Page 29 of The Magical Tea Shop

“True, but in the morning, the bakery’s jam-packed with customers waiting their turn. She actually has them take a number.”

Marjorie gave a gentle smile. “How are the goals coming?”

“I have bunches of dates. I’m meeting Kyle across the street for dinner at seven to try Pedro’s new specials at the diner.”

“And Jaxon?”

Ivy shrugged. She sipped her tea. Marjorie laughed.

“You aren’t really being coy, are you?”

Ivy shook her head. “He went on a date with Hazel.” Even to her own ears it sounded ridiculous.

“I’m sure that’s Hazel’s doing.”

“He notices me, but never makes a move. I don’t think I could be more obvious.”

“Oh, you could, but I get that it isn’t your style.”

“Cookies are my style.”

Marjorie shook her head. “You already tried that. Try something else.”

“What? Short skirts and low-cut shirts? If he’s taking Hazel out, that can’t be his speed.”

“Pshaw—you know that was just Hazel being Hazel.”

“I do know that. I figure everyone must be right. He isn’t ready to date. He must’ve loved his wife desperately.”

Marjorie toyed with the edge of the tablecloth. “They were very different. As I recall, Candace liked adventure.”

“I like adventure.”

“Not normal adventure. Bungee-jumping adventure.”

“Oh, did he go with her?”

“Once, on a rock-climbing trip which would’ve been tame for her but likely new to Jaxon.”

“What happened?”

“Oh, that’s right, you were away taking your business courses at the time. It was devastating. That was the trip when Candace fell and died.”

“Oh, no.” Ivy swallowed. She had heard about his wife dying, of course, but hadn’t realized Jaxon had been right there with her when she fell. “How horrible.”

Marjorie nodded. “Jaxon needs comfort and home. Just be you with your little tea shop. You don’t need to go to extremes. I don’t believe that’s what he’s looking for.”

“I need to see this through. These dates. I have two more and then we’ll see.”

“No more Hazard Blessing magic. Once is enough.” Marjorie sounded adamant.

Ivy tensed in defense. “My parents bake those cookies every year and share them.”

“That’s different. They’re in love and know what they’re doing. For them, it’s romantic.” Marjorie slid her laptop into a black leather pouch. “Be wise, Ivy Wayland. Be wise.”

Ivy unlocked the door for Marjorie. A quick gust of wind rushed inside and swirled about. It tousled her hair and made her at once wild and daring. At a rattle behind her, she turned to stare at the cookie press on the wall.

It called to her, or so she imagined. A memory teased the edges of her mind. A hint of nutmeg flitted over her tongue. She blinked. Last night, as she had drifted off to sleep, the cookie presshadcalled to her.

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