Graham wants Beatrice to cater his engagement party.

To his thirty-four-year-old fiancee. In the tearoom Beatrice rebuilt from nothing. Three months after he destroyed their marriage.

The audacity is breathtaking. So is the rage Beatrice has been swallowing for twenty-eight years.

To master Comfort Baking, she must transform pain into pastry. But comfort requires more than grief. It requires processing the anger she buried under decades of being the competent wife. The perfect hostess. The woman who scheduled his affairs around her event calendar because at least he was discreet.

The magic is demanding she finally make a scene.

With Vera Ashworth circling the tearoom like a vulture and Linnea's gift still locked behind unnamed fears, Beatrice cannot afford to fall apart. But she also cannot keep pretending she is not furious.

At Graham. At the sons who took his side. At herself, for all those years of swallowing what she really felt.

The Harvest Moon Market approaches. The scones Beatrice bakes taste like fury.

It turns out that might be exactly what Havenbrook needs.

Sometimes the sweetest magic rises from the bitterest places.