Page 6 of Best Hex Ever
Immy had recently had her blonde hair cut into a short bob in purposeful defiance of her soon-to-be mother-in-law, who had suggested that a bride always looked best with long hair. Rosemary, on the other hand, was a walking Pre-Raphaelite painting, with bright ginger hair that was plaited down her back, and a billowing green dress. If it weren’t for the vintage cat-eye glasses perched on the end of her nose, you wouldn’t know she was from this century.
Although their appearances were wildly different, both Immyand Rosemary were horror authors. Immy wrote sci-fi horror filled with tentacled aliens and strange sentient spaceships, while Rosemary was more of a gothic-haunted-house kind of girl.
If Dina was honest with herself, she’d always been a little too scared to read Rosemary’s books. At least with Immy’s writing there was an element of detachment, as she was never going to be the only astronaut left fighting an alien species, but Rosemary’s horror was the kind that would have her casting protection wards around herself as she went to bed.
Dina, Immy, and Rosemary had known each other since their early twenties. Rosemary had been completing half a year in England as part of her literature degree from Princeton, Immy was on the same course, and Dina had been at bakery school.
They’d met for the first time at anAddams Familymovie night at the Prince Charles Cinema—costumes mandatory—when the three of them had all decided to go as Cousin Itt, complete with top hat and sunglasses. The costume choice had made it difficult to watch the movie, so they’d slunk out and ended up walking across central London before getting wine-drunk in Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese pub. Dina remembered immediately feeling like she’d met her people. They’d been inseparable from then on. Even though Rosemary had had to go back to the United States, the three of them spoke constantly and visited whenever they could.
Immy and Rosemary were the first people Dina had ever revealed her magic to. One night, the three of them had been sitting on the floor of Dina’s kitchen, eating a lemon meringue tart she had made, when her witch’s intuition signaled that now might be a good time. After telling them her secret, she had levitated mugs of hot chocolate to them, just in case they thought she’d gone insane.
The night had been full of revelations, as shortly after Dina revealed she was a witch, Rosemary explained that she could, onoccasion, see ghosts. Immy couldn’t believe she was the only non-magical person out of the three of them.
When Eric had proposed to Immy, she’d asked Dina’s permission to reveal her witchcraft to him. She hadn’t been sure at first; it was a big part of herself she’d be entrusting to another person. But after looking at Eric’s cards, and reading his tea leaves on the sly, she knew he could be trusted. Also, she enjoyed his company; he had a witty sense of humor and clearly worshipped the ground Immy walkedon.
Dina had made a show of the reveal by making them a “happy engagement” cake that let off small fireworks in their living room when they cut the first slice.
Now, Immy pulled Dina into a hug over the counter, enveloping Dina in her clean linen scent.
“Missed you,” Immy mumbled into her hair.
“Missed you too, even though I saw you yesterday.”
Immy grinned. “I was talking to those pains au chocolat, but yeah, you too.”
Dina turned to Rosemary, who had popped around the counter, and they beamed at each other, falling into a hug. For such a short woman, Rosemary packed a seriously powerful hug.
“I wish I could live in this shop,” she groaned as she squeezed Dina. “Even the air tastes like cake.”
Dina smiled. “I hope you’re both hungry, since we’re about to eat ungodly amounts of pastry.”
“I’ve been fasting since this morning,” Immy said gravely. Beside her, Rosemary rolled her eyes and mouthed the wordsWe had pizza an hour agoat Dina.
Immy and Rosemary headed back to the kitchen while Dina tidied the counter. She was glad for the distraction of these two loud, glorious women. They were probably the only people capable of getting the interaction with that guy from this morning out of her head.
“Would you mind serving the last few customers so I can get started on the baking?” Dina asked Robin.
“Sure, if you promise to save me some pastry cream,” they said, winking.
The lunchtime rush had passed, and now there were only a few regulars hanging around in the hour before closing. There was an elderly couple doing the crossword puzzle together, though they would occasionally ask the pair of students studying beside them for help if they couldn’t figure out one of the clues. A few customers were seated by the windows, sipping their drinks and looking outside at the blustery autumn weather. At least it was cozy in here.
There was also a couple that Dina remembered seeing before, although last time they’d been strangers sitting at different tables. If Dina remembered correctly, they’d both had the same order: a mocha with extra chocolate on top and a sugar-sprinkle doughnut on the side. It warmed her heart to see that all it had taken was the same order in her café to bring these two people together.
Usually, Dina would spend the quiet afternoons working on her recipes for the month ahead. She liked to tie in her baking with the seasons, and sometimes she needed to practice the more complicated recipes. She might be a kitchen witch, but even Dina knew that practice makes perfect, especially when dealing with pastry.
For spring and summer, Dina baked delicate and light pastries fragranced with rosewater, meskouta orange bundt cake, and delicate raspberry macarons. When strawberries were in season in early June, she made airy fraisier cake. For autumn and winter, Dina worked with heavier ingredients: thick, dark chocolate, cinnamon, cardamom, gingerbread, and pumpkin. As the days grew colder and the light dimmed earlier and earlier, people started to crave that feeling of warmth and comfort. AndDina would give that to them, even if only for a short while. One special bake for this season was a ginger and persimmon cake, yellowed with saffron strands, which Dina had bought on her last trip to Morocco, and fresh vanilla pods, their sweet scent so potent that it wafted across the café.
This was in addition to all the regular pastries and cakes she had on offer, which were all recipes her mother had taught her to bake. The cake made with dark honey from the Atlas mountains was an all-time customer favorite. Dina had imbibed it with a very specific spell, one that kept customers coming back for more. She’d crafted it from a childhood memory of a time that she must have fallen asleep on a car ride home, and although she was a little too big to be carried, she remembered her father lifting her into his arms, her mother closing the car door softly so as not to wake her, then carrying her upstairs and tucking her into bed.
When she’d been fashioning the spell for the first time, it had occurred to Dina that one day your parents put you down and they never picked you up again, and so she’d made the honey cake to recreate that feeling of childhood comfort. That sensation of someone taking the utmost care of you, holding you close, was a feeling that many in the rushing city of London didn’t experience often.
Sometimes she wondered if she was really in the business of café ownership, or if she was more of a fairy godmother in disguise. Undeniably, the magical pastries were great at keeping customers coming back for more, so that was a bonus on the businesswoman side of things.
Today she wouldn’t be prepping her winter recipes, however. Today was all about Immy’s wedding pastries. Instead of opting for a cake, like a normal, sane individual, Immy had decided—Eric had had no say in the matter—that she wanted either apple pie or cinnamon buns. She just wasn’t sure which one.
And so, being the best maid of honor in the world, Dina had promised she would bake both for Immy to choose between. Dina’s friends had practically begged to help her make the two recipes. The wedding was this weekend; Dina was planning to take whatever ingredients she needed to the old manor house where Immy and Eric were tying the knot.
Dina made her way back to the kitchen, where Immy and Rosemary were helping themselves to hot chocolates with whipped cream. Immy was telling Rosemary all about her planned honeymoon to Australia, and all the massive spiders and snakes she was hoping to see. It lifted Dina’s heart to see the two of them making themselves at home in her kitchen.
