The Cupcake Coven

by Ashlyn Chase

  The workday had gone much more normally…at least Rebecca said so. To him it still didn’t seem like she was making the kind of money she needed to keep the place afloat. She had told him her monthly operating expenses were approximately four thousand dollars. That day’s take was approximately one hundred. She’d need forty days in a month to break even.

  He wasn’t sure Rebecca could get out of her own way and ask for a little help. Therefore, he was going to do that for her. Yes, she’d probably be angry if she found out, but dammit, someone had to help the girl. Maybe Hanna could cast a spell so that someone looking for a job would find their way to the bakery.

  He strode into the hotel lobby, wondering if she went by Hanna or Hazel. He could simply ask for the concierge, and that’s what he’d do if he didn’t see her.

  Fortunately, he spotted her behind a desk right there in the lobby. If he hadn’t recognized her pretty round face, he might have walked right past her. Her brunette bob was perfectly coifed and she wore a navy blue suit.

  She looked up as he approached. Her gold name tag read Hazel Meriwether.

  “Hello, Hazel. Do you remember me?”

  A slow smile spread across her face. “I’d have to be senile to forget you, Dru.”

  Was that a compliment or not? He thought he’d better not ask. “I’m here because I need your help.”

  “That’s my job, but something tells me you’re not a hotel guest.”

  “No, ma’am. I wish I could afford to stay here, but I’d be lying if I told you I was a paying guest.”

  Her posture relaxed and she led him to a private grouping of comfortable chairs. “Sit down, Dru.”

  “Thank you, kindly,” he said, and made himself comfortable.

  “I don’t usually talk about coven business at work, but I can tell something is very distressing to you. What is it?”

  “It’s my sister, ma’am. I came to New England looking for Shasta, and so far I’m not having much luck.”

  “I take it you’ve gone to the police…”

  “Yes. That’s the first thing I did. The Portsmouth police were…um—unhelpful. As far as they were concerned, if her last known whereabouts was Salem, Mass, she was a Massachusetts problem. When I said the things that led me to Portsmouth was a guy recommending she could get a cheap place up here and a psychic’s prediction, they laughed their asses off.”

  Hanna rolled her eyes. “That sounds about right. This area is the most expensive in the state, and well…cops in general don’t take well to psychics.”

  “I have a picture of her, but no one seems to recognize it. A couple of people think she might have dyed her hair, but I can’t tell if that’s just people wishin’ they could be helpful and stretching the truth. I doubt she’d dye her beautiful blond hair—especially the black color people thought they saw.”

  “May I see her picture?”

  “Absolutely.” He rose, took the wallet from his back pocket and flipped it open to her picture.

  Hannah took a look at it and her brow furrowed.

  “Do you recognize her?” Dru asked hopefully.

  “No. I’m afraid I haven’t seen her, but I’m not the best person to ask. I rarely leave the hotel.”

  “Oh.” Disappointed, he tucked the wallet back into his pocket and sat down again. “I was hopin’ there might be some way you could tell me if she’s alive and well. Everyone says you have the strongest psychic powers of the group.”

  Hanna frowned. “Did they tell you to look for me here?”

  “No. In fact, they told me not to. When I said I was gonna talk to you anyway, Rebecca wanted to come with me, but I kinda snuck out and she doesn’t know I’m here.”

  Hanna nodded. “Good. At least everyone tried to give you the right advice.”

  “So, I guess that means you can’t or won’t help me…”

  “That’s not what I said, but we can’t talk here.” She rose and motioned for him to follow her. They strolled down a carpeted corridor until she found an empty meeting room. She opened the door, holding it so he could follow her inside.

  As soon as they were safely inside, she turned the lock. Dru suddenly had a bad feeling. Was this why the other witches warned him away from her? Was she going to lock him in, then snap her fingers and transport herself back to the lobby? Or could she zap him back to Texas?

  As the crazy thoughts rolled through his brain, she pulled out a leather chair and seated herself behind the large polished oval table. She gestured to the chair next to her and waited until he was seated before she spoke.

  “Face me and give me both of your hands.”

  He took a deep breath. Oh, well. Never ask a barber if you need a haircut. He held out his hands and she grasped them.

  Closing her eyes, she said. “Picture her in your mind. Let me see her as you do.”

  He closed his eyes and envisioned his beloved sister at her best. They had gathered for his ranch’s annual party. She arrived last, but strode in and gave everyone a hug and a big grin. She was always so happy and full of life. It pained him to think of her any other way.

  “Hmmm…” Hanna said. “I can sense the girl’s energy, but it’s a little different than you remember.”

  Dru’s eyes flew open. “What does that mean? Is she sick?”

  “Don’t panic. It just means she’s not quite the same person. People change. When was the last time you saw her?”

  “February.” At our mama’s funeral. “Do you think dyin’ her hair would change her energy?”

  “No. It’s an inner change. Something is different about her as a person, but at least I can tell you, she’s alive and unhurt.”

  “Whew. That’s a relief. Can you tell me where she is?” he asked hopefully.

  Hanna shook her head. “I can’t pinpoint her location, but I don’t think she’s far away. I feel like you’ve come close to finding her. Perhaps a little more patience will be all you need.”

  Patience. That had never been his favorite word.

  “Well, thank you, kindly. You’ve given me hope. Now, if I may impose on your kindness just a little longer, someone else who needs hope is Rebecca.”

  Hanna stiffened. “Rebecca Colby?”

  “Yes. Apparently her bakery is about to—”

  Hanna stood abruptly. “I do not do magic for other witches.” With that, Hanna marched over to the door, unlocked it, and held it open for Dru to leave.

  That told him two things. First, that everyone who warned him about seeking out Hanna’s help had a right to be leery of his doing so, and second…she knew he wasn’t really a witch.

  Rebecca franticly took cookies out of the display case and set them on the counter behind her. How the hell had the wet refrigeration case broken down and how would she pay for repairs?

  Dru sauntered in at that moment and froze. “What’s wrong?”

  “This display case was dark when I came in this morning. Do you know how long it took me to get the humidity just right so these products would keep a few days without going stale?”

  “No, I sure don’t.”

  She stood with her hands on her hips and blew the bangs out of her eyes. “It was a rhetorical question. You don’t happen to know anything about air conditioning and refrigeration, do you?”

  “Sorry. Is there something I can help you with?”

  “Other than giving all this away at the end of the day”—she gestured to the muffins and scones on the counter—“no.”

  “How about if I talk up the items on the street right now instead of waiting until lunchtime?”

  Her shoulders slumped. “I suppose. Goddess knows I can use the money to pay for a repairman.”

  “Speaking of the Goddess…” He snapped his fingers and suddenly the light went on in the cabinet and it hummed to life.

  Rebecca’s jaw dropped and she stared at Dru. He was as wide-eyed as she must have been.

  “Did I do that?”

  “I—I don’t know,” Rebecca stammered.
“Did you?”

  “Holy Hanna,” he whispered.

  Rebecca looked at him askance. “What does Hanna have to do with it?”

  “Nothin’,” he answered quickly. Maybe too quickly. “You must have done it. Didn’t you say witches do spells for themselves, because they want it the most?”

  Now she was confused. Yes, she had said that, but Dru seemed to want her bakery to succeed almost as badly as she did—and he was the one who called on the Goddess and snapped his fingers to get her attention.

  “I noticed somethin’ else during the last ritual…” he said.

  “What’s that?”

  “When Hanna was speaking, she said somethin’ like, “May our magical powers grow as we can accept them. Maybe you just accepted yours.”

  Rebecca shook her head as if to clear it. “I suppose…”

  The little bells over the door jangled and in walked half the coven. Ethan, Myranda, Yvonne, Brigit, Cassandra and Keith.

  “What are all of you doing here?” she asked.

  Ethan’s brows rose. “Well, good morning to you too.”

  Rebecca slapped her forehead. “I’m sorry. It’s been a stressful morning. How can I help you?”

  Myranda tipped her head. “The question is how can we help you?”

  Rebecca didn’t need her psychic senses to tell her a little birdie, probably named Dru, had told everyone that she was going under and needed help. She glared at him. “Did you have something to do with this?”

  He shrugged. “I may have mentioned a little somethin’ about the bakery needin’ business, but I didn’t organize the posse.”

  She didn’t know whether to be grateful or furious. It had never occurred to her to reach out to her coven. On the other hand, who was he to do so without asking her?

  Yvonne stepped up to the counter. “Mmm…look at those scones, Myranda. Wouldn’t those be perfect to serve with a tea leaf reading?”

  “Absolutely. I don’t know why we never thought of it before. Rebecca, may we have a dozen scones?” Myranda asked.

  “Make it a baker’s dozen. I want my own,” Yvonne said and grinned.

  Dru strode around the counter and said, “Let me get those for you.” He opened one of the folded boxes and counted thirteen scones, then carefully placed them in two boxes. “That’ll be twenty-five dollars, please.”

  As Myranda was counting out the cash, Rebecca caught herself. She was about to offer Myranda a discount. Not only would she be shooting herself in the foot, but here was her friend wanting to help. The last thing she should do was refuse her kindness. Dru had already given her the baker’s dozen discount, and she really couldn’t afford to be overly generous. He smiled at her.

  Keith stepped up to the counter. For once he wasn’t in drag. “I need some cookies for the club tonight. Are these fresh?”

  Rebecca knew one way to repay kindness without it involving money. “I can bake anything fresh for you later today and deliver them myself after we close. What kind do you want, and what time do you need them?”

  Keith smiled—something he rarely did. “I think everyone loves chocolate chip. How about two dozen of those and a dozen oatmeal raisin or something that will make the ladies think they’re eating healthier.”

  “Hey,” Dru said. “Everything Rebecca makes is all natural, no preservatives or artificial colors—”

  “Save it for the public, cowboy.” Keith said. “We know Rebecca’s an all-natural woman.”

  Dru looked sheepish for a moment. “Yeah. I guess y’all know her better than I do. But how’d you know I’m a cowboy? I’m not even wearing my hat around town anymore.”

  Keith smirked.

  After the rest of the orders were taken and everyone left, Rebecca folded her arms and stared at Dru. “What did you tell them?”

  “Nuthin’ much. Just said you were having some financial troubles. Why didn’t you tell them instead of bringing rum cakes like it was nuthin’?”

  “I was bringing an offering to the Goddess. It’s even more of a gift if it causes you to tighten your belt a little bit.”

  Dru patted his stomach. “I might have to let out my belt if I eat much more of your baked offerings. I don’t suppose the Goddess likes celery, does she?”

  His teasing grin did what it was supposed to and melted Rebecca’s chilly resolve.

  “Well, I’d better get all this stuff back in the case.” She replaced a tray of cookies only to find Dru right beside her, putting back two trays at a time. She really did need his help, and at some point, she needed to think of a better way to pay him.

  He’d mentioned celery. Maybe he would appreciate a home cooked meal. Maybe? She chuckled to herself.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  “Nothing. I was just wondering if I should pay you in celery.”

  “Some people work for celery and others get paid by the hour.”

  Rebecca slapped her hand over her closed eyes and kept it there. “I should have known better than to hand you a loaded pun.”

  Rebecca was experiencing what happened when she allowed friends to help. Customers had been streaming in all morning. Dru had gone out with a few samples and had just come back with orders—lots of orders from the looks of the stack he handed her.

  “Wow. Are all of these filled out?”

  “Yup. I only have a couple of blank order forms left.” He plunked down the clipboard and empty sample tray.

  “I’m amazed.”

  “Why? Your products are the best advertisement you have.”

  She smiled. “And then, there’s you.”

  “And then there’s me.” He leaned toward her, and she was sure she was getting a kiss until the little bell over the door jangled.

  Darn. He straightened and said, “Howdy. Can I help you?”

  From the grin on the customer’s face, Rebecca wasn’t the only one enamored with her Texas cowboy.

  “Why, yes you can. I noticed you giving away samples earlier. I just thought I’d stop in and see what else you have to offer.”

  The green-eyed monster hit Rebecca right in the gut. How dare this woman… er—customer. That’s right, Rebecca. She’s a customer. That thing you need to pay your rent.

  Dru grinned right back at her. Then he strolled behind the counter and became Rebecca’s best salesman. Her only salesman. She decided to go back to the kitchen so as not to interfere with a potential sale…and to make it look like she trusted him. What was he? Her boyfriend? She didn’t even know.

  They hadn’t become lovers yet, but she was pretty sure they were headed that way. Should she try to define their relationship or let it grow organically? She should…

  Dru poked his head around the corner. “You got any brownies?”

  She should bake some brownies. That’s what she should do.

  “Not at the moment, but I can have some ready in an hour or so.”

  He blew her a kiss and returned to the storefront.

  Rebecca relaxed. Of course he wasn’t going to run off with a female customer—even if she was a well-dressed, pretty woman—and rich by the looks of her jewelry, especially that rock on her middle finger. She was probably divorced. Rebecca could only hope that meant she was a royal bitch.

  She stared at her own blank fingers. Rings wouldn’t stay clean in her business. She could wear a necklace, but how silly would that look under her white baker’s jacket? She avoided earrings since, Goddess forbid, one of them could fall off and wind up in her turnovers.

  The whole time she was ruminating, she went through the motions of gathering her ingredients to start making brownie batter.

  The little bell out front tinkled, and that meant either her rival had gone or was joined by more. Rebecca mentally shook a finger at herself. Jealousy sucks. Don’t fall into that trap. She hummed instead.

  A few minutes later, Dru joined her in the kitchen. “Hey, there, beautiful. Sounds like a pretty tune you’re hummin’.”

  “Hey, yourself.” She
smiled as if to say she was in a good mood, even though she was clearly faking it. “Business is booming. Why wouldn’t I be happy?”

  He came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. “It’s a double-edged sword, as they say. The busier we are, the less time we have to make out.” His hot whisper tickled her ear.

  She chuckled and her mood improved. “I wish—” She didn’t have time to finish her sentence, because the little bell out front announced another customer.

  “Hold that thought,” Dru said and kissed her cheek.

  He strolled to the store and she heard him say, “Can I help…Excuse me, you can’t go back there.”

  Rebecca glanced over at the figure striding in and almost groaned aloud. It was her father. He was looking older. More gray appeared in his temples every time she saw him. Dru followed close on his heels.

  “It’s okay, Dru. This is my dad.”

  Dru halted. “Oh!” Then he switched to his charming smile and stuck out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Colby. I’m Dru Tanner.”

  “Southern accent. I’m guessing Mississippi or Louisiana.” Rebecca’s father shook his hand.

  “Close. Texas,” Dru said.

  “Ah. Well, if you’ll excuse us, I have personal business to discuss with my daughter.”

  “Oh. Of course.” Dru backed out of the kitchen, but Rebecca could see his plaid sleeve lingering close to the doorway.

  “So, do you have that check for me?”

  “Getting right to the point, aren’t you?” She knew she was frowning but didn’t care. “Hi, Dad. I’m fine, and how are you doing?”

  He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and sighed. At last, he opened them and focused on her with an intensity she’d never seen before. “I’m in trouble,” he said.

  Her heart and voice softened. “Why? What’s going on?”

  “If I don’t get that money in twenty-four hours, I won’t be able to walk in here on two legs.”

  “Oh, Daddy! What have you done?”

  He paced with his hands behind his back. “I owe people money. Some very bad people.”