Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
I frowned—what did he mean by that? I was about to ask when another customer came up, asking for directions to find the “dessert hay” whatever that was.
I nodded my thanks at the friendly old ghost and made my way to the front register, where a bored-looking fairy with translucent wings rang up my purchases. Her scanner beeped in several different tones, depending on whether she was scanning something magical or mundane.
I paid with three of my six coins and walked out with three left, a bag of groceries in hand, and my mind spinning.
The Wishing Tree.
Could it really give me what I needed?
As I walked back toward the cottage, leaves swirling around my boots and the tang of applewood smoke in the air, I couldn’t help whispering to myself:
Wish I may, wish I might…
But I didn’t finish the rhyme. Not yet.
Tomorrow night, I might just give it a try, though.
24
DANNI
After my shopping expedition, I wandered through Hidden Hollow, the sharp scent of wood smoke in the air and leaves crunching underfoot. My boots made soft scuffing noises as I ambled along the cobblestone sidewalks, gold and crimson leaves drifting down around me like confetti.
I just couldn’t get enough of my new town. The sky overhead was a deep, impossible blue and the breeze was brisk enough to sting my cheeks, but not so cold it chased me indoors. It felt like the whole place was caught in a perpetual October—everywhere I looked, pumpkins grinned from porches, wreaths of acorns and cinnamon sticks decorated doors, and the faint sound of wind chimes mixed with birdsong and the occasional tinkle of enchanted laughter.
This place feels like a fairy tale, I thought, breathing in the sweet scent of roasting cinnamon nuts from a nearby cart.
I had a few gold coins jingling in my pocket, and my stomach gave a hopeful little rumble.
Well, I’ve still got time before lunch, I told myself. And what would tuna salad be without a buttery croissant to go with it?
So I turned toward The Lost Lamb bakery, following my nose.
The warm, sweet scent of fresh pastries wrapped around me as I opened the door, the soft tinkling of a bell overhead heralding my entrance. Inside, a couple of witches in floating shawls were sipping cider and giggling over pumpkin shaped hand pies. Behind the counter, Celia gave me a cheery wave.
“Hey, good to see you again, Danni! You look like you’re settling in.”
“I’m trying,” I said, smiling back. “It’s a lot different from back home, but I like it.”
“Hidden Hollow will feel like home to you before you know it,” she promised. “Now, what can I get you?”
I ordered a croissant—the big, flaky kind that melted on your tongue and left buttery fingerprints on your napkin. Celia wrapped it carefully in parchment and handed it over with a wink.
“Good choice,” she said. “That batch just came out of the oven. Hey, don’t forget our meeting on All Hallows Eve to restore the town’s magic bubble!”
“I’ll be there,” I promised as I left the warm bakery.
I strolled back down Main Street, enjoying the crisp weather and immaculate Autumn vibes. It was a glorious day but finally, I turned back toward my cozy little cottage.
As I stepped inside, I was wrapped instantly in the familiar, comforting warmth of home. The fire in the hearth crackled invitingly. The little side table by the couch had been set with a plate and silverware and a tall glass of water with lemon. I laughed softly to myself.
Guess the cottage knows it’s lunchtime.
In the kitchen, I set my croissant beside the rest of the ingredients and whipped up a quick tuna salad. The mayonnaise was perfectly chilled, the tuna flaky and mild, and there was even a little sprinkle of chopped celery waiting in a bowl. Had the cottage diced celery for me like Grandma used to? She always got it so fine—tiny little pieces just the way I liked them. Okay, that was a little spooky, but also amazing.
I ate on the couch in front of the fire, the buttery croissant the perfect compliment to the savory tuna. The flames popped and hissed, and I sighed in contentment, curling my toes in my warm, wooly socks.
When I was done, the plate disappeared—just vanished, like the cottage was doing the dishes for me. I was momentarily surprised…but then I decided to just go with it. After all, who was I to complain about not washing dishes?
When I looked back, I saw that a stack of books had appeared on the coffee table. I reached for them and my breath caught in my throat. Harriet the Spy. The Wolves of Willoughby Chase. Dragondrums.
Books I’d read again and again as a little girl—three of my childhood favorites that I hadn’t thought of in years.
Oh, Grandma, thank you! I thought, running my finger over the cracked spine of The Wolves of Willoughby Chase.