Chapter 1

The winter had been long but spring had come at last to the village of Hearthstone. The first daffodils had found their way through the frost and the air swirled with the bright confetti of cherry blossoms while the cheerful songs of swallows welcomed a new day. But amidst the happy scene, the bakery cast a bleak shadow.

Lottie's heart ached at the sight of what had once been her father's pride and joy in such a state of disrepair. The once bright sign that had proudly declared "Hearthstone Bakery" now hung askew, gently creaking in the morning breeze. The windows that had once enticed customers from far and wide with their tempting displays of her father's famous strawberry tarts and cream cakes now lay bare.

"This is a fresh start," she told herself. "A new beginning..."

But the moment she stepped foot inside the desolate bakery it all came flooding back to her. Though the ovens had lain cold and empty for months, when she closed her eyes she could still smell the old fashioned spices of her father's beloved gingerbread recipe hanging heavy in the air like molasses.

"I still miss you," she whispered into the gloom. "I don't know how I'll do this without you."

When she looked at the big, wooden workbench she could see her father again. In her memories he was still young and strong. She could almost hear his booming, commanding voice and the way his rumbling laughter would fill the bakery. She was ten years old when he taught her the secrets of bread making. She had spent her whole childhood cutting out sugar cookies and frosting fairy cakes but this had felt different, somehow more special. He proudly showed her his sourdough starter, bubbling over with life like an enchanted potion. He taught her how to knead and shape the dough, how he could sense when the dough was ready to bake.

"There's magic in your hands, little one," he had said, ruffling her dark hair with his floury hands when they had pulled her first loaves, their golden crusts crisp and crackling, from the oven.

When she fired up the ovens, their intense heat was like the breath of a waking dragon. It made the scar on her forearm itch with the memory of old hurts.

She was thirteen when her father had married his second wife and, while her stepmother was cold and indifferent to her, it was her stepsisters - Cordelia and Reagan - who delighted in tormenting her. They had no patience or talent for baking: creams split and curdled, cakes sank in the oven, sugar bubbled and burned to black.

The sisters hated Lottie.

They hated her natural gift for baking and the way the customers left with a happy sparkle in their eyes after being served by her. But most of all they hated the way her father's adoration for her shone for all to see.

She remembered how Reagan had stood smugly in front of the oven while her delicate brandysnap tuiles burned to cinders

She remembered Cordelia's menacing hiss: "If you burn them, we'll burn you, little sister."

She had not dared to cry out when she had felt the red hot kiss of the metal tray against her cool flesh.

Of course she hadn't regretted a moment of caring for her father in the final months of his long sickness but still it pained her to allow the bakery to fall into her stepsisters' clutches.

Under their care it didn't take long for the bakery to fall into disrepute and disrepair. Eventually even the most loyal of the thriving customer base her father had spent a lifetime building fell away. It was no matter to Cordelia and Reagan though, they preferred to laze their days away and thought nothing of squandering her father's dwindling fortune.

Lottie shook her head, bringing her back to the present moment. She could not waste time dwelling on what once had been, she had to focus her sights on what could be.

Lottie had been scrubbing the bakery for hours. She turned to wipe the sweat from her brow when she saw a figure standing in the doorway.

Ben, the young local butcher, had been drawn in by the warm glow of the bakery lights and the door left invitingly open for the first time in months. But the real temptation wasn't the bakery - it was her.

He knew he really shouldn't stare but his eyes were drawn to the curvaceous girl's beautiful figure. He couldn't help but admire the womanly voluptuousness of her body, the slight wiggle of her hips when she moved, the subtle squish of her thighs as they swished together with each step.

When Lottie saw him, her startled expression quickly gave way to one of recognition. Following the line of his eyes, she quickly gave her skirts a self conscious tug. "Ben... I didn't know you were there."

"It's nice to see a friendly face around here again," he said. He gave her a sheepish smile and ran a hand through his shaggy, sandy coloured hair. He was more than aware he'd been caught staring. "You're back."

Lottie nodded. "Back for good this time."

"Wow, those stepsisters of yours really did a number on this place, huh?"

"I'm sure they did the best they could," Lottie said with a tight smile.

"Uh-huh..." Ben folded his arms and raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"The old girl just needs a little TLC," Lottie said, placing her hand lovingly on the bakery wall. "It will be back in business in no time."

"Well, I'll say it even if you won't," Ben said. "Those sisters are awful. I can't believe you gave them a share of the sale of your father's estate after everything they've done."

"I wish you wouldn't do that, Ben," Lottie said.

"What? Speak the truth?" Ben demanded.

Talk down to her. Act like he knew everything. Try to control her.

"You don't know the whole story," Lottie said. "You wouldn't understand."

Even as she spoke her conviction began to waver. Had her father really always approved of her choices? Could she really be trusted to do the right thing?

She had been in Paris studying Patisserie when she had received the news that he was sick. Her father had never wanted her to go to Paris in the first place. He could never understand why she would wish to see a life beyond what they had in Hearthstone. Why she might yearn to know more than what he could teach her.

"I know that he left everything to you," Ben said. "Your father was a great man, I always respected him. In the end he recognised your stepsisters for what they truly were."

Lottie sighed. No one knew better than her how cruel her stepsisters could be. And yet with her father gone, weren't they just as alone as she was? She could never be so heartless as to cut them loose with nothing. She had not begrudged selling the family home to share the money between her stepsisters. Afterall, the only thing she had ever truly wanted was the bakery - and she would make do with the small, humble flat upstairs.

"I'm sorry if what I said comes across as harsh," Ben said. "You know I just want to look out for you. You've always been so special to me."

"I know," Lottie said softly. "It's OK."

He pulled her into one of his enormous bear hugs. There was something primal about the smell of him: blood, sweat and oak. Like being swallowed by the earth. His touch lingered just a little too long on the small of her back before she pulled away.

"Seriously Lottie, I just want what's best for you," Ben said. "Anything you need, just let me know."

He stooped down to give her a goodbye kiss on the cheek. She could not help but flinch at the sharp prickle of his unshaven face against her skin.

"Thanks, Ben."

Alone again, Lottie returned to her cleaning but it wasn't long before a cold gust of wind blasted the bakery door open. The instinctive shudder of dread that ran down her spine told her that the unseasonal chill had nothing to do with the weather.

The scar on her arm throbbed red for danger as her stepsisters entered the bakery. Their long cloaks swept wide circles on the floor, sending up clouds of dust over the parts of the bakery that Lottie had already cleaned.

"Cordelia... Reagan... wh- what are you doing here?"

Cordelia ran her long finger along the bakery counter. She examined the dust between her thumb and forefinger with a sneer on her pretty red lips before she turned to Lottie with a sickly sweet smile.

"Aren't you pleased to see us, little sister?"

"Of course, but I thought today was the day you left town."

But in her heart she thought: "I thought you would leave if I gave you everything you wanted."

Reagan was stalking around the bakery, picking up random objects here and there as if appraising their value.

"Oh, Lottie, we're hurt," Reagan said. She clutched her heart with mock affront, her dark painted nails shimmering in the light. "As if we would leave without saying goodbye."

"Of course we wanted to wish you luck," Cordelia said. "There's no one who deserves happiness more than our sweet sister."

"Cordelia and I have thought long and hard about how best we could express our heartfelt gratitude to you for everything you've done for our family," Reagan said. "And finally we thought of the perfect gift."

"Oh, you really don't have to do that," Lottie said quickly.

"But of course we do," Cordelia insisted.

Seemingly out of thin air, the sisters produced a leather bound book. Cordelia placed the heavy tome almost reverently on the bakery counter.

"It's a recipe book that once belonged to our beloved mother," Cordelia explained.

"We've been holding onto the old thing for its sentimental value," said Reagan. "But we decided that the best way to keep mother's memory alive would be to give the book to someone who would actually bake her recipes."

"That's very kind of you but really-"

But as Lottie's fingers brushed the leather cover to push the book away, she felt a strange warmth emanate from its pages. It was the queerest thing but it was as if it approved of her. Something stirred within her. She wanted to own it. Not just the book, but the feeling.

Cordelia clasped Lottie's hand over the book. "Please, Lottie, just promise us one thing: you'll bake mother's gingerbread recipe. It really was her favourite."

All Lottie could do was nod, she wasn't even aware how tightly she was gripping the book. "I promise."

As the sisters turned to leave, Cordelia pulled her into an embrace. Her ruby lips came close to Lottie's ear: "I really do  mean it, little sister. You deserve everything that's coming to you."