Spells and Scones by Bailey Cates Page B

full-time employee. As it was, Lucy and I worked a lot of ten- and twelve-hour days. That was one of the reasons why being able to add Iris to our roster had been such a boon. I loved my work—I mean, I
loved
it—but I couldn’t work twenty-four-seven.
    The spellbook club usually met on Sunday afternoons, and often at the bakery. We’d had a few meetings since Iris had been hired, but Lucy and I hadn’t mentioned anything about a meeting today, and her interest was obviously piqued. As she chopped a pile of candied orange peel and dried cherries, she eyed the ladies in the reading area again and again.
    â€œBetter watch what you’re doing,” I teased, donning a vintage apron from my collection arrayed on the back wall. “That knife’s sharp.”
    She blushed. “What’s going on over there?”
    â€œA little impromptu meeting,” Lucy said as she breezed by. “Why don’t you go ahead home when you’re done there, dear. We’ll finish closing up.”
    Iris looked disappointed. “I can stay if you need me.”
    â€œNonsense. You go on and enjoy yourself,” Lucy said.
    The younger woman grimaced. “If you call doing homework enjoyment.”
    I laughed. “It can be. I used to love coming up with recipes for class when I was in pastry school.”
    â€œSure. I bet you liked taking tests, too.”
    Actually, I had, but I knew better than to say so. “What homework’s on your docket this afternoon?”
    She sighed. “I have to write a short story.”
    â€œReally? I thought you were taking metalsmithing.”
    â€œAnd graphic arts. And photography. And creative writing.”
    I smiled. “Sounds like you’re dipping your toe in a lot of waters.”
    â€œI just can’t make up my mind.” She sounded frustrated as she scooped the chopped fruit into a lidded container and set it aside on the big steel worktable.
    â€œYou’ll figure it out. And you know how many times I’ve said you have a knack for baking—especially our kind. Those pumpkin spice cookies worked wonders this morning.”
    She brightened. “Yeah?”
    I nodded. “For the sister of the woman who was killed last night.”
    That sobered her. “Well, that’s nice to know.” She hesitated. “It’s just that there are so many choices. What if I make the wrong one?”
    Lucy passed by with a roll of paper towels and the disinfecting cleaner we used on the tables. “You’ll make a new choice. Don’t worry about it. Some of your decisions are going to be wrong. That’s okay. Life teaches you how to live it the longer you do it.”
    I stared after my aunt. Was that directed at Iris or me?
    Lucy and I quickly tidied and cleaned after the last customer left. I’d already set up the sourdough levain to rise overnight in the refrigerator for a quick pop into the oven the next morning. Iris left, and we locked the front door and flipped the CLOSED sign.
    Finally, I let Mungo out of the office, loaded a tray with goodies from the display case, poured myself a cup of drip brew, and joined the ladies of the spellbook club.
    Lucy had already removed her Birkenstocks and tucked her feet under her on one end of the sofa. Her orange tabby was curled up in her lap, purring contentedly.
    â€œWell, hello there,” I said to the feline. Mungo put his front paws on the chair and the two familiars touched noses.
    My aunt smiled. “Ben brought her by after his golfround. I feel like I haven’t spent enough time with her lately. Will you be okay?”
    â€œOf course!” I said, though I could already feel a tickle in my nose. I adored Honeybee. It wasn’t my fault I was so allergic to cats.
    Mimsey sat in the smallest chair, her sensible heels barely brushing the floor. Cookie lounged sideways in the other one, her legs draped over the arm. Jaida had settled in next to my