Page 6 of Sweets and Sycamores

START THE OVENS, ALLIE

If she had even a modicum of control over her power, Allie would have set the alarm clock on fire.

Smashing it until the ungodly noise stopped had to do.

She was used to waking up early, but not that early.

Lydia had her start the day’s chores around dawn.

Allie always spent a few moments by herself in the early mornings, watching as the dark world was painted over in warm colors, enjoying the last breathable moments before the scorching heat in Pearls Fields took its rightful place.

Now she watched the dark world stay dark, the thick night draping over her window like a velvet blanket. The urge to pull the duvet over her head and go back to sleep was strong. Her bones felt heavy like lead, confining her to the warm bed.

Dominic’s scrutinizing green eyes haunted her, and she pictured him coming downstairs into the bakery only to find she was still asleep.

Allie jolted up and ran to the bathroom.

She splashed freezing cold water on her face and tamed her wild bed head.

Dominic’s eyes returned to the center of her mind, and an image of one of her hairs on the bakery counter took form.

Allie gathered her red mane and styled it quickly into a tight low bun.

While she was at that, she stored her four stone rings on the bathroom shelf and tucked her crescent moon necklace tightly into her dress.

Dominic had enough reasons to sack her without Allie contributing her own.

She had to make up for the fact that she couldn’t bake to save her life, so everything else needed to be perfect.

Allie donned her only long-sleeved purple dress and leather flats, looking forward to that evening when she got some warmer clothes.

Five minutes before five in the morning, Allie exited her room and nearly knocked over her boss as he came downstairs.

“Good morning,” she chirped, taking a step back to make room for him. He wore a black T-shirt, dark jeans, and laced boots. His chestnut brown locks were pulled into a neat bun on the top of his head. Allie was thankful for whatever instinct that had coaxed her into doing the same.

Dominic sized her up, flats to bundled hair, and grunted, “Morning,” as he switched on a bunch of lights around the shop.

Allie followed the trail of crisp cedarwood scent with a tinge of leather her boss left behind him, wondering if he wasn’t an early riser, or if he was still annoyed from last night.

Or maybe grumpy and monosyllabic was his entire personality.

Allie went down the hallway into the bakery floor.

The place was even more stylish and cozy than it had appeared in the dim light last night, the dark blue chairs elegant against the warm-colored floors and walls, sophisticated but homey.

A few abstract paintings hung on the walls, splattering them with dark violet and burnt orange shades.

Dominic shuffled between the kitchen and the storage room before coming to the front, a notebook in one hand, and an apron he offered Allie in the other.

The all-black intricate tattoo on his left arm was right under her nose—a thick tree trunk covered his forearm, and leafless branches stretched up and wrapped around his upper arm, hiding beneath the T-shirt sleeve.

Delicate details were woven through the ink, but she needed to be much closer to Dominic to distinguish and inspect them.

“What should I start with, Mr. Ranford?” she asked, tying the apron.

“Start the ovens and clean the kitchen counters. The cleaning supplies are in the cupboard under the sink.” He slapped the notebook on the front counter, picked up a pen, and glanced at Allie over his shoulder.

Dismissed.

“Right,” she said to herself and left for the kitchen.

The space was predominantly white, with a huge working table in the middle and walls lined with two sinks on the left, three different refrigerators on the right, shelves, counters, and multiple types of ovens.

Start the ovens, Allie.

She stood helplessly in front of the oven that resembled the one from the coven’s manor.

Resembled in appearance only, as this one had infinitely more buttons and knobs.

Not even the one she had used in Green Creek was similar.

The next oven was identical, while the last two were tall, vertical ovens Allie had never seen before. And they had a lot of buttons.

Start one oven, Allie.

But which one? And how?

Perhaps she should clean first.

Yes, that was a great idea. After all, it was part of her tasks. She opened the cupboard under the sink and pulled out cloths and a cleaning spray. Allie scrubbed the surfaces in the kitchen as if her life depended on it.

She didn’t know how much time had passed until her boss sauntered into the kitchen to check on her work. He walked in casually, hands in his jeans’ pockets, and surveyed the shining space. Allie smiled broadly, waiting for him to find anything wrong with her work, knowing he would find nothing.

Dominic stopped in the middle of the room, his green eyes turning to wide saucers. Allie followed his gaze and gulped, her heart thudding in her ears. Okay, there was one wrong thing to find. Or four.

“Why are the ovens off, Alecsandra?” he asked in a low voice.

When she didn’t answer instantly, he went on.

“Did you know a bakery cannot bake anything if the ovens are not turned on?” Dominic’s voice raised with each word, his rage-filled eyes turning to her.

He hurried from one oven to the next, pressing and turning dozens of buttons and knobs in a sequence that she would have to write down to remember.

Allie wanted to make herself small and hide under the table at the clear disappointment etched on his features.

“You cannot tell me you forgot,” he stated.

She couldn’t. Forgetting one of the two tasks she had been assigned was far more embarrassing than admitting she didn’t know how to turn on the fancy ovens.

Dominic’s nostrils flared as he waited for her to say something.

The truth was her only option, and she cleared her throat of the orange-sized lump stuck there and straightened her spine.

She had faced Lydia’s wrath countless times, and each time she did it with dignity. So why should she cower now?

“I’m sorry, Mr. Ranford.” As humbling as it was, she held his gaze. “I don’t know how to turn on these ovens.”

Dominic closed his eyes for a long inhale and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked in a calmer but colder voice.

She’d said she was familiar with baking, but maybe not commercially.

Dominic had been too sleepy and annoyed to inquire about all the necessary details last night, before hiring the Witch.

It wouldn’t really be a problem if she had only baked at home.

He could show her how to turn on the damn ovens.

Dom realized he had missed other important details, like where she was from and why she came to Sycamore Falls.

“Where did you say you were from?” His eyes snapped open and fixed on her, waiting.

Bracing for whatever answer she would give him.

“Pearls Fields?” she asked more than answered, fidgeting with her apron.

“What?”

“But I lived in Green Creek for a while,” she added quickly, taking a step toward him. “I’ve been around new magic before, I promise.”

In a poor attempt to hide his irritation, Dominic gritted his teeth so hard they were on the edge of cracking.

He deserved this. He had hired a stranger in the middle of the night under pressure from his friend without knowing anything about her.

A Witch who had been living with old magic for her entire life.

He didn’t even know what power she’d mastered.

Lucky for him, she had no way to learn about his own.

“What, exactly, do you know about baking?” he asked, his left hand cupping his chin and rubbing it to relieve the tension in his jaw.

He saw the answer in her deep brown eyes, when fear mixed with embarrassment coated the beautiful color with thin glass. She swallowed, keeping the obvious answer to herself but, to her credit, didn’t drop his gaze.

Of course she knew nothing about baking.

He deserved this.

Dom couldn’t look at her struggling to answer him, so he turned on his heel and barked an order to clean the tables and front counters before storming out of the bakery. He should address the problem at the root, which meant paying a quick visit to his idiot friend.

Dominic jumped into his black coupe and drove away from Maple Street, crossing the bridge to the other side of the town and winding through the forested hills to the farmlands area.

The night was still strong, a couple of hours away from thinning, hiding the beauty of Sycamore Falls.

Dom drove through the light of the lamp posts, pondering what he should yell about first when he met his friend.

Brandon owned and managed the Riverbend Farm, one of the best-known and in-demand farms in Sycamore Falls.

He had customers from many neighboring towns and an entire team of employees living on the premises to get all the work done.

The place was huge, and one time, when they were young and he went looking for Brandon, he ended up getting lost in the spinach fields.

As the road twisted to the right and the inky river came back into view, so did the red sign with gold writing and the farm’s name on it.

Dominic entered the driveway to Brandon’s place, hoping he wasn’t already away doing chores.

But his friend stood on the porch of his green-roofed, white brick house, mug in hand, and waved with a smile when he noticed the black car approaching.

Dom’s first thought was to wipe that carefree smile off Brandon’s face.

He got out of the car and slammed the door, heading for the porch.

“Morning, D,” Brandon greeted him cheerfully.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I take it you didn’t have coffee yet?” Brandon offered him the coffee mug, which Dom considered pouring over his head.

“Why did you bring her to me?” Dominic berated him.

Brandon pulled his fingers through his short black hair, averting his dark eyes. “Come on, Dom,” he started, and Dominic knew this wasn’t going to end in his favor. Every time Brandon said those three words, Dominic ended up doing his friend’s bidding.

“Why?” he pressed. He needed a reason, at the very least.

“She was alone at nighttime on the side of a rarely circulated road. I happened to be on my way back from the Sanders.” The elderly couple living in a secluded forest area, far away from Sycamore Falls.

Brandon had learned about them from one of his customers and took it upon himself to visit and bring them fresh produce once a month.

Dom had often baked extra goods when he knew Brandon’s visit was approaching, and sometimes, they went together.

“Honestly, she was lucky I found her, and not someone else.” The meaning behind Brandon’s words sent a cold chill down Dom’s spine.

“I couldn’t just pass by and leave her there, Dom. What if it was Mia?”

The question hit Dominic in the middle of his chest like a cement brick, and hot panic gripped him as if the words were true.

“Don’t talk about my sister,” he warned Brandon, who rolled his eyes in reply. His friend played dirty, putting that thought in his head. The idea that Alecsandra had no one to look out for her, as he looked out for his sister, didn’t sit well with him.

It pained him to admit that Brandon was right. Not that he’d ever, ever, let Mia put herself in a situation like that. But if it ever happened—after he was dead, of course—he would be a grateful ghost if his sister stumbled upon people with good intentions. Like freaking Brandon.

Dom didn’t know if he should hug him or punch him in the face.

Brandon watched the realization set into his friend’s face and offered his coffee mug again. Dom snatched it and took two big gulps, the hot, bitter liquid warming him up.

“How bad is it?” Brandon asked him. Dom scoffed.

“She doesn’t know the first thing about baking, she comes from a place of old magic, and for all I know, she is a master of tripping over her own feet.

” That was and wasn’t the case, but Brandon didn’t need to know that.

Dom took a note to borrow his tool kit and fix the yellow sofa. And get a new lock for the room.

Brandon chuckled and scratched his head awkwardly, again avoiding Dom’s eyes. He immediately knew why.

“You knew about Pearls Fields?” he shouted. “And you still brought her to me?”

“Yours was the only business in town that I knew was looking for help,” he said, raising his palms defensively, almost as if he knew he was one word away from having coffee thrown in his face.

“What else did she tell you? Why did she agree to come with you?”

“Probably because the alternative was to sleep under the stars and pray nothing and no one would endanger her life?” Brandon asked sarcastically.

“What if you were the dangerous one?” Dom asked, trying to make sense of all of this. Was she reckless? She must have at least used her Reading magic before climbing into Brandon’s car.

“You know I’m not!” Brandon said defensively.

“But that just tells us how desperate she was.” Dominic sighed through his nose and shook his head.

“She said she left Pearls Fields for a learning experience.” Great.

A wandering Witch with no clear goal, no connections, and probably no money. “What are you going to do about her?”

Dom had no clue how to answer that. It would be an immense pain to train her to help him at the bakery.

She would make a thousand mistakes and drive him crazy, when he could very well hire someone capable.

Someone who knew how to turn on the damn ovens, who knew the difference between wheat flour and rice flour, and who lessened his burden around the bakery so he could focus on completing his mission.

But could he turn her away, send her roaming the streets looking for another place? Dom was unpleasant and grumpy, but at least his place and this job were safe.

What if it was Mia?

He handed the empty coffee mug back to Brandon and asked after a long sigh, “Can I borrow your tool kit?”