Bewitched, Bothered, and Biscotti: A Magical Bakery Mystery by Bailey Cates

Author:Bailey Cates
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fiction, General, Mystery & Detective
ISBN: 9781101607381
Publisher: NAL
Published: 2012-12-30T23:00:00+00:00

It was still pitch-black outside when I arrived at the Honeybee, and would be for hours. I tied on a bright orange chef’s apron with the white bones of a skeletal torso appliquéd on the front. I’d bought two—the other one was black—to add to my considerable collection of vintage aprons. After preheating the ovens, I put the pans of sourdough that had been rising overnight onto the racks to bake and mixed the batter for brown-butter-and-walnut cupcakes, which would be the special for the day. Or were they muffins? Hard to tell the difference when you mixed savory and sweet like that. I added a hefty dose of powdered ginger to the batter, closing my eyes and invoking its influence to increase energy, love, and courage. By the time Cookie arrived, I’d also mixed three kinds of cookie dough and re-baked a batch of cranberry orange biscotti.

“You’re late,” I said, instantly regretting my tone.

She blinked at me with bleary eyes. “Sorry. Didn’t get much sleep.”

Oh, dear. I rubbed my hand over my face, afraid to ask.

Cookie didn’t seem to notice. “Brandon and I sat down by the river and talked for hours and hours last night. I barely made it home for a nap and a shower.” She twisted up her still-wet hair, pinned it in place, and donned a Honeybee baseball cap. Then she slipped the black skeleton apron over her head and reached behind to fasten it.

“What did you talk about?” My tone was carefully casual as I began stacking biscotti in a large glass jar.

“Oh, gosh. Everything. Absolutely everything. We have so much in common! It’s like we’ve known each other forever.” For being so tired she sure was enthusiastic.

I put the lid on the jar and leaned my hip against the counter. “What did you tell him?”

She stilled. “About what?”

“About the fact that you’re a witch. About the spellbook club. About what you know about him being a druid, the Dragoh Society, Lawrence Eastmore, and the Spell of Necretius.” Frustration blew out on my words. Anger, too, I realized. And fear. Cookie could have jeopardized everything the spellbook club was trying to do to find a killer and keep an evil spirit at bay.

She whirled to face me, hands on her hips. “Just because you’re too afraid to commit to either of the men who are obviously in love with you doesn’t give you the right to judge me.”

“Cookie, I wasn’t—”

“Believe me, we had a lot more interesting things to talk about than your murder investigation.”

“My—?”

“And yes, Brandon knows I practice magic, but he told me about his practice first. The spellbook club and his society didn’t come up. Our childhoods, our lives, our values and beliefs—those were what we talked about. You know what else?” She was practically shouting by now. “He admitted to glamouring his paintings. He doesn’t do it with all of them, just enough to keep the money coming in so he has the freedom to pursue his art.”

Oh, brother. Like

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