Henry drifts into the antique shop at #6 Baines Street carrying a stack of bakery boxes at quarter to twelve. He nods at Kika when she raises her notebook that reads “Welcome back. Right on time.” Tilting her head, she waves a hand in front of his face, but his gaze is well beyond her perfect pink manicure. She claps her hands together once with a startling sound, and he slowly brings his attention to her face. “Good morning, Miss Kika,” he says, dazed.

She raises an eyebrow and motions for the boxes.

“Oh, oh, I can carry them—where to?” he says, returning more to his usual Merlosian helpfulness.

She takes the top one and tips her head toward the hallway. He falls into step behind her as they pass the parlor where he’d met Madam Tuor the evening before and down another windowless passage where she turns toward the glow of sunlight from a doorway out of sight. Backing through it after she pushes it open with her hip, she leads him into a courtyard surrounded by balconies. He stares up at the rectangle of sky above and counts five floors. Does this place have that many floors? His thoughts are interrupted by a delighted “Oh!” as Kika takes his boxes and sets them on the table next to the one she’d carried in.

“Right on time, Mr. Merlo!” Tuor calls from a floor above. “Please make yourself comfortable, and I’ll be down in a few.”

“A few whips of a tail,” Henry mumbles, then louder, “I don’t want to interrupt your lunch. You’re having guests, right?”

“Yes, and you are one of them. I’ll be right down!”

Kika’s notebook reads, “Have a seat. I’ll bring some coffee.”

“I thought I was just making a delivery?” he asks.

Her eyebrow lifts over her oversized sunglasses again. The notebook page says, “There’s never ‘just’ with Madame.”

“Hmm.”

She flips the book again. “Do you eat sandwiches?”

“Yes, I like them a lot—any kind. Well—wait, I only know about the kinds humans make? Are there Obscure kinds of sandwiches?”

Kika’s shoulders shake as she silently chuckles at him. Her notebook page reads, “Only boring flavors. Got it.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t be willing to try, just that I maybe don’t like all kinds of sandwiches now that I know there might be sandwiches I’ve never imagined,” he protests.

She strokes her chin with her long fingers and nods. Within seconds she’s dissolved into a plume of golden shimmery smoke moving toward a different door on the opposite side of the courtyard, leaving Henry to plop back onto a marble bench looped around a tree he couldn’t name even if he had been paying attention to his surroundings. Before he thinks to, there’s a rustle of silks, and Madame Tour strides in through a pair of glass doors in layers of black and silver.

“So glad you returned, Henry, my dear!” she greets him warmly. The young man automatically stands, and she leans up, taking his shoulders in hand. He quickly catches up to her air kisses on the second round. She pinches his cheek and coos, “Such a lamb. Mr. Smith did not come knocking on my door last night. I knew I could count on you. So, tell me all about that. Come sit.” She guides him to a few lounge chairs under a canopy of lanterns he bet looked amazing at night.

“Well, yes, I got him to read your note. And he stayed, and we talked about … about what happened to me. And he told me about himself. But I have so many new questions, not even about last night…” he started.

She smiles, settling into the brocade cushions of her rattan lounger and sweeping her feet up to tuck behind her. “Good, good, good! And yes, sweet boy, go at your pace in the order you wish. I am all ears and information at your disposal.”

“Miss Kika turned into smoke. Twice!”

Tuor nods.

He stares, unblinking.

“Oh, that was a question!” She laughs and thinks. “Let’s wait for her to return to talk about her.”

He nods, “Right, of course. It would be rude. She disappeared before I could ask her. I should just ask her; that’s only polite. Mr. Akerregi… he’s not human, is he? He can’t be.”

She smiles. “What makes you think that?”

“He’s too… he’s too…” Henry’s face flushes three shades of pink before settling on bold red.

“He’s an excellent baker,” she offers.

“Yes. The ganache…”

Tuor’s slight wiggle and look of longing toward the boxes on the table goes unnoticed by Henry, who is lost in thought.

“He’s also very personable. Can talk to anyone,” she suggests, “Well versed in history and has traveled extensively, much more recently than myself. A lovely man.”

“Lovely, yes,” Henry nods and then freezes. “Charming,” he says, then asks, “Ma’am?”

“Yes?” she brings her eyes back to him for the second time.

“Is ‘bewitching’ a thing that can happen?” his voice is low, and he’s looking farther off in the distance than the surrounding space allows.

“Do you think Mr. Akerregi bewitched you, Henry?” she asks, her tone even, not giving him any hints.

He looks at his hands and picks at his thumbnail. “I don’t know? Probably not. I mean, why would he even need to?”

“I’m the one who speaks in riddles, love. Precision and confidence suit you much better.”

“I’m not confident ever,” he nearly whines. “And that’s just it. I confidently asked if I could pick his brains about baking. I initiated a handshake as if that is a normal thing that I do. I do not. I think about it. But that’s completely different than acting on my thoughts.”

“I see,” she says, a slight frown on her lips. They are a deep mulberry today, much darker than yesterday’s burgundy suiting the holiday. She’s even wearing a spider pin.

He continues, “I felt strange in there. Is it the cafe? Can a place possess you and make you say things you didn’t mean to say out loud?”

Tuor’s eyes widen. “Sure. But there’s nothing like that in Melitown. Goats is not possessing you. Now. I suggested last night that you should not be afraid to ask for help, especially from experts. If anything, I bewitched you, to borrow your phrase.”

Henry shakes his head, “That’s not what I mean. You didn’t make me shamelessly act like someone I am not. A self-assured optimist who asks for things.” He’s chewing on his thumbnail now.

“Hush and put that paw down before you ruin your appetite and hurt Kika’s feelings.”

He blinks up at her and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“No apologies needed, but some self-assurance and optimism would be well received, Mr. Merlo. Did something bad happen as a result of your bold questions?”

“Well, no. He… he hired me?”

She sat up. “The cakes. What did you pick? What did he choose?”

“Gâteau du diable and cranberry shortcake were my choices.”

She leaned forward, nodding for him to continue.

“And he said he was sending a milk and honey cake.”

Tuor beams. “When do you start and leave that fiasco on Ramble?”

Lost trying to follow what seems like two separate trains of thought, he answers, “He told me to come by later with Avery. Said he’s the best-kept trick-or-treat spot secret and we could go over the details. I will give my notice at the coffee shop tomorrow, I guess.”

“Hmmm. Mention that notice business to Mr. Akerregi, please.” She says, making it apparent it was not a suggestion. “Yes?”

“Yes, ma’am.”