Page 3 of Midnight Lessons
“Aw, Willow, but they’re so good!” He grins, his eyes wide and innocent. Too innocent.
“Nice try, buddy,” I say, ruffling his hair. “Don’t think I don’t see that cookie crumb on your shirt.”
“Bye, Willow,” Dad says, enveloping me in a bear hug that lifts me slightly off my feet. “Proud of you, kiddo.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I squeeze him back, appreciating the warmth that only a parent’s hug can bring. “Love you guys.”
“Love you more,” Mom says, leaning in for her turn. Her embrace is soft and smells faintly of lavender. “See you for dinner tonight?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I watch as they exit before returning to Linda. “Sorry about that, Linda. Family, right?”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” she agrees, her gaze lingering on Billy.
I glance at the cookies, experiencing a surge of contentment. “Now, where were we? Oh, right, the undead gingerbread Frankenstein Monsters. You’re going to love these.”
An hour later, I lean against the counter for a moment, the bustle of the bakery washing over me like a familiar breeze. The oven’s warmth wraps around me, comforting in its steady hum as another batch of cookies bakes to golden perfection.I close my eyes and inhale. Vanilla and pumpkin spice hang thick in the air, sweet and inviting, the kind of aroma that goes perfectly with a roaring fire on a cold evening.
As I dive back into my work, a prickling sensation spreads across my neck, like someone’s eyes are on me. My heart skips a beat. I glance around the bakery, but everything is as it should be. Carol is busy at the cash register, chatting with a customer. Outside, the street is still busy with the usual foot traffic of townsfolk and tourists. Nothing seems out of place.
“You're being paranoid,” I mutter to myself. It’s probably the Halloween spirit messing with my imagination. Besides, I have too much to do to worry about phantom eyes watching me.
I shake off the eerie feeling and focus on the cookies in front of me, adding a delicate swirl of frosting to a witch’s broomstick. But even as I work, the unsettling sensation lingers, a ghostly whisper in the back of my mind.
“Willow!” Carol’s holler makes me jump, and I almost drop the icing bag. “We’re running low on the chocolate tombstones.”
“On it,” I call back, grabbing another piping bag and filling it with white icing.
My hands find their rhythm again, piping intricate webs onto sugary headstones with practiced precision. My little bakery is more than a job; it’s my dream, and every cookie is my canvas, a tiny masterpiece waiting to bring joy to someone’s day.
The bell above the door jingles, signaling another wave of customers eager for a taste of Halloween, no matter the month. Midnight Falls doesn’t do holidays by halves, and Halloween is our crowning glory. Even our Christmas celebrations and decorations take on a Halloween theme. And the real Halloween isn’t far away. I can already picture the streets lined with real jack-o’-lanterns, the laughter of kids trick-or-treating, and the creative costumes that seem to get more elaborate every year.
“Perfect spirals, Willow,” Tom, the local mailman, comments as he peers over the display case, his eyes lighting up as they land on a tray of psychedelic, spooky spiral cookies.
“Thanks, Tom,” I reply, not missing a beat as Ifinish another row. “It’s all about the wrist action.”
“Can’t wait to see what you whip up for the festival,” he says, reaching for his wallet.
“Me neither,” I confess, the anticipation of the upcoming festivities bubbling inside me like a cauldron over a flame.
As the afternoon sun slants through the front windows, casting long shadows across the checkered floor, I take another pause, soaking in the bakery's charm, the heart of my world. This place, with its flour-dusted counters and shelves stocked with confections, is more than four walls and an awning. It’s home. And outside, the town of Midnight Falls buzzes with an energy that only this time of year can muster.
“Willow, we need more bat-shaped sugar cookies!” Carol’s voice snaps me back to reality.
“Coming right up!” I wipe my hands on my apron and dive back into the fray.
But I have a spring in my step now because Halloween is coming, and I’m exactly where I need to be, surrounded by sugar, spice, and everything frightfully nice.
Chapter 2
Owen
As I enter the small town of Midnight Falls, the hum of my car engine gives way to the nostalgic chorus of autumn leaves rustling and distant laughter carried by a gentle breeze.
The town is like a snapshot from my childhood, frozen in time, with its quaint storefronts and the smell of pumpkin spice mingling with crisp air.
Coming home is bittersweet. I’ve been gone for too long, living in Houston. But city life never fit quite right, like a shirt one size too small.
I pull into the parking lot and step out of the car—time to meet my new work colleagues.