Gretel smiled mischievously. “Good.”
“Good?” Eliza squawked. “Whose side are you on, Gretel?”
Eliza’s friend gave her a look. “Don’t tell me you’re at least alittlehappy to be shacking up with him for the past week.”
Eliza pursed her lips, looking guilty as she thought about it for a beat. “Okay, you got me there.” She pointed at Gretel. “Butthat doesnotmean we’re soulmates or going to ride off into the sunset together.”
“And why not?” She just gave Eliza a look.
Eliza blinked. “Well, b-because we’re?—”
Gretel raised her brows. “You’re …?” She popped out a hip. “I’ll wait.”
Eliza finally noticed the box sitting on the counter in front of Gretel. It was wrapped in festive baking-themed paper tied with pink lace.
She looked between the present and Gretel. “Is this for me?”
“No, for Lachlan.” Gretel dramatically rolled her eyes. “Of course, for you! Who else would I wrap a gift in Candy Land-themed paper for? Merry Christmas Eve Eve!” Gretel greeted Eliza with a cheery grin, thrusting the gift in Eliza’s arms. She leaned in close, lowering her voice. “But I know what you’re doing, just so you know.”
Puffcake narrowed his eyes at her as if to say,Merry Christmas to you, too, Gretel.
The sass in these dragon gingerbreads, thought Eliza.Unreal.
The warmth of the moment faded as she remembered the memory from last night. Puffcake had known companionship and love, too. And yet Isadora left him behind.
Eliza never remembered him from all her stays in the past. But that still didn’t negate the fact that, for eighty years, he’d lived in the silence of this enchanted house, or alone somewhere on the property grounds. Had others who passed through offered him as much kindness and warm welcome as she had on the first day they met?
Even then, she hadn’t been that welcoming of him. Not at first. She’d been more wrapped up in her own baking agenda. But now that she knew Puffcake, she couldn’t imagine leaving him.
But was it only a matter of time before she left him, too?
She glanced down at the tiny gingerbread creation curled up around the base of her mug of hot coffee, his gumdrop eyes blinking up at her with sleepy indifference. She tried swallowing down the lump in her throat.
Temporary. Everything about this place was temporary. This holiday, the satisfaction of winning this baking contest, her newfound friendship with Gretel, her …whateverit was with Lachlan. Even Puffcake. What was she supposed to do after Christmas? Pack him up with her and head back to London with a gingerbread familiar? He might not even want to come. He might hate it there.
Gretel eagerly grinned, snapping Eliza out of contemplating. “Well? Are you going to open it, or am I going to have to sprinkle you with hurry-up pixie dust?”
Eliza snorted, pretending to be okay. “That is not a thing.”
“Yeah?” She lifted a brow. “Have you looked through the magical spice rack?”
“And checked it twice,” Eliza laughed, untying the lace. Her hands felt awkward as she peeled back the colorful paper, being stared at by everyone in the room. She always hated her own birthday parties. She felt like she was always meant to be lost in the crowd, not the one in the spotlight.
It was a baby-pink baking apron, and her name was delicately embroidered on the hem.
She instantly tied it around her waist, smiling from ear to ear. “Let’s see if it gives me any luck in this contest. Thank you so much, Gretel. I love it.”
“You don’t need any luck when you’re as good as you are,” Gretel complimented. “So don’t let me down, kid.” She clapped her hands once, rising from her chair. “Now, let’s get that oven fired up. I’m ready to judge your scones.”
“Are you really one of the judges?” Eliza asked, her heart leaping.
Gretel shook her head. “No, but only because I’d get accused of bias. Either way, I’m betting on your buns.” She winked.
A slow grin spread across Eliza's face. She knew she liked this girl for a reason.
As the scent of orange and cardamom filled the space, Eliza moved almost rhythmically through the kitchen, humming Christmas carols as she went. The new pink apron was already covered in flour and looked like it had been owned for years.
Gretel sat cross-legged on the breakfast table by the window, munching on a bowl of leftover sugared cranberries. She tossedthem in the air, catching them with her mouth. She’d throw the occasional one at Puffcake, who would swoop through the air at an alarming speed to catch them just in time.
