“That’s it! One, two, three, four. Feel the music! Let it fill your souls!”

Izzy and I stepped inside to see Roxie pounding the floor with her staff as girls in tutus and boys in shorts and white T-shirts, no older than the age of four, struggled to stay on beat.

The red wood dance hall had once been the stables for the historic inn next door. The floors had been leveled and refinished, and large windows had been put in to run the length of the building. To top it all off, literally, the peaked roof had a weather vane, but instead of a rooster or horse, a ballerina twirled prettily in the wind.

Despite the wide-open space of the hall, Roxie’s larger-than-life presence managed to fill every square inch. The walls were lined with glamorous black-and-white photos of her from her professional dancing days, but it was hard to focus on any of them when Roxie was in the room, given she was usually dressed in brightly colored flowing skirts and sparkling Nehru-style jackets. And it wasn’t just the loudness of her style that demanded attention, it was her personality. Her booming laugh could bring any space to life.

“Shoot,” Izzy whispered, lifting one side of the basket I was holding. “I just realized I forgot to bring the squares.”

“What squares?”

“The black currant walnut squares.”

I frowned. “The black currant walnut squares that make people—” I made a small gesture with my hand that was supposed to mimic a yapping mouth.

She nodded.

And here I had thought Izzy had been baking frantically into the wee hours of the morning because she was upset. It turned out my aunt had been far more calculating.

Izzy’s black currant walnut squares were sticky and delicious, and when she baked them just right, they also had the remarkable ability to encourage even the most laconic of samplers into prattling on. It was exactly the type of spell Izzy excelled at. While it did certainly have an effect on people’s moods, when used with the right intentions, it stayed firmly in the realm of white magic, even if the taste was wickedly good.

“Somehow I don’t think we’ll need them with Roxie,” I said with a smile. “Here, let’s get out of the way. They’re finishing up.”

“Wonderful work, children! Simply marvelous! I will see you all next week. And remember, if no one’s told you lately”—Roxie paused, letting the silence fill the room—“you’re all stars!”

Izzy and I exchanged smiles. That had been Roxie’s tagline for as long as anyone could remember.

As parents and children milled about trying to find one another, Izzy and I made our way over to Roxie, who was speaking to a tiny girl with big round glasses. “We’re all done, Millie. You were a goddess in a tutu today.”

“Thank you, Miss Roxie.”

“You run along and be sure to tell your mother you’re my favorite.”

“I thought I was your favorite, Miss Roxie,” a little boy shouted as he raced circles around the hall.