surprise on her side.”
Violet rushed in, her eyes wild.
“The Magic Enforcement Officers are out looking for her.” She grabbed Aunt Erma’s arm and looked her over. “Are you okay?”
Aunt Erma nodded and stood up a little straighter. “I’m fine. Brenda’s probably long gone by now.” Violet nodded. “She came out of nowhere. I didn’t expect her to come when I was right here. But she didn’t hold back. She’s desperate.”
“It’s my fault,” I burst out. They both turned toward me, surprised. “I ran after her down the alley. I should have stayed.” It all seemed so obvious now. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked Aunt Erma.
“I’m fine, and absolutely none of this is your fault,” she said firmly. She smoothed her hair down. “What’s the next step?”
“For you, nothing,” Violet said.
“But they’re my spices,” Aunt Erma protested.
“And as soon as we find them, you’ll be the first person we call. Until then, open the pie shop, and keep your eyes peeled.” As though on cue, there was a knock on the front door of the shop.
“I should be out there looking!”
“Erma.” Violet’s voice was softer than I’d ever heard it. “We have our best people on it. I promise I’ll let you know as soon as I hear something.”
Aunt Erma hesitated, then nodded.
There was another knock on the front door, and Violet slipped out the back.
Aunt Erma and I looked at each other for a minute. I bent down, picked up the rolling pin off the floor, and put it in the sink.
We plastered smiles on our faces and opened the pie shop to a small, anxious crowd who burst in full of holiday energy.
“So sorry. Everything’s fine. We just lost track of time,” Aunt Erma assured everyone as we quickly worked to serve them.
I kept picturing Brenda’s icy stare and tried not to visibly shudder. We couldn’t let word get out about the stolen spices. The last thing we needed was widespread panic. I looked at the crowd chatting about their holiday plans and felt envious of their ignorance. I wished I could focus on gift-giving and meal preparations and out-of-town guests instead of panicking about an impending magical disaster.
When I looked at Aunt Erma, I could see no trace of this morning’s traumatic events. She was steady and calm, laughing and joking with the customers. I envied her ability to compartmentalize.
***
Aunt Erma had let it slip once just how dangerous it was that the Drakes had one bottle of spices. We had gone to Sal’s bar one night to celebrate. We were celebrating a lot of things these days – our reunion, the fact that Aunt Erma wasn’t a cat anymore, years of missed holidays and birthdays – and Aunt Erma had introduced me to a drink called a Fairy’s Foot. I was a little hesitant because the name did not sound at all appealing, but it was actually quite delicious. Like drinking a chocolate milkshake. The smooth sweet flavor hid the fact that the drink packed quite a punch, and by our second glass Aunt Erma had completely lost her filter and was sharing information about her love life that would have made me blush if I hadn’t already been flushed from the drink.
“Make sure you find someone with good hands,” she was saying firmly. “The hands are just as important as the …”
“No!” I clapped my hands over my ears. “Tell me something else.”
She giggled. “Fine.” She took a deep breath. “I’m worried.”
“About what?”
“The missing spice bottle. Spice number three. Three, three, bo, bee.” She paused to take a sip of her drink. “The things they can do with that magic.” She shook her head.
“Like what?” I asked. My experience with the spices was limited, but I didn’t understand what would be so bad about them.
“The magic in them is so powerful because of the secret ingredient. That’s why you have to be careful to use just a little bit in the pies and make sure you’re focusing on the proper intention when you add them. I’ll explain it more to you one day. Maybe when I’m sober-er.” She clinked my glass with hers and began talking about highly inappropriate things again before I could ask her what the secret ingredient was.
Flora, Lena, and Mr. Barnes, more affectionately known as the Morning Pie Crew, rushed in the minute there was a lull. Flora’s bookshop was kitty corner from the pie shop, and I sometimes wondered how much of her day was spent peering in our windows. She always seemed to have a pretty good handle on what was happening in the pie shop.
Lena’s white hair was piled on top of her head in its usual bun, but her ever-smiling face was creased with worry. Flora’s big brown eyes scanned us up and down as though searching for injuries. Mr. Barnes was wearing his usual matching fedora and vest. He put his hands on my and Aunt Erma’s shoulders. I immediately felt some of my anxiety slip away. Mr. Barnes was a yoga teacher, and he specialized in calming magic.
“Are you okay? Are you okay? Are you okay?” Their voices filled the shop as they anxiously turned from Aunt Erma to me and back again.
“Yes, we’re fine.” Aunt Erma waved them away and started pulling plates out so she could serve them pie.
“How did you guys even know that Brenda was here?” I asked.
“Violet called me to ask if I’d seen anything,” Flora explained, fiddling with the sparkly white flower pin on her sweater. “I didn’t. I can’t believe I wasn’t watching.”
“Sit, and we’ll have our pie,” Aunt Erma demanded. I could tell some of her confidence was an act by the way she aggressively cut into the pies and scooped them out onto their plates. She didn’t like to be vulnerable.
I carefully took the plates from her and set them on the table.
“How’s everyone doing today?” I asked, giving them each a meaningful look.
They took the hint and struck up a conversation about today’s Ask Elodie, an advice column in the local paper. Today’s column was about a husband who was going to miss the birth of his first child.
I was one of two people in town who knew that Henry was actually Elodie. He liked to keep that secret because he didn’t want people hounding him when they didn’t agree with his advice. Plus, I think the mystery made people more intrigued by the column.
Flora couldn’t help herself for long though.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I heard her quietly ask Aunt Erma while Mr. Barnes and Lena argued about what constituted a good excuse for missing the birth of your child.
“We’ll get the spices back and everything will be fine,” Aunt Erma said.
She’d no sooner gotten the words out when Violet rushed in, her usually slicked-down hair now stuck out in a messy halo around her head.
“Come with me. It’s already happening,” she said urgently.
Aunt Erma jumped up and the rest of us followed suit.
“Since you all already know about Brenda and the stolen spices, you might as well make yourselves useful,” Violet said, a hint of her sternness returning. She turned to Flora. “Can we use your basement?”
The bookstore had a basement? I’d been there several times, but I’d only seen stairs going up to Flora’s apartment. Never a set going down.
“Of course,” Flora said. We left our half-eaten slices of pie and filed out the door. I reached back in to hang the “Back in ten minutes” sign before locking up.
Like soldiers getting ready for battle, we marched across the street to Flora’s. She led us to a small door in the back of