Dani laughed, though tears sprang to her eyes. “Yeah, I was missing her. I always do. It’s probably a sense-memory thing with the cinnamon and nutmeg. Gramma sort of set me up to mourn her every Thanksgiving for the rest of my life.”

Earl cleared his throat. “You know, my son Ash is still single. If you can bake like that…”

“Don’t try to bust up a good thing with her and Zed,” Siobhan told him. “If Ash is meant to find somebody around here, he will.”

“That and even with Ash’s phoenix fire, Zed would squash him like a bug,” Jeb Cho told him.

“My boy is no lightweight!” Earl boomed.

“What would you have done to somebody who got between you and your mate?” Karl shot back.

Earl winced. “Never mind, honey, stay away from my son. He needs all his teeth.”

Eating a bit more of the crumble, Siobhan took a long drink from her glass of milk and Dani tried not to visibly shudder. Siobhan stood a bit straighter. Her wrinkles smoothed out ever so slightly, her cheeks blooming pink and bright. Her hair unfrizzed and fell around her face in smoother, gray waves. Her dark blue eyes actually twinkled. She grasped Dani’s free hand and pulled her closer to the counter, looking deep in her eyes.

“Thank you for offering me this gift from your table. From now on, you are blessed. Your kitchen will be a place of strength and joy in your house. Your food will never rot. Your larder will always be full. Any bread you make will be light as a feather, fluffy as a cloud.”

Dani almost objected to the silliness of Siobhan’s statement—a loaf of her bread was once used as a door stopper for Grandad’s barn—but a warm, pleasant sensation blossomed in her chest and she knew that Siobhan had just laid down some serious fairy mojo.

“Thank you, Siobhan.”

“Of course, I have some thoughts about you using a little orange zest,” Siobhan said, scooping another bite on her fork.

Dani moved the dish back across the counter toward her. “I will take it back.”

Siobhan grabbed at the dish, quick as a snake, dragging it towards her. “It’s perfect!”

“Damn straight,” Dani told her.

Siobhan smirked at her and whipped an index card from her apron pocket. “I’m going to give you my blueberry pie recipe. It’s your Zed’s favorite.”

Given the gasps of the regulars, Dani deduced that this was a considerable gesture from the cranky little brownie. Dani wasn’t sure if she was ready to try baking one of Siobhan’s recipes. Her own pie crusts were adequate, but they were nothing compared to the light, flaky miracles that Siobhan created. However, knowing how her Gramma would have reacted if someone had turned down an offered recipe, she simply said, “Thank you, ma’am.”