Chapter 1

Chapter

One

"Ugh,these croissants are the bane of my existence," I grumble, yanking the stubborn pastries from the oven. They"re supposed to puff up like little golden pillows, not flatten out like sad, defeated pancakes. "Why can"t you guys just behave?"

Tina, a witch with a shock of pink hair and a mischievous glint that"s always ready for trouble, pokes her head around the corner. "Trouble in paradise?" she teases, her voice carrying over the hum of morning activity. The incessant chime of the doorbell marks the morning rush.

"Just the usual pastry pandemonium," I sigh, setting the tray down with more force than necessary. "Any sign of Claudia?" I survey the kitchen. I still need to frost three dozen cupcakes, glaze a batch of donuts, and don't even get me started on the eclairs. It must be nice to be the boss.

Tina shakes her head, her earrings jangling with the motion. "She"s gone all incognito on us. Something about a "special delivery" for the Roosevelts."

I snort. "Special delivery, my foot. She"s probably schmoozing."

Tina"s laughter fills the room, a bright contrast to my brewing frustration. "Most likely."

I bite my bottom lip, wondering if there's any way I can save the croissants.

"Want me to try some magic on them? Give them a little...oomph?"

I wave her off, half-tempted to take her up on the offer. "Nah, I"ll deal with it. Magic croissants aren"t exactly resume material."

It's not that magic didn't run through my veins, too, but as a shifter, it didn't do me jack in the bakery.

"Are the scones good?" Tina looks hesitantly toward the cooling rack.

"What?" I follow her eyes, "Yeah, they just slipped my mind," I admit, whisking the tray off to the front. "We really need a better system," I murmur, thoughts drifting to my boyfriend, Tomas, and our shared dream of a patisserie, a haven where my creativity isn"t stifled by Claudia"s whims.

Tomas, with his knack for charming investors and his shared passion for pastries, thinks we're on the cusp of making it real. While he's been securing investors, I've been pouring my heart into a cookbook that is thisclose to submission. The funds couldn't come soon enough.

"What was that?"

Tina"s voice pulls me back from my reverie."Nothing. You get back out there, and I'll just pray Claudia gets back here soon." I pass her the tray of scones, eager to get back to my true love—cupcakes. They"re the loyal friends in my baking world, never letting me down.

Just as I find my rhythm, the back door swings open, and in lumbers Eddie, the bakery"s backup delivery guy and resident panda shifter. "Hey, hey! I heard you got a wedding cake that needs delivering?" His booming voice disrupts the harmony of the kitchen.

I halt, pastry bag in mid-air, "Eddie? Wasn"t Claudia on wedding duty?" The cake in question, a towering confection of sugar and dreams, sits safely boxed on the counter. Entrusting its delivery to Eddie feels akin to playing roulette with fate.

"Change of plans, baker lady," he explains, his bulky frame barely squeezing past the counters. "Claudia called me in. Said it was urgent. Told me to take the cake to Beverely's house."

"Not Beverely's house. Beverly Hills Hotel," I correct him, setting my pipping bag down.

"Oh… I better write that down." Eddie nods and proceeds to pat his pockets for a pen.

There's no way Eddie's delivering this cake. What is Claudia thinking? Donuts, sure. Eddie could deliver all the donuts he wanted. But a wedding cake? Specifically, this wedding cake? No freaking way. I glance around the bakery at the amount of work I still have to do and then back at the clock. It's four hours until the wedding. It'll be close, but I can do it.

I reach for my phone to call Claudia to find out what's going on and tell her about the change in plans. My back pocket is empty. That's right. I left it in my purse, which is hanging up on the back hook.

"Is that the cake right there?" Eddie points to the boxes.

"Yes, but for the love of buttercream, don't touch it. I'm going to help you. Let me just find my phone."

I quickly pluck the phone out of my purse and call Claudia. "Come on, pick up," I say, as the phone continues to ring. After the second call, I start to wonder if everything is okay. Tina's right; it's not like Claudia to go incognito. She's always going on about what she did over the weekend or who she's dating. Nothing is off topic, and I mean nothing.

After still no answer, I fire off a text, asking her to call me back ASAP.

I head back to the kitchen, only to find Eddie, in a well-meaning but misguided attempt at efficiency, has stacked the cake boxes in a precarious tower.

My heart stops. "Eddie, don"t?—"

But it"s too late. As if he was playing cake Jenga, the tower wobbles, sways, and then collapses in a heart-stopping crash. I"m pretty sure I scream, or maybe it"s just the sound of my heart breaking.

There, amidst the ruins of crumpled fondant and broken dreams, stands Eddie, frozen, horror written all over his face. The kitchen falls into a stunned silence, the gravity of the disaster sinking in.

The moment stretches, suspended in disbelief, before I snap into action. I turn to Eddie, who looks like he"s about to burst into tears. "Eddie, it"s okay. Just... help out front, okay? See if Tina can come back here." I try to offer a reassuring smile, but it feels more like a grimace.

With Eddie shuffled off, I survey the bakery"s resources. Time is against us, but I refuse to let this disaster define the day.

"Holy sugar balls. What happened back here?" Tina says, walking through the door to the kitchen.

"Eddie. Eddie is what happened. I'm going to need a little bit of your magic here," I say, more to myself than to her, as I start gathering ingredients for a new cake.

Tina, her pink hair now tied back with a bandana to keep it out of the way, looks uncertain as she steps back into the kitchen, her usual confidence replaced by a hint of trepidation. "Claire, you know my skills are more...hexes and potions. I might be able to glamour a croissant, but…"

I flash her a quick smile, trying to bolster her confidence—and mine. "Just follow my lead. We"ll need all hands on deck for this one, magic or not."

Her hesitation lingers for a moment longer before determination sets in. "Okay, lead the way, boss."

I have Tina start with the base layer, a rich vanilla sponge that needs to be both light and sturdy. "Okay, Tina, I need you to mix these ingredients. Just follow the recipe exactly," I instruct, pointing to the written instructions I"ve hastily scribbled on a piece of parchment while I set about recreating the delicate sugar flowers.

Tina nods, taking a deep breath as she begins to combine the flour, sugar, and eggs. I can"t help but admire her determination, even as her hands shake slightly. "Like this?" she asks, her uncertainty peeking through as she carefully folds the batter

"Perfect," I encourage, my own hands deftly shaping petals and leaves. "You"re doing great."

Tina continues to work on the cake batter, filling the various-sized round pans with the thick, ivory mixture while I focus on recreating the sugared-orchids the bride requested. My fingers dance delicately over the petals, dusting them with a fine shimmer of sugar crystals that catch the light just so. It"s a meticulous process, one that requires a steady hand and an eye for detail. Each orchid slowly transforms, becoming a crystalline work of art, fragile and exquisite. The kitchen, with its hum of activity and warmth, fades into the background as I lose myself in the task, each flower a silent testament to the beauty that can emerge from chaos.

"I think that's all of them," Tina says, eying the filled cake pans on the counter.

Her comment snaps me out of my work. "Okay, good, now let"s get them into the oven, and you can help me over here," I urge, my voice calm but firm.

While the layers bake, we move on to the frosting. "We"re going for a classic buttercream. It needs to be smooth and spreadable," I explain, guiding Tina"s hand as she starts to beat the butter. "A little more power. Think of it as...casting a spell on the butter."

Tina chuckles at the analogy, and I can see her relax a bit, her natural magic mingling with the culinary kind. The buttercream whips up to perfection, light and fluffy, just as we need it.

The minutes tick by as the cakes bake and cool, and I continue to work on the sugared cake elements. Tina alternates between cleaning up the kitchen and helping Eddie out front with the customers until it's time to assemble the cake.

Together, we assemble the layers, the buttercream smooth under our spatulas.

"Now, for the final touch," I say, gesturing to the array of sugar orchids. "We"ll make this cake a blooming garden."

Tina watches, fascinated, as I breathe life into the cake, placing the flowers and icing with practiced ease. "I had no idea baking could be so...magical," she murmurs, a hint of awe in her voice.

"It"s all in the details," I reply, my focus unwavering.

The finished cake is a masterpiece, even better than the first, if I do say so myself. "You"re a natural. Maybe there"s a baker in you yet," I tease Tina, relief and pride swelling in my chest.

"Me? No, this was all you. I"ll stick to my hexes, thank you. But this was...fun," Tina admits, her smile genuine. "You want me to deliver it?"

I want to say no, that I'll take care of it, but there's still too much to do around here for me to take off, and I know the cake is safe with Tina.

"Do you mind?"

"Not at all."

With Tina and the cake safely on their way, I begin the cleanup, my thoughts drifting to Claudia and wondering where she went. My cell phone rings, and I reach for it, thinking it might be her finally calling me back, but it's Iris, my best friend who also happens to live twenty-five hundred miles away on the Florida Gulf Coast.

"Hey, I was hoping I would catch you." There's a lightness to Iris's voice that I haven't heard in a long time.

My eyebrows shoot up, and I can"t help but smile, even though she can"t see me. "Hey, what's going on? I can tell you have news to share. I can hear it in your voice."

"I can't hide anything from you, can I?" There"s a playful sigh on her end.

"Did you just sigh?"

"Maybe…"

"Have you been spelled?" I tease. Iris isn't a sigher.

"Do you remember Jasper?"

"Mr. Heartbreaker Supreme? The man who made you swear off love, become celibate, and debate joining a convent. That Jasper?" I lean against the counter, genuinely intrigued.

"The one and only. But Claire, you won"t believe it—he"s back. And well, things took a turn I never expected...we"re getting married!"

My jaw drops. "Married? What? How? I need more details."

Her laughter fills the air, light and infectious. "I know! You know I am not one to make a big fuss over anything. Listen to me, I'm giggling. I don't giggle!"

"I know you don't. Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

"I'm just really excited about this, and you have to promise me you'll be here for the wedding."

I nod, forgetting for a moment that she can"t see me. "I will. I promise. Just tell me when and I'll be there. I wouldn"t miss it for the world."

Her laughter dances through the line, light and carefree. "I"m holding you to that. And hey, about the flying—" Iris knows I'd rather walk from California to Florida than fly. I might be a bird shifter, but flight has always eluded me, and frankly, I hate it.

I cut her off, already shaking my head. "I"ll be there, even if it means braving the skies. I might be drugged, but I"ll be there."

"Trust me, I"ve got just the thing to help. No need for your usual...cocktail," she teases, and I can almost see the mischievous sparkle in her eye.

"No vodka or Xanax? You"ve piqued my interest."

"It"s a game-changer. You"ll see."

"Alright, I"m counting on you. And hey, I"m really happy for you. You deserve all the happiness in the world."

"Oh, and bring Tomas! I have yet to meet this wonderful man of yours," Iris adds.

"I'll try to. It's been…busy here." Both Tomas and I have put in too many hours at our respectable bakeries. It feels like it's been a never-ending cycle of early mornings and long days. I have no idea how we'd both find time to escape to Mystic Hollow for a long weekend, but I love the thought of it. As pathetic as it sounds, I've never taken a vacation. "When is it?"

"Don't worry, you have six months at least. Avery will kill me if I rush her," Iris says, referring to her sister, the wedding planner extraordinaire.

We chat a bit more, with me filling her in on my business plans, and she promising to let me know as soon as she has a date picked for the wedding. I'm still smiling when I hang up.

Eddie, still looking a bit shell-shocked from the cake catastrophe, peeks into the kitchen again. "Hey, Claire…sorry to bother you, but some old dude out front is asking for a... raspberry cocoa macadamia mocha... something."

I pause, mid-clean up, my sponge hovering over the countertop. "Do you mean a chocolate raspberry mocha cupcake?"

"Yeah, that"s the one!" Eddie"s face lights up as if he"s just won a prize.

"That can"t be right," I mutter, more to myself than to Eddie. That recipe is my secret weapon for the cookbook I"ve been slaving over, the one that"s supposed to catapult Tomas and me into our own bakery. It"s under lock and key in my recipe book. No one should even know it exists, let alone be able to order it over the counter.

Eddie just shrugs, clearly out of his depth. His culinary knowledge doesn"t extend much beyond reheating pastries and making coffee.

With a sigh, I untie my apron and make my way to the front, expecting some sort of mix-up. Perhaps the man simply got the name wrong or was talking about a similar but distinctly different dessert.

But there he is, a distinguished gentleman in a crisp suit, tapping his fingers on the counter with an air of expectancy. "Ah, yes. I"m hoping you can help me. I"m looking for the most divine cupcake I"ve ever tasted. It was a dark chocolate cupcake with a raspberry mousse filling and just a hint of coffee. Oh, and can"t forget the finely crusted walnuts on top of the ganache. Heavenly."

My heart skips a beat. His description is uncannily accurate, down to the last walnut. "T-t-t-there must be some mistake," I stammer, my mind racing. How could he possibly know about my creation?

"This is Claudia Langa"s bakery, is it not?" he inquires, a polite smile on his face.

Just then, Claudia sweeps into the room, her presence filling the space like a sudden gust of wind. She hesitates for a fraction of a second when she sees the man but quickly masks it with a practiced smile. "Charles, I didn"t expect to see you again so soon," she says, her laughter ringing hollow.

"And I didn"t expect to be so bewitched by your cupcakes!" he replies, his admiration sounding nothing but sincere.

At this, I feel a jolt of disbelief. "Your cupcakes?" The words escape me before I can stop them, my tone edged with incredulity.

Claudia"s eyes flicker to me, a flash of panic visible before she regains her composure. "Yes, a little creation of mine," she says to Charles, but her voice lacks its usual confidence.

She turns her attention to me. "Claire, I'd like you to meet Charles Savoir, CEO of the James Beard Foundation." Claudia looks at me knowingly.

These words stop me in my tracks. You don't mess with The James Beard Foundation—not if you want to have a culinary career. It's every baker's dream to be awarded Outstanding Pastry Chef by the foundation. And it's the only reason why I smile and play along, saving face, not for Claudia's benefit, but for mine. Lashing out in front of the foundation's president is a solid way to ensure I never receive the honor.

"How very nice to meet you," I reach out and shake the man's hand, hoping he can't feel it tremble from anger.

"Yes…now about those cupcakes," he looks expectantly between Claudia and me.

"Yes, Claudia, where are these famous cupcakes of yours?" I reply with mock innocence.

"I'm afraid I'm fresh out—" she starts to say.

"They were quite the hit at the launch party last night," Charles agrees.

"Launch party?" I muse.

"Surely you've seen the new book? It'll be an instant bestseller. I'm proud to say I already have a signed copy." Charles beams.

"Book?" I choke out the word. It takes every ounce of my being to keep it together in front of this man.

"A collection of the most exquisite desserts you can imagine, and your chocolate raspberry mocha cupcakes are the pièce de résistance," he exclaims to Claudia, his eyes alight with genuine delight.

Claudia jumps in, "Yes, it was quite the soirée. I wish you could"ve been there, Claire."

I force a tight-lipped smile, my mind racing. A book? My recipes? It"s as if the floor has dropped from beneath me. "I must"ve missed the memo," I manage to say as the world shifts under my feet.

Charles pulls the book out of his leather satchel. The glossy cover boasts an array of stunning desserts, but it"s the subtitle that catches my eye: "Innovative Desserts by Claudia Langa.' Charles immediately flips to the page featuring my cupcakes.

As he reads aloud the description, praising the ingenious blend of flavors, Claudia watches me, a triumphant glint in her eyes. It"s clear now; she"s claimed my creations as her own, my dreams of a cookbook dashed by her betrayal.

I stand there frozen like a mannequin, unable to think, unable to move, as the world spins around me.

The instant Charles leaves, with promises from Claudia to bring him a fresh batch of cupcakes tomorrow, I lose it.

"You stole my recipes!" The accusation tumbles out, raw and accusing. The bakery falls silent, all customers' eyes on us.

Claudia"s mask finally cracks, her usual poise giving way to defensiveness. "Claire, please, let"s be reasonable about this. We can work something out," she pleads, her voice low.

But I"m past reasoning, past wanting to make amends. "Work something out? Like how you worked out putting my recipes in your book under your name?" My voice rises with each word, a crescendo of betrayal and hurt echoing off the walls. "You knew I was pitching a cookbook so Tomas and I could open our place! You're nothing more than a thief!"

Eddie, who"d been trying to make himself as small as possible behind the counter, winces at the confrontation. Even he, with his laid-back, carefree nature, understands what's happening.

Claudia attempts to spin the narrative in her favor. "Claire, you have to understand, it"s not like that. The book…it needed a face…a name that people recognize?—"

"And what? My name wouldn"t suffice?" I cut her off, my anger boiling over. "I"ve poured my heart and soul into those recipes. And you... you just take them as if they were yours to claim?"

Claudia, now visibly flustered, fumbles for words, but nothing she says can mend the rift that"s formed. "Claire, I... I didn"t think?—"

"That"s just it, isn"t it? You didn"t think. Not about me, not about the bakery. Just about yourself." The realization hits me like a punch to the gut, the finality of it all sinking in. "I can"t stay here. Not after this." My voice is steady now, the resolve clear in my tone.

Claudia reaches out as if to stop me, but I step back, out of her reach. "Please, Claire, don"t do this. We can fix it?—"

But it"s too late for fixes, too late for apologies. "No, Claudia. There's nothing, and I mean nothing, you can ever do to fix this. I quit."