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“What kind?”
“The kind that cook babies in their ovens.”
I blushed even deeper.
A few minutes later and I wouldn’t have cared if the Dutch Baby had, in fact, been made with real babies, because it was one of the most delicious things I’d ever eaten, with cinnamon baked apples and powdered sugar spooned over the top. And that was only part of the feast Rhi had whipped up. My plate was loaded with bacon and fried eggs, and hot buttered toast as well. Having my mouth full meant less talking and more gazing around the kitchen. Rhi watched my eyes roving over her little kingdom for a while before she swallowed and spoke again.
“I’m what’s known as a kitchen witch in witchcraft circles,” Rhi said, gesturing around her with a contented sigh. “Like I was saying before, every witch finds the most natural ways to channel and harness her magic—mine always came most readily when I was here, working with food and experimenting with remedies.”
I leaned forward eagerly. “Please tell me you have a cauldron.”
Rhi laughed. “Oh sure, I keep it in the closet next to my broomstick.”
“Well, if the witchcraft thing doesn’t work out, you could definitely be a chef,” I told her through mouthfuls of breakfast.
Her hollowed cheeks flushed with pleasure. “I do sell some of my baking around town, in Shadowkeep and at my friend Petra’s coffee shop right down by the water.”
“Are they, like…normalbaked goods?” I asked.
“I’d like to think they’re exceptional, but—”
“You know what I mean!”
Rhi raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking if I put spells on my scones?”
I grinned. “I guess?”
“Well, let’s just say that they’re all made withintention,” Rhi said cryptically. I was still too overwhelmed by it all to ask her to clarify, so I decided to change the subject.
“Do you think Persi will come down to eat with us?” I asked.
Rhi rolled her eyes. “Persi’s been coping with mom’s death in other ways that don’t involve baking everything in the house. I don’t think she’s home this morning.”
“Oh,” I said, and I couldn’t help feeling relieved. Persi still intimidated me, even though I knew she didn’t blame me about the will. “She’s still pretty mad, huh?”
“Persi’s always mad about something. She’ll get over it. Or at least, she’ll find something new to get mad about,” Rhi said, with such certainty that I felt a little better.
“This is all… it’s a lot,” I said, sopping up a bit of egg with a corner of my toast.
“It’ll be okay, Wren,” Rhi said. “If you choose to learn, we’ll teach you. If not, we’re still family. Okay?”
I smiled. That felt manageable. “Okay.” I pushed my plate away, sighing. “I can’t eat another bite. Would you mind if I took some up to my mom?”
“That’s a great idea. I’ll help you make a tray. And after she’s eaten… she has Asteria’s messages from the spirit board. Ask her to help you understand. I think, after last night, she might finally be ready.”
12
Together we piled a plate with eggs, bacon, toast, and a big slice of Dutch Baby. Rhi made another pour-over coffee while I found a jam jar and filled it with orange juice from a pitcher in the fridge. Then I carried the tray carefully up the stairs and knocked on my mom’s door with my elbow.
“Breakfast delivery,” I called.
“You’re an angel,” came the reply.
There was a precarious moment as I tried to balance the tray against my hip and open the door; but in the end, the whole tray of food made it to my mom’s lap without a disaster.
“This looks amazing,” she said, stifling a yawn.
“Oh it is, trust me,” I said, curling up next to her.
