Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Our Christmas Cookbook - 15. Star-shaped Cookies
Star-shaped Cookies
Ruben took a step back and admired the festively decorated dining room scene he’d arranged in the window of his antique shop. The Christmas china had been a lucky find at a garage sale a couple of months ago. With the gleaming, silver stars scattered all over it, the design was perfect for what he’d wanted for this year’s holiday theme. Twelve dessert plates, cups and saucers, and only the spout of the milk jug was a little chipped. As icing on the cake—or to stay with the theme—star on the treetop, he’d placed his great-grandmother's silver bowl, which was engraved with stars of all sizes, at the center of the round oak table. People loved it when he arranged ‘rooms’. Sometimes when he was extremely lucky, they bought the whole setting, furniture, china, glasses, silverware, and even the ceiling lamp.
When the grandfather clock behind him chimed ‘ten’, he muttered, “Holy kale, ten already!” He quickly grabbed his messenger bag and coat, turned the sign on the door to closed, set the alarm, and locked up. Hurrying to his car, he calculated in his mind. There was no time to drive to the big store outside the city; it had to be Letitia’s. After all, he needed to bake his first batch of cookies tonight. He parked the car haphazardly in front of the small corner store. Storming through the brightly lit entrance, he called out to the woman sitting behind the cashier’s desk. “Hey Letitia--” only to stop mid-stride and inhale deeply. “Wow, what’s that heavenly smell?“
Letitia pulled a dented tin case from under the counter and held it out to him. ”Cookie?”
He eyed the shapeless, light brown clumps warily. “Er...Sure.” He took one and put it reluctantly between his lips. As soon as it touched his tongue, his eyes widened. “Oh my God, Aunt Letitia! These are perfect!” After chewing some more, he asked around a mouthful of cookie, “Can I have the recipe? I totally have to bake some of these for the shop.”
Smiling knowingly, Letitia fetched a plastic bag from the shelf behind her and placed it on the counter. “In here is the recipe and everything you need for several batches.”
Ruben raised his eyebrows.“How did you know?”
“You bake cookies for the shop every year at the start of the holiday season, exactly as Marge did when she owned ‘Nothing New’. But you always forget to buy ingredients.”
Ruben grinned sheepishly, “You know me too well.”
Later that night, Joel was watching Letitia’s house when a figure stepped onto the back deck and gazed into the darkened yard. Suddenly it shrank into itself, and seconds later a squirrel wriggled out of the pile of clothes, looked around before it ran across the lawn, then disappeared into the underbrush at the end of the yard. Grinning triumphantly, he whispered, “Gotcha!”
The squirrel ran along a willow’s branch. At its end, it hopped down and climbed a gravestone, engraved with silvery letters: Margaret Baker, beloved wife. After waiting a while, it began to groom its bushy tail. Then a thin trail of gray mist emerged from the grave and took the shape of a woman. The squirrel chattered excitedly as it watched the ghost woman put her hands on her hips, and hiss angrily, “You gave him the recipe! It’s too early for him to find his familiar.”
The squirrel leaped down from its perch and changed into a human. ”It’s not too early. I altered the recipe, to test it. He would have hated the cookie if he hadn’t been ready to meet his...them. I didn’t want him spending yet another Christmas alone because of your stupid mistake.”
Meanwhile, at home, Ruben looked proudly at the five cooling racks on his kitchen counters. “Perfect.” He was so glad Letitia had reminded him to use the cookie cutters he’d inherited from his grandmother. Humming a Christmas song, he picked a slightly crooked star to ‘test’ and closed down the house before he went to bed.
The next morning, Ruben entered the shop through the back door and disarmed the alarm before he set down his bags holding plastic containers filled to the brim with cookies. He flicked the coffee machine on. When the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the shop, he filled his great-grandmother's silver bowl with cookie stars and unlocked the front door.
Ruben was polishing some old silver spoons when he heard the little bell over the door announce a customer. A very unusual customer compared to his usual clientele of middle-aged, well-off tourists. In black boots, faded jeans, a dark t-shirt sporting some colorful lizards, and a long military-style leather coat, the guy looked more like a musician in search of other band members than someone looking for antique furniture or nicknacks. Ruben was almost disappointed the guy set a worn canvas rucksack on the floor instead of a scratched guitar case. When he bent down, Ruben spotted parts of a tattoo on the left side of his neck. Curious... It looked like the forked tongue of a snake. Then he realized he was staring, and finally found his voice. “Welcome to ‘Nothing New’. My name is Ruben. Are you looking for something in particular? A special gift perhaps?”
The man’s almond-shaped, amber eyes narrowed slightly at ‘particular’, and his tongue darted out curiously. He let his gaze sweep over Ruben’s body. Instantly his pulse began to race, making him wonder if the man could hear the wild thumping of his heart.
To break the strange spell, Ruben asked, “Do you want a cookie?”
The man immediately turned to the window and picked one of the largest stars, then bit off one of its rays and chewed gleefully. ”These are good.” Eying the sideboard where Ruben left his mug, the man smiled. ”They might taste even better with some coffee.”
Ruben shrugged. “I agree, but the owner of the Jolly Joe across the street made sure the traders association decided only their shop can serve coffee around here. I’m lucky they let me give out cookies during the holiday season.”
“What a shame.” The man wandered to a display case with antique hunting knives. “Beautiful.” Looking closer, he pointed at one that had a finely-chiseled handle. “Can you show me the second from the right?”
Ruben lifted the lid, took the knife out, and carefully handed it over. The man weighed it in his hand expertly before he flipped it over several times. “Perfectly balanced. Can you hold this for me, say...till tomorrow morning?”
“Of course.” In a spur of the moment decision, Ruben asked for the customer’s name.
“Joel Crotalus.” The man scribbled it on a post-it, and Ruben stuck it on the knife with the added remark ‘reserved’.
The next morning, Joel carefully carried two mugs bearing the logo of a coffee bean wearing a fool’s cap. “The owner of the Jolly Joe won’t have anything against drinking coffee with your cookies as long as I buy it there, right?” He passed one of the mugs over to Ruben. “Black with a dash of nutmeg. I asked the barista for your favorite.”
Ruben smiled and nodded affirmatively, while he watched a woman with a bright white strand in her black hair flutter through the shop, perusing his collection of rock crystals for what felt like hours.
Joel whispered into his ear.“She just let one of the crystals slip into her sleeve.”
Ruben frowned. “Do you mean she stole it?”
Joel gave a sharp nod. “Yes.” Without waiting for Ruben to take action, he walked over to the woman and grabbed her arm. “Excuse me, ma’am, I’m sure it was accidental, but a crystal just fell into your coat sleeve.”
In the end, he had to call the police, who forced the woman to take off her coat, and they found three crystals nestled in a small pouch, sewn to the inside of the sleeve.
After smirking at the woman, or the magpie, as Joel dubbed her, he bought the old hunting knife. Thinking about it, Ruben was almost sad the man wouldn’t have a reason to come back to his shop again. While he adjusted the lid of the sugar bowl, he found it newly chipped. ”What the hell?” He looked around and actually found the tiny porcelain shard lying beside it. Even though he knew it would be in vain, he picked it up and put it where it belonged, then pressed his thumb down, wishing it would miraculously melt in its spot. When he lifted his thumb, the lid looked mended. He blinked several times and held it under a light. He must have imagined the damage. He was probably more stressed than he thought.
Letitia opened her door and immediately took a step back when she saw the stranger with the long black hair and amber eyes standing on her porch.
After waiting a while, he said, “Am I making you nervous, little squirrel?”
Sensing the man’s hidden predator, she gathered her courage and tried to slam the door closed, but he quickly put his foot forward and stopped her.
She asked anxiously, “What are you?”
“Snake.” He licked his lips. “So is it true your witch got herself killed, squirrel?”
“In an unnecessary duel with Balthazar.”
“Balthazar killed her? The resident grandmaster?” the snake asked incredulously.
“It was a freak accident; she stumbled over a root and fell into one of his energy blasts, the stupid competitive twat.”
“She challenged him?”
“She didn’t mean for it to become this serious.”
The snake scoffed. “Anyway, Ruben needs to renew the wards at his shop and house; they are getting dangerously weak. I don’t trust that witch who owns the coffeeshop.”
“I know. Only he can’t do it.”
“Why not? He has the powers.”
“He is an untrained future witchling you mean? Marge thought she had endless time to educate him and introduce him to our world and what he is. Now she is dead and won’t pass through the veil, so instead, we are stuck here to enjoy eternal life”
“But he initiated the call.”
“Thanks to me. It was getting too dangerous for him to be alone. Another witch could have come and siphoned his sleeping powers. He needs his familiar.”
“I’m here to answer his call. Soon he will grow into his powers.”
“A snake?”
Joel hissed angrily, and Letitia hurried to say, “Perfect. Now Marge and I can finally pass through the veil. Balthazar will train Ruben; he owes us for killing her.”
Smiling, Ruben entered Letitia’s living room. His eyes widened when he detected Joel sitting on her couch. “What are you doing here?”
Two hours later, he stepped back on the street, followed by Joel carrying a huge stack of old books—correction: his grandmother’s grimoire, whatever that was. His entire world had changed.
Four and a half weeks later, Ruben walked around the Christmas tree in his living room and lit the candles with only a small flick of his finger.
Behind him, tightly coiled upon the tiled stove, a large rattlesnake hissed with every tiny flame that appeared.
“Oh, shut up already! Balthazar showed me a fire-containing spell too. Someone could topple the tree over and nothing would happen. I always wanted real candles on the tree.”
Later, he lounged on the couch, the snake lying on his stomach. Two open presents lay on the floor under the tree: a beautiful hunting knife with a snake-engraved handle and a squirrel-shaped cookie cutter. Ruben felt strangely adventurous.
~Recipe~
INGREDIENTS
1 cup (226g) unsalted butter
½ cup granulated brown sugar
1 tsp. Vanilla Extract
1 tsp. ground cinnamon
1 tsp. ground ginger
1/4 tsp. salt
2 large eggs room temperature
Grated lemon peel
2 tsp. love from the secret box in your chest
4 cups (360g) all-purpose flour
INSTRUCTIONS
Preheat oven to 350° F.
Add butter and the sugar to the bowl of your stand mixer and cream on medium-high for 1-2 minutes, or until butter is smooth and lighter in color.
With the mixer on low, slowly add the eggs and then the flour mixed with the spices 1/2 cup at a time.
Turn mixer back on low
Allow all ingredients to combine fully.
Remove bowl from mixer and drop dough onto a floured countertop. Roll out into a flat disc, about 1/2 inch thick.
Cut out cookies into star shapes and bake at 350°F for 6-9 minutes.
Let cool on the cookie sheet until firm enough to transfer to a cooling rack.
Frost with buttercream or glaze icing.
There's a picture in the gallery.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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