just my subconscious, reminding me of how little time I had left until the contest.
I continued down the stairs and toward the door between the kitchen and the entry hall, pulling it open slowly. The damp must of the cellar greeted my nose as I clomped down the creaky old steps and made my way to the furnace. Sure enough, not a sign of life.
But I had no idea how to fix a furnace. I was a baker, not a handyman!
Was that even a furnace? Did my house have a furnace?
I scratched at my head, hair accented with icy blue to complement my blue lips, and turned back to the stairs. I’d have to call Dad. Hopefully he wouldn’t mind an early morning.
Five
Inspired Mince Meat
I stood in the kitchen, completely wrapped in my thickest sweater, tall, fuzzy boots, fleece-lined leggings, scarf, and headband. Dad had been in the basement for hours, and still no heat.
But my business didn’t take a break just because the heat was out.
I added another ingredient to my list, another possibility for the Harvest Festival’s competition. I knew I could win—if only things would stop going wrong here.
I dropped the pen on the counter. Time to get some supplies and try out a few new recipes. Plus, I still had to turn in my entry form at city hall.
“Dad!” I called down the stairs. “I’m running out, I’ll be back soon!”
All I heard in response was a grunt and the clang of something metallic, and I winced. Hopefully that wasn’t something else breaking. I grabbed my purse off the hook by the door and hurried outside before I could think too long about that sound.
The sun was shining, its rays warm and bright against the cold wind biting into my skin. Fluffy gray and white clouds scudded across the autumn sky, and leaves hissed along the ground. I pulled my scarf closer around my face and crossed my arms against the breeze, striding down the sidewalk out of my yard.
I lived on one of the quietest streets in Cider Hollow, but even the loudest streets were still calm most of the time. However, as I turned onto Main Street, I found myself surrounded by shouting, hammering, and other noises that went along with preparations for the Harvest Festival. It was going to be big this year, judging from all the booths being assembled.
Every year, Main Street and the Cider Hollow Park were blocked off for an entire week of festivities, ranging from pumpkin carving contests to carnival games to community events like movies in the park. And every year it got bigger.
A small group of Fae, including a hob much like Thea, stood in the park, under the great big maple tree aflame with orange leaves. Could they be part of the baking contest? Or were they simply v
isiting?
And there, right next to them: the two Fae children.
I blinked, faltering in my steps toward city hall. What were they doing here? For that matter, why had they come to my bakery at all? They stared back at me with their big chestnut-brown eyes, unblinking, then smiled at exactly the same time. I shuddered.
The conversation of the other Fae fell silent as I walked past, and I could feel their eyes following me. What exactly had the children told them? Mom always said the attention of the Fae wasn’t usually a good thing. Was I in trouble?
“Shouldn’t you be baking?” the girl said.
My heart lurched at the too-familiar words. Were the children my stalkers? Why were they pushing me to be baking? That was my entire job, anyway!
“I hope it’s something special,” the boy said. “Like what you made for us.”
I smiled tightly and quickened my pace, leaves crunching under my boots as I rushed through the rest of the park, unmoved by the scent of fresh apple cider on the wind, unswayed even by the pumpkin spice coffee at Witch’s Brew. Those cold stares, far too interested in me, sent shivers up and down my spine. I was practically running by the time I reached the city hall steps.
I rushed through the doors, pausing at the bulletin board just inside. The flier said to find Emmett at the mayor’s office to turn in the paperwork. That was two halls to the left. He must be new to town, since I didn’t know any Emmetts here.
With every step, my breathing eased and my heart calmed. I didn’t know why the Fae attention had scared me so; I had no reason to fear them, at least not that I knew of. But between all the problems with the business and the house, not to mention the words the Fae children said, I was seeing danger around every turn.
I was still walking as if the children were on my heels when I rounded the last corner, colliding with a tall, gangly man about my own age, and stumbled backward. His wire-rimmed glasses went flying about as far as my purse and all its contents. I winced as the spilled coins, candy wrappers, tubes of scarlet lipstick, and charging cables for every single one of my electronics hit the cold marble floor.
I swayed as I tried to regain my balance, and he grabbed my elbow before I could hit the floor. I readjusted my glasses, straightening them back on my face. For a moment, I thought I heard the children’s laughter echoing through the halls, but it was gone almost before I’d noticed it.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, stooping to start picking things up. I handed him his glasses first.
He set them on his nose, but they were crooked. Really crooked.
“Really, sorry,” I said again, wincing. “I should have been more careful.”
He twisted his glasses as if trying to bend them back into shape. Something glimmered around him, a shimmering in the air, and then his glasses were miraculously like new.
Another Fae?
“Nothing to worry about,” he said.
Oooh, was that a British accent? Delicious!
“Are you all right, Miss...?” He stooped next to me and began helping me gather the loose contents of my bag.
His fingers brushed mine, and my hand jerked back, tingling filling my fingers. My heart thudded in my chest as his gaze lingered on me.
“Reese. You can call me Reese. And yes, I’m fine,” I said, shoving the last lost article back into the contained chaos of my bag. My face was flaming, my hair streaked with a matching blush pink in my embarrassment.
He rose to his feet, extending a hand to help me up. The moment my hand touched his, that tingling filled me again.
We stood facing each other, and I blinked, taking in his coppery-brown hair, sparkling sunflower eyes, and neat, anachronistic vest, bowtie, and slacks. His light brown skin was smooth and perfect, not even the shadow of stubble on his chin. His mouth quirked up into a roguish half-smile.
He still held my hand.
I yanked my hand away quickly, and he looked away as if embarrassed. My heart kept up its pounding, and my head felt like it was miles up in the air, like all the breath had been stolen from my lungs.
I had never seen anyone like him in Cider Hollow. And I hadn’t felt so attracted to someone since I met my now-ex. If I were a bit braver...if the business wasn’t occupying every spare corner of my mind...if the contest wasn’t days away...I’d ask him out. Maybe.
My heart fluttered again as he looked back at me, and a streak of gray anxiety fell into my face, as I looked down to my toes. He fumbled with a tube of lipstick and handed it to me.
I shoved my hair back behind my ear and took the tube. “I’m, um. Looking for Emmett at the mayor’s office?”
He stared at me for a moment before surprise and recognition lit his eyes. “Oh! Me. I’m Emmett.”
I tilted my head at him. Didn’t he know his own name?
Spoiled spells, the man was cute.
I pulled the form from its crumpled place inside my bag and attempted to smooth it out, hands shaking. “I need to turn in my entry form for the Harvest Festival baking competition. You know, the one for the Fae ball?”
“Oh, excellent!” he said, taking the paper from me. He didn’t say another word, just continued to stare at me with those bright yellow eyes.
“Um,” I muttered, off-balance. Should I ask? About him? If he’d like to meet up sometime? My heart continued fluttering nervously, and I pushed the idea back. I had too much on my plate right now. “I guess that’s all, then. Thanks.”
He reached forward to shake my hand, holding it just a little too long, just like his stare. “Until next time, Miss Reese. I hope it will be soon.”
Was that disappointment in his voice?
Oh, that accent, though. Those eyes! I felt a flush flood my face, and I turned to hurry from the building before I said something stupid. I did that when I got nervous. I told myself it was just the waiting groceries and test recipes that hurried my steps. After all, the contest was only three days away.
The thought brought me crashing back to the ground. I was far too busy for Emmett. And I still had the broken furnace to deal with, assuming Dad hadn’t fixed it yet.
I hoped nothing else had broken in my absence.
***
By the time I got home from the grocery store, Dad was standing in the kitchen with Thea, both of them eating a slice of pumpkin pie from that morning. The air was noticeably warmer than when I’d left.
I dropped the grocery bag on the counter and planted my hands on my hips. “What if that was for a customer?”
“There was already a piece missing,” Dad said around a mouthful of pumpkin.
I raised an eyebrow. “It was a full pie this morning.”
“Don’t know what to tell you, sweetie,” he said. “Someone broke into it. So I figured it was fair game.”
I turned my fake ire to the hob, but Thea simply smiled at me. I vaguely wondered who had taken a slice, but as soon as the thought entered my mind, it fizzled out.
I pulled another plate from the cupboard and cut myself a piece. It hadn’t been for a customer, anyway. Plus, Dad fixed the furnace. He deserved some pie.
And so did I, after colliding with Emmett.
I leaned on the counter while we ate, my mind on his honey eyes and shining hair. He was just my kind of awkward.
Mom would be thrilled.
Interlude II
“Well, Sire?” the boy said. “Can we come back?”
I sighed. Masquerading as one of the mayor’s assistants had been their idea, a way for me to meet someone they thought Mother and Father might like.
But she was human. And I’d only just met her, so how could I know if they would approve? So what if we shared the same favorite pie? Blueberries weren’t even in season...so how could she ever be part of the Autumn Court?
Truthfully, my parents whispered behind my back about my own affinity for the berries, wondering about some forgotten Summer in our lineage, some long lost blood.
Still, it wouldn’t be proper to present a summer human like Reese, not
unless there was good reason.
And there was always the possibility that, like me, she was actually Autumn. The most unique kind of Autumn I’d ever met, if that were the case.
And those eyes, that bright green with intelligence beyond her years. I could see the soul of an artist behind that stare.
My heart beat faster as I fell into the memory of those eyes.
And her hair? I’d never met anyone, let alone a human, who had a trait like that, particularly one so obviously out of her control. Hair that changed color with her mood? How intriguing. Could she possibly be something more than human? I already knew there were several Fae and half-Fae settled in the town. And according to her website, at least before it disappeared for some reason, she baked magical pies.
I had to know more. I had to see her again.
And that meant the sprites couldn’t come back yet. I needed them out there, watching her. Telling me everything. I needed their help.
“Not yet,” I finally said, feeling a twinge of sympathy for the sprites. They really were trying. “She’s fascinating, I’ll give you that. But I need you to find out more.”
The sprites sighed, and their shoulders drooped.
They were just trying to manipulate me with those puppy eyes, that’s all it was. Or that was what I tried to tell myself to feel like less of a monster.
I watched them drag their feet from the top of the hill back toward Cider Hollow and straightened the useless metal glasses again (the magic didn’t hold the bent wires straight for long, not after that collision). Then I retreated back into the woods.
I’d need to find new glasses before I saw her again.
Six
Lemon Meringue with the Element of Surprise
Two days until the competition.
Two days until my chance at the gig of a lifetime and enough money to pay that looming bill.
And two days to create the perfect recipe.
I glanced at the remnants of the blueberry tart I had made for Thea, but it had to be something different. Blueberry was great, but it was for summer, right? And this was the Harvest Festival. It had to turn heads. It had to grab people by the tongue. It had to scream fall. This was no time for taking unnecessary risks with people’s palates!
Seasons of Magic Volume 1 Page 9