Savvy’s smile never wavers, but her eyes glitter with more than a hint of glossy danger. “Why, bless your heart, Dilly Thatcher. You’re still upset about losing the Charleston Bake-Off to my ambitious but ultimately delicious bourbon pecan tart. Some folks just can’t handle the competition, I suppose.” She lifts a shoulder and winks.
I think that was the politest character assassination I’ve ever seen.
Savvy just served Dilly her own head on a silver platter with a side of honey butter and ablessing to boot.
The tension in the tent could can cut with a butter knife—or possibly the aforementioned marble rolling pin that my merch team and I helped pick out. The merch team consists of two cats and me, but that’s beside the point.
A sharp bell cuts through the air, saving us all from witnessing what might have been the first-ever murder by pastry bag.
“Showtime, ladies! It’s time to get the cameras rolling!” someone calls out, and just like that, things are about to take a dramatic turn for the delicious. Here’s hoping we don’t add murder to the menu.
CHAPTER 3
The crowd here in Bayou Hollow begins migrating toward the haunted mansion like pilgrims seeking sugary salvation.
We assemble on the mansion’s wraparound porch, where purple and orange lights cast everything in that haunted Halloween movie glow. The crowd—primarily women ranging from soccer moms to grandmothers who look like they could arm-wrestle bears—buzzes with excitement.
“Thank you all for joining us tonight,” Dilly calls out, her voice carrying clearly over the crowd and straight into the camera feed. “We want to thank Huckleberry Hollow Wonderland for hosting us, but most importantly, we want to thank the real stars of this show—Fish and Chip!”
The crowd erupts in cheers as Ree and Georgie hoist the cats above their heads like the furry little trophies they are. Fish maintains her composure despite the indignity, while Chip waves a paw as if he’s running for mayor.
“Welcome to our Sweet Season Spooky Symposium,” Nadine calls out as well. “We encourage everyone to sample the amazing treats our bakers have created just for you tonight.”
“And don’t forget,” Dilly adds with theatrical timing, “we’re here all week to answer your questions about baking, decorating, and life in general.”
“Speaking of life,” calls a woman from the crowd, “my husband thinks spending money on quality kitchen equipment is wasteful. Should I get new mixing bowls or a new husband?”
“Honey,” Dilly responds without missing a beat. “Good mixing bowls last forever. Husbands? Not so much. Get the bowls. They’ll never let you down, they’ll never leave dirty socks on the floor, and they’ll never question your spending habits.”
Nadine nods in a show of sisterly solidarity. “And if he’s not rich enough to buy you the good mixing bowls,” she adds, “he’s not rich enough to deserve your time. Standards, ladies. Have them.”
The crowd erupts in laughter and applause, and I can’t help but laugh myself. These are exactly the kind of sassy Q&A sessions that made Sugar & Sass famous—equal parts relationship therapy and baking advice, served with a side of brutal honesty.
“Ignore them,” Ree whispers to me. “Detective Drake is proof that money can’t buy you everything that matters.”
“Speaking of Detective Hot Stuff,” Georgie chimes in, “where is he tonight? Waiting for the body to drop before he makes his grand entrance?”
“Don’t jinx it,” I warn. “This evening is going perfectly. Let’s not invite Murphy’s Law to the party.”
It’s so true. I do have a budding romance with Detective Hot Stuff. Okay, so it’s mostly lust on my part, but there was a kiss involved, and also a corpse, but who’s keeping score? Most likely the Grim Reaper.
“Cut!” someone shouts from the camera crew, and Dilly immediately switches into hostess mode.
“Everyone, please make your way to the merchandise tent!” she calls out. “Fish and Chip have got some absolutely gorgeousHalloween items from their new Frost and Fright line that will make your kitchen the envy of every ghost and goblin in the neighborhood!”
The crowd disperses toward the twinkling lights of the merch tent, and Ree and Georgie get swept along in the stampede of women determined to acquire bat-shaped cookie cutters and skull-print oven mitts.
I hang back with Fish and Chip, watching the organized chaos unfold. The cats have recovered from their dog-scented trauma and are now eyeing the dessert consumption happening around us with professional interest.
Look at them go,Fish observes as a woman in a witch costume demolishes what appears to be her third ghost-shaped cupcake.It’s like watching a feeding frenzy, but with more ghost-shaped cookies and far less dignity.
I respect their commitment to carbs,Chip mewls as his green eyes track a particularly impressive stack of Halloween cookies.That lady over there just ate an entire graveyard cake by herself. That’s dedication.
“Shoot, I wanted a bite of that,” I say. “I’d say the woman has no self-control, but given half the chance, I so would have done the same. Those gummy worms were practically flirting with me.”
That’s concerning on an entirely different level.Fish gives me the side-eye.Though I suppose when faced with chocolate tombstones and candy corn frosting, self-control becomes optional.
“You better believe it, sister.”
