Page 6 of The Loneliest Dragon at Christmas
Lacy leaned towards him. “Well, not all those servants are like that. The handsome Avery seemed to like our bakery. And you deserve someone nice.”
“And I’m sure in time I’ll find someone. I just don’t think it’ll be Avery. But maybe I’ll come to the next bridge party and meet a handsome troll. If I’m lucky, that is.” He waggled his eyebrows, and his sister laughed.
CHAPTER 4
Jack pulled the tray of tomato-and-garlic loaves from the oven and closed the oven door. He set it down on a shelf, allowing it to cool. He removed the oven gloves, then wiped the back of his hand against his sweaty brow and rolled his shoulders.
Jack glanced towards the front of the bakery. Lacy and Casimir, his adopted pixie brother, served. Today Cas wore all green with sprigs of holly attached like a belt around the waist. “The Christmas pixie,” he called himself. His wings flapped as he hovered above the floor. A couple of patrons waited in line. But it wasn’t so busy that they needed Jack to help them.
“I already put cinnamon in it,” Leo said.
“You didn’t use enough!” Jasper, Leo’s identical twin, bickered.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Leo bit back.
Jack glanced at his sister Ordelia. They shared a look. The twins always fought. Ordelia hummed as she kneaded the bread dough, ignoring the boys. She hadn’t been in the bakery much of late, too busy looking after her little baby, Ruthie.
Meanwhile, Lachlan made ginger tarts, also ignoring the twins completely. But he kept glancing and smiling down at Kit, the stray-cat-turned-pet who lay curled on a cushion.
Jack wondered if Briar would come in today. It turned out he’d mated to a werewolf, and everyone was keen to see Briar with his new mate. Jack shook his head. He never could keep track of Briar and what he was up to. Something that stressed Grady out to no end.
“If you add any more cinnamon, it will ruin it!” Leo snapped.
The back door flung open, cold air and snow scattering in before the door was kicked shut by Grady. He dumped several crates of supplies by the back door. He pointed at the twins. “You two dickheads, cut it out. I can hear you prattling on in the street. Do you want to scare the customers away?” After their parents had died, Grady had been the one to take on the role of head of the family.
The twins fell silent. They mumbled some sort of apology and glared at each other.
“And you two should be at the Christmas markets already,” Grady said.
“I can finish up their cakes,” Cas said, flying into the back area and looking over Leo and Jasper’s work. “Probably just needs more sugar.”
Leo and Jasper opened their mouths.
But Grady spoke first. “Thanks, Cas.” Grady looked at the twins. “Come on, let’s go.”
Grady and the twins left the bakery, closing the door. Then Jack felt a flare of energy as Grady charged the protection charm on the door. He always did that. He was obsessed with protection charms. Jack and all his siblings each wore a woven protection band on their wrist made by Grady. He recharged it often.
The bakery immediately quieted with the departure of Grady and the twins. Jack turned to the jars of ingredients.
What should I bake now?
Jack ran his hand along the jars. He always let his soul guide his baking. As a hearth witch with an affinity for nourishment, he found that his instincts often indicated what their customers needed most.
Outside, the snow fluttered by the window in a blur of white. The windowpane rattled. Jack suppressed a shiver at the thought of being out in the snow.
Jack focused, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.
Make something warm. Something spiced. Something wholesome to chase the cold away from the bones of the customers.
Memories flitted through his mind. His mother sitting by the open fire. The flickering flame. The sweet crumbling goodness as he bit into a freshly baked cookie. The gentle spices, perfectly balanced, melding together as the cookie melted on his tongue.
He heard his mother’s gentle laugh. He felt her soft touch as she stroked her fingers through his hair. And for a moment, Jack held on to that time and place. He held on to a feeling of being cherished and cared for from years and years ago.
Swallowing, Jack opened his eyes. He pulled out one of his mother’s recipe books, this one dedicated to Christmas cookies. He opened it and ran his fingers over the familiar scrawl of her writing. He searched for her spiced cookie recipe.
Jack pulled out the ingredients. As he mixed, he focused on the feelings of comfort, care, and nourishment he’d experienced in his mother’s presence. He thought of family and love. He fixed those feelings and memories in his mind and hands as he worked the dough.
His mother had died years ago. But he felt the connection with her still, through the memories, through her dark scrawlinghandwriting on the pages in her recipe book, through the ritual of baking something that had been passed down from generation to generation, and through a love that didn’t die with death or time.