The Gingerbread Contract
Jessica Guernsey
As the warm red liquid poured out, Andi tried hard to keep her hand steady. The flow was beautiful. Finally, she had managed a mirror glaze that streamed perfectly over the carefully tiered cake on the table below her. Andi tottered on a step stool because, at five foot three inches, she needed the height boost to reach the top of the five tiers. With her knee, she spun the base board, checking that the glaze covered evenly as the small rented kitchen space filled with the scent of warm gelatin.
She scooped the last of the red from her pot and grinned as the gorgeously shiny stuff made its way over the last of the surface.
Perfect. It was absolutely perfect.
Hard hands grabbed her thighs, and a roar echoed through the kitchen.
Andi screamed, a sound that was echoed by a much smaller voice across the table. Resisting the urge to hurl her red-coated pot at Darin, who stood laughing behind her, Andi stepped down from the stool and hurried around the table to the little boy seated there, his already large brown eyes even wider, his lip trembling.
“It’s okay, Haden.” Andi squatted down in front of the boy’s chair and took his hands. “Mommy is okay.”
“Geesh, kid.” Darin leaned a hip against the table when Andi shot him a look. “I was just teasing. It’s supposed to be fun.”
Andi took in a deep breath through her nose and exhaled. Haden’s big eyes peered up at her, but tears weren’t flowing.
“See?” Andi smiled. “All fine. Darin is just silly.”
Haden glanced at Darin, slipped his hands from his mother’s, and went back to his plastic dinosaurs.
Andi breathed again as she stood. She said nothing, turning to a tray of gum-paste roses, colored with edible gold dust. She didn’t want to look at Darin. His perfect lips and smoldering green eyes had a way of sucking all the annoyance right out of her.
“And I came here to share some good news for a change.” He folded his arms.
Andi shifted slightly, giving him a little more of her attention. “Oh?”
“Yeah, but you don’t even want to hear it. I swear, whenever I’m in a good mood, it’s like you don’t even care.”
Andi set down the rose and, wiping her hands on her apron, went to stand in front of him. “Tell me your good news.” She pumped her tone up with enthusiasm she didn’t feel.
But Darin’s arms stayed folded, his biceps stretching the fabric of his button-down shirt. Andi didn’t understand why he insisted on dressing so nicely when he worked from home as a day trader. It wasn’t like he met with clients. Today’s shirt was a dark gray that complemented his tanned skin and still managed to accentuate his eyes.
Andi resisted the urge to wilt in her “mom jeans,” T-shirt from a long-ago concert, and smudged apron. She wore a chef’s jacket with her company name embroidered on it when delivering cakes so at least that looked more professional. And today she’d worn her blonde hair in a flipped ponytail, instead of the usual messy bun. Even used a little makeup that morning while Haden finished his cereal.
Andi wrapped her arms around Darin’s waist and wedged herself in closer until his arms separated and wrapped around her.
“Tell me, tell me. Please?” she said, batting her eyelashes up at him.
Finally, a smile snuck through. “Okay. So we both know you’re no good with numbers, right?”
This was a frequent refrain of Darin’s, which was why he took over the finances for her business months ago, after he had moved in with them.
“And things have been . . . pretty slim lately.” He looked down at her, eyes full of sympathy. “So I was looking on some forums—”
“Which forums?” she asked.
“Business forums. Not important. Anyway, I found you a client.”
“Okay.” Andi hesitated.
He noticed and rolled his eyes. “Honestly, Andi, I’m just trying to help you achieve success here. Fulfill your dreams! It’s not like Haden is of much use.”
He had a point. Haden was three. He still hid when she turned on the big mixer.
“What kind of client?” she asked with narrowed eyes, head tilted to the side.
“A big one.” Darin’s grin grew to staggering wattage, and Andi couldn’t help but start to smile, too.
Goodness, but the man was gorgeous. Sure, he had his flaws, but so did she. And he’d still asked her to marry him. They’d been engaged for more than a year with no set date, but that didn’t matter, as long as they were together.
Darin pulled out his phone, one of the big, new ones that had all sorts of functions and stuff that he said she couldn’t begin to understand. He tapped and flicked as he talked.
“It’s perfect, really. Big payout, and it’ll connect you to people on her level. This is exactly what your business needs. And once the money starts coming in, maybe you could afford to hire an assistant, not spend so many hours in here. Maybe get back to the gym.” He winked at her, and before she could open her mouth to protest his last comment, he held the phone in front of her face.
She didn’t see much more than a very large number and one other word.
“Gingerbread?” Andi reached for his phone, but he held it away from her. “I make cakes, not gingerbread houses.”
Darin scoffed. “Both get frosting dumped on them, right?”
Andi shook her head. “There’s all kinds of structural considerations. I’ve never made one for a paying customer.”
“So watch a few YouTube tutorials. It’s not that hard.”
“Why would anyone pay so much money for a gingerbread house?” Her gut went cold.
“Because this client is particular. It’s the centerpiece for some big Christmas party. She’s eccentric. I already sent her a message saying we accepted.”
“You already . . . what?”
“Did you see the money, Andi?” He looked at her, those green eyes pleading. “Your little business is struggling, babe. You can’t make it on your own. Which is why I am trying to help you. Don’t you want my help?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“But nothing.” He raised a hand to cut her off, and she flinched a little. “I got you the client. You make it work.”
He grabbed a rose from the tray and stuffed it in his mouth, the gold dust making his lips sparkle as he crunched. His perfectly straight nose crinkled, and he turned to spit into the nearest trash can.
“Ugh. That tastes like chalk rolled in sugar. People pay you for this? You should probably use things that taste good.”
He stormed out of the kitchen.
Andi breathed out, dropping her shoulders. She didn’t have time to smooth things over. She had a cake to deliver.
Andi watched hours of gingerbread tutorials, took pages of notes. Next came the sketches.
Checking the clock, Andi chewed her lower lip. The client was due in a few minutes. Hopefully the meeting wouldn’t run longer than thirty minutes. Haden was tucked into her office with his favorite blanket, a juice box, and a dinosaur cartoon playing on her laptop. He’d stay put until the show ended.
She glanced toward the office, her hand almost going to her phone. Maybe her mother would be willing to come stay with him? But no. Darin was certain her mother was looking for a reason to fight for custody of Haden and asking her to help would give Darin more proof that Andi was unfit. Sure, her mother spoiled Haden every chance she got, but Andi didn’t think her mother had ever said such a thing. Darin was adamant.
The bells over the front door jingled, and Andi put a welcoming smile on her face before turning to greet her new client.
Mrs. Kulcher looked like she’d stepped right out of a story featuring a fairy godmother. All softness and smiles, she pulled off white gloves and tucked them into an honest-to-goodness blue cape that was most likely velvet. White puffs of curls piled on her head, with only the tiniest hat to keep them contained.
“Hello,” Andi said, reaching out a hand. “I’m Andi. You must be Mrs. Kulcher?”
Mrs. Kulcher strode forward and pumped Andi’s hand, bringing the scent of cold from outside.
“So lovely, my sweet.” As warm and soft as her grip, the woman’s voice also held the faintest hint of an accent. “Shall we begin?”
“Of course.” Andi motioned to the front counter where she’d spread her sketches.
Mrs. Kulcher trundled over, pink hands clasped underneath her wide chin. Instead of sitting on the stool, she bent over the sketches, cooing and squealing, taking several minutes to study each one.
Finally, Mrs. Kulcher stood up straight and tapped the third sketch. “This one.”
Andi wanted to swallow hard but smiled instead. Mrs. Kulcher had picked the Tudor-style gingerbread house. It was definitely the most ambitious of Andi’s designs. Of course that was the one selected.
“Great,” Andi said, wearing her practiced smile. “Are there any adjustments you’d like to make to the design or colors?”
Mrs. Kulcher’s tiny dark eyes darted over Andi’s shoulder, and her smile grew even broader.
Andi didn’t need to hear the small voice ask, “Mommy?” to know Haden stood behind her.
“Well, hello, sweet boy.” The woman’s voice was syrup.
Andi turned. Haden’s already immense eyes were even wider, the rest of his face hidden behind his blanket.
“It’s okay, baby. Mommy is working right now. Can you go back to the office, please?”
“Oh, no, such a precious gumdrop must stay right here with me,” Mrs. Kulcher said, patting the neglected stool. “There is even a seat. Just for you.”
Smiling broadly, Haden skipped over to stand beside Mrs. Kulcher, who bent over to pinch his cheek, then hefted him up to sit on the stool.
“Such a good boy,” Mrs. Kulcher crooned, and patted his head. “Now, your mother has some lovely pictures. Do you like this one?” She held up the selected image for Haden.
“It’s pretty.” He nodded emphatically. “Mommy will make you a nice bread house.”
“To be sure, my sweet.” Mrs. Kulcher studied the sketch again. “This is just the sort of arrangement I was looking for.”
Haden grinned at her and, accepting her as a friend, handed her one of his plastic dinosaurs. “This is a bronnasarus. He gotta long neck.”
“Indeed, he does.” Mrs. Kulcher looked suitably impressed before handing the dinosaur back. Looking at Andi, eyes twinkling, she said, “I would like to see a small version of this.” She tapped the sketch. “Could you have it ready in two days?”
Andi didn’t want to laugh at the woman’s request—but two days? That was unrealistic. At the pause, Mrs. Kulcher’s eyebrows bunched ever so slightly. Instead, Andi found herself nodding and agreeing to meet again in forty-eight hours.
With one last pat of Haden’s cheek, the woman put on her gloves and swept out the door before Andi could do more than remind herself to breathe.
Bone-weary, Andi lifted a sleepy Haden out of his car seat. Good. He’d take a nice nap in the office while Andi got caught up on the orders she’d put off to finish the sample house for Mrs. Kulcher, delivered yesterday. It had been a busy forty-eight hours, and the next forty-eight promised to be just as packed.
Haden shifted in her arms. “Don’t forget my candy,” he mumbled.
“What candy?”
“Mrs. Kudder gived ’em to me.”
Andi looked back in the car and found a baggie with a handful of gummy dinosaurs. When had her client slipped him candy? The kind old lady had gone over Andi’s sample gingerbread with what felt like a fine-tooth comb.
Weren’t the chocolate beam accents just lovely? And Andi would make it bigger, yes? She’d said repeatedly how impressed she was with the sample, only to have one more suggestion or adjustment. Noting with pouty disappointment that the windows were too small, and didn’t Andi think the door looked better off-center?
Andi didn’t feel quite so proud of her work, now with a full day ahead of her and so little sleep.
She tapped her ID badge against the door and pulled. But the light didn’t turn green, and the door to her kitchen space remained locked. She groaned. It was far too early to call her landlord. She’d have to work through what she could at home and call when the office opened.
Heaving Haden up, she bundled him back in the car, relieved that the time out in the cold hadn’t roused him.
Back at the house, Haden didn’t look sleepy as he followed Andi around the kitchen. While she rolled out fondant, Haden lingered close by, dinosaurs making tiny prints in the soft stuff, powdered sugar dusting his cheek.
As soon as the leasing office opened, Andi called them, explaining the situation.
“Your account was terminated due to non-payment.” The normally friendly agent went cold on her.
“What?” Andi switched the phone to her other ear. “That can’t be right. I set up automatic payments more than a year ago. There’s never been a problem before.”
“Then I suggest you check your bank account, ma’am.”
Ma’am? He’d never called her that before.
Andi muttered something about doing just that and disconnected.
She hurried to Darin’s office, listening to make sure he wasn’t on the phone, before tapping and opening the door.
Darin saw her and shut his laptop. “What?”
“I couldn’t get into the kitchen space this morning.” She told him what the leasing guy had said about not paying. “There’s got to be a mistake, right?”
Darin’s eyes had narrowed, but otherwise he hadn’t reacted.
“Should I call the bank?”
He snorted. “No one calls the bank, babe. Let me finish up with this trade, and I’ll check online.”
“I could do it.”
His jaw flexed. “You don’t understand the accounts, Andi. This kind of thing goes over your head. I said I would handle it, and I will—”
A crash interrupted him.
Andi turned to see Haden sliding off Darin’s leather sofa, dragging a stack of books off the coffee table with him.
“Get him out of here.” Darin’s face was a snarl.
“He’s bored,” Andi said, helping Haden stand, then restacking the books. “I’m busy in the kitchen, and his tablet is charging.”
“Here.” Darin shoved his tablet toward Andi. “He can use this. Just keep the kid quiet.”
Andi murmured her thanks, but Darin dodged her kiss, so she quietly left his office with Haden in tow, closing the door behind them.
After opening a video app, she selected a kids’ show and handed the tablet to Haden.
“Mommy, will you watch with me?” His eyes were large but sleepy.
If she cuddled him a little while, he would most likely fall asleep. Andi settled onto the couch next to him. Just a few moments.
The warm weight of her boy against her had Andi’s eyes drooping.
With a chirp, a text notification popped up on the screen. Andi blinked awake. She carefully eased a sleeping Haden off her and tucked his blanket around him.
Tablet in hand, she headed back to Darin’s office.
An email notification sounded next. Andi noticed the name “Kulcher,” and before her right mind could stop her, she’d clicked on it.
The email contained a contract.
Good, Andi thought. I had better see what all she expects.
She scrolled through the legal jargon that made her eyes tired.
There. That section labeled “Item #1” referred to the gingerbread house. Andi blinked and reread the specifications, briefly wondering if someone made a mistake and had used feet instead of inches.
She could hear Darin’s voice in her head: “You can’t understand these sorts of things. Just stick to frosting.”
More stipulations for the client’s supervision and some other things that were jumbled in legal terms. Andi skimmed, looking for words that made sense.
“Upon accepted completion of Item #1, Item #2 shall be exchanged. Receipt of the fresh chattel is to be determined by the Client.”
Andi’s eyebrows bunched. What did that mean? Darin never said there was anything else besides the gingerbread house. What was “fresh chattel” anyway? The phrase sounded familiar, but no definitions rose from the depths of her exhausted brain. She closed the email.
She had work to do.
“Your account is overdrawn.”
Darin made the announcement as Andi piped a basket weave.
She nearly dropped the frosting bag. “How is that possible?”
Darin rolled his eyes. “I’ve been telling you for months. Your business is failing. There’s no more money. You have to finish this contract for Kulcher, and then maybe, maybe, the leasing company will let you back in.”
There was something about the way Darin nearly smiled. Something about the relaxed way he stood there, crushing her dream.
Something inside Andi woke up.
“Show me.” She set down the bag and marched into Darin’s office.
“There’s nothing to see,” he insisted.
She opened his laptop and turned it toward him. “Show me.”
Darin scoffed. “Stop being so dramatic. It doesn’t look good on you.”
Andi lifted her chin.
“Fine.” Darin slid into his fancy chair, tapped open a tab, and turned the screen to face Andi. “See? Those numbers in red mean you are overdrawn.” He picked up his phone, giving it his attention.
Andi saw red alright. There was a lot of red on the page. She tapped the mouse and opened the transaction review. So many withdrawals. Nearly every time she’d made a deposit, there was a matching transfer to another account. She clicked, and a pop-up opened that showed the second account belonged only to Darin.
Maybe she made a sound. Or maybe he sensed something in her posture. Darin pulled the laptop back, shut the lid nearly on her fingers.
“Why are you transferring all my money?” Andi’s stomach burned, and her hands balled into fists.
“That’s not what that is, Andi,” Darin said. His smile probably meant to be placating, but it just made her blood boil. “You don’t get how these accounts work.”
“I know how transfers work. It means money moves from one account to another. Why are you taking my money?”
His smile slipped, and he leaned in closer, the scent of his expensive cologne filling the space. “It’s our money.”
“That is my business account. The one that covers my expenses, like the lease. That’s not a shared account.”
“You’re not the only one with a business, babe.” Darin’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve got expenses, too.”
“So you drained my account to cover them?”
“It’s temporary.” He sat on the edge of the desk, arms folded. “Ever since crypto went down the crapper, I’ve had to improvise. It’s how day trading works. You couldn’t possibly understand the complexity. Besides, you’ll have your big payoff from Kulcher soon enough. Let me handle this.”
Andi wanted to scream that his “handling it” had gotten her kicked out of her kitchen. She wanted to grab his fancy laptop and smash it into his overpriced desk and maybe stomp on his stupid Italian shoes.
But she did none of that. She swallowed it down, letting it feed the fire that blazed in her gut.
“And where,” she said, surprised at how calm she managed to sound with the bonfire raging inside, “do you suggest I bake the gingerbread? What supplies do I use for the decorations? With no money and no kitchen? You will have to cancel the contract.”
Darin’s face twisted. “That’s not happening. I—uh—we need that money.”
Andi turned toward the door. “Since you’re so great at handling things, then it sounds like you’d better find a way to handle this.”
Andi woke to her phone ringing. She lifted her head from Haden’s pillow and slowly uncurled herself from around her sleeping boy. Still fully clothed, she dug the phone out of the pocket of her jeans.
“Hello?” Her throat felt raw from all the smoke in her belly.
“Andi, honeybun,” Mrs. Kulcher’s faintly accented voice greeted her cheerily. “Your business partner contacted me about your situation, and I have made arrangements. Do you have a pen?”
Trying not to sneer at the thought of Darin as her “business partner,” Andi grabbed a loose red crayon and opened to the back of a coloring book, scrawling the address her client gave her.
A little stunned by the phone call, Andi changed clothes in the laundry room, not wanting to risk a run-in with Darin. There was no telling what the fallout would be after she’d stood up to him. Briefly, she considered calling her mom and asking her to take Haden, then squelched that idea, along with Darin’s voice in her head saying it was a bad idea to give her mother too much control. She packed up Haden’s bag and carried the boy to the car.
She didn’t see Darin.
The drive to the new location took nearly twice as long as to her old kitchen. It was in an industrial park. She recognized the sleek blue car Mrs. Kulcher drove and parked beside it. As she unbuckled Haden, the fairy godmother herself opened a door. Andi found herself offering a weary version of the woman’s smile.
“I have reserved this location for the duration of the contract.” Mrs. Kulcher held the door open for them. “You will find that it is fully stocked, but should you require anything else, all you have to do is say the magic words.” She winked.
Andi let Haden slide from her arms to standing.
“Hello, my pudding pie.” Mrs. Kulcher gave her customary cheek pinch. “I do believe you have grown since I last saw you.”
“Really?” Haden grinned.
“Most definitely.” She offered her hand. “Come with me.”
Haden took her hand and was led away without a backward glance at Andi. They went to a seating area with colorful chairs and an assortment of books. Andi managed to stop staring long enough to take in her new space.
It was an industrial kitchen, all white counters and stainless steel fixtures. Three immense refrigerators lined one wall and several ovens lined the other, with half a dozen long tables between them. The largest baking sheets Andi had ever seen were neatly stacked on one table. If Andi had read the contract right, she would need them.
“Mrs. Kulcher,” Andi said, stepping into the sitting area. “Could I ask you a question? Just a clarification on the contract?”
Mrs. Kulcher blinked from her seat next to Haden. “You read the contract?”
Andi nodded. “Were the dimensions for the gingerbread correct? Were you expecting . . . feet instead of inches?”
Mrs. Kulcher let out a tinkling laugh. “Of course, sweet peach. How else am I to have a perfect creation if it fits on a simple table? No, I must have something grand!”
“So you want the base of the house to be . . . twelve feet?”
Mrs. Kulcher smiled. “It must be big enough to leave an impression. Isn’t that right, Haden? Wouldn’t you like to come visit me in my gingerbread house?”
Haden giggled and started chewing on a blue crayon.
“You want people to . . . go inside?” Andi might have squeaked.
Mrs. Kulcher’s smile was indulgent. “No, pumpkin. I am speaking figuratively.”
“Oh.”
The old woman turned back to Haden, removing the crayon and instead offering a wrapped chocolate.
Andi weirdly felt like she was intruding on their moment. She spun on her heel and headed back to the kitchen, her mind already working to expand the gingerbread recipe to fill those immense pans.
Andi should be asleep. She knew that. But sharing a bed with a toddler wasn’t the most restful. And her brain wouldn’t stop running the numbers on how much royal frosting she’d need to create the white stucco look of the Tudor-style house. At least the chocolate beams were finished. Those had been a bear to manage, but with the endless table space, she’d done it. She’d melted enough Isomalt sugar for the windows; she’d even made two extras to allow for breakage. Those should be cooled enough to handle by the morning.
But what Andi couldn’t get out of her head was that odd phrase from the contract: “fresh chattel.” It was so familiar. And it was obviously important; maybe even as important as the gingerbread. But what did it mean? Glancing at Haden and assured of his even breathing, she reached for her phone and opened a search window.
After an entirely sleepless night, Andi plastered on a smile as she made breakfast, listened to Darin drone on about bitcoin and penny stocks, wondering how much of what he said was real. She stoked the smoldering coals in her stomach to spark fire once more. She asked no questions, only endured his kiss as he slipped out the front door. Once his car was down the road and gone, she pulled an old backpack from the depths of the hall closet and headed to Haden’s room.
A soft knock at the front door stopped Andi as she tied Haden’s shoes.
She opened the door to an older version of herself. Curls grayer and clothes better fitting.
“Mom,” Andi breathed out and felt a weight lift from her shoulders, only to move to her heart.
They embraced. Haden was all squeals and hugs at seeing his long-absent grandmother.
Andi quickly moved the spare car seat into her mother’s sedan. She carefully buckled in Haden, smiling and tickling him as she struggled to not let tears fall. She breathed in the baby-boy scent of him one last time, then turned to her mother. Handing her the backpack with Haden’s clothes and favorite dinosaurs, Andi let the tears come where her son couldn’t see.
“Two weeks,” she said. “No contact. No calls. No texts. I don’t even want a postcard.”
“Two weeks,” her mother nodded, her own tears shining.
As they pulled away, Andi didn’t watch. She had her own facade to build along with the gingerbread house.
It was done. In all its sugary glory, it was done. Andi feared her hands might never recover from the massive amount of royal icing she had squeezed, but there was time enough to heal. Setting down her frosting bag on the cold industrial table, she inspected the line of gummy dinosaurs along one cookie window ledge. She ignored the pang in her chest. She missed Haden with every cell, but it was for him that she had to complete this.
“You are finished?” Mrs. Kulcher’s familiar voice held almost as much sugar as Andi’s creation.
Andi didn’t turn to the old woman, not trusting her face through her exhaustion. “It’s finished. Just as you requested.”
Mrs. Kulcher made pleased sounds as she walked around the house, holding a teacup and occasionally sipping as she murmured exclamations in another language, but Andi was certain she approved.
“And where is dearest Haden? I should very much like to see my sweet boy.”
Andi hadn’t even raised her head to answer when Darin came bursting through the door, his chiseled face a storm cloud. She flinched reflexively before she forced her shoulders straight and looked back at the client.
“The kid is gone,” Darin said. Not to Andi. To Mrs. Kulcher. “I looked everywhere.”
Mrs. Kulcher looked to Andi, who met the old woman with a gaze of steel.
“Then the contract is not complete,” the woman said, the tone of her voice harder than set royal frosting.
“I never signed it.” Andi flicked dried frosting from her apron, the blaze in her gut filling her with strength. “Darin did. You will have to speak to him about your ‘fresh chattel.’”
Her web search for that odd phrase revealed that, along with the extravagant gingerbread house, Mrs. Kulcher would receive a person. A young person. Suddenly the extravagant price and Darin’s insistence had made so much more sense.
Darin grabbed Andi’s arm, jerking her hard enough to knock her off balance. “Where is the kid, Andi?”
She smiled, a real smile filled with the thrill of outsmarting this man who thought he was so much smarter than she was. “I don’t know.”
“Make the phone call.” Darin shoved his phone in her face. “Now.”
Andi shrugged as best she could in his grip. “You know I’m just no good with numbers.” And she giggled.
She felt the burning sting before she realized he’d slapped her.
“Now, now.” Mrs. Kulcher’s tone sounded like she was addressing unruly schoolchildren. “There is no need for that.”
Darin released Andi, and she stumbled away from him.
Mrs. Kulcher held a large key that sparkled with something other than sugar crystals and moved toward the gingerbread house. She smiled over her shoulder before pressing the key into the cookie door, just below the gumdrop doorknob. Where a keyhole might be. She turned the key and pushed open the door.
As the old woman stepped through, Andi’s eyes widened. The gingerbread house now held a tidy room inside, complete with a rocking chair, table, and a large stone oven with a roaring fire.
“I have your payment here,” she said, gesturing to the gold bar on the table, shimmering in the firelight.
Darin shot Andi a look that promised violence before stepping forward, crossing the threshold. His hand was already reaching for the big payoff.
But then there was no Darin. Only a small boy. One about Haden’s size but dwarfed in Darin’s tailored shirt and slacks.
Andi barely had time to suck in a breath before the gold bar landed with a dull thunk at her feet.
Mrs. Kulcher’s smile held no warmth. “Now our contract is complete.”
The old woman picked up her teacup and shut the door.
Jessica Guernsey writes urban and contemporary fantasy novels and short stories. A BYU alumna with a degree in journalism, her work is published in magazines and anthologies. By day, she crushes dreams as a slush pile reader for three publishers for a combined 12 years’ experience. During November’s NaNoWriMo, Jessica is a Municipal Liaison for the Utah: Elsewhere Region. Frequently, she can be found at writing conferences. She isn’t difficult to spot; just look for the extrovert.
While she spent her teenage angst in Texas, she now lives on a mountain in Utah with her family. Discover more stories at jessicaguernsey.com.