“Where are you going?” Eliza asked.
“To shovel the driveway. That way, you can, at the very least, get out if you need to. Or go for a walk.”
Eliza’s cheeks bloomed as she looked down at her unfinished plate of food.Shewasn’t leaving. Why did he just assume that she would be the one to do so? It was a thoughtful gesture, but she wondered how much of it was for her and how much of it was to bribe her to leave.
This was her cottage, the one she always returned to every Christmas. And now, she felt like she had a mystery to solve, a puzzle to keep her mind occupied. Her eyes flitted to Isadora’s Cookbook, longing to try the next dessert.
Eliza thought it prudent not to share her late-night baking escapade with Lachlan.
She had to be careful. She couldn’t make the recipes during the day while Lachlan was awake, in case he saw the desserts and wanted to taste them. She wasn’t sure if the memory hadn’t worked on Puffcake because he wasn’t human, or if they only worked for her, but she didn’t want to find out.
She would have to wait until he was asleep. Until then, she would bake some more of her own creations.
Puffcake helped her fire up the cooker just as Lachlan, once again getting the hint she wasn’t in for conversation, set for the door. The lock was still jammed.
“Great,” he said, throwing up his hands. “We’re going to die here.”
“A bit dramatic, don’t you think?” she said, not bothering to look up from the butter she was churning.
“We don’t even have food for this next week. At this rate, it’s looking like that’s what our fate will be.”
Eliza’s heart dropped.
No. Surely he was wrong. Surely this would all blow over soon, and she’d at least have the back half of her getaway to herself.
She’d go insane before she starved to death.
Granted, they did have milk, eggs, bread, and an endless stock of baking supplies. They wouldn’t actually starve, but even Eliza needed something other than pastries and breakfast food to survive on.
“Maybe try the back door,” Eliza suggested, eager to send him away. He’d been able to open it yesterday, moments before Puffcake flew inside.
“Good idea.” He crossed the room to the back door, moving slowly to avoid any knee injuries from the kitchen this time. Just as he was about to pull on the peppermint handle, the deadbolt magically clicked into place.
Locked.
The house seemed to shudder a laugh.
Lachlan even tried unlatching a window. The latches snapped shut no sooner than after he unlocked them.
“Maybe there’s a killer on the loose,” Eliza suggested. “It’s trying to keep us safe from them.”
She dared not say that just yesterday, she even questioned if Lachlan was one himself. She really needed to stop watching so much true crime.
A knock came at the front door.
They just stared at each other from across the room. Even Puffcake lifted his head from where he lay on the mantle.
Eliza didn’t want to answer, and if it had been any other week, she would’ve let whoever was at the door just stand there waiting in the cold. But she wanted to see if the door would open. Plus, it might’ve been the rental company coming to sort out the misunderstanding.
The thought made her quickly drop what she was doing and make a break for the door.
Eliza gently twisted the handle for fear that the magic might recognize her touch and recoil. Astonished, the door unlatched and slid open without a problem, like it wasn’t possible for anything to cause it to be malfunctioning in the first place.
A woman about Eliza’s age stood there, mid-length lavender hair tumbling around her face in ribbons. The lime-green snowsuit she wore made her eyes pop all the brighter. They were an unnatural-looking yellow-green, and she wore earmuffs that perfectly matched her suit, like she color-coordinated down to the last eccentric detail.
“Hi there! I’m Gretel. My brother, Hansel, and I live in the cabin just down the road.” She smiled widely, extending her hand in a formal greeting.
“Pleasure to meet you,” Eliza said, shaking Gretel’s hand back.
