by Zoe Arden
I shook my head.
"It's been a while, hasn't it?" asked Eleanor.
Trixie looked up from the cupcakes she was frosting, a slight frown on her face.
"A few months now," I told them. "I keep asking Dean Lampton about him, but he won't tell me anything."
"I thought he had to," said Eleanor. "Wasn't that part of the reason you and Colt got engaged? So, he'd have to keep you apprised of Colt's situation?"
I shrugged. "I guess Dean has his own ideas about keeping me apprised of the situation."
My father stepped out of the back room just then. He was carrying a tray of dark chocolate brownies with happiness extract, one of my specialties. It was impossible to eat one and not break out in a smile as wide as the Mississippi River is long. If you ate too many, you might even start to giggle.
"All done, last one," my dad said, saving me from having to answer any more questions about Colt. He set the tray down and wiped his brow with a napkin. He tossed it in the trash then turned to Eleanor. "How's it going out here?"
"Just fine. If by fine, you mean we're running forty minutes behind."
"We're not forty minutes behind," I said.
Eleanor always got anxious when a special order came in. It didn't matter how well she'd planned everything, every special order produced a fresh anxiety in her, which was only squelched when said order was complete.
"I wouldn't stress out too much," said my father. "It's a small birthday party that Otis is throwing. He said it wasn't going to be anything fancy, just some cake and—"
Eleanor shot daggers at him with her eyes. "Eli, you know as well as I do that it doesn't matter how fancy or not fancy a party is, it's all to do with who the party is for."
"That's a good point," said Trixie. "Tadpole is a VIP in this town."
"Precisely. This town loves Tadpole. If word got out that we'd given him any less than our very best, we'd never hear the end of it."
"Tadpole is just as sweet as Otis," said my dad. "He'd never complain."
"As long as you have Tadpole's potato chips," Trixie said, "he'll be happy, which means that everyone will be happy."
"Oh, my word," Eleanor screeched, her voice going so high that it could have cracked glass. "The potato chips! I almost forgot." She turned to me. "Ava, did you get them ready?"
"I finished them yesterday. There are three kinds—caramel covered, chocolate covered, and fudge filled."
"How do you fill a potato chip with fudge?" asked Trixie.
"It was tricky. I ended up making one batch of ultrathin potato chips and using the fudge to stick them together. More of a potato chip sandwich, I guess, but Tadpole is going to love them."
"Perfect," said Eleanor. She glanced at the clock. "Fifty minutes."
"Relax, Eleanor, before you make yourself sick," said my dad. "Otis is picking them up. We don't even have to deliver."
He began putting the brownies he'd made into a box and then set the box aside. He grabbed another box and began placing cookies in it. He prepared four more such boxes, each with a different type of cookie. There was chocolate chip, peanut butter, white chocolate macadamia, and my personal favorites, oatmeal raisin with dark and white chocolate chips.
I made sure to infuse each cookie with some sort of extract. I wanted to keep people happy and peppy, so I'd made extra strong batches of both. If someone ate more than three of my peanut butter cookies with peppy powder, they were going to be bouncing off the walls like they'd had a dozen cups of coffee. They might have the tiniest bit of a hangover in the morning, but it would sure keep the party lively.
The doorbell chimed, and I looked up to see a goblin stroll into the store. My eyes bugged out of my head. I spun around to get Eleanor's attention and knocked my shoulder into the cake. It wobbled on its stand then fell to the floor with a loud splat.
Eleanor screamed. My breath was pulled from my lungs, and my heart dropped into my stomach.
"It's okay," I told her, feeling sick.
"It's okay? How is it okay?" Eleanor's face had gone three shades of white. Her eyes were wide, and she looked as though she was about to pass out.
I scratched my head and looked at my dad. He shrugged.
"I can fix it," I told her.
"You can't fix this, Ava. The cake is all over the floor. What are you going to do, scoop it up and tell them the dirt and hairs they find mixed in with the frosting are part of a new theme we were going for?"
Trixie laughed. "Yeah, the Dustbuster theme."
Eleanor glared at her. "It's not funny."
I sighed and looked back at the display cases, hoping that a miracle might pop out at me. The goblin was standing by, waiting patiently for us to help him. I'd almost forgotten he was there.
"Aunt Eleanor—"
"Sure, when you're in trouble it's aunt. The rest of the time it's Eleanor this and Eleanor that." She was bending over the splattered cake, appraising it from all angles. "I think some of it can be salvaged. This top part hasn't even touched the floor. It's not anywhere near it."
"Eleanor," I said, trying again.
"If we just scrape off the bottom layer we can still use it."
"But it's all smushed," said Trixie.
"It doesn't matter how smushed it is," said Eleanor, "it will still taste good."
"Eleanor..."
I was looking at the goblin, who seemed to be getting impatient. He was about four and a half feet tall and a dark gray color. I had no idea how he'd made it to Sweetland Cove from Goblin Territory without being seen by any of the human tourists who permeated the island. Then again, most of the tourists who came to Heavenly Haven liked to drink margaritas in the middle of the morning and hang out at the beach in the afternoon. If any of them had seen this goblin, they probably would've thought they were drunk or suffering from heat stroke.
Also, goblins had powerful magic. It wasn't well-understood magic, though—the extent to which their powers ran was hidden from most people, witches and wizards included, but there was talk that they could cloak themselves when they wanted to. I had no idea whether or not that was true but thought it would be pretty neat if they could. Not even witches and wizards could turn themselves invisible.
The goblin, finally tired of waiting, cleared his throat. It sounded like a lawnmower running through the store. Eleanor's head snapped up. Her eyes widened.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there," she said. "Someone should have said something." She shot me a look.
"I've been trying to tell you for the last five minutes," I said, folding my arms grumpily across my chest.
Eleanor giggled nervously and turned back to the goblin. "How can we help you? Some cookies? A nice cake?"
The goblin stepped forward. Though on the short side, his body was as wide as a dumpster. His eyes were dark brown bordering on black. When he spoke, it was with a low, throaty voice.
"My name is Perx. I am King Zulubar's head guard." He threw his head back and stuck his chin out, clearly proud of his title. "King Zulubar of the goblins is missing, and we need your help to get him back."
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ALSO BY ZOE ARDEN
A Cozy Mystery Book
Standalone Novella : Cake Spell Disaster
LINK: Standalone Novella : Cake Spell Disaster
<< Sweetland Witch Series >>
Book 1 : Witch Cake Murders
LINK: Book 1 - Witch Cake Murders
Book 2 : The Witching Flavor
LINK: Book 2 - The Witching Flavor
Book 3 : A Drop of Witch
LINK: Book 3 - A Drop of Witch
Book 4 : Sweet Murder Hex
LINK: Book 4 - Sweet Murder Hex
Book 5 : Batter and Spells
LINK: Book 5 - Batter and Spells
Book 6 : Portion Disaster
&nb
sp; LINK: Book 6 - Portion Disaster
Book 7 : Frosting Disaster
LINK: Book 7 - Frosting Disaster
Book 8: Witch Way To The Bakery
LINK: Book 8- Witch Way To The Bakery
Book 9: Royal Witch Curse
LINK: Book 9- Royal Witch Curse
Book 10: Witches, Recipes and Murder
LINK: Book 10- Witches, Recipes and Murder
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Zoe Arden
and
ReedFoster press House
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