Into the Woods Read Free

the plate, eyeing the goodies there with a new suspicion. "Can I ask..." he began shyly.
    "Anything," Matilda said, returning her attentions to the old mortar and pestle.
    Balancing the plate in one hand, Hanson pointed at the mortar. "What is that?"
    "This is a very old recipe for beauty cream," Matilda said as she worked the contents into a paste. "Very old. There are herbs and roots and many other components to this particular formula, but the secret ingredient is the spit of a fine young man."
    "You don't use that nasty stuff on your face, do you?"
    Matilda laughed. "By the time I'm finished, it won't be nasty stuff. But no," she added. "I don't use it."
    "You don't need any beauty cream," he said, holding his head high. "You're already beautiful, even if you are a witch." All at once his face turned beet-red. Matilda was unable to tell if he was embarrassed because he'd said she was beautiful or because he'd called her a witch to her face.
    "That's a very sweet thing for you to say, Hanson," she said.
    He glanced down at the goodies on his plate. "Nobody spit in any of the candy, did they?"
    "Of course not."
    Hanson grinned widely as he backed away. "That's good."
    "Share with your sister," Matilda said without looking up from her work.
    "I will," he said as he turned and took off at a slow jog. "I have to get home!"
    Matilda worked the beauty cream for a while longer, before setting it in the afternoon sun to settle. Most of her chores were done for the day, but if she hurried she'd be able to put together one more batch of candied pecans. Tomorrow she'd carry bread and sweets to the general store, as she always did on Friday, and the pecans always sold especially well.
    As the sun went down she brought the mortar in and placed it on the table in her work area. Tomorrow morning, early, she'd add the last few ingredients and then the rose water, mixing until she had a wonderful beauty cream that fetched a good price from a special customer.
    It was completely dark when a firm knock sounded at her door. She wasn't surprised. When people wanted a cure, a special tea, or just advice, they almost always came to her under cover of darkness. It wouldn't do for their neighbors to know they'd consulted a witch, even though many of their neighbors were frequent visitors to Matilda's cottage as well.
    She opened the door expecting to see a familiar face, someone who came to her on a regular basis for a healing ointment, or a cure for a baby's rash, or an herb tea to prevent another baby from coming too soon.
    The door swung open on a very tall man she had never seen before. He was dressed in a finely cut dark suit that should have made him look civilized, but somehow... didn't. Well-groomed, with a clean-shaven jaw and very dark brown hair cut in a precise short style, at first glance he almost looked like a gentleman. Almost. His shoulders were too wide; this man had done physical labor and done it often. His features were handsome but sharp, tense, as if he were never at peace. His hands were large and lightly calloused, and his eyes... his dark brown eyes were much too passionate and fierce to be gentlemanly.
    "Yes?" she prompted.
    "I must have the wrong place," he said, taking a step back to glance at the cottage, and then looking past her into her home. "I'm looking for the Candy house."
    "This is the Candy house," she said softly.
    He shook his head. "No, I'm looking for Mrs. Matilda Candy." Annoyance crept into his voice. Matilda found herself thinking that a gentleman would have more patience than this man possessed.
    "I'm Matilda Candy."
    His fierce eyes narrowed suspiciously. His clean-shaven jaw clenched. "Impossible."
    Matilda smiled at his obvious confusion, as she realized his mistake. "You must be looking for my grandmother."
    He sighed, almost in relief. "Your grandmother. Yes, of course. Is she here?"
    Her smile faded. "She passed away two years ago."
    The tall man in the doorway looked saddened, but not