The Cupcake Witch: The Witching Hour Collection (The Chancellor Fairy Tales Book 2)

by Poppy Lawless

  “God, look at this woodwork. This place is amazing,” Alice gushed once more.

  “I love it,” Julie said wistfully. “I feel like I’m riding some strange wave of fate, tossing me along toward a dream come true.”

  Rayne, a perpetual metaphysical guru, smiled at that. “Massive action leads to massive results.”

  “Ah, another Rayne-ism,” I said jokingly.

  “No, that’s Tony Robbins.”

  We laughed.

  “Picnic?” Alice asked.

  “Well, the greenhouse is mostly cleared out now, and I have some candles we could light. There are some paint throws in the back. I’ll go grab them,” Julie said then darted toward the back.

  “She is adorable,” Alice said to me. “Do not screw it up…again.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “So I hear. Viola called. She said you quit the winery.”

  “Well, massive action leads to massive results,” I said, grinning at Rayne.

  Rayne winked. “What’s next?”

  “The Arts Council…I took the job.”

  “No. Freaking. Way. You did?” Alice said.

  Rayne nodded approvingly.

  “It was time. I needed to move to something good, something different.”

  “And something sweet,” Alice said with a wink.

  As if on cue, Julie appeared from behind the counter. Her clothes were dirty from the long day of work, her cheeks flushed red from exhaustion, but she looked perfectly beautiful. Everything in me wanted to just crush her against me and hold her, protect her. She was just a tiny sweet thing, but she was no wilting violet. The image of my father standing over her, his face shaking with rage while Julie stood her ground, struck me to the core. In that single moment, I hated my father more than I had ever hated him before. And I was also struck with awe of this girl who took no shit from him, not caring even a little about who he was. That day, I’d seen both of them very clearly, and it was very obvious whose side I wanted to be on.

  “Here, let me help you,” I said, crossing the room to take the bundle of paint throws from her.

  Alice, Rayne, Julie, and I then went about setting the blankets out on the floor of the old greenhouse. A worker had hauled away a ton of weeds, old pots, and worn tables, to reveal that the floor of the greenhouse was actually set with stonework. Overhead, wrought iron, the white paint now mostly chipped away, curved beautifully. Being in the greenhouse was a little like being in an ornate Victorian birdcage.

  “This place is so cool,” Alice said as she helped spread out the cloths.

  “I’m going to open a tearoom,” Julie said. “I’m going to get café tables for this area. I’ll offer daily high tea. Wait, that won’t put me in competition with you, will it, Alice?” Julie said. A look crossed her face when it suddenly appeared she might be drawing business off a new friend. The look made me adore her all the more. This was no ruthless businesswoman. And someone with a heart like that belonged in Chancellor.

  Alice shook her head. “I mostly get the college crowd, weekend brunch people, people on their way to work. Sandwiches, coffee, and bagels on the run. Different market. But if you ever want to cross promote, I’m all ears.”

  “You got it.”

  Alice set out dinner, handing each of us a box. “Corned beef on an asiago cheese bagel for the carnivore,” she said, handing me a box. “Jalapeno Swiss cheese bagel and turkey for me, and for the resident vegetarians, grilled portabella parmigiana on a rosemary Panini.”

  “And an alcoholic beverage,” Rayne said, handing us each a pumpkin wheat beer, “not made from grapes,” he added with a smirk. “Shall we toast? To Julie’s new venture?”

  “How about to Mrs. Aster, who was kind enough to leave this place to my family?”

  Rayne nodded.

  “To Mrs. Aster,” Julie called, hoisting her beer.

  “To Mrs. Aster,” we all added.

  At that, a deep chill swept through the place, and along with it came the sweet scent of flowers. We all paused and looked at one another.

  After a moment, Rayne laughed. “Looks like Emma Jane didn’t want to miss the party,” he said then lifted his beer. “And may our lives be ever serendipitous,” he added.

  I turned to Julie. “To serendipity,” I said.

  She smiled softly. “To serendipity.”

  Chapter 13: Julie

  By the time Alice and Rayne left, my head was in the clouds. I picked up the throws while Horatio dropped the bottles into a recycling bin. Things in Chancellor were moving forward with such speed that I hardly knew what to think. The property, the help from Mrs. Aster’s old friends, Horatio, it was a lot to take in at once. All this time, finding a great guy had felt a bit like finding a proverbial needle in a haystack. It seemed that most of the guys at college had only one agenda in mind, and while I had my occasional dalliances, that wasn’t the kind of guy I was looking for. My mom’s and dad’s relationship had always been loving and respectful. My dad was a gentleman, and he had treated my mother like a lady. I wanted what they’d had. Thus far, I hadn’t found anyone who fit the bill. Horatio had made a horrendous first impression, but now I understood what had motivated him. Wanting to make your parents happy was a driving force I understood very well. It made you do stupid things.

  “Julie,” Horatio called from the greenhouse. “You aren’t going to believe this. Come check it out.”

  Putting the throws aside, I walked through the shopfront toward the greenhouse only to be awestruck. There was silvery light shimmering all around the room.

  “What is that?” I whispered, stepping down into the greenhouse. The large, and what I thought to be decorative, silver and crystal chandelier overhead was glowing with soft light. “I thought it was just ornamental.”

  “I saw the electrician in here today, but I thought he was working on the floor lights. I just happened to brush against that old switch when I took out the trash,” Horatio said, motioning to a round knob on the wall.

  I gazed from the light to him. He was smiling, face turned upward, at the light. It shone down on his dark hair, making his pale face and blue eyes glow with iridescence. Maybe it was the beer, or maybe the gratitude I felt, or maybe my admiration for him that he would leave a toxic situation like he had, but in that moment, I felt myself drawn to Horatio. Earlier, fight or flight was ruling me. Now, however, I wanted him. I just wanted him. It was no more complicated than that.

  “Horatio,” I said, taking his hand gently, “thank you so much for everything. I know that this place, well, it tore your life apart. I’m sorry that it happened because of me.”

  He shook his head as his hand drifted to my lower back. He pulled me closer. “It wasn’t your fault. But I’m glad it happened. And glad I met you. Thank you for tearing my life apart.”

  I gazed deeply into his eyes. “My pleasure,” I replied and leaned toward him.

  Some first kisses are like duds. It’s all anticipation and then the delivery just falls flat…a peck, a tongue driving toward your esophagus, onion breath, too much or too little pressure. First kisses are tough. But this…this was just right. Horatio’s lips were soft and warm. His mouth tasted sweet, the hint of pumpkin lingering on his tongue. We pressed our mouths together, kissing softly. First came the sweet touch-and-go kisses, but then we became more passionate, our bodies pressing against one another. I could feel how fit he was, his muscles firm under his thin T-shirt. His arms gripped my small frame, pulling me close. He was so strong.

  “Am I seeing stars or is it just the twinkling lights?” Horatio asked with a laugh.

  “Stars, of course,” I whispered. “Chasing stars,” I muttered absently as Horatio drizzled kisses down my neck. Since the moment I saw the photo of the little shop that’s exactly what I’d been doing, chasing stars. And despite my mother’s insistence that such acts were futile, I was seeing a lot to the contrary.

  “Julie,” he whispered in my ear. “I really like you. And I really want to
stay, which tells me I really need to leave. You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before. I want to deserve you. I want you, and not for just one night. I want more than that from you. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes,” I whispered. I wanted him too. Badly. But I wasn’t in it for a one night stand either. The Horatio who had stood up to his father was the kind of man I wanted in my life.

  He kissed me on my forehead then we pressed our foreheads together. “You’re staying here tonight?”

  “Yes. I’m going to keep working.”

  “I’ll stop by or text you. I’m not sure what kind of mess I’ll need to clean up now. My sister…I need to make sure everything is okay with Viola. With Dad so pissed off…I just need to check on her.”

  In that moment, I couldn’t have adored him more. “Okay. Thank you so much for today.”

  “Thank you too.”

  I giggled. “Made your life a mess.”

  “That’s what bakers do, right? But the result is always sweet.”

  “I hope so.”

  “I know so. Good night, Julie Dayton,” he said, then leaned in and kissed me once more.

  “Do that again and I’m not going to let you leave, no matter how chivalrous you’re trying to be,” I whispered once he let me go.

  Horatio laughed.

  I followed him to the door, grabbing just one more kiss before he bounded off the front porch toward his Mercedes SUV parked on the other side of the street. With a wave, he hopped in the vehicle and drove off.

  I stepped onto the porch and looked out over the garden. I’d been so busy inside all day that I’d barely had a chance to see what had been uncovered in the front yard. I walked to the end of the porch and started down the steps toward the cutting garden. I was surprised to find massive white flowers growing all along that end of the porch. They looked up at the full moon. Night blooming flowers? How lovely.

  The moon made the whole yard shimmer with silver and blue light. The workers had uncovered several raised beds that must had been used for herbs or cutting gardens. They’d already started replacing the old, rotted wood with fresh planks. It was then, however, I noticed that something unusual had been uncovered at the center of the space. Held aloft by three metal poles was a massive old cauldron. It had been completely overgrown, hidden by the foliage.

  “Now, where did you come from?” I asked, spying down into the cauldron.

  Apparently it had collected some rainwater because when I looked inside, I was surprised to see my own face, framed by the starry sky, looking back at me. Startled, I gasped and stepped back, giggling at myself.

  A cool wind swept across the garden, kicking up with it the sweet smell of flowers. I looked back into the cauldron again, and this time I was truly surprised. Reflected on the mirrored surface of the water wasn’t my face, but that of Mrs. Aster.

  “Welcome home,” she whispered in a thin voice, smiling softly at me. But then it seemed she touched the surface of the water, distorting the image.

  “Too much pumpkin beer, and meeting the guy of my dreams, and Halloween week are doing weird things to my mind. Goodnight, Mrs. Aster. Thank you very, very much for the home. I’m headed to bed before I spy the Great Pumpkin or something,” I said then turned to go inside, my skin completely covered with goosebumps.

  As I headed back inside, the cool wind whipped across the garden once more, carrying with it the strong scent of jasmine and a soft whisper in the breeze that sounded like someone had said, you’re welcome.

  Chapter 14: Julie

  That night, I slept on Mrs. Aster’s old couch only to wake up to the sound of workmen on the roof. I definitely needed to figure out a way to thank Mrs. Row for everything she’d done for me. It was like the whole town had turned out to welcome me, for better or worse. So far, despite my visit from Aaron Hunter, it was turning out to be for better.

  I rose groggily, grabbed my overnight bag, and headed to the bathroom. I dressed in my cutest denim overalls and got to work. Pulling my hair back in a twist, I washed up, stopped in the kitchen to make a quick cup of tea, then headed out on the front porch.

  “Morning, Miss Dayton,” someone called from the garden. I turned to find the lawn worker busily working on my garden boxes.

  “Up so early?” I called.

  “Oh, well, I’ll get you all finished today so you can get some bulbs in before the first frost. Emma Jane always had the prettiest daffodils growing out here. You know, she let me take her to dinner once,” the older man said with a wistful smile. “Lovely girl,” he added then went back to his work.

  Okay, now that was the second aged gentleman in Chancellor to wax poetic about Emma Jane. Those must have been some memories if they were lining up decades later to have a chance to show their gratitude. I giggled at the thought of it. Just when did Grandma Belle’s brother Owen die that Emma Jane had so much time to date?

  On the front porch was an old potting table. I moved it out to the front garden. Grabbing a bucket and hose, I scrubbed it clean. As I worked, I eyed the busy street. Mr. Hunter arrived at Falling Waters just as I finished cleaning off the table. He slid out of his white Mercedes like a slick fish swimming upriver. He paused and looked across the street toward me.

  Grinning, I waved to him.

  He turned and went inside.

  I noticed then that several official looking people were moving down the street toward the park called The Grove. What was going on?

  Just then, however, a white pickup pulled up at the parking along Main Street in front of the shop.

  “Are you Miss Dayton?” the man in the driver’s seat asked. Three men were packed into the front of the pickup. I couldn’t help but notice that the driver was an older gentleman. Yet another of Emma Jane’s conquests?

  “That’s me,” I called.

  “I’m Milt, Mrs. Row’s husband. Got my helpers here. Toot said Emma Jane’s old place could use some paint. Got a favorite color?”

  “I like Emma Jane’s green,” I said, motioning to the shutters. “Maybe something plum colored for inside?”

  Milt nodded as his assistants got out of the truck. “I’ll grab the paint. The boys will start priming the place up.”

  “But Mr. Row, I’m not sure I can affor—”

  “We’ve got it, Miss Dayton,” he said. He waved to his workers then headed off.

  “Mind if we go inside?” the men asked, both of them carrying tool kits and paint cans.

  “I guess not,” I said with a grin.

  I shook my head as I watched them go.

  Grabbing the old sign for Serendipity Gardens that had been lying on the porch, I laid it down on the old table then headed back inside to bring the paints I’d brought with me. Cracking open a can of chartreuse-colored paint, I painted a base coat on the faded sign. The bright green base coat dried while I washed out my brushes. Now I was ready for the real trick. Grabbing the recipe box from inside, I headed back to the garden with black paint and a thin brush. On one end of the sign, I began painting the image of the woman with long hair just as she was depicted on the recipe box.

  I worked for a long while, concentrating hard. I didn’t look up until a shadow loomed over the sign, startling me.

  “Is that…the recipe box,” a woman said aghast.

  I looked up to see Mrs. Row standing there. She had a shocked impression on her face.

  “It was left…for me,” I said, realizing the moment I said it that it was true. “Mrs. Row, I don’t know how I can ever possibly thank you for everything you’ve done for me. And I have no idea how I’m going to repay you.”

  “The box…can you make the recipes? Have you…have you tried one? Can you do it?” The woman had a very serious expression on her face. It was then I realized what she was really asking. She wanted to know if I had tried one of the…poems. No, that wasn’t the right word for what they were nor the effect they seemed to have. She wanted to know if I had tried one of the…spells.

  “Yes.”

/>   Mrs. Row grinned. “There used to be a recipe for these adorable little cupcakes with sugar forget-me-nots. Make me about five dozen of those, exactly as the recipe says, for the public hearing on The Grove tonight, and we’ll call it even.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Yes. At seven. Can you manage it?”

  I pulled out my cell. It was only ten. I had time. “Sure. But all this? Just for some cupcakes?”

  Mrs. Row laughed. “You’re sure you have made something from that box before…and the recipe…turned out?”

  I nodded.

  “Then, yes. All that for some forget-me-not cupcakes. Don’t be late. About five dozen delivered to the town hall tonight no later than seven. Promise me you’ll do that, Julie?”

  “Of course.”

  “That’s a good girl. Better start baking,” she said then, patting my arm. With a wave, she then crossed the street to join the businessmen and women gathered in The Grove. I couldn’t help but notice that Aaron Hunter had joined them as well. A young woman with long, dark hair was at his side. She was looking in my direction.

  She waved to me. Was she Horatio’s sister?

  Smiling, I returned the gesture then dropped my paintbrush into a cup of water. If I was going to bake cupcakes, I’d need to get to work. First, I’d get cleaned up. Then, I needed to grab some supplies. This was the first order from my new business. I couldn’t wait to get started.

  Tucking the recipe box under my arm, I headed inside.

  Chapter 15: Horatio

  The Town Hall was packed. Against my better judgement, I went with Viola to the meeting regarding The Grove, mostly to offer her some moral support.

  “They’re going to shoot down his request. They’ve all but told him so already,” she whispered to me.

  “Then what in the hell is he doing here? The Grove is a town landmark. They aren’t going to let him scoop up the property.”

  “He was on the phone with his accountant this morning,” Viola whispered. “He’s going to pull a godfather.”