Page 58 of The Magical Tea Shop

Would she givethesecookies to Jaxon? Should she even try?

She had no clue what the results of this night would be. Maybe she’d eat all the cookies. She could be devoted to herself, selfish, doing as she pleased, caring not a whit what anyone else thought. That sounded magnificent. But she knew it would never happen. It simply was not who she was.

Tonight felt portentous, larger, more. Somehow her business depended on this night going forward. And that made no sense whatsoever. So, in the midst of the biggest storm yet this month, Ivy came into her own. With a generous smattering of nutmeg, she mixed and she chilled the dough. She sang and she shaped the cookies. She used the time in between to create the most perfect of all tea blends and she knew it was right. It wastheone, her own unique tea blend, featuring all her favorites: Darjeeling and mint, oolong and clove, a touch of tangerine, with three secret dashes of this, that, and the other. A secret blend.

To the crack of lightning and rumble of thunder, the blessing flowed forth from her lips in melody, her feet tapping out the rhythm in dance. As she pressed the pattern—the most perfect pattern—and sprinkled cardamom, she relived her life, remembering childhood joy, teenage angst, and the freedom of adulthood. To percussive wind, harmony of storm, and melody of the Hazard Blessing, she baked cookies, celebrating all that life had to offer, and each tray revealed cookies of absolute, flawless perfection.

She let them cool and set about making herself a pot with her new blend. She chose her ivy-patterned teapot. Wind swirled and eased, the rattling door a past phenomenon. Calm now, she packed the cookies in a plain white bakery box and tied it with a green velvet ribbon, then decided on the ideal name for her new blend. She didn’t know what she was doing, but she was doing it anyway. Perhaps it should be her new motto. Somehow, somewhere, some way, everyone needed to do the same.

Find Your Way.

Ivy set the box of her latest batch of magical cookies under the counter and stepped out onto the dampened sidewalk, the clouds dark and drifting silently above. She drove home through the sleeping town to her lonely apartment. When she arrived to trudge up the metal grillwork steps and let herself into her place, Holly’s light was off, her sister’s apartment quiet and still. But that was to be expected. Ivy hadn’t asked her sister to wait up, to make certain she made it home safe.

Chapter Twenty

The day ofthe first Annual Hazard Historical Society Fundraiser dawned in a stunning array of color. The red-streaked sunrise didn’t bode well for clear weather, but once the sun was fully above the horizon, the sky transformed into a brilliant blue with big, fluffy, white clouds wafting overhead. Ivy chose a flowy, spring calico dress in sage and pink with apple-green accents. Dressing in her tearoom colors was part of her marketing plan. She would take a cue from Holly and be her own live advertisement.

She’d been up late baking for the event but was wide awake and ready. She had blueberry scones, ginger crinkles, and savory meat pies, all individually packaged in little white sleeves stamped with the Ivy Way Tea Shop.

Before she locked her front door, wind buffeted against her as if to say hello, so she grabbed a fluffy emerald sweater and shrugged it on to keep back the chill. The day’s weather might be a bit too blustery. Fingers crossed, Ivy hoped it wouldn’t be breezy out at Oleander House, but Malory had promised to open up the courtyard, and that should shield the guests from the worst of the wind.

Holly, of course, had already headed out much earlier to pack up her goods for the event and instruct her employees on what she expected them to accomplish while she was away for the day. Hollister’s Bakery would be open, but Ivy would leave her shop closed. There was only so much of her to go around. They’d agreed to ride together in the bakery van to the event and despite Holly’s sudden change of attitude, she wouldn’t put it past Holly to leave her stranded, trying to transport all her baked goods in her tiny little car if she showed up late.

Ivy arrived at the shops to find everything, even her own items, packed up in the van, and Holly, foot tapping and waiting.

“You don’t need to go in your shop. I took care of everything—well, I had my employees take care of everything. Get in. We need to go.”

“Wait, I just want to check…”

“Don’t you trust me?” Holly’s intensity indicated that the wrong answer would lead to an unpleasant ride over.

“Of…course, I just think I should…”

“We don’t have time for that.”

Her sister hadn’t even listened to what she was about to say. Typical. Ivy sighed and bit back her retort. Holly being helpful was still bossy and abrasive.

“Fine.” The way this was starting, Ivy figured she’d need to keep her fingers crossed all day. She really hoped this fundraiser went off without a hitch. She knew how important it was to the historical society’s projects and continued existence.

The drive out to Oleander House was spent with Holly talking up her own items and how fabulous they were. Ivy only half listened until Holly began to expound on how she had baked Ivy’s special cookies.

Hah, no you did notwas Ivy’s first thought, but she politely nodded. Then her heart stuttered. Oh, dear, what if?

She began to breathe a bit faster. “So, Holly, how did you bake them?”

“What do you mean how? I do this for a living, just like you. I created a recipe based on your cookies. I’ve been perfecting it all week. It might not beexactlythe same as yours, but it’s certainly a close approximation. I know you’ll never share youroh-so-specialrecipe.” A big eye roll followed. “You’re so secretive about the recipes that Mom gave you.” Holly added an unhappy little sniff. “But I could taste what was in them. I do know how to back-engineer a recipe.”

Holly creating her own recipe off of someone else’s was Holly’s speed. Once she had it mastered, or believed she had, she would never veer from it. But it wasn’t only the recipe. How far was Holly willing to go to match Ivy’s cookies?

Ivy bit her lip. She had to ask. “Did you use the cookie press?” Her words came out too high-pitched.

Holly cast her a catty-eyed glance. “Well, of course I used a cookie press. That’s what makes them special.”

Ivy’s stomach did a little flip-flop, but they’d arrived. Holly pulled up and parked and was out of the van with the doors open and setting boxes on a dolly to roll in before Ivy could even get her bearings. Her head was reeling at the thought of Holly using the antique cookie press. They’d both grown up hearing the legend of it, even if Holly put no credence into it.

But if Holly hadn’t matched the recipe exactly, it would be okay, right? Or, did the recipe even really matter? Ivy had added nutmeg, lots of nutmeg, and the cookies worked. Maybe the magic wasn’t in the recipe at all. Maybe it was all in the cookie press.

Holly having new devoted customers would be okay, right? Ivy had, after Jaxon shared his tin of cookies. Maybe Holly would find her own happily ever after. Just because it hadn’t worked out for Ivy didn’t mean it wouldn’t work out for her sister. That would be good, wouldn’t it? A happy Holly would be better for everyone.

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