Bewitching the Baker: A Paranormal Chick Lit Novel (Witchy is the New Forty Book 1)

by Elizabeth Kirke

  I laughed a little at myself, putting so much thought into something that hinged on a fake spell.

  As I got ready for bed though, I had the strangest feeling that something was on the horizon. Whether it was a man, or my bakery, or maybe just something about turning forty, I couldn’t say, but I could feel the change in the air – I felt like I was finally on the path to my next step in life.

  Chapter Four

  The next few days at the bakery were chaotic as we rushed around cleaning and preparing the space, not just the arrival of a baker that most of us idolized, but for the entire crew for the show, and the fact that our humble little bakery was about to be on nationwide TV. It was a tiring change of pace; every night I got home, went to bed early, and got up to do the same thing the next day.

  Then, one day far too soon, I arrived to see that the street in front of the bakery was packed with vans and unfamiliar cars. I went into the kitchen to clock-in and get ready for the morning meeting but there, standing right in the middle of the room, was Chef Glaze.

  I bit back a gasp as I stared at him. He was a little shorter than he looked on TV, much closer to my height than I would have expected, but still just as handsome. Someone asked him a question and even though I couldn't quite hear his actual answer, the low, almost soothing, baritone of his voice carried easily across the kitchen. When he was done, he surveyed the area, his eyes landed on me and he inclined his head slightly with a smile, before turning his attention back to the person he was talking with.

  Once all the employees had arrived, a very different morning meeting started; we were surrounded by people who fiddled with our hair and clothes and clipped on microphones. They told us to all just “act natural” and have our morning meeting. It was a struggle to keep from looking the crew as they circled us, but somehow Tracey kept calm as she led the meeting, although she had a uncharacteristically huge smile plastered across her face.

  Then it was time to open the bakery. Everything seemed oddly normal, until I realized they were calling us back one by one for interviews. I was excited and a little nervous, right up until it was my turn and I walked into the kitchen to see that they had set up two stools, one obviously meant for me and the other occupied by Baker Glaze himself.

  “Good morning,” he said to me with a smile.

  “Morning,” I said, trying not to be nervous.

  “Please have a seat, act natural, relax; we're just having a friendly chat.”

  “Okay,” I said, easing myself into the stool.

  “What's your name?”

  “My name is Violet.”

  “Violet?” Chef Glaze echoed. He laughed, maybe a little too hard and I frowned, feeling insulted.

  “Forgive me,” he said quickly. “That's a beautiful name; I shouldn’t have laughed but… well, you'll understand later on today.”

  I wasn't sure what he meant by that, but I nodded and smiled.

  “So,” he said, sitting back and spreading his arms. “Tell me about yourself.” I blanked. “What brings you here? How did you get into baking? What are your hopes for the future?”

  “Well…” I said, slowly, realizing I would have to censor myself since the audience would be primarily magicless. “I started out in school studying horticulture.”

  “Horticulture?” he echoed in surprise.

  “My mother worked at a plant nursery,” I said, leaving out the part where it primarily sold plants for magical uses. “I grew up helping out and…” I shrugged. “I thought that was what I wanted to, but after a while… well, it just started to feel like it wasn’t what I wanted to do with my life.”

  He nodded for me to go on.

  “I've always loved baking.” Was I mistaken or did a very brief frown crease his brows? “So, when the opportunity to take a cake decorating class came up, I took it. Up until that point, I just kind of slapped some frosting on and called it a day; I thought the class would be fun to jazz up the birthday cakes that I made for friends and stuff and then… I kind of fell in love with it, I guess. I went back to school for baking. Then I got a job here and I love it.”

  “What are your plans? Do you see yourself here in five, ten years?”

  “Well, honestly,” I began, “What I wanted to do was…” I quickly stopped myself; there were very few people who knew about my silly bakery dream and I certainly wasn't going to blurt it out on national television. I cleared my throat instead. “Currently, I’d just like to learn how to do some more advanced decorating techniques. I was hoping I'd have the opportunity to learn them while once I started working at a bakery, but we're all sort of on the same level here and nothing we've had to do has really called for us to stretch our skills.”

  He nodded. “So, you could say you're looking to improve your cake decorating skills, but you're pretty happy with your baking capabilities.”

  “Yeah,” I said, “exactly.”

  “I think we can help you then,” he said with a smile that I couldn't resist returning.

  “I'd like that.”

  We smiled at each other for a moment, until the silence stretched on so long it almost seemed awkward. Then he quickly cleared his throat and extended one hand.

  “Well, Violet, it was very nice speaking with you. I look forward to our first decorating lesson this afternoon.”

  “Me too,” I said, reaching out. His handshake was shake was warm and firm and I was sorry when it was over.

  ~~~***~~~

  The bakery closed early and we went into the kitchen, where we found everything had been set up at little stations. Nervous and excited, I took my place beside a tray of parchment paper, several different tools, and a piping bag.

  “Okay,” Chef Sorrel said, standing in front of us. “Today, I want to try out some basics with you and see where your skill levels are. We're going to start with something simple, yet functional, and beautiful. Tracey brilliantly suggested that we take the best pieces we make today and sell them tomorrow on some special cupcakes.”

  Everyone exchanged an excited look and Chef Sorrel continued, “In your piping bags you have a simple icing recipe, which tastes great, and sets up nicely to hold its shape. If you are so inclined, you could bring your creations home, put them on a shelf and keep them forever.” He laughed, which led to everyone chuckling, but I knew he was probably serious about the longevity of the icing. “Today we'll be starting with a basic flower. After speaking with everyone today, it seems as though you have all mastered some fairly simple techniques and I'm confident you'll be able to do these as well. I'm going to walk you through a couple, then I want you to make as many as you can. When we’re through we'll take the best ones for the cupcakes. Everyone, grab your bag and flower tool.”

  Chef Sorrel picked up a little plastic circle on a stick, that looked like a sideways lollipop and held it up. “This is going to be your new best friend. It's a flower base. You make your flowers on it and then you can slide them right off onto a form or directly onto a cake. It will change your life!”

  Everyone laughed again; although I wondered where these had been all my life. They had never come up in any of my cake decorating classes. I wished I had been able to take some of the more advanced classes, but they never seemed to line up with my core baking classes and I naively thought I would have advanced by now.

  Excitement filled me as I examined the tool and readied my piping bag. Flowers, naturally, were something I had always been interested in making, but all of the instructions seemed confusing without someone to walk me through them. Even though I actually had one of these little flower stands at home I wasn't really sure how to use it.

  “Now,” Chef Sorrel said, “keep your elbows loose and we're going to pipe one petal at a time on our stand. We’re going to start in the middle of your flower nail, go up halfway, make a little swoop and back to the middle. You want to rotate the nail as you go. It takes a little practice, but I’m confident you’ll get used to it. Tell me…” His smile widened and his eyes locked with
mine. “Ms. Violet.”

  I swallowed nervously and managed to smile back. “Yes?” I asked, hoping he wasn't about have me be his guinea pig.

  “What flower do you think we might be making first?”

  “Um…” I frowned and tried to think as he watched me with a small smirk. I thought of his reaction to my name and glanced down at the tip of my piping bag and squeezed, just a little bit. Sure enough, violet purple icing poked out. “Are we making violets?” I guessed in amusement.

  “Exactly,” he chuckled.

  Soon, everyone was busy making violets. To my surprise, it was actually quite easy. Much faster than I expected, I filled up my parchment with tiny violets. After everyone had exhausted their piping bags, the chef had us move on to a new flower. A couple of his assistants rushed around, replacing our bags with new ones with different tips, filled with pale pink icing.

  “Now,” Chef said, “instead of your nail, I you to use your flower cups.”

  I followed his lead and pulled out another tool; instead of looking like a plastic nail with a giant head, this one was a small cup with flared edges.

  “This tool,” he went on, “is for making a deeper type of flower. We're going to make lilies. This time…” He began to demonstrate. When he was done, he had a beautiful little lily. “Let’s get started.”

  Maybe I was overconfident from the violet or maybe this one was just different, but I found myself struggling to recreate this flower. Chef Sorrel walked around the room, adding to my nervousness as I knew he was getting closer.

  All too soon, it was my turn. He examined my terrible lilies and then held out his hands. “Here, allow me to show you.”

  Embarrassed, I nodded and held up my piping back and the flower cup. To my surprise, instead of taking them from me, he gently rested his warm hands over mine and started to guide me.

  “Squeeze gently,” he murmured. “Then a little flick at the end and twist the cup… there, it’s almost one motion. Then the next petal… Squeeze…” He pressed my fingers down gently and guided the piping bag across the flower form. “Release and flick…” He repeated the motion, softly voicing each step, until we got halfway around the flower form. Then, he stepped back, leaving my hands feeling cold in his absence. “Now you.”

  Eyes narrowed in concentration, I carefully worked my way around the flower cup, adding more petals. When I reached the first one, it was almost impossible to tell which ones he had guided me on and which I did on my own.

  “Wonderful,” said Chef Sorrel.

  “I guess I just needed to practice,” I said, feeling somewhat pleased with myself.

  “Well…” he extended a hand toward my empty parchment paper.

  I smiled and set about making more lilies. I was so focused on flower making the time flew by and I barely even noticed the cameras. Before I knew it, we were done for the day. Chef Sorrel sorted through the flowers; to my delight most of mine were good enough to be selected for cupcakes.

  One by one, everyone started to head home. While I was packing up someone called my name and I turned to see Chef Sorrel, one of the ever-present cameras, and Tracey.

  “Tracey tells me you’re quite good at pairing icing flavors with cakes?” Chef Sorrel said.

  “I guess so,” I replied with a nervous giggle.

  He held out a couple of the frosting flowers. “Why don’t you taste these and come up with something we can put them on tomorrow.”

  “Sure, why not,” I said, reaching for the flowers while reminding myself not to look directly at the camera.

  Tracey gave me an encouraging nod; I smiled at her and tasted the icing flowers. They were both quite tasty and I thought for a moment, then offered a couple of suggestions for cake bases and complimentary frostings to go with them.

  “That sounds delicious,” said Chef Sorrel as Tracey wrote it down.

  “Thank you, Chef. I hope so.”

  “I’m sure it will be,” Tracey said confidently. “First thing tomorrow I want you to get started on the cupcakes, so we can get them frosted and ready to go.”

  “You got it!’

  After that I left the bakery with a bounce in my step, feeling not just satisfied with the way the day had gone, but better about my future as a baker and cake decorator than I had in ages. No one had said yet just how long Chef Sorrel would be here filming, but I hoped it would be long enough for me to make some serious advancements in my decorating techniques. In just one afternoon I had learned how to make two beautiful flowers and was feeling more comfortable with some new tools than I would have expected.

  I was so lost in thought that it took me a moment to notice someone calling my name. I turned around and to my surprise, it was none other than Chef Sorrel. I slowed down to wait for him.

  “Hello, Chef.”

  “Where are you off to?” he asked.

  “My apartment; it's just a couple of blocks this way.”

  “Oh, wonderful. I'm actually staying in a hotel in this direction.” I knew the one; it was barely a block away from my apartment. “Do you mind if I walk with you?” he asked.

  “Not at all.”

  And then there I was strolling down the sidewalk with a world famous baker. We walked in silence, but I couldn't keep my mouth shut for long.

  “I just wanted to say that…” I cleared my throat nervously. “I'm sure you hear this all the time, but I love your shows. And I think you're a phenomenal cake decorator.

  “You think I'm a good cake decorator?” he echoed, as if no one had ever said that before.

  “Oh… yes?” I said. “The stuff you can do with frosting is just magical... in my opinion.” His reaction puzzled me. Had I said something wrong?

  The chef broke into a wide smile. “Thank you,” he said, sounding genuinely pleased to hear it. He chuckled and added, “although it's not magic.”

  “No,” I agreed. “Of course not.” And it certainly wouldn't be; he was magless after all. “I mean it though.”

  “And I appreciate it,” he said firmly. “Thank you. You're not so bad yourself.”

  “Please,” I laughed.

  “It's true. You have talent; everyone in the bakery agreed that you're the best baker there.”

  I flushed and laughed nervously. “Right…” I don't know what compelled me but I added, “I just wish I were better at decorating what I bake.”

  “Well, that’s what I'm here for.”

  I returned his smile. “I'm glad you are.”

  He nodded and we walked in silence for a while. “What is it you wanted to do?” he asked suddenly.

  The way he phrased it made it seem like it was more than a simple question and I turned to him curiously. “What I wanted to do?” I echoed.

  Chef Sorrel smiled almost sadly at me. “During your one-on-one interview this morning,” he said softly, “you started to say there was something you wanted to do. Then you got that look.”

  “That look?”

  “That look,” he repeated. “It’s the face someone makes when they realize they are about to say something they don’t want to say in front of the cameras.” I must have looked surprised because he laughed and added gently. “I've seen it hundreds of times.”

  “I guess you have.”

  He shot me an expectant look and when I hesitated he added. “No cameras, just us. Cake decorator to cake decorator.”

  It certainly was tempting; away from the cameras he seemed like a kind, genuine person. “Off the record?” I asked.

  Chef Sorrel nodded. “Absolutely.”

  “Well, after I switched my focus to cake decorating I sort of…” I sighed. “I had this fantasy that I’d open my own bakery by the time I was thirty-five. But… well, it’s silly… but I felt like I couldn’t do that until I had gotten better at actually decorating cakes. And now…”

  “Now, you’re getting better,” Chef Sorrel said. “You’ve got time before you’re thirty-five.”

  I laughed and felt my cheeks flushing. “
Actually, I just turned forty.”

  “Really?” He looked genuinely surprised. “Funny, I turned forty a couple of weeks ago.”

  It was my turn to be surprised. “This month?” He nodded. “Me too.”

  “We’re the same age.” He flashed me a charming smile.

  “So… I kind of missed my goal,” I said glumly.

  “It’s not too late. You could still do it. And, for what it’s worth, I don’t think you need to be any better at decorating than you already all. Go ahead and get that bakery.”

  “I made my first frosting flowers a few hours ago,” I said. “I’m nowhere near ready.”

  “Off the record still, what do you think of Tracey?”

  I considered it, slightly caught off guard. Why was he asking about her? The question made me curious and, oddly enough, just a little jealous. “Well, she’s wonderful,” I said. “Tracey has always been so kind and supportive. She’s a great boss. Um…”

  “Yet she made her first frosting flowers a few hours ago…” murmured the chef.

  I stopped in my tracks. “You… yes… I suppose she did…”

  “There’s more to owning a bakery than being good at decorating,” he pointed out.

  “Now I feel foolish for waiting,” I confessed. I was so caught up in what I thought a good owner should be able to do, and so frustrated by my lack of progress and knowledge, that I never once stopped to pay attention to Tracey and her skills. She was a great boss.

  “Sometimes you just need an outside perspective,” he said.

  “Yeah…”

  We walked slowly as I thought we almost went right by my apartment building without me noticing. “Oh, this is uh… this is me,” I said awkwardly, slowing down. “Thanks for… everything.”

  He smiled. “Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “See you then!”

  As I headed up the stairs to my apartment, I caught myself practically skipping.

  Chapter Five

  The next couple of days at the bakery may just have been the best ever. The mornings were normal – as normal as being followed by cameras could be – we baked, iced, and took care of customers. In the afternoons we closed early and set up our stations so Chef Sorrel could teach us new techniques. One day we found ourselves presented with laminated paper with all sorts of shapes and swirls and lines on it. We carefully piped around them so the chef could gauge our control.