The End of Kitchen Magic

For the previous Kitchen Magic, go here.

Bizzy stared at the closed door. The doorbell rang again.

"Who could that be?" her mother wondered aloud. "We're all here. Bizzy, did you invite anyone?"

"No," Bizzy answered sourly. She didn't mention that not inviting people didn't stop strange things from coming into her life.

The doorbell rang a third time. Grumbling under his breath, her father shoved through her brothers and uncles and pulled the door open.

Mrs. Patterson blinked up at him through her over sized cat-eye sunglasses adorned with rhinestones at the corner. She waved an arm draped with a purple scarf and adjusted her enormous orange handbag.

"Bizzy, darling!" she cried. "Did I make it in time for dinner?"

Everyone looked at Bizzy. She swallowed, feeling like gravel was scraping her throat. "Kinda," she croaked.

"Wonderful!" Mrs. Patterson, cried, clapping her small hands together. She reached into her giant bag and pulled out a pie and jar of wine. "Happy Thanksgiving!" she shouted with a gleeful smile. "Let's eat!"

"Yes, indeed," her father bellowed, rubbing his stomach. "After that dinner the other day, I've been waiting for this meal for a long time." He started towards the kitchen and Bizzy felt her stomach drop to her toes.

"No, please," she stuttered, flapping her hands as her father and brothers dashed into the kitchen. Her voice was barely above a whisper but it felt like she was screaming. "You don't understand. You see, I didn't really cook anything."

"Oh, I doubt that dear," Mrs. Patterson laughed, latching on to Bizzy's arm as her relatives trampled by into the kitchen. "After what you've learned, you can probably cook better than a chef at a five star restaurant." She winked at Bizzy and waved her pie in the air. "Six star, even."

"That's just the thing," Bizzy replied in an exasperated tone. "That's what I'm trying to tell everyone. I can't cook and I didn't"--

"Holy crap!" her older brother shouted. "Mama, come take a look at this!"

"I can't believe it!" her father shouted.

Bizzy muttered a word that made Mrs. Patterson cackle. With the old woman clinging to her arm and Mrs. Patterson's bottle of wine in her other hand, she rushed into the kitchen. "Now listen, I can explain"-- she began.

Her family was gathered around the dining room table, their tables painted with expressions of rapture. Her mother dabbed at her eyes and beamed. "Oh, Bizzy."

"Now, Mama, please just listen"-- Bizzy looked at the table and gasped. "Oh."

An extravagant turkey dinner lay spread out in front of her. A golden bird glistened next to a lush bowl of cranberry sauce and a dish of stuffing. There was mashed potatoes, salad and Southern green beans that looked like they had been scooped out of her favorite restaurant. Marshmallow-dotted sweet potatoes lay next to a big bowl of macaroni cheese and a bigger bowl of rolls. Steam rose off of steamed asparagus and her brothers were sucking down bacon-wrapped shrimp appetizers like it was going out of style.

"Why don't you put the pie down for me," Mrs. Patterson murmured, handing her the plastic covered dish. Numbly, Bizzy turned to the counter and felt like she'd been hit by a brick wall. Dozens of golden topped pies and creamy cakes lay next to rich cookies and pastries. An espresso machine hissed next to a jar of creamy egg nog.

Bizzy stared at the counter, the pie still in her hand. Her father clapped a hand on her shoulder as he grabbed a chocolate pie and headed back to his chair. "I don't know how you did all this darling, but this is the best Thanksgiving ever," he said, kissing her on the forehead.

"But you don't understand," Bizzy murmured. "I didn't do"-- She stepped forward and looked closer at the pie boxes in the trash. "Sprinkles' Catering," she read, running her finger over the embossed pink wand on the white cover. "Sprinkles!"

"Who wants more stuffing?" a voice bellowed behind her. Bizzy whirled around to see Sprinkles holding a large dish of stuffing, dressed in a black dress and heels.

And she was the same size as Bizzy.

"Sprinkles?" Bizzy choked, taking a step back. Sprinkles winked at her and set the stuffing on the table.

"Thanks, doll," her uncle's lesbian ex-wife cooed, blinking her tattooed-eyeliner lashes up at her. "You got anyone to spend the holiday with?"

Sprinkles just laughed, throwing her golden curls back. She gave Bizzy another wink and took her arm, smiling as she watched Bizzy's uncles attack the stuffing. "If you'll excuse us, I'm just going to settle up my billing with my client," she told Bizzy's family. Bizzy gaped at her as Sprinkles pulled her outside on the porch.

"How"-- she gasped, gesturing to Sprinkles' clothes and size. "I don't understand. You said you wouldn't help me."

Sprinkles threw her head back and giggled. "I told you I'm full of surprises," she chirped.

"But I don't get it," Bizzy stuttered, rubbing her forehead. "How did you get so big and make all that food and "--

"You know, after all this time, you would think you would understand magic," Sprinkles interrupted. "When the Head Kitchen Fairy saw what you had done for me, she was impressed. Really impressed. She knew how badly I wanted to help you, so she gave me a special gift, if you will." Sprinkles twirled around, wiggling her hips. "I even got to keep my magic. And I can go anywhere I want for the next 24 hours. I'm thinking Amsterdam, or Vegas," she said with a coy grin. "Someplace wild with tasty kitchens."

"What's the catch?" Bizzy croaked. "You can still go back to the World of the Kitchen Fairies, right? And have your magic from now on?"

"Sure I can," Sprinkles said, waving her hand to dismiss Bizzy's concern. "The catch is you're indebted to me."

"I'm indebted to you?" Bizzy snapped. "What do you mean?"

Sprinkles grinned. "I told you that I wouldn't do anything for you, that you needed to learn. You got out of Thanksgiving dinner, but you didn't get out of lessons. You owe me three weeks now of cooking lessons, three times a week."

Bizzy growled and stomped her foot. "And why am I being punished? I didn't take your magic. How is it you and the Head Kitchen Fairy thought this up? I told you--I can't cook. If it's not glaringly obvious now, it should be. Why won't you just let me be?" She whirled around to slam back into the house.

"What if it's with magic?"

Bizzy turned back around. Sprinkles nodded, her eyes twinkling. "I told you. She was very impressed." She held out her hand, handing Bizzy a small vial of powder.

"Wow." Bizzy swallowed hard, looking at the vial pressed in her palm. She cleared her throat and looked up. "Want to join us for dinner?"

Sprinkles shook her head, her golden curls bouncing. "I've got 24 hours to go wherever I please. I can eat any time--I got some flying to do! I'll see you on Sunday!" With that, Sprinkles faded into the air, leaving only a few leaves stirring in her path. Bizzy grinned and looked at the vial in her hand.

"Damn kitchen fairy," she muttered, climbing back up the porch. She slipped back into the house and straight into Mrs. Patterson, who was peering through the window.

"Didn't you get a plate, Mrs. Patterson?" she asked, shoving the vial in her jean pocket. Her hand winced as the rough denim scratched against her cut hand.

"She's a hoot, isn't she?" Mrs. Patterson nodded to the empty porch.

"Who's a hoot?" Bizzy asked carefully.

"I know she can drive you crazy, but she's good, isn't she?" Mrs. Patterson whispered, stepping closer. "After all, she taught me everything I know."

Bizzy gaped at the old woman as she scuttled back into her kitchen. Shaking her head, she looked at the empty porch. Then she looked at the full kitchen, listening to the sounds of her family laughing and forks clinking against empty plates.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Sprinkles," she muttered.

For some reason, she had a feeling the adventure wasn't over yet.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow we have the second part of Samantha's story, where we find out what's in the strange box. Then we've got a New Recipe Series, New Year's Resolutions at the Pond and all sorts of whimsical fun!