“But . . . but I’m not a fairy!”
Titania continued. “You’re not. But once in a very long while, a human is born with . . . the sensitivities, and maybe even some of the powers, of the Fair Folk. It’s very rare, but they can affect things in the natural world, like a girl who can grow flowers that no one else could rival.”
“Peaseblossom,” I whispered.
Mrs. T nodded. “Or a girl who could weave fabrics of unsurpassed beauty and strength . . .”
“Cobweb?” I asked.
She nodded again.
“Or a boy who can make food that tells stories that bring back the past, stories that no one ever wants to stop listening to,” I said quietly.
“Yes. You are like us, Mimi. You transform ordinary ingredients into something extraordinary.”
“Even if I believed you, why would I want to turn people into zombies who just do what I say?”
Titania shook her beautiful head. “No, no, not like that. Imagine, Mimi, if we could influence people so they would treat The Wild with respect? What if we could persuade people to listen each other, to open their minds to different ideas? We could create peace in our troubled world.”
I’d been ready to argue, but I paused. That would be cool.
“You would join our family—with Peaseblossom and Cobweb and others. With Vik. At first, I thought you would be his substitute, his replacement, but he has decided to stay. In us, you have friends, a family who will never leave you. You would do what you love most, every day. You would be honored, celebrated, and treasured among us, not overlooked like you are at home.”
I looked at her in confusion.
“Your family can’t appreciate you, Mimi, not the way I do. I know you’re truly gifted, unique in the whole world.” Titania smiled. She was the Woodland Queen, the Queen of The Wild, who knows everyone’s deepest desires.
“And I would give you something special,” she said. She clapped her hands, and Peaseblossom came out of the kitchen, carrying something heavy.
Peaseblossom set it down, curtsied, and went back to the kitchen. It was The Book. The ultimate cookbook. I caressed its familiar pages.
“You will have ingredients from all over the world to influence whomever you wish. And of course, I will release your father from this enchantment,” said Titania.
I looked at Dad again. He was halfway through a huge pan of bread pudding and didn’t look like he was slowing down anytime soon.
“Why didn’t my gotu kola brownies work on him?” I wondered aloud.
“An astute question,” said Titania fondly. “Remember when you came here with your father, when he was taking notes for his review? He ate more of my chocolates then. And the enchantments of the Queen of The Wild are not easily undone, not even by someone as talented as you. I’m the only one who can return him to normal.”
“But he seemed back to normal after the hospital—”
“That’s because he ate my ‘get-well’ chocolate. It had nothing to do with whatever silly treatment the humans gave him. My previous batch of chocolate was a bit . . . potent. I didn’t want him to choke to death. That would have ruined everything.” Titania’s laugh tinkled through the air.
It certainly would have ruined everything for Dad, and my whole family. I didn’t see what was so funny.
“It was a simple matter to offer him more of my enchanted treats at the end of the contest today. Like I said, your father is quite under my spell.” Her eyes gleamed. “So what will it be, Mimi? Will you choose immortality and eternal fame? Will you save your father? Vik objected to the way I tried to entice you. It wasn’t fair to trick her, he said. You should have asked, not demanded. Well, now I am asking: Will you join me?”
She offered me everything I’d ever wanted. I wouldn’t be last anymore. I wouldn’t feel like I was always behind. I would have the best cookbook in the world, be able to bake all the time, and have access to all kinds of incredible ingredients. I could travel anywhere—India, even Australia—anytime I wanted. My friends would never leave me. I could stop people from fighting each other, and do some good in the world. I remembered the pitta’s song when it saved me from the cobra. A memory, and an invitation. I belonged in The Wild.
And I’d save Dad. My family would be fine without me, but they needed him.
Titania spread her hands. “Mimi, won’t you choose a life that is always sweet? Bake something for me—your heart’s work, something only you in all the world can make—and join us.”
CHAPTER 29
HEART'S WORK
“You will find everything you need at your station from this morning. I’ll remain here with your father.”
My mind raced as I stumbled to the baking station. What was I going to make? What could possibly be good enough? I blew a strand of hair out of my face and wandered to a table where spices and herbs were laid out in jewellike bowls. Rosemary, thyme, spearmint, cinnamon, cardamom. Their fragrance beckoned me. My fingers twitched.
A pinch of delicate reddish-orange threads lay in a clear bowl. They smelled of sunshine.
Saffron. For success.
I knew exactly what to make.
I heated milk in a pan and rubbed the bright threads between my fingers before sprinkling them into the milk. Let me succeed, I thought as the warm, floral aroma rose up. I set my intention. I knew the steps. I felt the rhythm of what I wanted.
And then I baked my heart out.
It was fifteen minutes until midnight when I arranged twelve cupcakes on a platter. They were yellow, small but weighty, covered with a swirl of caramel-colored frosting and each topped with a single toasted cashew. I picked up the platter and moved toward Titania and Dad just as Vik entered the café.
“Vik! There you are,” said Titania. “See? You were all wrong about our Mimi. You needn’t have put on that maudlin display at the contest this morning after all. I have not demanded. I gave her a choice, and she has made it.”
Vik glanced at Dad gorging himself on petit fours and raised an eyebrow. “I offered you my heart’s work, my queen,” Vik said. “I will happily remain your Royal Baker.”
“Vik, I’ve made up my mind,” I said.
Vik frowned. “Mimi—”
“I have a story to tell, Queen Titania. Will you listen?” The tray of cupcakes trembled in my hands.
“Of course, my dear girl. I love stories.” Titania settled back in her chair next to Dad. He barely looked up as he finished off a piece of spice cake, but his purple eyes gleamed.
I swallowed and shoved my hair out of my eyes. “Once there was a girl who loved to bake.” My heart thrummed like a hand mixer on the highest speed. “She baked cookies and pies, cream puffs and brownies, and cupcakes most of all. Baking was what she knew and loved. But the girl felt that no one truly understood her.
“And then she met the Woodland Queen, the Queen of The Wild, who knows everyone’s deepest desires.
“The girl made cookies that inspired courage and loyalty. And the Queen was pleased, but still she asked for something more.
“Next, the girl made cupcakes that celebrated friendship, and brought luck and adventure. And the Queen was pleased, but still she asked for something more.
“So one Midsummer’s Eve when the moon was full and fairies roamed the woods, the girl brought her heart’s work, cakes that were sweet and salty, smooth and gritty, buttery and just the tiniest bit bitter. And she offered it . . .” I set the platter down and selected the best cupcake.
Titania held out her graceful palm and waited as I peeled off the wrapper.
“. . . she offered it to one who knew her best.”
I handed the cupcake to Dad.
Titania frantically reached out to snatch the cupcake, but Dad, with his insatiable appetite, was too fast for her. He took an enormous bite.
Titania curled her lip.
I held my breath. Would it be good enough? Would it work?
Dad chewed, swallowed, and blinked.
I
braced myself for a flash of purple.
Dad shook his head and looked at me with warm brown eyes, the color of good medium-roast coffee. “Hmm, saffron, cardamom, semolina, cashews . . . kesari bhath, huh? What a perfect translation into a cupcake. Has Mom tried one yet?”
I shuddered with relief.
Titania jumped to her feet and gaped at me. “How could you?” Her voice shook with power and rage. “I offered you—I would have given you—I would have treasured you!”
I glanced at Dad. He winked.
I tried to hide my smile. “Queen Titania,” I said, “I already have a family that treasures me. And we love each other, even though we argue, and feel jealous, and aren’t always as kind as we should be. Besides, as I was trying to tell you, not everything in life can be sweet. Salty and sour, spicy and bitter—it’s the combination of tastes that makes food delicious. And that’s what makes life worth savoring, too.”
Vik grinned. “I should’ve had more faith in you, Mimi. Your family is amazing, and you’d never let them down.”
“And Queen Titania, you already have a family that treasures you,” I said.
Peaseblossom and Cobweb poked their heads out from the kitchen and nodded.
“And someone who loves you like a mother. He’s not a bad baker, either.”
Vik smiled at me, and I gave him a Mimi wink.
“That’s all fine and well, but I am still not pleased,” said Titania.
“Too bad,” came a familiar voice from the door.
A puff of cake and cream burst on Titania’s shoulder. Before she could utter a word, she was pelted by two more, then four, then an entire barrage of baked goods.
“Take that!” Jules lobbed a miniature fruit tart. “You can’t have our Mimi. Who would bake cookies with me?”
Henry barraged her with blondies. “She’s the best acting partner I have!”
Riya launched a cherry pie with both hands. “And we’ve only just started singing together!”
“I . . . I NEVER!” gasped Titania. “This is not . . . this is not acceptable!” She pushed whipped cream and cake crumbs out of her eyes, and her beautiful dress was covered in sugar and spice.
Peaseblossom and Cobweb giggled in the corner but stopped at Titania’s glare.
“Very well, Mimi. You win. You have broken my spell on your father, and you say you will not join me, though I cannot fathom why. But know this: you will never see Vik again. You won’t even have the memory of him.” She waved her hand. The eyes of the non-fairies in the room closed, like they were sleepwalking. Dad even started to snore.
“B-but—” I stammered. “Dad was the only one who ate anything tonight!”
“Everyone partook of our golden ale this morning,” said Titania. “We made sure of it, just in case.”
I turned to Vik. First Emma, now Vik. How many best friends could I lose?
“Farewell, Mimi,” Vik said. “Our time together was sweet, and all too brief. But I must obey. She is not only my aunt, but also my queen.” He bowed.
But then, shielded from Titania’s sight, he looked at me and winked.
I heard a footstep at the door. “Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania,” said a voice like wind creaking through the trees. “I know you’ve been cheating.” A tall silver-haired man walked into the café.
“As if you’ve been playing by the rules, Oberon!” cried Titania.
Oberon looked at me, then turned back to Titania. “Though she be but little, she is fierce. Is she not, my lovely queen?”
“Oh, enough,” said Titania testily. She turned toward me in a huff, raising her arms and chanting,
“If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber’d here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream.”
I suddenly felt incredibly sleepy. My eyes closed.
CHAPTER 30
DREAMS AND REALITY
Sunlight woke me on an August morning. I’d had the dream again. It was about the woods. Something about Dad. Yes, and Cole, Henry, Riya, and Jules were all part of it. And there was someone else, too. I reached for the memory, but I couldn’t catch it.
Restless, I got out of bed and went to my window. Branches swayed in a gentle breeze. Birds chattered. There was a song, too, something I remembered from somewhere. But I couldn’t recall anymore.
In the kitchen, Mom was sipping a cup of tea. “Hi, sweetie,” she said with a smile. “Ready for the big party?”
“Yes, but I’m ready for breakfast first.” Mom, Dad, and I were leaving the next morning so I could spend three days in New York baking with my idol, Puffy Fay. I still couldn’t believe I had won the While Away baking contest.
I was going to miss the While Away. The last time I’d visited, there was a notice on the door that they’d be closed by Labor Day. Weird, since it was always packed.
Tonight was our big send-off celebration, and no one was letting me bake a thing for it. But they couldn’t stop me from baking something for breakfast.
I plucked a sprig of rosemary from the pot in the windowsill, and as I inhaled its fresh scent, something flashed in my mind.
I went to the pantry and took out a jar of wildflower honey. I held it up to make sure I had enough, and the sun lit it up like a jar of gold. There was that flash again—I almost had it, but it slipped away.
I preheated the oven and mixed my ingredients. I sprinkled in the fragrant rosemary. Remember, Mimi. What have you forgotten?
By the time I got the pan in the oven, Dad had come downstairs. He sniffed the air. “Rosemary, huh? What are you making?”
“Rosemary–honey–olive oil muffins.”
“Did you add white pepper, like we talked about last time?”
I grinned. “A tiny bit. Next time, do you think we should try it with goat’s milk?”
“Great idea,” said Dad. He kissed the top of my head and went to make coffee.
Mom refilled her mug from the kettle. “I forgot to tell you, Emma’s mom emailed me last night,” she said. “They want us to visit them in Australia. What do you think? We’d go in December, when Emma has her summer break.”
“Are you serious? Can we really? She keeps telling me how much fun she’s having. But she misses me. And I miss her.”
“Let’s see if we can work it out,” said Mom.
Henry walked in rubbing his eyes. “Something smells fantastic,” he said.
“They’ll be ready soon.” I laughed.
Jules and Riya came in together, giggling at something on Riya’s phone.
“What’s so funny?” asked Mom.
“Just ideas for a new dance routine,” said Riya. “I think it tells a great story.”
“If by ‘great,’ you mean full of crazy misunderstandings and bizarre coincidences that all turn out right in the end.” Jules smiled. “Let’s see what Fletcher and Cole think tonight.”
Everyone pitched in to finish making breakfast. I took the muffins out of the oven, and we sat down to eat.
“Tonight’s going to be so much fun,” said Jules. “The whole neighborhood’s coming. Can’t wait to celebrate you, Mimi!” She raised her glass of orange juice in a toast.
“Here’s to baking with Puffy Fay,” said Henry, raising his glass.
“Here’s to displaying your talent for all the world to see,” said Riya.
“Here’s to doing what you love,” said Mom.
“The greatness was always there,” said Dad. “You just needed to see it in yourself. Here’s to our Mimi!”
I raised my glass and basked in the warmth of my family.
The rosemary muffins were as delicious as I’d hoped. But I still couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that I was forgetting something.
After we finished cleaning up, I went to the back porch. Although the air was warm, I could smell autumn around the corner. What was it I
couldn’t remember? I’d had a great summer, making friends with Kiera, hanging out in the woods, and inventing all sorts of treats. We had gone to Cape Cod and ridden roller coasters at Six Flags. I’d even enjoyed camp. But there was something else. A movement caught my eye; a brightly colored bird landed on an oak branch.
And then I heard it. Fragments of a song. I walked to the edge of the woods, listening. I peered down the familiar path, held my breath, and stepped into the trees.
And then, I remembered.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A debut novel is like a special meal—carefully planned, lovingly prepared, and beautifully presented for feasting and celebration. I poured my heart into Midsummer’s Mayhem for years, but there are so many others who have played important roles in bringing it into the world.
Brent Taylor, my brilliant, indefatigable agent, devoured this book in one bite, loved it from the start, and found the perfect home for it. He is the epitome of what an agent should be. Brent has taken my literary dreams and made them all come true.
Charlie Ilgunas has been the loveliest editor possible. His close reading and excellent notes truly brought out the heart of this novel, and made Mimi’s story perfectly delectable. Many thanks to the fantastic team at Yellow Jacket, including Bethany Reis, copyeditor; Dave Barrett, managing editor; Lauren Carr and Paul Crichton, publicists; Nadia Almahdi, marketing manager; and Sonali Fry, publisher. David DeWitt, designer, made this book a feast for the eyes. And Rachel Suggs is the supremely talented artist who brought Mimi and her family and friends to life with her exquisite illustrations.
I can’t overestimate how much Joy McCullough, Pitch Wars mentor extraordinaire, did for this book and my writing career. Joy gave me excellent suggestions for ways to improve this story, and was my guiding hand and the voice of reason during the frantic two-month editing process that was Pitch Wars. Joy is an outstanding writer, a superb critique partner, and a beautiful human being.
I’m also forever indebted to Brenda Drake, the founder of Pitch Wars, who has paved the way for so many writers’ successes. And to my incredible Pitch Wars 2017 class: You are the best! I am so very grateful we went through this journey together. Special shout-outs to Remy Lai, Andrea Contos, Emily Thiede, and Ipuna Black, my incredibly talented Pitch Wars classmates who’ve shared laughter, tears, and cookies with me.
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