Muffins cover the cooling racks, golden domes perfectly cracked down the centre. Each one is still warm to the touch. Haywood takes one in his hand, his fingers spreading around it like someone larger might hold a cereal bowl. His eyes never leave it as he brings his other hand to tear off a piece, allowing a small column of steam to rise upward, deepening the aroma of the kitchen. Instead of chewing Haywood lets the crumbs melt onto his tongue as only freshly baked cake can, his eyes closing to deepen the pleasure of the moment. Before he can break off another piece there are keys in the door and he jumps, a broad smile painted on so fast it could have been photoshopped there; Ivy is home.
There are muffins and then there's what Ivy bakes. Technically they are muffins too, but only because a better word hasn't been invented for them. River watches her, hawkish, eager to learn. There is magic in what she does, no less than any pixie or fairy could achieve, but this is a magic he can learn and, in time, master. While she bakes her personality bubbles over, every bit as warm as the muffins they will soon take to Haywood's birthday party. Each of them will be frosted to look like snowballs ready for a winter fight. By the time they are done River has learnt as much about his teacher as what she is teaching. Ivy loves so many uncool things, and in a weird sort of way, it makes her all the cooler.
Upon the minimalist white plate were muffins of decadent excess. They were without any need for a label, everything about them screamed "rich chocolate." The tops bore a network of small cracks, made as each of them rose in the oven and fell a small way on cooling. Ivy smiled. The muffins were every bit as good as she could bake and there was only one other person who could have put them there. Perhaps the neighbourhood had a new baker after all, one with a heart just as big as her own.
The warm air that escapes the house to the wintry chill behind me is infused with the aroma of freshly baked cake. Without taking the time to lay my shoes neatly at the door my socked feet have found their way into the galley kitchen that is now free of Aunt Rose, but she must have just left. Covering all the available counter space and the oven-top are muffins with the appearance of mini carrot cakes - flecks of orange and raisins breaking the otherwise golden surface. Many have cracked tops that over spilled their casings to take on a glorious mushroom shape.
From the look on Journey's face it was muffin overload. It had been a calculated gamble to see if she would self-regulate at some point and until a few seconds ago it was a big fat fail. Her eyes popped and though there was triple chocolate muffins still in her mouth all chewing had ceased. Then like a streak of pink lightening she bolted for the bathroom...
Bran muffins sat on the plate like yesterday's porridge, lump and cold. Storm poked one with his finger just to watch it tumble onto the table with all the lightness of a rock. His mom called them "stomach concrete" and she wasn't far wrong. The only thing that could digest those before morning break would be that monster vat of acid he'd seen on a batman movie once. He almost drifted into a daydream before a wonderfully awful idea occurred to him and in a flash his pocket was one muffin heavier.
Apple cinnamon muffins took up most of the space in River's school bag. Though he usually biked to school he opted to walk instead so that he could keep his precious cargo safer. Selling this batch was crucial to buying more ingredients. Even if he sold them at cost it meant he could keep baking, keep learning Ivy's secrets. The aroma was driving him crazy, Rose had eaten the one he'd baked for himself and his breakfast of stale cornflakes was long gone.
When Rose awoke she knew all was forgiven. Upon her bedside table sat her favourite - a lemon muffin topped with poppy seeds. She let out a soft laugh. Her goofy brother was still making a go of his baking empire. There wasn't a kid in school who didn't know who River was now. He was a big celebrity - they guy who made mouthwatering muffins for cheaper than the crud in the school cafeteria.