Purple Pop's Arc

Chapter 10 of 16

The morning after her samples vanished, Purple Pop knew she could not guard her recipes and bake enough at the same time. She carried her lavender and plum book outside and set it inside a small lilac-wood cubby with a brass lock. A white mouse in a ribbon climbed onto a patterned pad beside the door. He sat up straight, whiskers twitching, eyes sharp on the path. Next, Purple Pop walked to a plum-colored cook house ringed with lilacs. A retired witch in candy-bright robes waited by the ripe plum tree at the door. Her name was Rosalind Sweetbriar, and she had baked in this town long before the banks ever existed. "I kept a shop here for twenty-two years," Rosalind said. "They closed it in a single afternoon. I have not forgotten." Purple Pop set one recipe on the outdoor table between them. Caramels. Her grandmother's first. She read each step aloud, then watched Rosalind copy it in a careful hand. They stirred the pot together under the plum tree. The first tin cooled by noon, glossy and perfect. Rosalind tasted one square. Her face went very still. "This is hers," she said quietly. "I remember the year. I will make these for you. But understand — I am not your helper. I am your partner." Purple Pop nodded and shook her hand. The book was locked. The mouse was watching. An apprentice was working. But as she walked home, she counted the day's new orders against two kitchens instead of one — and realized partnership came with a price she had not yet named.