"All righty then."
Garrett was already out of the car and heading back into the house. I could barely make him out in the dark. The temperature had dropped. It was cold, and I wanted a hot bath and pasta—and another donut Danish, but I couldn't really afford the ones I had already eaten today, so that was a no go. I cranked up the heat and turned on the radio. It was fall, so I had my vintage Halloween songs from the 1930s and 1940s on Spotify. The croons of the Boswell sisters singing "Heebie Jeebies" came from the speakers.
I tried not to feel depressed. It was only my first day, and Bronwyn was trying to have me fired and Garrett outright despised me. Also, I hadn't learned much about the Svenssons that wasn't available online.
The NDA I had signed was only about business dealings, not their personal lives. When I eventually wrote the article, I would have to be careful to write only true things. I could not write anything speculative. I needed proof; otherwise I had no doubt Garrett would come after me with everything in his arsenal. There were at least three lawyers in the Svensson clan. I did not need to be sued for libel.
The moon was bright and low in the sky when I parked in front of the rambling old Victorian house. Salem wound around my feet, meowing as I pushed open the large front door. The house needed a good cleaning. Even for a Halloween party, it was grungy.
I put the bag of groceries from Ida on the counter. I was going to make a cake for my Queen of Tarts YouTube channel. For the next six weeks up until Halloween, I was creating fall-themed desserts. First up: pumpkin soufflé cheesecake. I set up the camera and lights, shooed Salem off the counter, and washed my hands.
I pressed a graham cracker-and-melted butter mixture into the springform pan and put it in the oven. I was going to layer my cheesecake to make a beautiful gradient. As I narrated in my soft ASMR whisper, I made the cream-cheese mixture with pumpkin and meringue. I poured it over the graham-cracker crust and put it in the oven to bake while I made a pumpkin mousse. I smoothed the mousse over the cheesecake once it was cool. Then I made a rich orange-caramel glaze to pour on top. Finally, I sprinkled a graham-cracker-spice mixture on top of the caramel and put it in the fridge to set.
It was late by the time I finished, but the video was looking good. I had a fair number of active subscribers, but I didn't earn enough to even cover the ingredients. Plus I had splurged and bought a high-end camera, microphone, and film lights, so really I was in the red with this failing side hustle. My Hail Mary was theGreat Christmas Bake-Off. There was prize money if you won, and the exposure would boost your social media following. Maybe I could finally make money off ads. I sighed and uploaded some pictures of the finished product to Instagram.
Salem meowed as Morticia and Lilith slunk into the kitchen.
"You should make a black cake next," Morticia said.
"How's your art?"
"We had a meeting today with Archer Svensson. He wants to commission several big sculptures in the conference center courtyards."
"The old Mast Brothers chocolate factory?" I said. "I love that place. You should do a meercat!"
"We told Archer we had some of the animatronic puppets in the house. Mimi had several." Mimi had been a known pack rat.
"Archer doesn't want anything that on the nose," Lilith said. "Also, for someone who is supposed to be an art collector, he doesn't have good taste. I showed him several sketches of abstract sculptures of important Harrogate figures."
"You didn't show him the Romani queen statue, did you?" I said, aghast.
"It's a work of high art," Morticia sniffed.
"I'm sure Archer doesn't want a statue about the Romani queen at his brand-new conference center," I told the twins. "It is supposed to be for nice events. You can't have people in business suits show up and see a bunch of creepy statues!"
Morticia sniffed. "Penny has no taste. Please ignore her, Romani queen."
"She's buried near here," Lilith said.
Morticia nodded. "You should go leave her an offering at her grave site. It's in the abandoned cemetery to the east outside of town."
"She likes Coca-Cola," Lilith added.
"We made her an offering two days ago," Morticia said, inspecting her black nail polish. "And the next day, Archer asked us to stay on and create more artwork for the conference center."
I shushed them as I videotaped the cake being cut. I narrated, trying to ignore Morticia and Lilith's smirks.
"Are you still going through with the article?" Lilith asked.
"Learn anything juicy?" Morticia added.
"Nope."
"Everyone has a dark secret," Morticia said and picked up the knife. "Everyone."
She sliced herself a piece of cake.
"Delicious."
