by Paula Lester
He was right. There must be a full inch of cake on almost every surface of the room, from the ceiling and floor to the cabinets and countertops. It looked like a chocolate cake bomb had gone off right in the center of the room.
Zoey pressed her lips together and then straightened her spine and clapped once. There was no use standing around doing nothing. The cake would probably only get stiffer and more stuck-on the longer it sat, and it wasn’t going to clean itself up.
Not without a little encouragement, anyway.
Zoey didn’t use magic too often. She’d inherited strong powers from her mother but had never wanted to be tempted toward the dark side in the same way. Most of the time, she preferred to do everything she could the old-fashioned way—normally, without magic. But cleaning chocolate cake out of every nook, cranny, and crevice in the kitchen would take weeks, and she had other critically important things to do. Like figure out how the mess had gotten there in the first place and find a new cook to hire. So she raised her hands, recited an incantation under her breath, and flicked both wrists. Brooms, dustpans, buckets full of soapy water, sponges, mops, and the garbage can all got busy, moving of their own volition to remove the thick layer of cake from everything in the room.
Steve nodded appreciatively and crossed his arms. “Nice work, boss.”
She gave him a small smile and glanced at her watch. “It’s almost time for lunch. Do you want to make your famous scrambled eggs for a crowd while I try to figure out what happened here?”
“Sure thing. As soon as the chocolate is off the counter and fridge, I’ll get it going.” He glanced at her. “You know, Jerry Holmes really loves chocolate cake. Like, a whole lot.”
Zoey nodded. “Yeah. And he was a dark sorcerer back in the day. But you know how Maria is about baking. We had a miniature incident similar to this with chocolate chip cookies once. Maybe she snuck in, found Susan gone, and decided to bake some cake. It could have easily gone awry for her. Her magic can be touch and go.”
“Could be. I suppose maybe we won’t be able to figure out exactly what happened.”
They both hopped backward as a broom danced dangerously close to them, and Zoey took the opportunity to thank Steve for his help and head back toward the common room.
The place was still empty, so Zoey crossed to the front door and went outside. To say it was chaotic out there would be putting it mildly. Elderly residents stood around everywhere, interspersed with staff members trying to help them stand or sit comfortably. Then Zoey caught sight of Cyrus. His face was almost purple, and he was emitting a steady stream of curses, spittle flying out of his mouth and his fist shaking in the air. It didn’t take her long to realize he was upset because some of the residents had chosen the island of landscaping in the center of the home’s big circle drive to stand on. No doubt some of them had trampled through his delicate plants to get there.
Their chef had already quit—the last thing Zoey needed was to lose the gardener too. She hurried forward and found Kelli. “It’s all clear inside. We can start moving people back in,” she said quietly. “But let’s try to keep them from doing any more damage to Cyrus’s beds.”
The receptionist nodded and clapped her hands, raising her voice to be heard above the din. “Okay, everyone! It’s safe to head back in, but if you would please stay where you are momentarily, someone will help each of you navigate through the uneven footing of the landscaping beds until you’re on level ground.”
Other staff members took Kelli’s hint and began rounding retirees up, helping them move carefully through the plants. Cyrus seemed to calm down a tiny bit, though he crossed his arms and kept muttering curses under his breath. Zoey’s eyes darted around until she found Jerry Holmes leaning on a small tree in the center of the landscaped island, and she made her way to him gingerly, watching every step so she didn’t bruise any tender greens.
“What happened in there?” he asked when she stood in front of him. “Did something burn down?” He looked as bored as always, his eyes hooded by heavy lids.
She shook her head and said brightly, “No, nothing like that. Just a little mishap in the kitchen. I was actually wondering if you might know anything about it.”
Jerry blinked so slowly it reminded her of the way a sleepy cat makes eyes at someone she loves. “Why would I know about something going wrong in the kitchen? I’ve never cooked anything beyond warming up a can of soup in my life. Did you ask Susan?”
Zoey chuckled. “She saw what happened after the fact, just like me. Now, she’s not our chef anymore. She quit when she saw the state her kitchen was in.”
Jerry’s eyebrows rose incrementally. “Sounds like more than a small mishap. What happened?”
“See, that’s why I thought you might know something about it.” Zoey kept her tone light. If she’d learned anything during her years of working with the retirees, it was that they didn’t like being put on the defensive. “I know how much you love chocolate cake, and it looks like the entire kitchen exploded in it.” She giggled. “There’s so much cake everywhere we might be digging it out of the grout for a couple years.”
“Sounds delicious. I do love chocolate cake. But I don’t know anything about it.”
Zoey pursed her lips and bobbed her head up and down. Jerry had been a dark sorcerer in his younger years. In fact, she didn’t think he was terribly old, but that kind of magic took a toll on a person, and he looked about seventy. Those who knew about such things assured her that Jerry had never been into anything really bad. He’d summoned a few minor demons to mess with his neighbors when there had been property disputes. And he’d gotten quite good at producing fireballs. But he had an almost unnatural love of cake, especially chocolate. He’d once snuck into the kitchen and devoured an entire two-layer, frosted Death by Chocolate cake Susan had intended to serve everyone after dinner. He’d had a stomach ache for two days, and everyone had to listen to the chef grumble for more like two months.
But Jerry’s gaze was steady, and she could tell there wasn’t going to be any more information forthcoming from him. He pushed his shoulder-length hair back and asked, “Who’s going to cook for us now?”
“Steve said he’d fix lunch. From there, we’ll play it by ear and make do until I can find someone to hire.” They walked back to the building together. Everyone else had disappeared back inside except Cyrus, who was on his hands and knees trying to fix the damage to his landscaping. Zoey heard a few choice curse words come from his direction before the door closed between them.
The chaos that had been outside had moved into the common room. There were residents everywhere and staff members did their best to get them settled into chairs or onto couches, but much of the furniture was in the wrong spot or overturned because it had been enlisted as part of Howie’s obstacle course. Kelli flitted from one retiree to the next, and it didn’t appear she was doing much of anything helpful. The smoke alarm had been exciting, and Zoey knew it would take everyone some time to calm back down.
She scanned the room, looking for someone else she could talk to about what had happened in the kitchen. Her eyes landed on John Pickett. He was living up to his nickname of Snores at that moment—fast asleep in Kelli’s office chair. If she was closer to him, Zoey was sure she’d hear him snoring. She entered the receptionist’s office and shook him firmly until he opened his eyes, peering at her blearily. “What? Is there another alarm?”
Zoey shook her head. “No, but I wanted to ask you about the last one. Do you know what happened?”
“I heard a loud noise from the kitchen. Figured Susan was throwing a fit about something. Then the alarm went off, and I came out to the lobby and went outside. That’s all I know.”
“So, you weren’t in the kitchen?”
Snores shook his head.
“And you weren’t asleep?” The retired police officer was well-known for doing magic while sleepwalking. He’d been responsible for setting the smoke alarm off before when he lit some sage to smudge
with so he could form a circle and do some spell-work meant to catch a thief who’d been plaguing Sunnyside’s small businesses. Of course, he’d been totally asleep at the time and the thief had been caught twenty years earlier. Snores hadn’t even woken up when the alarm went off that time.
“Nope. I was wide awake and in the back hallway heading toward your office. When I heard the big noise in the kitchen, I did a one-eighty and high-tailed it out of there.” Snores rubbed his eyes and yawned.
Zoey nodded and turned away. Then she cocked her head and spun back again. “Why were you going to my office?”
Snores looked down at his hands, which he wrung in his lap. “Uh, well.” He glanced up again. “I guess I wanted to talk to you about something, but it’s nothing. We can do it later.”
Zoey sat in the chair across from Kelli’s. “We can do it now if you want.”
“It’s nothing, really.” More hand-wringing.
Zoey started to feel a little concerned. She tried to keep her facial features calm and approachable.
Finally, Snores sighed and looked up. “I was hoping to talk about my room.”
She felt a wave of relief. “Is something wrong? I can send someone today to fix whatever it is.”
But he was shaking his head. “Nothing’s wrong with the room. I just can’t get any sleep in there.”
Her eyes widened. Snores could sleep through anything. “Why?”
“It’s Howie,” he said. “He’s up half the night exercising, and I just can’t sleep through it.”
Zoey bit her lip to keep from laughing. She seriously doubted that Howie’s push-ups were keeping Snores awake. But she nodded. “I’ll talk to Howie about toning down the noise after nine pm.”
Snores smiled broadly. “Thanks,” he said. “I do need my beauty sleep.”
Zoey chuckled as she left the office, glancing over her shoulder to see that Snores was already sleeping again, his head thrown back on the chair.
Things had calmed down a touch in the lobby, but there were still more people milling about than usual. Courtney was tugging on an armchair, trying to get it back into its proper position. The woman might be a boring Social Director, but she really did pitch in and do her best to help around the place, and that was worth more to Zoey than anything. She started to hurry forward to help and almost ran over Maria Montes, who was scooting across the floor toward the back hallway. “Oh! I’m sorry, Maria.”
The elderly woman stopped and waved away the apology. Her eyes had a thin red rim around them, and Zoey reached out to touch her arm. “Is everything okay?”
Maria nodded. “Yes, yes. I’m just going out to the backyard to get some air. That whole business with the kitchen was a bit upsetting.”
Zoey nodded. “Yes, but it will be okay. Once we get all the cake cleaned up, things will be as good as new.”
Maria nodded. “And Susan left?” She met Zoey’s gaze, studying her closely.
“Yes. She got angry about the mishap and resigned.”
Maria nodded, and her eyes got misty. “She didn’t like it when I helped in the kitchen.”
Zoey felt a pang. Maria had messed up some chocolate chip cookies, her favorite thing to bake, once and made a big mess in the kitchen. Susan had been seriously angry with the poor retiree and banned her from cooking or baking. Zoey hadn’t realized how much that must have hurt the poor lady, who was a successful bakery owner before she retired.
“Maria, did you have anything to do with today’s trouble in the kitchen? Maybe you were trying to make some cake for Jerry and had a problem?” Zoey touched Maria’s arm again. “It’s totally okay if you did. No one’s mad about it.” Except Susan, and she was gone now, so it didn’t matter.
But Maria shook her head. Her eyes had cleared, and she stuck out her chin. “I wouldn’t make Jerry a cake if he was the last person on earth to bake for,” she said. “He’s a pervert.”
Well, that made sense. Zoey had seen Jerry bothering Maria with her own eyes that morning. “Steve’s in the kitchen working on making some lunch for everyone. Do you think you could go give him a hand?”
Maria’s face lit up, and she nodded and hurried off, moving as fast as her old joints allowed.
Zoey made a clicking sound with her tongue, wondering who else could have made chocolate cake explode like a bomb in the kitchen.
Ester Abbot sat knitting at the table near the large window on the other side of the room where earlier, Shawna had sat with a guest. Zoey decided on a whim to visit the tiny lady and see if she knew anything about the cake-pocolypse. As she approached, Zoey couldn’t help but grin. Ester looked so sweet, her needles clicking away. She looked like everyone’s little, old grandma, with bright white hair that floated around her soft, round face. She wore a white sweater over a mint green shirt, and Zoey wondered how the woman managed to remain cool. She was never without her sweater.
Ester had early dementia, but it wasn’t following the same pattern of forgetfulness that many non-magical people with that condition displayed, which was usually short-term memory loss in the beginning. Instead, Ester forgot random things in a completely unpredictable pattern. Maybe she’d been doing a spell and forgotten something midway through, causing the unfortunate cake explosion.
Zoey sat next to Ester, who smiled warmly at her. “Oh, hello, dear. How are you today?”
“I’m fine. How are you doing? I hope the excitement didn’t upset you.”
Ester leveled a pleasant look at Zoey as the needles in her hands stilled. “What excitement, dear?”
Zoey blinked. The poor lady had already forgotten the smoke alarm and having to stand outside. She shook her head. It wasn’t worth explaining. “Do you remember doing any spell-work this morning? Or being in the kitchen for some reason?”
“Well, I was in the kitchen for coffee, but that was . . .” A faraway look came over her face. “Hours ago, I guess.”
“I see. And what about spells?”
“Spells? No, I don’t think so. I’ve just been knitting these socks all morning.”
Zoey’s eyes dropped to the yarn Ester held up to show her. It was clearly not going to be a sock. Maybe a sweater? Or a scarf? Regardless, it wasn’t something anyone in warm Sunnyside, California was going to need anytime soon.
“Thank you, Ester. I appreciate your help.” Zoey stood. “Lunch will be served soon. Are you getting hungry?”
“Oh, yes. I’ve been craving some cake. Do you think Susan will make one for me?”
Zoey raised an eyebrow. “Susan isn’t here anymore, but I’ll see what I can do.”
As she left Ester to her knitting, Zoey realized she still had no idea what had happened in the kitchen. Jerry hadn’t convinced her he wasn’t involved, and Snores could have done some magic in his sleep. Perhaps Maria had wanted to aggravate Susan and tried to bake or even created the mess on purpose. Ester may have tried to make herself some cake with a spell, forgotten what she was doing midway through, and caused the explosion of cake that left the kitchen coated in chocolate.
She shrugged it off. Whoever had done it, Zoey had bigger fish to fry now than continuing to question people. A new chef wasn’t going to simply waltz in and hire him or herself, and Steve couldn’t cook forever.
Chapter 3
As Zoey headed toward the kitchen to see how things were going there, she heard a shriek that made her change course and run into the backyard. She scanned the area but didn’t see anyone. The yard seemed deserted. Zoey hurried away from the building deeper into the backyard, continuing to scan in all directions. Another loud screech drew her attention to a huge pine tree, and she changed course to jog toward it. Covering her eyes against the sun, she peered up and finally found the source of the frightened noises. Ester Abbott was about halfway up the tree, a branch wrapped around her waist as though it was a strong arm holding her. Zoey fought back her own shriek and instead shouted, “Ester, what are you doing up there?”
The elderly woman cast a panicked glanc
e down at Zoey. She clutched the branch, and her face was pale. “I don’t know, dear,” she cried. “I was just walking around and thinking about how I used to climb trees as a child, and suddenly, here I was. How am I going to get down?”
Zoey had already been wondering that herself. She knew she could help Ester float safely to the ground but had no idea how to get the branch from around the woman’s waist.
“How’d she get up there?” Jerry’s bored voice near her shoulder startled Zoey.
“I don’t know, but I need to figure out how to get her down. Now.” Her mind worked frantically, running through spells and incantations, trying to land on one that would work to solve this strange situation.
Jerry stepped forward, raised his hands, and began to chant in a low, steady voice. In response, the branch creaked and groaned as it started to move, inching open. Zoey chanted, too, creating a bubble of air to catch Ester once the branch opened enough for her to fall through.
Sweat appeared on Jerry’s forehead. It seemed like the tree’s branch was fighting him, reluctant to let go of its prize. Ester’s face lost even more color as she appeared to hold her breath, waiting to plunge toward the earth. Or maybe she feared the bough would change its course and suddenly convulse and crush her. Zoey had to admit the thought had crossed her own mind—she knew Jerry was a powerful dark sorcerer in his time, but magic could be fussy, especially when performed by retirees. And besides, someone had put Ester in the tree in the first place. There were times when you needed to know the spell that had done something in order to safely undo it.
But the branch slowly and steadily relaxed its hold on the lady until she began to slide downward. Zoey made sure her pocket of firmer air was placed directly under Ester so it gently caught the woman as the tree released her and then brought her safely to the ground. Zoey rushed toward the elderly lady as soon as she stood on her own two feet. “Are you okay?”
Ester ran her hands lightly over herself, and the color began to re-enter her cheeks. “I think I’m fine.”