Bruno pulled the door open, and Rose and Ty walked into what could only be described as a palace. In the centre of the room gushed a stone fountain ringed by ornate cast-iron benches. A lush forest of orchids hung from the ceiling, and flowing swathes of blue silk draped the walls.
And there, sitting in a hammock, rocking gently from side to side, was Lily. She was wearing a plush white robe, like she’d just emerged from the shower; only her perfect black hair was dry. Even in a bathrobe, she looked ready for an awards show.
“Have a seat by the fountain, Rosemary. You, too, Thyme.”
Rose sat with her brother on one of the cast-iron benches and looked up at the massive fountain, which was a fifteen-foot marble statue of Lily stirring a spoon around an overflowing bowl, her neck long and elegant.
“It’s so nice to see both of you again! How do you like my little dressing room?” Lily stepped out of the hammock.
“I gotta say, it’s pretty sweet, Tia Lily,” Ty said, looking around.
Lily perched on the edge of the fountain, folding one tanned, silky leg over the other. “Let’s get down to business. Your little stunt today was reckless, to say the least. What exactly are you trying to do?”
Rose sat up straight and cleared her throat. “Losing the Gala des Gâteaux Grands would ruin you. But unlike you, I don’t have a reputation to worry about. I’m twelve. So we’re offering you a deal. I will lose the competition on purpose if you just give us back our Cookery Booke and stop selling Lily’s Magic Ingredient.”
Lily feigned surprise. “Right, the Booke! You want the Booke back. Of course. I’d forgotten all about it.”
“You already have a TV show, Tia Lily,” said Ty. “What do you still need the Booke for? Our town is in trouble!”
Lily plucked a bit of fuzz off her white robe and flicked it into the fountain. “See, this is the problem with the Bliss family. None of you has any ambition. You’re more concerned with your Podunk town than with succeeding. You think that just because I host the highest-rated daytime TV show in history and have a fifteen-foot marble statue of myself in my enchanted-forest-themed dressing room that I have ‘enough.’ There is never enough!”
Lily stood and sauntered towards the brilliantly lit mirror on her make-up table. “I could have real power. I could be running the country! But I can’t do it without the Booke. Or Lily’s Magic Ingredient.”
Ty itched under his beard. “Wow, Tia Lily. You’re scary. You’re like a devil-aunt. You’re like. . . a tia. . . but you’re also the Devil, El Diablo. You’re like. . . El Tiablo!”
“So, you see, I can’t give it back in exchange for you throwing the contest,” said Lily as she examined her flawless cheek in the mirror, hunting for clogged pores that weren’t there. “And I can’t stop selling Lily’s Magic Ingredient.”
“But—” Rose began to protest just as two men wearing suit jackets and polo shirts burst through the door.
“There you are, you geniuses!” said the shorter of the two. The taller one was studying the screen on his mobile phone.
“My name is Joel,” said the short one. “I’m one of the producers of Lily’s 30-Minute Magic. This is our other producer, Kyle.”
The taller man looked up from his mobile phone for a moment and nodded, then looked back down.
Joel shook Rose’s hand. “You were fabulous today,” he said enthusiastically. “I thought maybe Kyle had arranged your showdown with Lily as a birthday present to me, but he was as surprised as I was!”
Rose gave a confused half smile.
“Anyway, we can’t wait for this year’s Gala des Gâteaux Grands,” Joel said. “Could a twelve-year-old girl possibly beat Lily Le Fay, the world’s most famous baker? It’s genius! Everyone in the universe will be tuning in to watch! And that includes aliens!
“We’ll get all the contracts ironed out later,” Joel went on. “For now, just know that you’ve made us very happy producers. Kisses!” he said, kissing the air on either side of Rose’s cheek.
“Bye,” muttered Kyle.
After Joel and Kyle had closed the dressing room door behind them, Lily went back to examining her skin in the mirror. “As I was saying, I can’t just give the Booke back, or stop selling Lily’s Magic Ingredient. But I also can’t back down from your challenge, because I already accepted on TV. That would make me look like a chump. Am I a chump? I don’t think so. Do chumps wear plush cotton robes and smell like lilacs? No. The only way to settle this is to play it out at the Gala fair and square.”
“You mean,” Rose said, wincing, “actually compete?”
“Yes, actually compete! Did you think I would just roll over without a fight?” Lily swung around on her dressing stool to face Rose and Ty. “If you win, which you won’t, I’ll stop selling Lily’s Magic Ingredient, and I’ll give you back the Booke, and you can continue to lock it in a closet in your refrigerator and let its power go to waste. But if I win – and I will win – you’ll swear to me that not a single member of your scraggly, weird, classless family will ever come near me or the Booke again.”
Rose gulped. Now, if she lost the Gala des Gâteaux Grands to Lily, she would lose the Booke forever.
“Don’t worry, Tiablo. Rosita’s gonna bring it. Hard.” Ty patted Rose on the back. “But how do we know you’re not lying? What’s to stop you from holding on to the Booke or making more Magic Ingredient after you lose?”
Now Rose patted her brother on the back. She hadn’t even thought of that.
“Come with me,” said Lily.
Rose and Ty followed Lily out of her dressing palace and on to the set of Lily’s 30-Minute Magic.
Rose looked out at the rows and rows of empty seats, at the darkened grid of lights hanging from the ceiling. The studio was cold without all those giddy fans.
Lily set to work, tossing some pantry ingredients into a metal mixing bowl: flour, brown sugar, eggs, butter, milk.
“What are you making?” Rose asked.
“I am making a No-Renege Rugelach,” Lily said, twirling the spoon through the batter. “After eating one of these, neither of us will be capable of going back on our word.”
Lily unlocked a small drawer beneath the sink of her TV kitchen and pulled out a miniature blue mason jar filled with a clear, viscous liquid.
“And what is that goop you’re putting in?” Ty asked.
“Throughout the ages, the majestic ring fairies have been known for never going back on their word. This,” Lily said, pouring a few drops of the clear gloop over the rest of the ingredients, “is their saliva.”
“Great,” said Ty, rolling his eyes.
Thirty minutes later, Lily pulled the tray of No-Renege Rugelach from the oven and handed Rose and Ty two piping-hot pieces. “On three, we eat,” Lily said, lifting a piece herself. “One. . . two. . . three.”
Rose shifted the flaky, buttery roll of dough from one set of burned fingertips to the other, back and forth. She never imagined actually having to beat Lily at the Gala des Gâteaux Grands. She had no idea how – or even if – she could win.
“Well?” asked Lily, popping the rugelach in her mouth. “Are you going to eat it or not?”
At that moment, Rose hated her aunt so thoroughly that she felt her blood get hot. I can beat her, she thought. I have to.
She stuffed the rugelach into her mouth and swallowed.
Exhausted, Rose and Ty stumbled out the back door of the studio to find Purdy and Albert there to