A Witchy Bake-off Read online

  A Witchy Bake-Off

  Danica Britton

  Copyright © 2019 Danica Britton

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author.

  http://www.dsbutlerbooks.com/danicabritton/

  For Chris

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  A note from Danica Britton

  Also by Danica Britton

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  “I’m telling you she is up to no good,” my sister, Jess, informed me as we walked up the hill towards our grandmother’s house.

  I was pretty sure Jess was right. We hadn’t seen our grandmother in over four days, which was very unusual. She hadn’t been nagging me to learn my spells, and she hadn’t even been over to give Smudge, my cat, her usual treats.

  I sighed and looked up at the beautiful blue sky. The weather was mild, and the walk along the country road was peaceful and picturesque. I had a feeling that once we got to Grandma Grant’s house it wouldn’t be quite so tranquil.

  Every so often, our grandmother would get into some scrape or another. It usually involved magic.

  Grandma Grant, Jess, and I were all witches, and although I’d never claim we were witchcraft experts, that didn’t stop Grandma Grant from experimenting.

  Of course, we tried to keep our witchiness a secret from the residents of our small town, Abbott Cove. But Grandma Grant’s magical experiments certainly didn’t make hiding our true nature easy.

  “How many bags of flour did you say she’d bought?” I asked my sister.

  Jess set her mouth in a firm line, and then said, “Ten! I have it on very good authority she also stocked up on more sugar.”

  “Perhaps, she’s just practicing her baking?”

  Jess turned to look at me and rolled her eyes. “Of course, Harper. That much is obvious. But do you know how many cakes ten bags of flour can make?”

  I shrugged. “A lot.”

  Jess nodded as we continued to trudge up the hill. Grandma Grant’s large house came into view through the trees.

  “Well, maybe she’s just been baking cakes and putting them in the freezer,” I suggested hopefully.

  “That doesn’t sound like Grandma Grant,” Jess said. “She’s probably turned it into some type of moneymaking scheme that’s going to come back and bite us on the butt.”

  I had to admit Jess was probably right. Grandma Grant’s moneymaking schemes were frequent, and unfortunately, never turned out well.

  I only hoped she hadn’t opted to use dangerous magic that could affect the other residents of Abbott Cove.

  We both knew why she was practicing her baking. The Abbott Cove Spring Fair was tomorrow afternoon, and headlining as the main event was the spring bake-off. Grandma Grant was entering the competition, as was her greatest rival, Adele Silver.

  The last baking-related competition in Abbot Cove had been a pumpkin pie contest. To say it hadn’t gone well was an understatement. The poisoning of the judge had been a shocking incident, and the townsfolk had talked of nothing else for a week! As no winner had been declared in the pie contest, both Grandma Grant and Adele were determined to win this competition instead. And, boy, were they competitive.

  When we reached Grandma Grant’s front door, we hesitated.

  “What are you waiting for?” Jess asked, turning to me. “The door will be unlocked. It always is.”

  “You go first,” I said, dreading what we might find inside.

  Jess huffed under her breath. “Fine.”

  She pushed open the front door, and I was pleasantly surprised by the warm, delicious scent of baking wafting throughout the house. It didn’t smell of stewed frog legs and newt eyes, which was a tremendous relief.

  As we stepped inside, Jess called out, “Hello? Grandma Grant, it’s just me and Harper.”

  Jess hung her lightweight jacket on the hook by the front door, and I hung my longline, chunky woolen cardigan beside it. There was no sign of Grandma Grant, but Athena, her cat, strolled across the living room to greet us.

  Athena was a rather haughty cat. Today, she’d decided to grace us with her presence. I leaned down to stroke her sleek fur as Grandma Grant appeared in the doorway.

  My grandmother wore a bright pink apron, and her cheeks were smudged with flour.

  “Oh good,” she said. “Perfect timing. I need a couple of guinea pigs.”

  She turned and walked off to the kitchen as I exchanged a nervous glance with Jess.

  “I don’t like the sound of that,” Jess muttered.

  Neither did I. We both walked towards the kitchen as though we were heading to our doom, but the pleasant smell grew stronger as we entered the hot kitchen.

  There were plenty of used mixing bowls in the sink. Grandma Grant’s lucky wooden spoon, coated with cake mixture was balanced on a baking tin, but other than that, the kitchen looked much the same as it always did.

  “We came to check up on you,” Jess said as she perched on a stool and leaned against the worktop.

  Grandma Grant frowned and wiped her flour-covered hands together. “I don’t need people checking up on me,” she said sharply. “But since you’re here, you can both take part in a taste test.” She turned to me. “Don’t look so scared, Harper. It’s only cake.”

  “No magic?” I asked warily.

  Grandma Grant nodded her head solemnly. “No magic. Just my skill and my lucky wooden spoon. I’m going to win this bake-off fair and square.”

  I glanced at the spoon as a drop of cake mixture fell from its tip onto the counter. How could a wooden spoon be lucky? Call me cynical, but I couldn’t help wondering whether there was a teensy amount of magic involved.

  Grandma Grant ordered us to shut our eyes, and as we did so, we heard her clattering about in the kitchen.

  I tried to think happy thoughts and relax. It was just cake. What could go wrong?

  Still, having my eyes closed made me feel uneasy. I squinted a little to try and see.

  Grandma Grant must have eyes in the back of her head because she snapped, “Harper, no peeking!”

  I squeezed my eyes shut again.

  As we sat there waiting for the taste test, Grandma Grant filled us in. “I have narrowed it down to two cakes. I need your help in deciding which one to enter into the baking competition.”

  I nodded. That sounded fair enough.

  “How many people are entering the competition?” Jess asked.

  “At least twenty at the last count,” Grandma Grant said. “But most of them aren’t serious competition. The only two I have to watch out for are Adele and the newcomer.”

  I opened my eyes in surprise. “The newcomer?”

  “Why can’t you follow a simple instruction, Harper? Keep your eyes closed. Yes, the newcomer. Stacie Sutton. You’ve pro
bably seen her around. She moved into the barn conversion about six months ago with her sister.”

  Jess said, “Oh, I know who you mean. They’re avid readers. They visit the library at least twice a week. Bit of an odd couple.”

  “Why?” I asked. I worked at the diner, the hub of Abbott Cove, and I got to know most of the residents pretty well, but I hadn’t met Stacie Sutton or her sister.

  “I don’t know really,” Jess replied thoughtfully. “They seem to be very secretive. When they first moved to town, I’d tried to be friendly. They came into the library, and I asked them a few questions, but they gave monosyllabic replies. They don’t want to talk about where they used to live or what jobs they do. It’s really hard to keep up a one-way conversation, so in the end, I just talked about books; it’s the only thing they like to talk about.”

  “Open up, Jess,” Grandma Grant ordered, and then prodded my shoulder. “Your turn, Harper.”

  I dutifully opened my mouth.

  Grandma Grant popped a small piece of cake inside, and I braced myself, chewing slowly at first. But it tasted delicious. It was sponge cake, light and airy, along with a small amount of jelly, which I guessed was raspberry.

  “Oh, that was delicious,” Jess said.

  I nodded happily in agreement. “Yes, that was very nice. Well done.”

  “On to cake number two,” Grandma Grant said and fed us both another morsel of cake.

  The first cake had been very good indeed, but the second one blew me away. It was amazing, easily as tasty as one of the cakes baked by Sarah in the diner, and she was a phenomenal baker. The sponge was just as light as before, but there was an extra kick to this cake, a slight citrus flavor that made my mouth water.

  “Wow, that was amazing,” I said.

  “You can both open your eyes now,” Grandma Grant said, sounding satisfied.

  Jess and I both opened our eyes at the same time, and I heard Jess gasp as I blinked at the sight in front of me.

  Two cakes stood on the kitchen counter. One looked like a perfectly normal cake made with yellow sponge, but the one beside it was bright green.

  “Ok, this might be a silly question, but why is that cake green?” I asked.

  Grandma Grant smirked. “I can’t possibly tell you. It’s due to my secret ingredient!”

  I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the bright green cake. “Is that the one we liked best?”

  Grandma Grant nodded, looking very pleased with herself. “A green sponge with gooseberry jelly. It’s my own twist on the classic Victoria sponge cake, handed down from an old family recipe.”

  “I’m not quite sure a green cake will go down well at the bake-off,” Jess said.

  Grandma Grant shook her head irritably. “Well, that’s just silly. It doesn’t matter what the cake looks like. The prizes should be awarded on taste.”

  I agreed with Grandma Grant. The cake certainly did taste delicious, but I wasn’t sure the judges would be able to overlook the cake’s appearance.

  “Well, you know best,” I said cheerfully and looked around at the mess in the kitchen. “Now, I suppose you want us to help you clean up.”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” Grandma Grant said and threw me a dishcloth.

  Chapter Two

  I enjoyed working the late afternoon shift at Archie’s diner. The lunchtime rush was over, and I had a chance to chat with the customers.

  The diner was quiet when I arrived. I spotted Old Bob sitting in his usual booth. He’d been coming to Archie’s diner for years, always having bacon and eggs for breakfast, but since his wife had died, he’d taken to coming in for an afternoon snack as well. I guessed he was taking her loss hard and felt lonely.

  I smiled and said hello to him as I walked through the diner to collect my apron from the back room.

  On my way, I stopped at the entrance to the kitchen. “Hello, Archie.”

  Archie turned around and gave me a broad smile. He was a short, trim man — trim now that he’d been on a low-carb regime for the past few months. I wasn’t sure how he’d managed to stick to the diet with the diner’s tempting treats around him while he worked.

  “Hello, Harper. I shouldn’t think we’ll be busy this afternoon. It’s been quiet all day. Perhaps the pleasant weather has the townsfolk out in their gardens.”

  It had been a mild spring so far, and today had been sunny and almost warm.

  “That reminds me,” I said, pulling a face. “I really should do something about our garden.”

  It wasn’t big, but it was overgrown, and it seemed that neither Jess nor I had inherited Grandma Grant’s green fingers.

  I left Archie and ducked into the small staff room at the back of the diner. Keeping my voice soft, I said hello to Loretta, who was hovering beside the old-fashioned fireplace.

  I had to speak to Loretta quietly because she was a ghost. One of my witchy talents is the ability to see spirits. It’s not as disturbing as you might think. Usually, people exist as ghosts until they’ve come to terms with how they died, and then they pass over. With a natural death, the spirit passes quickly. After a murder, the spirit usually lingers until justice is done.

  But Loretta was my constant companion at the diner. She had not passed on and had been a ghost for a very long time. Since no one else could see her, I was her only friend and confidante, which made me feel guilty if I didn’t have enough time to chat.

  She looked unusually despondent today.

  “Hello, Harper,” she said with a sigh, floating across the room.

  I tied my apron at my waist. “What’s wrong? You seem out of sorts.”

  Loretta sighed again and hovered towards me. Her transparent, old-fashioned gown trailed behind her. “Don’t mind me,” she said. “I’ll be fine. I always am.”

  I knew she was in the mood for a chat and wanted to discuss what was bothering her, but Archie was waiting for me in the kitchen. If I took too long, he’d come to investigate. And if he heard me talking to Loretta… Well, I’m not entirely sure how he’d react, but I didn’t think he’d take it too well.

  That was the problem with communicating with ghosts that nobody else could see. If anyone overheard the conversation, they’d think I had lost my marbles.

  “We’ll have a chat later. I’ll come and find you as soon as I’m free,” I promised and hurried out to the kitchen.

  “Is there anything special you need me to do today?” I asked Archie.

  He was bagging up some blueberry muffins. “No, it’s been so quiet today. I’ve already cleaned out the refrigerator and made a start on spring cleaning the storeroom.”

  He grinned impishly at me and held up the paper bag containing the blueberry muffins.

  “Who are those for?” I asked.

  Archie waggled his eyebrows. I supposed he thought it made him look enigmatic, but it just made him look odd.

  “Are you going to tell me who they’re for, or shall I go and make a fresh pot of coffee?”

  Archie looked disappointed. “You’re no fun, Harper. You’re supposed to guess.”

  Guess? They were blueberry muffins. Half the residents in Abbott Cove loved Archie’s blueberry muffins. Still, I supposed it was a way to pass the time while business was so quiet.

  “Um, is Old Bob taking them home for supper?”

  “No,” Archie said, grinning broadly.

  I stopped to think again. “Betty!” I said suddenly.

  Betty from the Lobster Shack was very partial to Archie’s blueberry muffins. I smiled triumphantly, sure I had to be right this time.

  Archie chuckled, delighted with his game. “No, try again.”

  I’d never been very good at guessing games, and I was getting bored. “Come on, give me a clue.”

  Archie thought for a moment and then pretended to grab a gun from an invisible holster around his waist. He cocked a finger at me. “Stick ’em up!”

  I blinked at him. “Oh, you mean Chief Wickham?”

  Archie shook h
is head. “You’re getting warmer, though.”

  “Deputy McGrady,” I said confidently.

  Archie grinned broadly. “Ding, ding! We have a winner!”

  “Archie, have you ever seen Chief Wickham or Deputy McGrady point a gun at someone and say ‘stick ’em up’?”

  Archie shrugged. “You asked for a clue. Besides, it worked didn’t it?”

  He had a point.

  “So is he popping by this afternoon to pick them up?” I asked, taking the bag from Archie.

  Archie nodded. “Yes, Deputy McGrady is coming to collect them in person. He asked what time you started your shift.” Archie did the waggling eyebrow thing again.

  I felt my cheeks grow hot. “He did? I wonder why?”

  “Probably because he feels the same way about you as you do about him. When are the pair of you going to get your act together?”

  I tried to look affronted. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

  Archie grinned. “Whatever you say, Harper.”

  I’d had enough of Archie’s nonsense and walked back into the main area of the diner. I made a fresh pot of coffee, took the pot over to Old Bob and asked if he wanted his coffee refreshed.

  He held his hand up and said, “Oh, no thank you, Harper. I was just about to leave.”

  We had a brief chat about the weather and the upcoming spring fair. Then, after he left, I cleared the tables and made sure all the sugar pots and condiments were full. I kept glancing at the door. Why had Joe asked when I started my shift? I hadn’t been in any trouble lately. Since Halloween, I’d been a model citizen. It helped that no crimes had been committed in Abbott Cove since the pumpkin pie incident, so I hadn’t needed to annoy Chief Wickham and Deputy McGrady by sticking my nose in, as they so nicely put it.