“I’ll run you out to the cave when the time comes,” Zed said. “Fetch supplies. Check up on you every once in a while to make sure you don’t need anything.”

“It sounds like you’ve thought this through, which I appreciate. Any other questions?”

“I’ve been having really vivid nightmares,” Jillian told her. “A lot of them involve me giving birth to a Jersey Devil-type creature, who then disappears into the treasure cave and steals all of Bael’s fancy Egyptian art.”

Charlotte patted her hand. “Well, from what I understand you have been dealing with some pretty high stress levels lately, like above average, potential apocalyptical consequences. I think you’re just processing everything now that you know the situation is settled.”

“That could be true,” Jillian conceded.

“But if you start thinking that you’re dreaming something prophetic, let me know,” Charlotte insisted. “It’s a magique world, stranger things have happened.”

That afternoon, Charlotte walked to the pie shop perfectly happy with her move to Mystic Bayou. Everybody seemed so hopeful here, ready for the future, when the outside world seemed so afraid of it. It was enough to make her consider staying here long-term, just so she could be a part of that.

She walked into Bathtilda’s Sweet Shoppe, an ancient wood structure with a pressed tin roof and walls painted white and emerald green. Mismatched cake stands were arranged along the long, polished counter, with Siobhan’s pie creations on display through the glass domes. Chocolate-rhubarb, the strangely mouth-watering house specialty, had a special place on the back, near a mirror veined with gold. The seventies style looking glass was a bit out of place in the classic diner arrangement, with the weathered green vinyl booths and black-and-white tile floor, but overall, it was welcoming and comfortable.

Charlotte scanned the shop. She could only assume the tall, stately woman with the high cheekbones and gold clips in her iron gray hair was Bathtilda. Jillian had told her that Bathtilda was one of the few Boone relatives who was “neutral” in terms of speaking to Bael. While Bathtilda didn’t attend the wedding, she also didn’t do anything to prevent the ceremony–which was more than could be said for some of Bael’s uncles–and she’d closed the shop so Siobhan could cover the pie catering. Bathtilda stood at the register, filling out forms. She had a lot of business acumen, Jillian told her, but no real baking skill. She was smart enough to let Siobhan run the kitchen, while she stuck to paperwork and ordering supplies.

And apparently, it worked, if the crowded shop was any indication. Every seat was filled with people blissfully digging into chocolate rhubarb, lemon meringue, apple crumble and more. Every seat, that was, except for the one across from Leonard O’Donnell.