Chapter 15 Christmas Eve Eve
Aknock came at the door the next morning.
The sound sent Puffcake springing from his pillow, barking like a madman as powdered sugar fell from his wings. Eliza groaned sleepily, peeling herself away from the warmth of her slumber.
The other side of the bed was empty, and the door was wide open.
She smiled to herself as the memory of last night came flooding back to her in a tidal wave. She bit her bottom lip and followed behind Puffcake down the stairs to see what the matter was.
Gretel stood on the porch. She was bundled up in a candy-pink jumpsuit that shimmered in the morning light. Her hair was in two French plaits that trailed down opposite sides of her head, with little sprigs of holly woven throughout.
Eliza tried opening the door, but, of course, the peppermint door handle wouldn’t budge. It needed to be opened on its own terms. Eliza groaned again, although her heart sputtered at the thought of needing to find Lachlan to open it.
The fireplace crackled in response.
“Very funny,” she called out to the house. She motioned to Gretel to give her one minute before padding down the hallway to search for Lachlan. He hadn’t been in the kitchen and dining room, which meant …
The bathroom door was closed, and steam billowed in wisps from beneath it.
“Okay, will you at least leave us a little dignity, please?” She asked the cottage nicely. But the cottage groaned something that Eliza was almost certain sounded like a “No.”
Point taken.
She banged her knuckles on the door, “Um. Lachlan?”
“Yeah?” he called out over the noise of the running water.
“Gretel is here, and um, I can’t ...” she hesitated. “The door is doing the thing again.”
There was a beat. Then a chuckle as he shut the water off.
Seconds later, he emerged behind the door, and there he was, sopping wet with a towel slung low around his hips, his brunette hair clinging to his forehead. Steam curled around him like an inappropriate romance movie.
Definitely not in modest, Hallmark fashion.
Eliza’s cheeks lit on fire. Cursed house, she thought. It knew exactly what it was doing.
Lachlan smiled, completely unbothered by his lack of wardrobe. If he noticed how uncomfortable she was, he didn’t say so. “I didn’t think you’d be up before nine, Snow. Even on contest day.”
“Well, I wouldn’t have been,” she crossed her arms. “If it hadn’t been for our visitor and Puffcake huffing, puffing, and threatening to blow the cottage down.”
He barked a laugh, one of his rich ones that sounded like smooth butter. “Puffcake would make an excellent Big Bad Wolf, wouldn’t he?”
“Tell me about it,” she muttered, avoiding looking at his bare chest. “Now, could you please put on a shirt? Or at least dry off your body? You’re going to make the house all soggy.”
“Can’t have that,” he winked, closing the door.
By the time he emerged, this time in a t-shirt (thank Santa’s shiny boots), Gretel had already found her way inside.
“Oh, come off it!” Eliza gawked at the house. “Do you thrive off of making us squirm?”
Gretel stood in the kitchen, making herself at home by helping herself to a biscuit from underneath the cloche. She whipped one of her thick plaits enthusiastically behind her back, an eyebrow raised. “Did I do something?”
“What? Oh, no, sorry. I was talking to the house, not you.” Eliza explained. “It's been wreaking all sorts of havoc the past two days.”
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 a little happy 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. “But that does not mean 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 …
whatever it 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.