Page 2 of Chasing Stripes (Enchanted Falls #3)
TWO
“S o,” Artemis settled into the one clear chair, cradling the warm mug between her palms. “How bad is it here, really? The bakery, I mean.”
Tilly sank into her own seat with a sigh that seemed to come from her very soul. “We’re keeping afloat, but only just. The regulars still come—loyalty runs deep in Enchanted Falls. But we’ve lost ground to newer establishments. I didn’t have their flair—” she gestured to the photo of Artemis’s parents on the wall, “—for innovation or marketing. Or bookkeeping, evidently.”
The unspoken pain hovered between them—the accident that had claimed both her parents five years ago, leaving Tilly to run the bakery alone while Artemis fled to the city, unable to face the memories.
“I should have come back sooner,” Artemis admitted, the words catching in her throat. “I shouldn’t have left you to handle everything alone.”
“Nonsense,” Tilly’s tone brooked no argument. “You needed to find your own path. Grief doesn’t heal in a straight line, and yours took you away for a while. That’s perfectly all right.” Her eyes twinkled. “Besides, look at you now—a successful bakery owner in your own right! That experience is exactly what Honeycrisp needs.
“Your ancestors chose this precise spot for a reason, you know,” Matilda mentioned. “The original foundation stones were quarried from the mountain where the realms overlap. Some say you can feel the heartbeat of Enchanted Falls itself if you press your ear to the basement floor on a full moon. I always thought that was just old baker’s superstition until your mother showed me otherwise.”
Artemis didn’t mention how she’d sold her city bakery at a loss, too eager to come home to negotiate properly. That conversation could wait.
“So,” she redirected, “tell me about the neighborhood. Any changes I should know about? Feuds? Scandals? Supernatural drama that might affect business?”
Tilly perked up, clearly delighted to share the local gossip. “Oh my, where to start? You know this area sits right on the edge of what folks now call the ‘Borderlands’—that stretch between the Sparkle District and the Fang Quarter.”
“When did we start segregating by species?” Artemis asked, brow furrowing. Growing up, territorial divisions had been informal at most.
“About three years ago. The supernatural population’s grown since you left—refugees from less tolerant communities seeking somewhere that accepts magical folk.” Tilly took a sip of her tea. “The town council decided designated areas would prevent friction. The Sparkle District is primarily for fae and witch-owned businesses, while the Fang Quarter is meant for predator shifters—wolves, big cats, and the like.”
“And we’re...”
“Technically in the Sparkle District, but close enough to the border that it gets complicated. Especially now.”
“Because?”
Tilly’s eyes gleamed with barely suppressed glee. “Because of our new neighbor.”
“Which is...”
“Tooth & Claw.” Tilly gestured vaguely toward the front of the shop. “The bar across the street. It’s opening soon.”
Something in her aunt’s too-casual tone made Artemis suspicious. “And that’s a problem because...”
“Oh, not a problem, per se.” Tilly stirred her tea with exaggerated concentration. “Just interesting. It’s owned by a tiger shifter. An alpha, no less.”
The word “alpha” sent an unexpected shiver down Artemis’s spine. “A tiger shifter? Taking up residence in the Borderlands?”
“Mm-hmm. Not that I’ve properly met him yet.” Tilly sipped her tea. “But between us, I hear he’s quite...” She paused, clearly searching for the perfect word. “...impressive.”
The emphasis made Artemis raise an eyebrow. “Tilly, are you matchmaking already? I’ve been in town for all of thirty minutes.”
“Can you blame an old woman for hoping?” Tilly didn’t even attempt to look innocent. “This town could use some excitement, and a handsome alpha moving in across from my beautiful niece seems like fate’s way of spicing up the place.”
“I’m here to save the bakery, not find a date,” Artemis reminded her, though she couldn’t help but smile at her aunt’s transparent meddling.
“Who says you can’t do both?” Tilly winked, then pushed herself to her feet with a small groan. “Now, let me show you what we’re working with. The kitchen equipment has seen better days, but it’s got character. Like me.”
For the next hour, Tilly guided Artemis through the bakery, pointing out what needed repair, replacement, or simply a good cleaning. Artemis mentally calculated costs as the list grew longer with each room they examined. The industrial ovens worked but wasted energy. The display refrigerator clanked alarmingly. The storage room looked like a tornado had hit a flour warehouse.
“And up here is where you’ll stay,” Tilly said finally, leading Artemis up a narrow staircase to the apartment above the bakery.
The living quarters surprised her—not with its size, which was modest, but with how well-preserved it was compared to the bakery below. A bedroom with a patchwork quilt on the bed, a kitchenette with dated but functional appliances, and a sitting area where colorful crocheted blankets adorned a comfortable-looking sofa. It smelled of cinnamon and old books—a comforting combination.
“I’ve been keeping it ready,” Tilly explained, straightening a throw pillow unnecessarily. “Just in case you ever wanted to visit. Or stay.”
The simple statement—so free of judgment or pressure—made Artemis’s throat tight.
“I live just down the street now in that little cottage by the creek,” Tilly continued. “Thought you might appreciate having your own space. Your parents’ things are in those boxes in the corner. I couldn’t... well, I couldn’t bring myself to go through them.”