Page 97 of Something Handsome This Way Comes

Shopkeepers swept crimson and amber leaves from crooked front porches, only for the wind to mischievously pile them right back again. Children laughed as enchanted bats flapped just out of reach, giggling every time little fingers nearly caught them. Somewhere in the distance, a hellhound lifted its muzzle and let out a long, mournful howl. Several townsfolk smiled at the sound. Good luck for the season.

Grievance moved to turn down Elderberry Lane, home to only three residents. Lucia and her greenhouse, Mrs. Grimwood and her goat farm, and of course, the Hollow Antler Apothecary.

But Milo pulled away. Grievance frowned.

“Aren’t we going home?”

“We have to stop by Rowen’s, remember?”

Right. The annoying baker.

Grievance tried not to scowl.

“Don’t look so miserable. We’re just picking up some cupcakes or something and getting out. I’ll be quick, promise.”

“Better be,” Grievance grumbled, already dreading the nausea he got from the sickly-sweet air inside.

And just as he predicted, the bakery was completely packed. People stood shoulder to shoulder waiting for fresh pastries.

Grievance did not understand why everyone insisted on gathering here. There were entirely too many people. Entirely too close to Milo.

Rowen spotted them immediately. “Oh, Ralph passed the message. Good, they’re just over there.” He pointed behind the counter toward a neat stack of pastry boxes.

“You named your possum familiar Ralph?” Grievance asked pointedly.

“What’s wrong with Ralph?” Rowen asked, wiping flour from his hands with a towel.

“It’s ridiculous,” Grievance said point-blank.

“It’s fine,” Milo interjected. “Anyway, tell us about the pastries.” He redirected, but not before shooting Grievance a sharp look.

“I really appreciate you trying these. Hope you like cupcakes,” Rowen said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “The pink frosting ones are just standard strawberry. I made her do an easy control group first.”

Then he let out a long-suffering sigh.

“And the ones with blue frosting are what she’s calling…” He glanced toward the kitchen before lowering his voice. “Razzle-Dazzle Surprise.” Rowen shook his head. “I had one this morning.”

He patted himself down theatrically as though checking whether all his limbs remained attached.

“I’m feeling fine, so…” He shrugged. “Should be safe. Probably.”

Milo laughed. Grievance glared. He didn’t think the joke was that funny.

“Tell Sadie thanks, and I’m sure they’re delicious,” Milo said.

“Yes, yes. Thank you very much,” Grievance said quickly, taking the box with the swirly script, presumably Sadie’s handwriting, that said, Just for you, hot stuff. He grimaced at it. “Can we go now?”

Milo gave Rowen an apologetic look before waving goodbye, and they were once again blessedly in the crisp outdoor autumn air and out of that sugar-filled dungeon.

“If you can’t get along with Rowen, I’m not bringing you on errands anymore,” Milo said.

“Then I’m sending Pip as a proxy.”

Milo groaned. “Please don’t.”

“How many eggs do you want in your omelet?” Grievance asked, cracking open the eggs they received from Mr. Wetherby that morning in exchange for Milo’s ‘horny chicken potion’.

“Just two is fine.”