The Cupcake Coven (5 page)

“What if she’s writin’ a cook book?”

“She’d never remember all of that, and she wasn’t taking notes. Besides, there are plenty of recipes on the Internet and in other cook books. Where do you think I got them?”

“It seems like you got that one from Martha Stewart but improved on it somehow.”

“Just the frosting.”

“Oh.
Just
the frosting, huh? Didn’t that customer say that’s what made it so special?”

Rebecca folded her arms. “What are you saying?”

Dru raked a hand through his hair. “I’m just concerned for you, is all. You said you might lose your business, and it’s clear how much you love it.”

“If I’m going under anyway, why not make a few people happy on my way out?” She jammed her hands on her hips.

“You’re givin’ up. Don’t. Things could still turn around.”

“I doubt it.”

“Yeah. Not if you keep doin’ things that way. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t open my mouth when you’re about to shoot yourself in the foot? Ain’t you never heard that the best way to double your money is to fold it in half and put it back in your pocket?”

Rebecca shook her head. “No. I never heard that saying, but I think you’re trying to give me advice—and I haven’t asked for any.”

Dru clamped his jaw shut. After a brief silence he said, “What else do you need me to do?”

She strode into the kitchen, then turned around and came right back out. They stared at each other for a few long moments.

Rebecca’s shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry. I know you’re trying to help.”

Dru reached her in two long strides and enfolded her into his embrace. “I’m sorry too. I can be a bit outspoken.”

The easy warmth of his hug felt odd, but comforting. Maybe Texans were more comfortable with touch than New Englanders were. She relaxed into it, and thought about how she never knew what her father was thinking due to his poker face—and he’d played a lot of poker. Dru’s honesty was a nice change. She slipped her arms around his waist. “I like that you’re not afraid to say what you think.”

He leaned away enough to see her, but didn’t let go. Neither did she.

“Do you want to know what I’m thinkin’ right now?”

“What?”

“I’m thinkin’ I want to kiss you.”

“Why don’t you?”

He smiled, then slanted his head and descended. His warm lips met hers, gently at first. Then he opened his mouth slightly, and she opened hers. His tongue swept inside, and Rebecca tasted the sweetness of her own baking, plus pure Dru.

His lips left hers long enough to whisper ‘beautiful’ over her cheek, nip her earlobe, and trail down the column of her neck. Her insides melted like butter. He pulled her closer, and she wished they were horizontal. Her hands were everywhere. In his hair, gripping his shoulders and finally locked around his trim waist. Then their tongues were dueling again. Goddess knows what would have happened next if someone hadn’t cleared his throat, loudly.

They broke apart.

A grinning Ethan Cox stood in front of the display case.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

Rebecca jammed a hand on her hip. “No, you’re not.”

“You’re right. I’m not. I probably saved you from making a public spectacle of yourselves, knowing where your minds were going.”

Dru backed up a step. “You can read minds?”

Ethan laughed. “It doesn’t take a mind reader to see where you two are headed.”

The couple gazed at each other, then put their embarrassment aside and smiled.

Rebecca recovered enough professionalism to ask, “Is there something I can get for you, Ethan?”

“Besides a woman who can kiss like that?” He chuckled. “Sure. I’d like a Cinnamon roll, if you have any.”

Rebecca gasped. “My cinnamon rolls!” She hightailed it to the kitchen and pulled the pan out of the oven. She waved away the smoke and could tell at a glance they were overdone. Chances are the bottom of each would be nearly black. “Damn it.”

Dru appeared in the doorway. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Yeah. Find Ethan an alternative breakfast—on the house. Either that or offer him two of these for free. I’ll scrape off the bottom and cover the rest with extra glaze.”

“Maybe if we cut them up, I can give ‘em out as samples this afternoon.”

“If you give these out, we’ll lose customers, not gain them.”

Dru sighed. “Sorry about the distraction…but not really.”

She waved him out of the kitchen. “Go. I have work to do.”

High priestess Fayleen surprised Hanna in her suite by suddenly appearing on top of her desk. Hanna flinched and rolled her eyes.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was asked to find out why your love spell went awry.”

Her brows shot up. “
They
saw the botched spell?”

“Just the tail end. I thought you said you had a good group. Sounds more like a bunch of newbie witchlets who don’t know what they’re doing?”

“No, thank the Goddess.” She plopped down on an armchair. “There was just one member who ruined the ritual. He may not have been a witch at all. He disrespected our altar.”

Fayleen reared back. “Disrespected? How?”

“He grabbed a fire extinguisher and used it to put out a small blaze on the altar itself. It seemed prudent, so I didn’t intervene.”

“That seems excessive for a few candles. Or did he try something different? It always makes me nervous when witches light up an entire log like they do on Yule and Beltane. But your people know enough not to do that on an indoor altar—don’t they?”

“No log. The flames were the result of the candles falling onto rum cakes, which another witch brought as an offering. I don’t think it was intentional. I was the one who bumped the altar and caused them to fall. The alcohol accelerated a small fire.”

The other witch’s eyes narrowed. “How small?”

Hanna parted her hands to demonstrate the height and width. About a foot in each direction.

Fayleen sighed. “People are always misusing the gift of fire. I suppose it could have been worse.” Her eyes narrowed. “Or was it? You aren’t minimizing the situation just to keep me from tattling on you, are you?”

“No. I know how much
more
upset they are when someone lies to them.”

“So, somebody panicked. What else is new? They said you were none too pleased. They watched until it was over. You spoke to the culprit privately and he apologized. What did you say and how did he take it?

“I didn’t kick him out, if that’s what you mean. He seemed reasonable, and I liked him.”

Fayleen took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Get me all the information you can on that guy. I may have to infiltrate the coven. I was supposed to ask you to interview possible candidates for the supernatural coven—without their knowledge. It might be easier if I help you.”

“I understand. Then you won’t have to explain why, if they’re not suitable. You can just disappear.”

“Since when have I ever explained myself? No, sweetie. I just want their honesty. Have you ever known anyone to be totally honest if they have something to hide—especially in a job interview?”

“Well, yes. There are some honest people.”

Fayleen smirked. “Do they get the job?”

“Oh.”

Dru sat across from Ethan as the man devoured his free bear claw. He wondered how often Rebecca just gave away her baked goods. Asking her would probably make her angry again, but maybe Ethan could help him understand her.

“So, does Rebecca do that often?” he asked the muscular tug boat captain.

“What? Swap spit with her employees?”

Dru smirked. “No. I mean, givin’ free stuff away. She seemed to think you’d miss your cinnamon roll’s perfection so much she ought to give you two or treat you to something else.”

Ethan nodded since his mouth was full. After he had a chance to swallow, he said, “She’s a real sweetheart. Doesn’t charge the coven for the cakes she brings every month. If any of us just stop by for coffee, she waves away our money. Why?”

“Did you know she’s in financial trouble?”

Ethan looked over Dru’s shoulder as if pondering something. “It hadn’t occurred to me until she used that spell last night. I just figured she wanted to increase her profits. I didn’t know she was floundering.”

“I don’t know if I should be tellin’ you this or not, so don’t go spreadin’ the news, okay?”

“Why not? The coven would be happy to help. Some members stay away from sugar. I think Myranda’s diabetic, but she could probably send plenty of business your way. We all could.”

“If you can do it without Rebecca findin’ out I said anything, then great. If you blab that I told you, she’ll probably can me, and she can’t afford to.”

Ethan seemed to understand. He reached for his wallet and peeled off a five dollar bill. “Tell her I insisted on paying.”

“That’s mighty kind of ya, Ethan.”

He put his wallet away. “You probably don’t have to worry. She did a spell for customers. Who knows how the Goddess will choose to send them, but she will.”

Dru lowered his voice. “Do you really believe in that magic stuff?”

Ethan’s brows rose. “You don’t? What are you doing in a coven if you don’t believe in magic? Are you even Wiccan?”

“I—um…”
Uh-oh. I should be careful what I say. Obviously, he believes.
Dru scratched his head. “I haven’t been doin’ this very long. And this is my first time in a coven. I guess I still have questions.”

Ethan nodded. “Of course. I remember being new and wondering if my spells would work. Usually, it took a while before I realized they had.”

“Does magic work all the time?”

“If you do it right, yes. As they say, be careful what you wish for—and how you phrase it. The Goddess can interpret what you say literally, even if you mean it figuratively.”

“So, last night…Rebecca wished for customers.” He glanced around. “Where are they?”

“Give it a little more time. Some spells take up to a month to be answered.”

“I guess the Goddess’s voice mail must get full.”

Ethan laughed. “Who knows why? It just seems to work out that way. Maybe she has to arrange some behind-the-scenes action for it to happen. Maybe Rebecca will decide to advertise. Or maybe she’ll get a really good online review. Just know that she asked for customers, and they’ll show up.”

“I see.”

“Maybe you should take a few classes from Myranda and Yvonne at their shop.”

“They give power classes for doubting witches?”

Ethan grinned. “They’ll be sure you get what you need.”

I need to find Shasta. Maybe they can teach me how to cast a spell—or a net—to find her.

Not that Dru truly believed in magic, but he’d seen Hanna exercise a power that defied physics. Could’ve been a trick of the eye, or smoke and mirrors, but Ethan believed in magic. So did Rebecca and his sister. They were normal intelligent people. Heck, there were plenty of things he didn’t understand, but that didn’t make them any less real.

Dru considered himself open-minded, but he’d never had occasion to truly test that theory and prove it to himself. This certainly qualified as that occasion.

Ethan finished his breakfast, rose and wiped his mouth on the tiny napkin provided. “Good to see you again.” Then he grabbed another one from the napkin holder and wiped his hands. A sly smile crossed his face. “By the way, if that lip lock I witnessed this morning is any indication, I’d say last night’s love spell is already working.”

“Huh? But Rebecca didn’t ask for love, and I wasn’t in the circle.”

Ethan chuckled. “Oh, yes you were.”

Mrs. Reese saw April returning from the day care program and followed her to her bedroom. From the look on April’s face, it didn’t go well.

“April, may I come in?”

“Uh, sure.” She glanced around. “I guess there are no roommates to consult at the moment.”

“I know. They’re out looking for jobs.”

April sighed. “I wish I could get a job. That adult day care program just isn’t for me.”

“What was it like?”

“Mostly people talking about their messed up families, dead-end jobs, feelings of hopelessness. Some of them even attempted suicide. Nothing I could relate to at all.”

“Maybe you should give it a chance. It was only one day. Talking about your feelings might really help.”

“All I feel is confused. I shared that today, and no one could relate. They kept digging, trying to come up with something I might remember. I don’t even know if I’ve ever seen a book or read a movie.”

Mrs. Reese smiled.

“Seen a book…Read a movie. See what I mean about being confused?” April slapped herself upside the head and laughed.

“Well, you have a good sense of humor about it.”

“I think I was the only person at the day care who did. I really don’t want to go back there. I can’t even do arts and crafts. That’s one thing I discovered about myself today.”

“You’re not an artist?”

“Nope. I’m sure not. My ceramic vase looks like an ashtray.”

She chuckled.

“By the way, my hair is looking really skunky with the dark color growing out. I felt really self-conscious. It looks like I’m actually a blonde. Is there any way I could dye it? I’ll pay you back for the hair dye as soon as I get some money.”

She parted the girl’s long raven locks and saw what might have been a golden wheat color. “Do you want to go back to your natural blonde or stay with the dark brunette?”

“I guess I’d like to get as close to my natural color as I can. It will be easier to maintain, and maybe someone will recognize me. I can’t imagine I’d have dyed it this color my whole life.”

“Good thinking. But to tell you the truth, getting blonde to cover black would be impossible. Why don’t I send you to my hairdresser?”

“Seriously? I couldn’t—”

“I insist.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Reese.” She threw her arms around her. “You’re ‘bout the only friend I have.”

Oh, dear. How sad is that?
Mrs. Reese broke another rule and gave the girl a hug. If her memory returned, she was going to need a good friend.

Two days later, Rebecca stared at her case of fresh baked goods and wondered why no one was buying. Other than the woman who came in and asked for the cupcake recipe and Ethan, she’d had only three moms who came in for coffee and free cookies for themselves and their kids the day before yesterday, and yesterday three college age students each bought a cupcake. She’d made a whopping six dollars yesterday and six-seventy-five the day before. She glanced at the clock. It was after eleven a.m.

Dru said he’d be back before noon to hand out samples. He’d gone off to show Shasta’s picture around the local shops and look for leads since there was no point in him standing around doing nothing.

Rebecca returned to the kitchen and turned on the radio. Sometimes music lifted her spirits, but today it wasn’t working. She raised her hands to the ceiling. “Why, Goddess? Why aren’t you helping me?” she wailed.

“Because you keep givin’ away the store,” Dru said, from the doorway. “I notice there are only two free cookies left.”

She whirled around as he ambled into the kitchen, hands in his pockets.

“Don’t hit me, Rebecca. I’m just tryin’ to help.”

She sighed. “I know. I don’t understand why my spell didn’t work.”

“Ethan tells me it can take up to a month for your wish to be granted. Sometimes the goddess has some business to do behind the scenes. I’m sure everything will turn out right.”

“That’s true. I’ll try to be patient.”

“Being patient is tough. Nobody from the stores recognized Shasta’s picture, and I’m feelin’ plenty frustrated. I’m ready to help you out, though. Let me go drum up some business. Maybe that’s part of the goddess’s big plan for you. What did you make for samples?”

“I have some fresh strawberry turnovers.” She handed him a plate. “I made these mini-sized, so they can be cut into bite size pieces just by slicing them in half.”

“But the ones in the case are full-sized?”

“Yes.”

He started slicing and arranging the samples on a tray that was already lined with wax paper. “How much are they goin’ for, if somebody asks?”

“Two twenty-five.”

Dru popped half of a tiny turnover in his mouth and chewed with his eyes closed and murmured, “Mmm…”

Rebecca loved it when he did that.

“You can get more for these, easy. Two seventy-five each and you could offer six for fifteen dollars.”

She shrugged. “I could try that.” She’d vowed to listen to him to get the customer’s point of view. All final decisions were up to her, of course. “For now, let’s compromise and try them at two fifty. I’ll adjust the prices in the case.”

“Okey dokey. I’ll take these out to the streets. How far do you reckon people will walk to buy more?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. How far are you willing to walk to give them out?”

“To the moon and back, for you darlin’. To the moon and back.” He winked and took the goodies out to—wherever.

Rebecca watched him walk away. More accurately, she watched his firm ass move in those slim fit jeans. “Oh, my goddess. If you sent him to me on a temporary basis, I don’t know whether to thank you or ask for a do-over.”

Dru patted his pocket to be sure he had the picture of Shasta with him. As soon as he saw some people he could approach with his sample tray, he pasted on a big smile.

“Howdy, y’all. Would you like to try a delicious strawberry turnover from The Bewitching Bakery? They’re magically delicious.”

Two young professionals chuckled and said, “Sure.” The couple chewed the sample size pasties and made appreciative noises.

Dru took advantage of the moment while their mouths were full and fished Shasta’s picture out of his pocket.

“This is my sister, Shasta. Have either of you seen her?”

They took a good look at the photo, then shook their heads. The male asked, “Why are you looking for her?”

“She’s been missin’ for a couple months. We think she might be stayin’ around here.”

“I’m sorry,” the woman said. “I hope nothing’s happened to her.”

He lowered his gaze. “Same here.” Then he perked up. “If you see her, send her to the bakery, would ya? Tell her that Dru’s workin’ there.”

They agreed to do that and as they walked away, the woman pivoted. “I hope you find her.”

“Thank you, kindly, ma’am.” He almost tipped his cowboy hat until he remembered he wasn’t wearing it. He’d worn one for so long its presence seemed like that phantom limb syndrome he’d heard of. It felt like the hat was perched on his head, even though it wasn’t.

The next woman he approached with the samples abstained, citing she had a gluten allergy. Dru didn’t know what gluten was, but he’d mention it to Rebecca. He was sure she’d know and might even know what to do about it. He showed the woman Shasta’s picture, anyway. She said she hadn’t seen her either.

This went on for the entire lunch hour. He didn’t notice people altering their paths toward the bakery, but he hoped they’d check it out after work or on the weekend.

He was almost out of samples and about to pack it in when a man who may have been homeless approached him. The individual was dirty and unshaven. Dru doubted he’d be spending money at a bakery, and he probably wouldn’t be running with Shasta’s crowd, so he turned around and started to leave.

“Hey, don’t I get one?” the guy said.

“Do you buy baked goods?”

“I might. You never know.”

Dru waffled a moment. From what he’d read in books, Geminis were prone to those pesky moments of indecision because of their dual natures. He should probably be kind to the man, but he didn’t like the looks of him.

His hesitation apparently irritated the guy. He glared. “What? Aren’t I good enough to eat a free sample?”

Dru reluctantly held out the tray. The guy frowned but took one of the last samples and downed it. Then he grabbed the picture of Shasta.

Dru was about to snatch it back when the guys’ eyes narrowed. “I think I’ve seen her.”

Suddenly Drew realized a homeless person who spent all day on the streets might be more likely to have seen her than folks who spent all day in an office. Hope kicked his awareness up a notch.

“Where? What do you remember?” He was all but tripping over himself, trying to uncover some kind of clue.

“I’m not sure it was her. The girl’s hair was a different color, but it looked dyed, ‘cause it was growing out.”

“What color is it now?”

The man eyed him suspiciously. “What do you want with her?”

“She’s my sister, Shasta.”

“Like the tonic?”

“The what? What do you mean, tonic?”

The guy chuckled. “Sorry. I guess that’s a New England thing. I guess you call it soda.”

Dru was still puzzled for a second. Then in dawned on him. “Oh. Soda pop. Shasta soda. Yeah. Her name is spelled the same way.”

“Your parents named her after a soft drink?”

“No. It’s a kind of daisy. It’s an Indian name too.”

“Are you part Indian?”

“Not that I know of.” Dru was getting frustrated. He tried to hold it in since this could be the only lead he’d get. “What can you tell me about the girl you saw?”

“Her hair was black. Other than that, the picture kind of looks like her.”

“Kind of or does?”

“I don’t know for sure. Maybe I shouldn’t even be talking to you. What if she doesn’t want to be found? Don’t cross-examine me.” The guy turned around and stomped off.

Dru thought about following him, trying to get more information, but something told him the guy might be mentally unstable. Pushing him was probably a bad idea.

It had never occurred to Dru that his sister might
not
want to be found. Could she have changed her appearance to throw him off?

Hell no. Shasta would never put me through that.
For a split second, he considered the possibility, and rage reared its ugly head. Then he calmed himself and looked at it logically. She had no reason to do that. If someone in Austin had upset her, she’d probably run home to him. Not the other way.

He popped the last pastry in his mouth, tucked Shasta’s picture back in his pocket, and returned to the Bewitching Bakery with a lot on his mind.