Page 5 of The Magical Tea Shop

Holly hated out of order. If Holly had these recipes, she would follow everything flawlessly.

Ivy wasn’t flawless. Not ever. But tonight was different, right? Tonight was about desperation and longing for Jaxon to see her for who she was, so she needed to follow the rules. Maybe following the rules would tip the odds in her favor. Her thoughts churned along with the gales outside.

Scalded scones! She really wanted to add the nutmeg.

Her hand shook, reaching out of its own volition. Sighing, she pulled it back. This project would only work if she made the recipe exactly as it was. Those were the rules. Still, having to follow a recipe precisely was bothersome. Improvisation in life was essential.

She pressed her hands on the countertop. She could hear her sister’s voice in her head, giving her instructions just as she had through their childhood while her parents were practicing their pretend magic. Holly saw improvisation as a flaw. Holly proclaimed improvisation in baking reprehensible. Holly was successful.

Fine, she would follow the rules. Success, too, would be hers.

A strong blast hit the building, rattling the windows and door sharply, repeatedly, like it was desperate to enter. The overhead lights dimmed once. Ivy held her breath and let it out when they stayed on. The branches of the maple trees on the green waved wildly, leaves breaking free, swirling loose in uncharacteristic gusts.

Ivy stopped, fairly vibrating with how much she wanted to add the nutmeg. She blew out a breath. She couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t.

She could not… “Okay, admit it,” she said. “Following a recipe exactly is impossible. I can’t do it. I can’t.”

Rule following to that degree simply wasn’t in her.

She huffed out a breath, one sole tendril of hair around her face, fluttering.

“Oh, bother.” She grabbed for the nutmeg, unscrewed the lid, and before she could stop herself, shook a generous smattering into the cookies.

This whole project was just for fun anyway, right? The blessing of Hazard was a myth. All magic was artifice. She’d learned this by watching her parents, professional illusionists, practice magic tricks at home.

Besides, nutmegwouldmake the cookies taste better.

She just hoped the power would remain on—she needed it to bake these cookies. Ruined cookies, possibly, as far as magic went, but they’d still be delicious.

Was this all a waste of time?

She mentally kicked herself. No, this isfor fun.

She tilted her chin up. “I’m having fun. I’m in charge here.” Baking cookies to win the devotion of the man she loved was almost cheating. She mentally slapped her forehead. Magic was not real. Fun was.

She mixed all the ingredients and set the batter in the walk-in freezer to chill. It needed to chill for two hours before she could roll it out. While she waited, she began to transcribe some of the old fragile recipes onto her laptop. She loved the one for stone-ground cornmeal biscuits. That sounded unique and was something she could use in her shop. Likewise, the one for beef barley soup with root vegetables sounded equally yummy.

Ooh, adding a soup of the day. That would be great fun, especially on blustery days that came out of nowhere. She rolled her eyes. Fortunately, the flurries died down and quit rattling the door. Time to stop fretting about the power going out.

Ivy typed up a dozen recipes, everything from roasted new potatoes with fresh dill to peanut soup, and checked on her dough. Time to roll it out.

She preheated the oven, washed her hands, and collected the dough from the walk-in. Carefully, she laid out parchment paper, then rolled and cut perfect circles of dough. The breeze picked up again, buffeting the building in gusts. It revved her up.

She developed a rhythm as she worked, timing her motions with each puff of wind as if working in tandem with some unseen force. Once the cookies were cut and set out on the baking sheets, she paused. With reverence, she washed and dried the cookie press. She held it in her hand.

This was the moment.

Ivy pressed each cookie with the intricate imprint and, following the recipe again, gave each one a fine dusting of cardamom.

Beautiful.

Her lights dimmed once, twice. Ivy held her breath. Would they stay on? If they went out now, this might all be for nothing. She crossed her fingers and counted to sixty. When the lights stayed steady for a full minute, she let out a sigh of relief. Okay, she could keep going. She murmured the blessing as she worked, figuring it couldn’t hurt.

Thou who loveth.She thought about Jaxon and all his wonderful qualities. Really, they were wasted if he never set out to live a full life again. That was what she wanted for him. Yes, she was making these cookies, and winning the bet with Holly would be fun, but what she truly wanted was Jaxon’s happiness.

Be blessed amongst us.She thought of all his contributions to the community from coaching Little League to community fundraisers. He’d even helped to design a gazebo pro bono for Cliffside Park.

With breath bestoweth.A sense of peace settled over her as she slid the first batch of cookies into the large oven. She used an hourglass with lines measuring each ten minutes. It, too, was an antique from her family. She kept careful watch on it as she worked.