Just Desserts

Janet whistled as she turned on the oven. She glanced out the kitchen window and smiled. Children were playing in the fresh November snow, cheeks growing rosy, laughter ringing in the crisp air.

"Nutmeg, ginger, cloves," Janet murmured to herself, picking spices from the rack above the stove. She set each one on the counter, alongside a bowl and a fat, round pumpkin. She pulled a wooden spoon from the dishrack and stuck it in the bowl

Esmerelda, Janet's black cat, curled around her legs, meowing. Janet reached down and scratched its ears. "Not yet," she said. "Go play. I'll call you when I'm done." Esmerelda looked up, blinked, then wandered out towards the living room. Janet smiled, wiping her hands on her apron before turning back to her work.

Opening a drawer, she hummed to herself. "Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater..." Her husband, whose name was in fact Peter, loved pumpkin pie, pumpkin cake, pumpkin ice cream, pumpkin seeds, and anything else even remotely pumpkinish.

Well, one last pie was the least she could do.

She selected a long knife, then shut the drawer. As she studied the blade, her gaze strayed to her hat, lying on the table where she'd left it. Absently, she reached out, picked up the hat, and put it on. She sneezed; there was still cat fur inside it. She smiled. She decided Esmerelda would find some of the leftover whipping cream in her bowl later that afternoon.

Turning back to the counter, Janet accidentally nudged the pumpkin with her elbow. It began to glow very softly. "So sorry," said Janet. "Did I wake you?" The pumpkin made a low, quiet noise. Janet poked it with the point of the knife. The pumpkin let out a faint but shrill noise, and glowed a little brighter.

Smiling, Janet pulled the pointed hat down tighter on her head. "Didn't keep her very well this time, did you Peter?" she asked sweetly. "How many wives did you leave in that patch of yours, anyway?" The pumpkin made a noise which sounded eerily like a moan. "No matter. There won't be any more, and that's all that counts." She ran her finger across the knife blade. "Really, Peter. You should have known better than to try that on a witch. Especially one with a familiar as talented as Esmerelda."

Janet shrugged. She raised the knife and turned it toward the pumpkin. As she lowered the knife, the glow intensified. A shrill wail filled the kitchen, followed by silence.

Janet leaned out the window. "Pie will be done in an hour." The children cheered. She closed the window and sat down at the table. Esmerelda lept into her lap, still licking the last bits of cream from her whiskers. Smiling, Janet stroked the cat and closed her eyes, waiting for the timer to go off. "What would I do without you, Esmerelda?"

"I don't have a clue," replied the cat.