Shortbread and Shadows - Amy Lane Page 0,65
Not exactly dining room chatter, but Lachlan’s father was eating it up with a fork.
“He seems pretty relaxed,” Kristen said.
“That’s because Dad got him started in his wheelhouse,” Lachlan said. “And that’s where we want him. Comfortable.” He gave his sister a gimlet-eyed glare. “Com. Fort. Able.”
“Fine.” Erin pouted. “Can we at least see the cookies?”
“You are twenty-seven years old,” Kristen admonished. “Do you think you can wai—ooh.”
Oh, Tolly had outdone himself this time. The cookies were perfect, golden brown with just a tint of yellow revealing the lemon within. He had a fair hand with icing, and each one was individually decorated. The witch’s hats were covered in stars and sparkles, the black cats had different expressions, and the stars were individually spectacular.
“He’s good,” Lachlan murmured. “Wait until you taste them. His shortbread could make you cry.” And not a word—not a word—about how his bespelled baked goods could make people chase after him like teenaged girls after a pop star.
“I think we’ll have to test that,” Kristen said slyly. “One cookie, but only one.” She chose a star, decorated in purple, orange, and blue, with gold sugar spangles. “Oh, it is really almost too pretty to eat.” She took a bite and handed the rest to Erin, closing her eyes ecstatically. “Almost. Oh my God—Lachlan, this is seriously heaven. Keep him. I don’t care if he’s a serial killer. Keep. Him.”
“Mm….” Erin took her own bite, and some of the frantic energy that radiated from her at the best of times eased up. The crackling, vibrating field that had driven Lachlan crazy from the moment his little sister was born suddenly faded in a palpable, almost supernatural way.
“This is… oh wow. This is like… mm. Like wine after a really long day,” Erin said. “Except it tastes like rainbows and first kisses.”
“It’s like having your feet rubbed,” his mother said, and Erin giggled.
“But not having your feet kissed.”
Kristen giggled. “Oh, speak for yourself. My feet are waxed, sanded, polished, and loved. They deserve a good kissing!”
Both women broke into a gasp of giddy laughter, and Erin held out the last bite of cookie for Lachlan to take.
“No, thanks,” he said weakly. “I, uh, have to go talk to Tolly.”
He didn’t realize his mother and sister had come with him until he got across the room. “Tolly—Tolly—dude! What did you put in the cookies?”
The whole family gasped, and Bartholomew looked puzzled and horrified.
“Butter, flour, sugar—”
Lachlan let out a sigh. “No, baby. I know you didn’t put anything in them. What did you think when you were making them?”
“He was thinking ‘I want to make Lachlan’s mother the happiest woman on earth,’” his mother said.
“And that his baby sister was the best sister on the planet,” Erin added. “Because he’s the best person you’ve brought home, hands down.”
His father turned from slicing the roast, eyebrows raised. “Are you sure it wasn’t pharmaceutical?” he asked. “And if so, may I have some?”
“No!” Bartholomew objected. “I wouldn’t do that. It’s an abomination!”
Lachlan’s mother snorted inelegantly. “Wasn’t when I was in high school, but whatever.”
Charlie Stephens raised his eyebrows at his wife, a bemused smile on his face. “Thirty-five years and that’s the first time I got her to admit she was a wild child in high school. Bartholomew, you and your magic cookies are a treasure!”
“But… but… I didn’t do anything,” Bartholomew sputtered. “I swear!”
Kristen Stephens gave a deep, sated sigh. “No, no, you didn’t,” she said, as though she’d awakened from a lovely nap. “This isn’t pharmaceutical—you can feel that. This is something much… much better.”
“It’s like… like all of the stuff in my head—it stopped moving for a blissful moment.” Erin had been diagnosed with ADHD as a kid, and Lachlan knew that even when she stopped taking medication, the condition didn’t just go away. “But not in my brain, in my heart.”
Mom smiled at Bartholomew again, stroking his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Don’t look so worried, sweetheart. It’s not a bad thing. I… I can feel it fading already. No hangover. No regrets. It’s like… like I had a really good day, that’s all.”
Bartholomew’s lower lip had been about to wobble, and Lachlan felt like shit. He’d been the one supposed to protect Tolly. “We know you wouldn’t do anything mean-spirited,” he said, practically booty-bumping his mother out of the way so he could wrap his arm around Bartholomew’s shoulders. “But… Tolly. What did you do?”
“I… I wanted the cookies to make