Chapter 2
Brown the Butter
Recipe Tip: Watch it closely. It turns from gold to burnt in seconds.
Wednesday morning arrived with rain.
Not a proper Vermont rain, the kind that swept in dramatically and soaked everything before breakfast.
This was the irritating kind.
Thin.
Cold.
Persistent.
The sort of rain that seemed personally offended by the existence of dry sidewalks.
Tessa stood beneath the awning of Second Rise Bakery, holding a cardboard carrier with one banana bread inside it.
She checked the label.
GARRICK THORNE — MILLPOND ROAD
Then she checked the time.
9:17.
"You can still change your mind," Dani said behind her.
Tessa turned.
Dani stood in the doorway holding a mug.
"I thought you weren't coming."
"I said I wasn't going to encourage you."
"There's a difference?"
"Obviously."
Tessa looked toward the road.
"I said I'd do it."
"Yes."
"And I'm doing it."
"Yes."
"So stop looking at me like I'm walking into a bear trap."
Dani took a sip.
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm looking at you like you're delivering homemade baked goods to the man who publicly humiliated you."
"That's very specific."
"Because the situation is very specific."
Tessa sighed.
She adjusted the carrier against her hip.
"It'll take five minutes."
"Famous last words."
"You said that Monday."
"And they were true Monday."
Tessa smiled despite herself.
"Watch the bakery."
"I always watch the bakery."
"Don't let Pretzel eat the display."
"He's not going to eat the display."
"He ate a ribbon yesterday."
"He has sophisticated tastes."
Tessa glanced through the window.
Pretzel was nowhere to be seen.
"Where is he?"
Dani shrugged.
"Probably plotting."
"That's comforting."
Tessa stepped off the curb.
The rain tapped against the cardboard carrier.
Millpond Road was only a few minutes away.
She told herself this was ridiculous.
It was banana bread.
Not a peace treaty.
Not a marriage proposal.
Not a confession.
Just bread.
Still, her stomach tightened as she approached the forge.
Garrick Thorne's workshop looked exactly like something that had been built before electricity and stubbornly refused to modernize.
Dark timber.
Stone chimney.
Blackened windows.
A weathered sign above the door:
THORNE FORGE — KNIVES WORTH WAITING FOR
Tessa stopped at the edge of the porch.
From inside came the rhythmic sound of hammering.
CLANG.
Pause.
CLANG.
Pause.
CLANG.
She glanced at the pass-through box.
There it was.
Small.
Wooden.
Mounted beside the door.
She opened it.
Empty.
Good.
She placed the loaf inside.
For one absurd moment, she considered knocking anyway.
Then she remembered Desmond's words.
He doesn't answer the door.
Tessa closed the box.
"Done."
She turned.
CLANG.
The hammer struck again.
She looked back at the forge.
Something about the sound made her hesitate.
Perhaps Garrick knew she was there.
Perhaps he was choosing not to answer.
That would be very Garrick.
Tessa walked away.
She didn't see the shadow move behind the workshop window.
At 9:43, Tessa returned to Second Rise Bakery.
She pushed through the front door.
"Back."
No answer.
"Dani?"
Nothing.
Tessa set her umbrella down.
She removed her coat.
Then she looked toward the corner.
The delivery tote was empty.
Tessa frowned.
"That's odd."
She checked beneath the counter.
Nothing.
Behind the flour sacks.
Nothing.
Under the café table.
Nothing.
"Please don't make me do this today."
A gray paw emerged from behind the pastry display.
Tessa froze.
Then the paw disappeared.
"Very funny."
She crouched.
"Come out."
Silence.
"Come on, Pretzel."
Nothing.
She stood.
Dani appeared from the back room carrying a tray.
"What?"
"Where's Pretzel?"
Dani looked around.
"I thought he was with you."
Tessa's stomach dropped.
She stared at the empty delivery tote.
"No."
Dani frowned.
"What?"
"He was in here."
"Are you sure?"
"I saw him."
"When?"
"Monday."
Dani stared.
"That's two days ago."
Tessa's eyes widened.
"Oh."
Dani set the tray down.
"You didn't check the tote yesterday?"
"No."
"Or this morning?"
"I assumed he was in the shop."
Dani slowly leaned against the counter.
"Tessa."
"What?"
"Did you take the tote to Garrick's?"
Tessa stopped breathing.
For three full seconds, neither woman spoke.
Then Tessa grabbed her coat.
"Don't panic."
"I'm not panicking."
"You are absolutely panicking."
"I'm going back."
"To the forge?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because if he's there—"
"You mean Pretzel."
"Yes."
Dani grabbed her arm.
"Call someone."
"Who?"
"The police?"
"For a missing cat?"
"For a missing cat who may have been at a murderer's forge."
Tessa stared at her.
"What?"
Dani's face changed.
"Nothing."
Tessa pulled free.
"Garrick is fine."
"How do you know?"
"I heard him hammering."
"When?"
"At nine-thirty."
"And now?"
Tessa looked at the clock.
1:07 p.m.
Her stomach tightened.
"I don't know."
She was out the door before Dani could answer.
The rain had stopped.
The road was slick beneath Tessa's boots.
She drove too quickly.
Then slowed down.
Then sped up again.
She hated herself for worrying.
Pretzel was probably somewhere stupid.
Under a porch.
In someone's garage.
Inside a truck.
He was a cat.
A huge, stubborn, criminal cat.
He couldn't possibly have followed her all the way to Garrick's.
Could he?
At 1:15, Tessa parked outside the forge.
The first thing she noticed was the silence.
No hammering.
No furnace roar.
No scrape of metal.
Nothing.
She got out.
"Garrick?"
No answer.
She approached the porch.
The pass-through box stood open.
Her heart began to beat faster.
She reached for the door.
It was unlocked.
"Garrick?"
Still nothing.
Tessa pushed it open.
Heat rolled over her.
The forge was dim.
Tools covered every surface.
Blades hung from racks.
Metal glinted in the low light.
The air smelled of coal, steel, oil—
and something sweet.
Tessa took one step inside.
Then another.
"Garrick?"
She saw his boots first.
One was angled strangely beneath the anvil.
Then his legs.
His apron.
His arm.
Garrick Thorne was slumped against the side of his anvil.
His head had fallen forward.
His hand rested near the floor.
Tessa stopped.
Her mind refused to understand what her eyes were seeing.
"Garrick?"
She took another step.
No movement.
No answer.
She looked for his chest rising.
Nothing.
"Oh God."
Her hand went to her mouth.
She backed away.
Her shoulder struck a wooden shelf.
Something rattled.
She didn't notice.
Her gaze had fixed on the floor beside him.
There was the loaf.
Her loaf.
The parchment had been torn open.
Half of it was gone.
A butter knife lay beside the remaining piece.
And beneath the anvil—
Pretzel sat.
Calmly.
His gray tail wrapped neatly around his paws.
Tessa stared at him.
Pretzel looked up.
"Mrrp."
"Oh, thank God."
She dropped to her knees.
Pretzel stood and rubbed against her.
Tessa grabbed him.
"You horrible, horrible creature."
He purred.
"You followed me."
Purrrrr.
"You were in the tote."
Pretzel looked toward Garrick.
Then back at Tessa.
She followed his gaze.
Her relief vanished.
"Garrick."
Her voice came out tiny.
She crawled closer.
She didn't touch him.
She didn't know what to do.
Her grandmother had once told her that panic was what happened when your brain ran faster than your hands.
So Tessa forced herself to breathe.
One.
Two.
Three.
She looked around the forge.
No blood.
No obvious wound.
No overturned furniture.
Just Garrick.
The anvil.
The bread.
The cat.
And dozens of knives.
Her eyes landed on the loaf again.
Something was wrong.
She didn't know what.
She moved closer.
The smell reached her.
She inhaled.
Then frowned.
Maple.
Orange.
Something warm and citrusy.
Tessa leaned toward the loaf.
Her heart gave a strange little kick.
No.
She smelled it again.
Maple.
Orange.
A faint buttery sweetness.
But no cardamom.
Her brow furrowed.
That was impossible.
She had made the loaf herself.
She knew the recipe.
Brown butter.
Black bananas.
Cardamom.
Pepitas.
Always cardamom.
Always.
She stared at the half-eaten loaf.
"That's not mine."
The words barely made it past her lips.
Pretzel sat beside her.
Tessa shook her head.
"No."
She looked again.
Maybe she was wrong.
Maybe grief had scrambled her senses.
Maybe fear was doing strange things to her memory.
Maybe this was what shock felt like.
She swallowed.
"You're in shock."
She said it aloud because hearing the words made them sound more convincing.
"That's all."
Pretzel blinked.
Tessa hugged herself.
"You've had a terrible morning."
The forge seemed suddenly enormous.
The knives hanging on the walls looked sharper than they had a moment before.
She looked at Garrick again.
Then at the bread.
Then at Pretzel.
Somewhere outside, a truck passed on Millpond Road.
Tessa flinched.
Her hand went to her phone.
She needed to call someone.
The police.
An ambulance.
Anyone.
But before she could unlock the screen, Pretzel stood.
His ears lifted.
He stared toward the rear of the forge.
Then he walked slowly in that direction.
Tessa followed his gaze.
"What did you hear?"
Pretzel stopped.
For the first time since she'd entered the forge, he looked frightened.
His fur rose along his back.
Tessa tightened her grip on the phone.
And suddenly, the sweetness in the air didn't smell like banana bread anymore.
It smelled like a warning.