Eliza smiled to herself, comforted by their presence. Lachlan was making himself busy chopping firewood in true Hallmark heartthrob fashion.
As Eliza baked, her thoughts turned pensive as she, once again, wondered about Isadora and the final memory last night. Her mind began to swirl like the cinnamon in her batter, slow and bittersweet. She got an idea.
“Gretel?”
“Hhmm?” answered through a mouth full of cranberries.
“You mentioned you’ve lived here since you were young, right?”
“Since I was knee-high to a biscuit jar,” she wiped her stained hands on a napkin. She furrowed her lavender brows. “Why, what's up?”
“Do you happen to know if these cottages were built before ... say, the 1950s?”
“Oh, definitely before that. Like, way before that. These cottages are old. Storybook old.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Well, my dad always told me and Hansel that Gingerbread Hollow was once built by a coven of kitchen witches who were tired of getting burned at the stake just because they were good at cooking. Even though they used magic, it wasn’t like they deserved to be killed.” She shook her head and uncrossed her legs and began swinging both of them back and forth.
“So, they built their own adorable colony made of sugar out in the middle of nowhere. Each cottage holds a different kind of magic. The kind thatremembers.”
Eliza thought of the incident Gretel told her about when she was a girl, and why she gets free rent for the rest of her life. “Idon’t mean to pry, but are you still staying in the cottage where the witch tried to ...”
“Oh, heavens no!” She laughed, and a wave of relief washed over Eliza. “That cottage is really haunted. For real. Lots of dumb college students stay there during October. They never last the evening.” She shook her head. “We have our parents’ old cottage. My mum is descended from the lineage of witches.”
“Guess that explains the purple and blue hair,” Eliza remarked.
Gretel giggled. “Guess so. Although I hope my hair fades stark white the way my mum’s did. She’ll be at the Reindeer Games tonight. She’s typically in charge of the caroling.”
“Have you ever heard any of the townspeople mention someone named Isadora?” she got bold enough to ask.
Gretel thought for a moment. “I ... can’t say that I have.”
Eliza just stared down at the dough she’d just rolled, her voice quiet but determined. “I think she lived here once. This house was once hers.”
Gretel looked curious, waiting for her to continue. Meanwhile, Puffcake tried to nestle into the pouch of Eliza’s apron. She opened it for him, and he dropped inside.
“She was a baker, too, and she was in love. Except it didn’t last. Her husband left her. Instead of screaming or throwing things, or doing the 1950s version of blasting him on TikTok, she just …baked.”
Gretel squinted. “She got baked?”
“No,” Eliza gave her a look. “Shebaked. With an oven, not edibles.”
“How do you know all this?” Gretel asked.
“The house. Ever since I entered it, it’s been showing me this cookbook. It isn’t an ordinary cookbook—it was Isadora’s. Once you bake the dessert and taste it, you see the memory she baked into it.
“She said, ‘Let not love exist here if mine cannot.’ And she meant it. The house changed after her. I think it’s …” Eliza paused, thinking aloud. “I think it’s longing to be redeemed. It’s why the house only ever responds to couples. Or, in mine and Lachlan’s case, two travelers. It wants the curse to be broken.”
Eliza never considered this before now. Maybe the house wasn’t trying to warn her, or even run them off from each other. Maybe it was offering her a chance to rewrite the narrative.
Gretel’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. “Do you think you can do something about that?”
Eliza bit her lip, turning her head toward the window. She saw Lachlan place another log onto the cutting board and swing. The only sound in the cottage was the holiday music softly spilling from the record and Puffcake, who was already snoring away in her apron pocket.
“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. Could love even blossom between the two of them this soon? She’d known him for four days. “I’m scared. I keep thinking … What if I end up like her? Like Isadora. What if I give everything, only for him to just leave?”
Gretel got up from her spot and joined Eliza at the island. “Then you’ll know that it was real. You’ll know you were brave enough to give someone the power to hurt you.” She placed a hand on top of Eliza’s and gave a small smile. “And if he tries to leave, we’ll sic Puffcake on him.”
