Bliss (17 page)

Rose found this just the least bit strange, so she did a mini experiment. She forgot about Aunt Lily as she tried to remember how to count to ten in Latin.
“Unus. Duo. Tres
,” she muttered.
“Quattuor. Cinque. Quinque?”
Was it with a
C
or a
Q
? Was
C
the Italian version? Rose's tongue had regained full function.

I want to tell Mom about Aunt Lily
, Rose thought, and tried to say something out loud.

Her tongue went limp again.

So Rose wasn't imagining it—her tongue failed to function every time she thought about telling her mother about Aunt Lily. Certainly it was no accident—but there was no time to think about it now, because Sage was still folded in Lily's long arms, spilling bean after bean, like a broken sack of lentils being dragged along the sidewalk.

“I see,” said Lily. “And where is this magical cookbook?”

“Behind the
tapestry
at the end of the walk-in
fridge
,” Sage said, proudly patting his belly.

“Innnterrressstingg!” Lily cooed, drawing the word out into the length of an entire sentence. Lily turned to Rose and beckoned to her. Her face was filled with so much love, so much compassion, that Rose found herself inching over without even thinking about it. Lily held out her luxurious, soft hand with its long, polished fingers, and Rose slid her own grubby hand into it.

“Rose,” said Lily. “I know you were lying to protect your parents. But if this cookbook got you into some trouble, it's important that you tell an adult about it,” Lily said. “An adult in your family, one with a ladle on her back.”

Rose steeled herself. She had handled the horde of screaming girls, and she could handle Aunt Lily. “We took care of it.”

“How?”

“With cake.” And that was it. Rose didn't need this mysterious stranger's help.

Lily smiled widely. “Fair enough, darling.” Then the smile disappeared. “But I think you should give me the key to the storeroom—just in case any more nonadults should be tempted to break out the book and get into even
more
trouble.”

The uncomfortable ache in Rose's stomach turned to full-on spasms at the thought of giving Lily the key. “I can't give you the key,” said Rose. “Mom and Dad left it to me. But I promise that no one will touch the book again this week.”

“Now, Rose,” said Lily, showing all her teeth again in a way that should have been reassuring but wasn't, “isn't that what you promised your parents originally? And didn't you break out the cookbook anyway?”

The words stung. It was true. Perhaps Rose wasn't fit to be a magical baker. Or even a good daughter. Or even much of a girl. Rose tasted a single salty tear run into the corner of her mouth.

Sage lifted one finger high into the air and exclaimed, “
I
will hold the key!”

“What?” Rose groaned, twisting her blue dress with her fingers. “No way, Sage. You are by far the least responsible person in this family.”

Now it was Sage's turn to cry. “No one
ever
lets me do
any
thing!” he screamed.

Lily brushed Rose's bangs away from her eyes and whispered, “Rose. I think you should let him hold the key. He wants to be taken seriously. If you don't start trusting him now, he's going to get the message that he's just a joke. And then he'll never take responsibility for anything.”

Rose looked over at Sage, who could improvise a Shakespearean monologue better than anyone she knew, who could make anyone laugh, just by looking at them, and who loved Ty to distraction, if not quite Rose herself. Then she remembered how frustrated she felt when her parents didn't allow her any responsibility in the bakery, how insignificant. She didn't want to be the one to make Sage feel the same way. He was her brother, and he deserved a chance.

Rose went over to Sage, who'd begun maniacally jumping up and down and shouting. She tried to touch his shoulder to calm him, but he only jumped away.

“Okay, okay!” Rose shouted. “You can hold the key!”

Sage immediately stopped jumping and turned to her, panting, his tongue hanging slightly out of his mouth. He wore a look of suspicion.
“Why?”
he said, testing her.

“Because… I want you to be an actor one day,” she said.

Sage crinkled up his nose like he smelled a dead rat. “You want me to be an
actor
?”

“Yes. Or a politician. Or something where you get to talk a lot. So I am letting you take responsibility by holding the key for a few days. But you are not to let anybody else
touch
it. And I mean
ANYBODY
,” Rose said, cocking her head to indicate Aunt Lily, who was standing by the saloon doors with her hands delicately cupping her cheeks, looking very pleased.

Rose gently pulled the string around her neck up over her hair and placed it over Sage's puffy red head, like she was knighting him.

For the first time in ages, Sage wrapped his arms around Rose and hugged her. He hugged her so tightly that she had to pry him off just so she could breathe, but still—it made her smile.

Rose spent the rest of the afternoon washing cake pans in the kitchen while Lily and Chip cleaned up the front room, and Sage and a half-asleep Mrs. Carlson picked up the paper plates and plastic forks that dotted every inch of the ground within a hundred-yard radius.

Ty came home at around ten p.m. His collared shirt was soaking wet, his face was smeared with dirt and dust, and his hands were covered in blisters from pulling the wagon.

Rose poured him a glass of water. “Did you do it?” she asked.

Ty's eyes were already closed, and he drank down the full glass. He could only nod.

“
Everyone
in town ate a slice of cake?” she asked.

Ty nodded again. “So many people…,” he mumbled.

“Listen,” Rose said. “I have to tell you what happened. Sage spilled the beans to Aunt Lily about the cookbook, and she wanted the key to the door, but I gave it to Sage instead because it just didn't seem right to give her the key.”

Ty stumbled toward the stairs, Rose following. “Are you listening, Ty?” she asked. But he just staggered up into the dark of the second story.

When they reached Sage and Ty's room and creaked the door open, they saw a tall, shadowy figure sitting on Sage's bed.

It was Aunt Lily. Sage was asleep, and Lily was sitting near his shoulders, patting his hair.

“What are you doing up here?” Rose whispered.

Lily jumped up and spun around. She exhaled loudly. “You frightened me!” she whispered, catching her breath. “I was just … saying good night to Sage.” Then she slipped between Rose and Ty and sauntered downstairs.

Rose breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the little silver whisk lying on Sage's chest, glinting in the moonlight, right where it was supposed to be.

Ty sank into his bed. Rose turned to leave, but then he reached up and grabbed her hand. “Hey, Rosita,” he said. “That was actually kind of fun today.”

Rose smiled wide.

“Minus the singing and the hours of toting cake around in a red wagon in the middle of July.” He yawned. “Still, like, well done.”

Rose wanted to say so much to him, and had Ty not been falling asleep, she might have. Something like,
Thank you so much for saying that because it means a lot to me today that we worked so well together because sometimes it can seem like you don't care about me at all because you're too busy being handsome and popular and I'm just your flour-covered kid sister who bugs you all the time but I love you more than I know how to say so I'm just glad you think I'm good at something
.

But all she said was “Good night, Ty.”

And then she closed her brothers' door and went to the bathroom to wash the considerable grime from her face.

Then the portable phone rang and Rose answered, shutting the bathroom door behind her. It was her mother.

“I hope it's not too late, honey, but we just got back to our hotel!” said Purdy. “I had to check in on my kiddles! Did everything go smoothly today?”

Rose answered with a resounding “Yes!” because it
had
gone smoothly, in its own way. Sure, the town had been thrown into chaos, but she had fixed it, with her brothers' help. Rose felt guilty for not telling her mother the whole truth, but knew that someday she would take her mother out to tea and recount every detail, and Purdy would squeeze Rose to her chest and say,
That's my little baker!

“Also,” said Rose, “it might be too early to call it, but I think that me and Ty and Sage might be friends now.”

Purdy laughed. “That's wonderful, sweetheart. What happened?”

Rose puzzled a minute. Was it that Ty and Sage both just wanted to learn magic in order to get closer to Aunt Lily? Or were they starting to like their sister? She supposed it didn't really matter.

“I guess it's just that baking is really bringing us together.”

“Well, that's what makes baking so magical, Rose.”

Rose smirked to herself.
That, and all the stuff you keep in the secret pantry
.

“Good night, sweetheart.”

“Good night, Mama.”

Outside, the sky had grown dark and the first star had appeared. It glowed bigger and brighter and a little bit pinker than a star.
Maybe it's a planet
, Rose thought.
Maybe it's Mars
. Mars was Rose's favorite planet. It was named after the Roman god of war, and Rose felt like a warrior that day. Rose reached over her shoulder, patted herself on the back, and collapsed into sleep.

CHAPTER 13

Ni Esrever

R
ose woke up the next morning feeling hot and itchy and confused.

More bizarre and frightening things had happened to her yesterday than happen to a typical person during her whole lifetime. She was looking forward to going downstairs and having just a plain old regular day.

Her only tasks until her parents returned were to see that the bakery ran smoothly and to make sure no one tinkered with the book. That way, when they came back, they would see that the kitchen was clean, Leigh's hair was washed, Ty and Sage had all of their limbs, and Rose was worthy of being entrusted with the family secrets.

Rose threw on her favorite T-shirt, one with pink and orange stripes, and splashed some water on her face. Her skin was peppered with inflamed red pimples. This happened a lot in the summer, when Rose was harried from working at the bakery and sweating constantly in the process.

There was a knock on the bathroom door. “Just a minute!” Rose called out. She leaned forward into the mirror, studying her zits. She needed some of Lily's magic potion.

As though summoned, the voice called out, “It's your aunt Lily! May I come in?”

Before Rose could say no, that she was fine by herself, Aunt Lily opened the door and sauntered inside.

“Good morning,” Aunt Lily said. She plopped a black toiletry bag on the counter. “Time to get to work!”

“I know,” Rose said, studying her aunt's outfit—a short-sleeved purple top and a pair of slim-fitting jeans. Aunt Lily looked casual yet elegant. Rose glanced down at her own shirt and wasn't sure that stripes were such a good choice, after all. “Time to start baking.”

“That's not the kind of work I meant.” Aunt Lily unzipped her bag, and Rose could see that it was full of makeup. Purdy never let Rose wear any sort of makeup, claiming that it made girls look “as unappetizing as one of those Stetson donuts.” But Rose had always secretly wondered if maybe a tiny bit of makeup—a little glamour—was exactly what she was missing.

“Staying pretty isn't easy, of course,” Aunt Lily said. “I never used to wear makeup at all. I liked the
au naturel
look. But then someone told me that my lips looked like a turkey's, and from that day on I've never gone without some lipstick.” Rose watched, transfixed, as Aunt Lily outlined her lips with a red pencil. “Even Chapstick works in a pinch. Anything shiny will do.”

As Aunt Lily applied the rest of her makeup, her already beautiful face began to look even more beautiful. And Rose couldn't help but think of that voice in the pantry, the voice that told her that she would never be beautiful or powerful or important—the voice that somehow knew her deepest fear: that she would never be enough.

Aunt Lily was still a suspicious character, but she was also the first person in Rose's life who understood what it was to be a vibrant, smart, and beautiful woman. Maybe Aunt Lily could teach her what she needed to know so that Rose could grow up and be a vibrant, smart, and beautiful woman too.

“Aunt Lily?” Rose found herself asking.

“Yes, dear?”

“Do you think, maybe … you could do my… I mean, help me with … um?”

Aunt Lily stopped applying mascara midstroke and said, “You'd like me to help you look beautiful?”