Charms and Chocolate Chips: A Magical Bakery Mystery

by Bailey Cates

  He was looking at me as if I were an odd bug under a microscope. “I don’t understand. You told me magic was about manifesting intention.”

  “It is,” I said.

  “But that sounds like some kind of New Age take on positive thinking. This thing you’re telling me about is real. I mean, you can actually do things. Tell me what else.” He looked wildly around the room as if I were going to manifest a unicorn.

  “Having a Voice is kind of like being born with red hair,” Mama said.

  He rubbed a hand over his face. “You mean she got it from you.”

  “And her father.”

  Declan let out a long sigh.

  “I told you my powers were hereditary,” I said, trying to tamp down my frustration—and remorse. “Mostly the Craft is about intention, and mostly I place that intention into herbs and spices when I’m cooking. I mean, I can’t twitch my nose and go to Paris or anything. I can’t say abracadabra and come up with a murder suspect, either. Believe me, if I could, I would. Heck, half the time I can’t even find my keys.”

  He didn’t smile.

  I went on. “See, I can’t make things happen, only . . . open the door for them. I’m just a little more . . .” I trailed off, wishing more than anything that the sick feeling in my stomach would go away. With it came the sense—no, the knowledge—that using my Voice on Declan had irretrievably broken something between us. I looked helplessly at my mother.

  “What you did to me was a whole lot more than opening a door,” he grumbled.

  “Katie is a catalyst,” she said quietly. “And . . . well, she’s powerful. Be clear, however, that what happened to you today is as much my fault as hers.”

  My chin jerked up in surprise.

  “Maybe more my fault.”

  “Mama.”

  “No. I knew you had ability, real, tangible power, but I ignored that because I didn’t want to face raising you as a witch. I was frightened of what people would think, of losing my small-town community. I abdicated my responsibility as your mother, and you went into the world untrained.”

  Declan couldn’t keep the distress off his face. When he turned and looked me in the eye, I saw something else, too: distrust.

  There is no going back from this. He knows magic is real and not some game. At least for me.

  My mother said, “I’m going to remedy my mistake, though. My Voice may not be as strong as yours, but at least I can teach you how to control it.”

  I tried to smile and rose. “If we don’t get going on supper, we won’t be eating until ten o’clock.”

  Declan blinked. “Yeah. Okay.”

  “I’ll help, okay? Mama, I think the coconut cake is still in the car.”

  • • •

  Supper was a quiet, subdued affair. I asked about Daddy and his hardware store and Mama’s volunteer work at the hospital. She answered without detail, and I felt myself struggling to keep the conversation going. Declan hardly talked at all. When the dishes were done, he said, “Ms. Lightfoot? Do you mind if we leave a little early? I’m bushed.”

  She bit her lower lip and looked at me. “I guess that would be fine. Unless you want me to stay, Katie?”

  I shook my head. “I’m pretty tired, too,” I lied. “At least I don’t have to worry about Hunter Normandy anymore.”

  Mama went into the living room to get her purse, and I grabbed Declan’s arm. “You’re coming back as soon as you drop her?”

  His blue eyes searched my face. “I don’t think so. Not tonight. I need to think about things. I’ll call you.”

  “Tonight?” I pushed.

  He gave a slight shake of his head. “Probably not. I need a little time. There was a time when you asked me for that, and I gave it to you.”

  I dropped my hand from his arm. “Of course. I understand.” Which was true. In fact, I was afraid I understood too much.

  After they left, I sat on the sofa and listened to the silence. The space didn’t feel as tainted as it had when my home had been invaded before, but the air felt empty with my mother and Declan gone.

  Maybe it wasn’t the air. Maybe it was my heart.

  Mungo jumped up and searched my face with his warm brown eyes.

  “Well, I may have solved that whole problem of what to get my boyfriend for Valentine’s Day,” I said, “because I think there’s a pretty good chance I won’t have a boyfriend by then.”

  He laid his head softly on my lap as I began to cry.

  • • •

  Later as I desperately tried to sleep, my cell phone gave a soft chirp. The clock said 1:14 a.m. The text read, Another stroke for justice. Congratulations. Glad you’re safe.

  It was from Steve.

  • • •

  Between running the events of the last few days over in my mind, curiosity about the cypress tree and the ley lines in Fagen Swamp, and thoughts that kept returning to Declan over and over, sleep largely eluded me. Finally, I got up and went into work at four the next morning. Mungo immediately began snoozing in his office chair, and I settled in to my usual morning routine. An hour spent sifting and mixing, tasting and baking, netted a half-filled display case and a calmer me. At a bit after five, Lucy arrived at the Honeybee with Mama. In the last two days, the bakery had become even more of a family affair, and I was glad for the help.

  “Looks like you’ve been here for a while, honey. How are you doing?” Mama asked with concern.

  Lucy came up and gave me a hug. “Your mother told me what happened with Declan. I’m sure he’ll come around.”

  Inhaling her spicy scent of patchouli, I returned her embrace but tried to keep my tone light. “He has a right to know what he’s getting into. We should look on the bright side—Autumn’s killer is in custody, and now things can get back to normal.”

  Lucy laughed. “Normal, huh?”

  “How are the plans for the bake sale going?” I asked.

  My mother’s face lit up. “We’ve made a lot of progress—the mailers went out, and the Downtown Business Association has started some buzz going around town. We decided to have it in two days. Your uncle arranged for us to set up someplace called Rousakis Plaza.”

  Nonna would like that. I wondered if she’d talk to me again if I went into the echo chamber. I hadn’t smelled even a hint of gardenia during the confrontation with Hunter.

  “I’ll stay for the sale,” Mama said. “Then I should probably get back to your father. He called last night, and apparently he misses me.” Her eyes flashed with pleasure.

  “Of course he does,” I said.

  “Oh, and I forgot to tell you yesterday, but I contacted the newspaper. They said they might want to do a feature on Georgia Wild. They were resistant at first, but then I mentioned the murder, and that made their ears perk right up.”

  I gaped. “Gosh, Mama. That’s kind of mercenary, isn’t it?”

  She shrugged and tied a flowered apron over her black slacks and pearl gray sweater. “I know it was a terrible tragedy, but a story in the Savannah Morning News will really help get people to come to the bake sale.”

  Lucy looked over at me. “Mary Jane, did they tell you who’s going to write the story?”

  “Dane . . . Dawes? Yes. Somebody Dawes.”

  I sighed. “Steve Dawes.”

  “You know him?” she asked. As much as I’d seen of him lately, Steve still hadn’t met my mother.

  Dolloping a mound of almond chocolate chip cookie dough onto a baking sheet, I said, “I guess you could say that.”

  “Well, he’s supposed to call me today to set up a time to talk to Wren. I’ll tell him you said hello.”

  Lucy’s lips twitched as she turned to the row of aprons on the wall and selected a white waist apron to cover her tie-dyed skirt. “I’m sure he’ll be glad to hear that.”

  • • •
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  The phone lit up as the news of Hunter Normandy’s arrest spread. Mama told Wren when she called about Steve wanting to interview her, and then Wren called me. I gave her all the details I knew about Normandy, though I fudged a bit on my role in his apprehension. No reason to go into that, though I was sure the coven would hear all about it in time. The relief in Wren’s voice was palpable, and she sounded downright excited when I updated her on the bake sale preparations.

  “The bank called late yesterday and said the short-term loan has been approved,” she said. “But I haven’t heard anything about those two conservancy grants yet. I’m hoping the bake sale will make some money, of course, but that it will also get the word out about what Georgia Wild does. Maybe we’ll get more donations as a result.”

  “So my mother told you all about the newspaper feature,” I said.

  “Yes! Isn’t it wonderful?”

  I agreed it was wonderful. Then Mimsey got on the line, and I told the Hunter Normandy story all over again.

  Quinn called an hour later. “Normandy lawyered up,” he said. “But we’re continuing to build the case, don’t you worry.”

  “I don’t suppose his lawyer is Logan Seward?”

  He laughed. “No, it’s someone who has nothing to do with this case at all.”

  Jaida and Bianca came in at lunchtime, and I was happy to learn Mimsey had already called the other members of the spellbook club so I didn’t have to repeat it again. Every time I told the tale I thought of Declan, which made me want to call him to find out if everything was all right between us or if there wasn’t an “us” anymore. But I’d agreed to let him call me, so I resisted.

  Bianca took off her coat and hung it over the back of a chair. Something moved in the pocket, indicating Puck’s ferrety presence. As long as he didn’t jump out and run around the bakery, I was fine with her bringing him in. I certainly wasn’t in any position to object.

  Even though it wasn’t on the menu, I brought my friends bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches on grilled sourdough and tall, sweating glasses of sweet tea.

  “Yum,” Jaida said, and dug in.

  Bianca took a sip of tea and beamed at me. “Guess what?”

  “What?” I asked.

  “I have a date tonight. Well, this afternoon because Colette will still be in daycare, but still—a date!”

  “With one of the guys on Savannah Singles?” Jaida asked.

  I looked at her in surprise.

  She waved her hand in the air. “I know all about it.”

  But Bianca was shaking her head. “No, not with any of those bozos. With Evanston Rickers! He called me last night and asked me out for a drink at Rocks on the Roof.”

  “Nice!” I grinned. “I was there when he called Wren for your number. Guess you made as much of an impression on him as he did on you.”

  She giggled.

  My jaw dropped. Tall, elegant, fashion plate Bianca Devereaux was not one to giggle.

  Jaida laughed and took a swig of sweet tea. “I’m happy for you, B. Have you decided whether or not to tell him you’re Wiccan?”

  Bianca lifted one shoulder and let it fall, still smiling. “I’ll just play it by ear.”

  “And have you told Cookie yet?” I asked.

  “Nope. She’ll probably disapprove, but it’s my life.”

  I looked over my shoulder. The reading area was packed with customers, and Mama was busy at the register with a group of tourists. Ben was manning the coffee counter while Lucy talked with a woman who looked familiar. With a start, I realized it was the rude woman who had demanded a fancy coffee drink two days before. As I watched, Lucy handed her a wrapped loaf of olive sourdough and a bag of pastries. No doubt this time the woman would get the help she needed.

  It was gratifying to see the uptick in business. The Honeybee was busy, but no one sat near enough to our table in the corner to overhear our conversation.

  I turned back. “When are you going to meet Evanston?”

  “Three o’clock.” Bianca’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “Because if we know he’s going to be here in Savannah, it would be the perfect opportunity to go out to Fagen Swamp and cast a location spell.”

  “For the maroon bats?” Jaida asked.

  “Exactly.” I didn’t mention how much I wanted to check out the cypress tree.

  Uneasiness replaced the smile on Bianca’s face. “I don’t know. It seems wrong to trick him on our very first date.”

  “We’re not tricking him,” I said. “We’d be, um, saving him from the difficult situation of dealing with a bunch of witches casting in his backyard. It’s not like we’ll be going in his cabin or even onto his little island there. We’ll work near that tree where he said he saw the maroon bats.”

  Jaida looked intrigued. “I like it. If we can actually find some of those bats, we might still be able to nix the sale of that land. And Bianca, if that happens, your new love interest will be able to remain for the rest of his sabbatical.”

  Bianca’s eyes sparkled. “Well, when you put it like that . . .”

  Chapter 24

  I made some calls, and everyone agreed to meet at the bakery at two o’clock. Wren would be around earlier since Steve had called and asked to interview her at the Honeybee at one. I told Mama about our plan and invited her to come with us, but she declined.

  “I’m not ready to cast yet, and certainly not with a coven. I’ve always worked solitary—or with your father—and while I know you have a great group in these ladies, it’s not for me.”

  “Okay,” I said, happy enough to hear she was at least thinking about taking up the Craft again.

  “I’ll stay here with Ben so Lucy can go,” she said.

  “Perfect,” I said. “And thank you.”

  • • •

  Steve walked into the bakery right after Wren. I was in the kitchen, slicing gingerbread. He caught my eye and lifted a hand in greeting. I nodded to him but didn’t go out front. Wren looked relaxed for the first time since Autumn’s death. Her cheeks had pinked, and she had on a different pair of glasses that flattered her face. The cast on her arm even had a few signatures on it.

  They got their coffee and dry cappuccino and retired to a table to chat. Steve took out his notebook, and Wren began to talk with excited animation. If he wanted a passionate interviewee, he had one.

  Cookie came in as they talked, the royal blue of her beret mirroring the blue highlights in the dark curls surrounding her heart-shaped face. She wore practical jeans and boots with a turtleneck and blazer. A frilly scarf softened the look.

  She returned my wave, and Lucy took her a cup of tea. When I’d finished restocking the sandwich cookies for the second time that day, I went in to where Cookie was sitting by the new bookshelf in the library. Pulling over a poufy chair, I perched on the edge.

  “Do we need to talk?” I asked.

  Surprise flashed behind her eyes before she could stop it. “About what?”

  “About why you’ve been avoiding me.”

  “I haven’t—” She stopped. “I guess I haven’t been around much, have I?”

  “Did I do something to hurt your feelings or make you angry?” I asked.

  “Nnno.” She drew the word out.

  “Is it because Franklin Taite said I’m a lightwitch?”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “It is! Listen, do you know what a lightwitch is?”

  Slowly, she shook her head. “Only what he said—that you can’t do dark magic.”

  “Well, for Pete’s sake, Cookie. I don’t want to do dark magic anyway.”

  What did I do to Hunter and Declan, then?

  I pushed the thought away and went on. “As for what else being a lightwitch might entail, I really couldn’t tell you. Taite left before elaborating on the subject.
So I’m just as much in the dark, pardon the pun, as you are.”

  “You don’t seem any different,” she admitted.

  “That’s because I’m not. Besides, if there is a Goody Two-shoes in our group, it’s Bianca, and you two get along great.”

  “She didn’t tell me she was meeting Evanston Rickers until it was too late to stop her,” Cookie grumbled. “He got a good look at her Jag the other day, and professors don’t make that much money.”

  I laughed.

  After a few seconds, she did, too. “I suppose I did overreact to the whole lightwitch thing.”

  “What about the other stuff that’s going on in your life? Did you hear back about the job?”

  She nodded happily. “I didn’t get it.”

  “That’s a relief,” I said. “Even I could tell it was the wrong thing for you.”

  “Well, I found the right thing.”

  I scooted back on the chair and crossed my legs. “Do tell.”

  “I’m going to Europe with Xana and Brandon. It turns out he doesn’t want to be away from me so long, and when Xana heard I was willing to come, she said she’d keep me on as her assistant.”

  “So they weren’t running off together after all.”

  She looked at me as if I had suggested she swallow a goldfish. “Of course not. Where did you get that idea?”

  Where had I gotten that idea?

  “Anyway,” she went on, “it’s time for me to move on, but in this case it’s a change of location rather than a job.”

  Or a man.

  “You sound happy,” I said.

  Her lips turned up and a soft laugh escaped. “Oh, I am.”

  “Good. Then I am, too—though we’re going to miss you while you’re gone.”

  “It will only be for three months,” she said.

  “Are you ready to find some bats this afternoon?” I asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  • • •

  Mimsey showed up next, then Jaida with a bag I knew contained four aquamarine candles scented with jasmine and a wineglass. We’d decided to keep things simple for the location spell. As for the cypress, I didn’t know what I hoped to learn, but I was determined to get nearer to it. Given the way it had pulled at me before, I was glad my friends would be with me.