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The sounds of a soft bell rang through the air, alerting Wynona Le Doux to a guest entering her tea shop. She had expected Chef Droxon to come through the kitchen entrance, but maybe he didn’t know his way around to the back of the building.
Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear and patting the bun on her head, Wynona put a pleasant smile on her bright red lips and walked out from the kitchen. The smile grew immediately brittle when she spotted who was walking around her dining room. The flashy, metallic, mini dress and six-inch heels stood in stark contrast to the vintage furniture and floral upholstery that peppered the open space.
The shabby chic look had been carefully cultivated in order to invite patrons to curl up with their teacups and stay awhile. Wynona had been very proud of it when she and her new fairy friend Primrose had finished.
Primrose was the premiere flower artist in Hex Haven and when Wynona had been shopping for a supplier, the two women had hit it off immediately. Together they had planned the look and feel of the tea house in order to showcase Wynona’s teacup collection and Prim’s flower arrangements. The resulting room had felt perfectly inviting...until now. The current inhabitant made Wynona want to run away and never return.
“Sister!” Celia Le Doux drawled with a smirk. She threw her shiny, waist-length hair over her shoulder. “How good it is to see you.”
Wynona kept her chin high. “Hello, Celia. What brings you here?”
Celia let out a soft laugh that bordered on a cackle, a trademark of their kind, and let her dark eyes roam the room. “I see running away from home has been good for you.” She raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow at Wynona, her own red lips a practiced smirk.
It would be easy to be jealous of her sister’s looks. After all, Celia was what most would describe as drop dead gorgeous. No hair would ever dare be out of place and every stitch of her clothing was made to show off a figure most women envied. However, it wasn’t looks that Wynona found herself coveting, since she, herself, looked very similar to Ceila, albeit less flashy... No, it was Celia’s powers. The one thing Wynona wished for above all.
It was the very power that was sparking at Celia’s fingertips as she wiggled her fingers in an unconscious pattern, dripping like diamonds onto the newly varnished hardwood floors before dissipating.
“I like it,” Wynona said, her voice strong and steady. Despite her envy, Wynona vowed she would never show her family any weakness. Learning to control her emotions was the product of a lifetime of abuse.
“You would,” Celia muttered under her breath. She began walking again, letting her fingers touch everything she passed. If Wynona didn’t know any better, it would appear as if her sister were caressing the fabrics and flower petals. Instead, she was more than likely leaving hexes on the next person who would sit down.
Wynona made a mental note to make sure none of their future patrons got a nasty shock when the store opened next week.
“You missed Grandmother’s funeral,” Celia said off-handedly. She tsked her tongue. “For someone who claims to have loved the old hag, that wasn’t very well-mannered.”
Wynona counted to ten, just like Granny had taught her, when dealing with someone who was particularly difficult. Oh, how she wished her family was the type who gave hugs and baked cookies. Life would have been so different. But then again, maybe it was better this way. Maybe her freedom was worth being seen as an abomination for most of her life.
Her mother had actually used that word once. As if it were Wynona’s fault that she had been cursed. Or that she had any control over the fact that she was born into the Le Doux family. Wynona had most assuredly not asked for any of that, yet it had happened.
“I said my goodbyes,” Wynona said softly. She hoped her sister didn’t hear the catch in her voice. Granny had been a unique and special woman, and Wynona would never forget her kindness. Even the servants had been afraid to be around Wynona, as if the curse was contagious. But Granny had rarely left Wynona’s side.
When Granny knew it was her time to go, she’d quietly told Wynona to escape at midnight on the spring equinox. It wasn’t until later that Wynona realized Granny had passed away at that exact moment, creating just enough of a diversion to allow Wynona to get out of their estate undetected.
Countless tears had already been shed, but Wynona hadn’t dared go to the funeral. She was too afraid of what her mother would have done. Instead, she’d held her own vigil and said goodbye, hoping her granny’s ghost could hear her. If she had half the power of her sister, Wynona could have summoned Granny and done it properly, but such was not her lot in life.
Celia gave a delicate snort, then wrinkled her nose. “What is...” She bent down slightly, then jerked backward with a screech.
“What?” Wynona asked, running forward just in time to see a dash of white scurry from one bookcase to the other.
“A mouse!” Celia shouted. She pointed a finger toward the area the mouse had darted and twirled it quickly.
“NO!” Wynona cried, holding out her hand as if to stop the spell. A flurry of sparks burst, forcing Wynona to shut her eyes or be blinded for the rest of her life, a handicap she did not need to add to her already lengthy list, only for the light to disappear as quickly as it had begun.
“There.” Celia wiped her fingers against each other in satisfaction. She turned her pouty lips toward Wynona. “You’re welcome!” The cheer in Celia’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard and Wynona had to hold back tears.
She hated how little her family cared about life, whether a rodent or their own daughter’s. If something wasn’t useful to them in the political arena, it wasn’t worth acknowledging. It was just one of the many reasons Wynona had made it her personal mission in life to be the exact opposite of everything the Le Doux family stood for.
She clenched her hands into fists, fighting the urge to teach her sister a lesson. It was times like these that her lack of magic hurt the most. She was helpless against the evils of her family and other witches.
“I’ll ask again, Celia,” Wynona said with forced calm. “What brought you here?”
Before Celia could answer, voices began trickling from the back of the small tea house. Someone must have come in through the kitchen entrance and Wynona needed to go greet them. She hoped it was Chef Droxon. She needed something to go smoothly right about now. She wasn’t comfortable leaving her sister alone, though. Who knew what else the cruel sibling would get up to if Wynona wasn’t watching?
Celia studied her nails. “Sounds like you have company.” Her eyes darted to the kitchen door, then back to her fingers.
“They can wait,” Wynona said easily. She folded her arms over her chest. Maybe the move would hide the chaotic beating of her heart against her rib cage.
“Well,” Celia huffed. “While I’m glad to see family is a priority to you, I really must be going.” She blew her sister a sarcastic kiss. “I’ll just let you clean up that little mess,” she said, pointing to the bookcase. “I’m sure you’ve had plenty of practice.”
Wynona didn’t answer as she waited to see her sister leave. A little magic to make the door smack that perfectly rounded derriere wouldn’t go amiss right about now, but Wynona had to content herself with staring hard enough to bore a hole into her sister’s back.
Once the witch was gone, Wynona quickly locked the door, then scurried to the back. She would indeed need to clean up her sister’s mess, but right now it would have to wait. Dread filled Wynona’s stomach as she walked past the bookcase, until a small sound caught her attention.
She paused and listened harder. The tiniest squeak could be heard and a smile crept across Wynona’s face. “You survived,” she breathed. A crashing in the kitchen drew her attention again and Wynona waffled. “I don’t think I’ve got...” She stuffed her hands quickly into her pockets, searching for any kind of crumb she could find. The pickings were minimal, but hopefully they would be enough. Wynona carefully sprinkled the tiny bits of cracker onto the floor directly in front of the bookcase. “That should tide you over until I can find something else.” Shouting ensued from the kitchen and Wynona cringed. “I’ll be back later.”
Straightening, she rushed to the kitchen to see Chef Droxon with half a dozen other workers swarming the small space. When Wynona had renovated, she hadn’t bothered to put in a full commercial kitchen. After all, she really only needed room to store her teacups and equipment to make the tea. Everything else she planned to serve was being purchased ready made. But apparently Chef Droxon had other ideas.
“Where is stove?” he screeched, his tiny stature hiding him from Wynona’s eyes. “No stove! No scones!”
Wynona gave an awkward smile to the first couple of workers she passed who were standing around looking lost. Each held large storage containers in their arms and didn’t seem to know what to do with them.
“Good afternoon, Chef Droxon,” Wynona said carefully. She hoped none of the hostility from seeing her sister bled into her tone.
Chef Droxon glared at her from waist high. His beady eyes could have melted steel and the mottled green of his skin was mixed with red. He, apparently, hadn’t thought it necessary to dress to impress, since he still wore his work apron, complete with a large brown streak across the front. “I thought you had kitchen,” he demanded.
Wynona looked around, keeping a pleasant smile on her face. “I do.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “Perhaps I can show you around? But this won’t be where your baked goods are displayed. Oh no.” She winked. “I have something special in mind for that.”
Chef Droxon huffed and folded his arms over his barrel chest. “Show.”
Wynona nodded respectfully. “If you’ll just follow me.” She led the way out of the kitchen into a large butler’s pantry. “You can leave the containers here,” she said, giving her best smile to the employees. They probably could use a little kindness in their lives if they worked for the grumpy baker.
Each and every one of them looked extremely grateful as they set down the large containers on the long counters.
“And in here...” Wynona led them through a revolving door to the main tea room, “Is where your wonderful treats will be displayed.” She indicated a glass counter she had had custom made right next to a stunning display of vintage teacups and specialty brews.
Chef Droxon glared and marched over to the space. He walked around it and studied it from every angle. With each step his eyebrows grew tighter and tighter. Wynona was sure he was about to have a tantrum when he finally looked at her and nodded. “It will do.”
High praise indeed from the spoiled gnome. A breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding slowly released and Wynona’s heart rate went back to normal. “I’m so glad you approve,” she said. The cabinet had been outfitted with the best lighting and display cases to show off his pastries to perfection. When she had planned this renovation and subsequent opening of her business, no detail had gone unplanned. Wynona wanted the best, so she had built for the best.
Doing so had cost her greatly, though, so if her business didn’t turn a profit, Wynona knew she would find herself in trouble all too quickly.
Chef Droxon waved a hand in the air. “Enough,” he spat. “You will see what I bake.”
Only strict self control kept Wynona from rubbing her hands in glee. She had been waiting her whole life to try something from Droxon Bakeries. It was a luxury her family had indulged in often, but Wynona had never been included. Once she had managed to find a forgotten drip of icing in the bottom of a pastry box and that tiny amount had been enough to send her on a lifelong quest for more.
“Let’s sit right here.” She indicated a lovely preset table. “And you can show me all your delicacies.”
Chef Droxon huffed his way to sitting across from Wynona, then snapped his fingers and shouted a few phrases in Gnomish. The workers he had brought with him jumped to obey and soon the table was laden with every baked good imaginable. It was far more than Wynona had asked to see and she began to worry about the dent this would put in her leftover savings. It seemed as if what she had managed to hold onto might not last quite as long as she had hoped.
“First.” Chef Droxon held a stubby finger in the air. “The creme puff.”
The next hour consisted of Wynona moaning her delight at every bite and fighting her inner child to keep from devouring everything within reach. She understood now, more than ever, why so many people believed that Chef Droxon baked magic into his goods. They were unlike anything she had ever tasted before, and that edge certainly made one question how it was done.
“It’s all perfect,” Wynona gushed, meaning every word. She could just imagine the women coming in for tea and staying for long periods of time simply so they could eat one more bite.
Chef Droxon looked smug in his too-large chair, but didn’t speak. He was more than likely used to her reaction with every person he came in contact with.
“Let me just get the binder with our contract and we’ll finish filling out the first order,” Wynona said. She scooted away from the table and tried to walk, not waddle, to her office. The extra exercise necessary to work off what she’d just eaten would certainly be worth it. She giggled like a young girl once inside her small office. “We’re going to make it, Granny,” she whispered into the dark space. Her fingers went over her lips, but her too-wide smile remained. “We’re going to make it!”