A. Mayes - A Slice of Christmas Magic

She went to the fireplace and threw in a couple of logs. Sparks flew, and heat poured out as the flames rose higher.

“We need the rest of them.” She flung her hand at the spice bottle displayed on the mantel of the fireplace like a trophy. “You two can’t get anything done right. I’ll go out in the morning and sneak into the kitchen of her pie shop while she’s getting ready to open. She’ll have the spices out then.”

“What about her niece?” Stan watched the fire instead of his mother as he asked the question.

“I think I can take her,” Brenda said sarcastically.

“They still have the protection spells on the pie shop. You won’t be able to use your magic,” Dennis said.

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t need magic. I just need to be smarter than them. That shouldn’t be hard.”

Brenda pulled up the hood on her cloak, threw open the door, and was gone without another word.

Dennis bent down to pick up the chess pieces and the two of them got back to their game.

Dear Elodie,

My husband and I are expecting our first child in six weeks. He recently informed me that he won’t be able to make it to the birth because of a “work trip”. Elodie, I am beside myself. When I ask him if he can reschedule this work trip, he says those are the only days the clients are available. I find that a little hard to believe. I would think any client would understand rescheduling a business trip to be there when your baby is born. We both love our jobs, but I sometimes feel like my husband uses his as an excuse to treat me badly. What do I do?

Sincerely,

Lonely Delivery

Dear Lonely Delivery,

My recommendation would be to go back in time and have a baby with someone else. Assuming that’s not a valid option, you should try to sit your husband down and have an open talk about your needs right now. He may be experiencing anxiety surrounding the birth. Now I completely agree that it shouldn’t be your job to soothe his nerves since you’re kind of busy growing a human, but sometimes life throws these curve balls at us. Tell your husband what you told me about using his job as an excuse. Try to keep your conversation productive and avoid accusations.

And congratulations on your first child!

Ask and I’ll Answer,

Elodie

I wiped a bead of sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand and surveyed the display case. It was packed full of pies. Only ten minutes until we opened.

Aunt Erma came out from the kitchen carrying a blueberry pie, her specialty. She wore a hat with felt antlers and jingle bells.

“What do you think? Do we have enough?” She stood next to me.

“Not if business keeps up the way it has,” I said. We’d sold out every day this week. Now that Aunt Erma was back and could teach me her secret recipes with her magic spices, customers had been pouring through the door.

She kept her spices under magical lock and key except when we were baking. As we still had a few pies to top off with a sprinkle of spice, the wooden box was sitting on the kitchen island. It was painted purple and covered in a glittery glaze with twelve glass bottles inside. Each one was labeled with a number written in green. Bottle number three looked a little different from the rest. That was the spice Alice had stolen, and the original bottle was still missing. Aunt Erma had replaced the bottle when she’d created a new batch.

The garbage can in the kitchen was overflowing so I wheeled it towards the back door, grunting as I tried to pull it into the alley without tipping it over. I took a deep breath and heaved the plastic bag out of the bin. A “meow” startled me and I dropped the bag. It burst open and garbage spilled at my feet. I held my breath as I made eye contact with a blue-eyed cat peering at me from behind the dumpster.

Just one month ago, before I knew anything about magic, Aunt Erma had been the cat in the alley. An evil woman named Alice had turned her into a cat and stolen Aunt Erma’s magic spices before opening a cookie shop and attempting to alter Aunt Erma’s magic spices so she could use them to control people. She was working with Stan, the pie shop’s former delivery man, and Stan’s parents, Brenda and Dennis Drake. Only Alice had been caught so far, and she was in some kind of magical jail. The exact details about what exactly was involved in magical lockup were still a little fuzzy to me, and no one seemed eager to fill me in. The Drakes were still on the loose, and they had escaped with one of the bottles of magic spice. A fact that had kept Aunt Erma and I feeling a little on edge the past few weeks no matter how much we tried to focus on our holiday pie preparation.

“Meow once if you’re human,” I said in a low voice. The cat meowed again, and my eyes widened.

“Are you talking to a cat?” Henry asked, appearing from around the corner. His brown eyes twinkled, and his wavy brown hair stuck out from under his dark green stocking cap. Henry was my almost boyfriend. We had been dating for a few weeks, and I think we were nearing that point in the relationship when I could begin to use the B word.

“How do you know this isn’t a person?” I asked, greeting him with a quick kiss.

“I’m magic,” he said with a smile. “And I know that’s Mrs. Peterson’s cat. He likes to do a lap around town every morning.”

I leaned in for another kiss, enjoying the giddy feeling of being in a new relationship.

“I have to go,” Henry said, sneaking in one more kiss. This time lingering for an extra moment before pulling away. “I’m in charge of the bingo game today, and I’ll never hear the end of it if I’m late.” Henry worked at the nursing home. “Do you need help cleaning this up before I go?” He motioned to the pile of garbage. The breeze had begun to carry some bits across the pavement, and if I didn’t clean it up quickly I was at risk of being ticketed by Sheriff Buddy for littering.