Cozy Mystery: Cake Spell Disaster (A Haven Witch Woman Sleuths Book) COMPLETED

PROLOGUE

"Mom, do you think this frosting is too green?"

Amelia Redfern turned and looked with a discerning eye at the cupcake I held in my hand. I hadn't noticed until now that the frosting was almost as green as my mother's eyes. My own eyes took after my father's, more of a seafoam than the color of clovers.

"That's not green, it's blue," she said.

I looked at the frosting again and wondered if my mother was as blind as she was daffy.

"Mom, it looks like I pureed seaweed with buttercream."

She looked at it again, adjusting the silver frames on her nose. "Oh, yes. You're right."

My father had always said my mother was a walking contradiction—she was dotty even when she was my age, yet she possessed the palette of a genius.

It had been six years since my father's death. Now, at twenty-three years old, I could still envision my father walking through the door of my mother's shop, Cakes and Creations. He was prone to delivering my mother surprise bouquets of handpicked wildflowers. Heavenly Haven was an island full of wildflowers. It was unfortunate that the last bouquet he'd given her had turned out to be Snapperdragons instead of Snapdragons. They had bitten my mother's nose in two places when she'd leaned in to inhale their scent. Sometimes, he was as dotty as she was.

At least his death had brought about the witch-wide reform of the Motorcoach 1800. Those brooms had always had problems when traveling long distances. To this day, I refused to get on one, preferring the human method of transportation—automobiles. As I'd told my mother and brothers a million times, cars did not crash into chimney tops when a strong gust of wind pushed you the wrong way.

"It's perfect," Amelia said. "St. Patrick's Day is coming up. You know how the humans love to celebrate. Especially the ones in Mistmoor Point."

"Mom," I said, but she didn't even hear me. She was on a tangent about Mistmoor now, and on a tangent she would remain.

"I suspect they have little else to do here. The humans, that is. It's such a small island and an even smaller town. At least Sweetland Cove has that gem shop now. What do we have?"

"St. Patrick's isn't for another month," I replied. A stray strand of red hair fell across my eyes, and I pushed it away.

"Felicity, I will never understand why you ask me something if you aren't going to listen to what I say." I suspected she was hiding the fact that she had probably thought it was already March. She wasn't very good with dates. Somehow, though, she never missed a deadline on a cake.

My mother wiped her hands on her apron and peered into the bowl of green frosting on the counter. She ran her finger along its edge, gathering the frosting on her fingertip. She sniffed it before placing a tiny dot on the tip of her tongue and letting it melt there. Her silver-streaked auburn hair shined under the bakery's lights, softening any lines on her face and making her look forty instead of fifty-five.

"Essence of love and peace?!" she gasped as my frosting dissolved on her tongue.

The corners of my mouth curved up. My mother had the best palette of anyone on the island, including my mother's ex-partner, Edith Woodruff, who owned Creams, Cakes, and Creations. It was my ultimate mission to trick my mother's taste buds into guessing the wrong mood extracts that every item in our bakery was infused with. I had yet to stump her.

I nodded. My mother rolled her eyes and went back to decorating the top layer of the mayor's anniversary cake. His party was in two days and there was still a lot to do.