“Hey, girls.” I padded through the house and into the kitchen. My eyes stretched wide as I took in the scene, blood everywhere. “Are you okay?”
They looked at each other and laughed, clutching at their bellies as they giggled. While that eased my mind a little, it wasn’t until I drew a breath in and tasted the air that I relaxed. The scent was sweet and fruity. Cherries was my guess, not blood.
And then I looked again and slowly shook my head as I picked up one of my pots, the interior covered in dried cherry juice. “Did you pull every pot, pan, and kitchen utensil out of the cupboards?”
Beth laughed up at me and brushed her short blond hair out of her face. “We couldn’t find what we were looking for. Don’t worry, we’ll clean up . . . Mom.” She winked, and I rolled my eyes.
“What are you making? Or maybe what are you trying to make?” I couldn’t help being pulled into the kitchen, even if it was a complete disaster.
Sandy grinned at me. “We found your ‘French Desserts’ section in your recipe book. This is clafoutis, cherry flavored.”
I smiled and peeked into the mix. I dipped a finger in and tasted it. “You need a bit more sugar; it’ll be too tart.”
“You got it. Mom.”
“Really, you gotta stop that.” I laughed at them. “I don’t think I’m even older than either of you.” In fact, I knew Beth had a year on me, and Sandy was born the same year as I was.
Sandy grinned as she spooned some more sugar into the mixture. “You kinda are, though. You saved us from Merlin, and you’ve been helping us adjust. You’re even teaching us to bake. You look out for us, like a mom would. And . . . we know it irritates you when we tease you.”
Beth took the bowl from Sandy and poured its contents into a pan that had cherries scattered about the bottom. “Speaking of teasing”—she raised an eyebrow at me—“what’s with the nun habit?”
I pulled a chair out and slid into it. Pushing a few pans out of the way, I rested both hands on the table. “Bad day at the courthouse. I think I lost everything to that . .”
“Asshat?” Beth offered.
“Twat waffle?” Sandy suggested.
“Oh, I like twat waffle.” I took a breath and started again. “That twat waffle . . . the judge says he’s getting everything.”
They gasped and hurried over to me, covered in cherry juice and flour.
They wrapped me in their arms, murmuring their condolences, telling me it was so wrong, and while I knew it . . . that I had them on my side meant the world to me. I leaned into them, tears trickling down my cheeks. “I don’t know what I would do without you two.”
“We feel the same,” Beth whispered, and kissed the top of my head.
“Now you’re being a mom.” I wiped my face.
She pulled back and shook her head. “Fine, we all take care of each other, that’s how it goes.”
“On that note”—Sandy let go of me and pointed at my robes—“you should go change. That thing is totally unflattering, and now it’s covered in cherry juice.”
I had to agree with her; the robe was awful and still smelled of Old Spice. I hurried upstairs and slipped out of it, tossing it into the corner of my room. I put the deed to the bakery on my side dresser, then went to the bathroom and grabbed a wet cloth. I wiped my face and neck, which got the worst of the cologne off me, then tied my hair back into a loose ponytail. I pulled on jeans and a comfy top, then headed back downstairs. Baking the night away would take my mind off the craptastic day, and baking with two of my closest friends was even better.
Back in the kitchen, I pulled out my favorite cookbook. “Here, I’ll show you a few things, tricks of the trade, so to speak.”
We started on a recipe for filled cookies. With an exterior similar to a sugar cookie, they could be filled with any number of things: strawberry jam, raisins, peanut butter, and pretty much anything else you might think of. I directed them around the kitchen, and they grabbed what we needed as I mixed it all together. The laughter and chatter flowed between us, soothing away some of the day’s events. I told them about Remo, and they oohed over the kiss. Awwed when I said I’d touched on a lost love of his, I was sure of it.
“I want to meet someone who melts me,” Beth said, stirring her bowl of icing by hand, her eyes distant. “But who will want us now that we’re monsters?”
I went to her side and put an arm around her waist. “The right guy. That’s who.”
She smiled at me, but there was sadness in her eyes, and I knew I couldn’t get rid of it for her. I hugged her. “Until then, we bake!”
The flutter of wings spun me around. I more than half expected Ernie, and was prepared to defend my irritation with him, so when I saw it was Hermes, I had to scrub the scowl off my face.
“Easy, Drakaina.” Hermes held up his hands. “You look about ready to bite someone in half.”
Beth and Sandy waved at him in unison.
I took a breath. “Sorry, thought you were someone else.”
He shrugged his thin shoulders, and his feet twitched as though he wanted to be running instead of hovering in midair.
“If you’re here, you have a message for me?” I grabbed one of the empty bowls and piled it beside the sink of soapy water.
“Flora wants you to meet her at your bakery.” He fluttered up. “Want me to take a message back to her?” The eagerness in his voice was not far off from what I thought a golden retriever would sound like if it could beg to have a ball thrown.
I looked at the two girls, and they waved at me. “Go on, we’ll clean up here.”
“Thank you.” They knew how I liked my kitchen after baking. Spotless. I looked at Hermes. “Sure, tell her I’m on my way.”
Spending time with Yaya always made me feel better. Some time with her would go a long way to soothing the last of my hurt. Better yet to do it at Vanilla and Honey, seeing as the bakery wasn’t going to be mine soon enough.
With a puff of feathers, Hermes was gone.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and clean up?” I looked at Beth and Sandy, and they shook their heads.
“No, we’ve got it. But you’re going to miss out on the clafoutis.” Beth smiled, and the dinger on the oven went off. She pulled the pan out and showed it to me. I nodded.
“You two did great. We keep this up, and maybe we can start a bakery here on this side of the Wall.”
Sandy sucked in a sharp breath. “Do you mean that?”
I blinked several times as I realized what I’d said. “Yeah, I do. I mean, why not?”
She squealed, and even Beth got excited, her eyes sparkling. “We could totally rock it. Call it the Fantastic Fangs Bakery.”
I laughed. “Yeah, that would be . . . nice. I’d like that. Let’s talk about it more when I get back.”
I waved at them and headed out the front door. The thought of starting a new bakery was more than daunting; I knew the work and hours we’d have to put in. At the same time, I wasn’t going to drown myself in the pity party. I steeled my back. No, I wasn’t going to pity myself. And I wasn’t giving up on Vanilla and Honey, not yet.