Lemon Pies and Little White Lies (10 page)

“You think I’m not
sìth
because you’ve never seen me in the grove,” Mrs. Drever said, using the ancient Scottish term for magical entities. “I never entered because I gave up my
gift many years ago. I let it burn down like a candle.” She snapped her fingers. “And now it’s gone.”

Reba gasped. “Why would you do that?”

Mrs. Drever gave her an indulgent smile. “Once, I was like you. I had my own Ella Mae to protect. Someone we believed might save our kind from Myrddin’s curse.” Mrs. Drever cradled her warm cup and frowned. “We were wrong, of course. And because of that mistake, the girl I loved died. After that, I never wanted to use my abilities again. I wanted to hide. To forget. But you can’t escape your past. You can never run far or fast enough. You can’t distance yourself from something you carry with you.”

Suddenly, without the slightest warning, Reba grabbed a knife from the cutting board and hurled it at Mrs. Drever.

It happened so fast that Ella Mae didn’t even have time to scream. Her mouth opened in a wide O of horror as she waited for the blade to pierce the older woman’s sternum, but Mrs. Drever’s hand shot up, quick as a striking snake, and caught the knife by the handle. Then, as if nothing unusual had happened, she calmly placed it beside the sugar bowl and took a sip of coffee.

Reba grinned in delight. “Hot damn. Who would have guessed? Sweet little Mrs. Drever—”

“It’s Fiona. Now that you’ve thrown a knife at me, there’s no sense in being formal.” Fiona gestured at the untouched piecrust. “You should keep working, dear. I don’t want you to fall behind, especially if those are for Joyce’s service. I heard that you offered to donate the food. That’s very kind of you.”

“Was Joyce one of us?” Ella Mae asked while transferring the crust to a dish.

“No. She was just a nice lady who loved dogs, sugary treats, romance novels, and her son. She was generous and loyal and funny. She was my dearest friend, and I have to find
out who did this to her.” Fiona picked up the knife and studied its sharp edge. “If Finn demands an autopsy, I’m sure they’ll find too much insulin in Joyce’s system. The police might still rule her death an accident, but
I
know that isn’t the truth.”

“There’s no evidence—” Ella Mae began but Fiona drove the knife into the wooden countertop with such force that Ella Mae’s words died in her throat. For a short, small-boned woman in her late sixties, Fiona was incredibly strong.

“You asked why someone would come after me, so I’ll tell you. The woman I followed like a shadow for her whole life gave birth to a daughter. The father of this child, who cared about nothing but where his next bottle of whiskey was coming from, died the night of her sixteenth birthday. He was a fisherman. He drowned in a freak storm that came out of nowhere. Waves as tall as mountains sprang up, smashed his boat to bits, and disappeared again as if they’d been a mirage. Men fishing nearby said they’d never seen anything like it. The sea turned smooth as glass the moment his boat was gone. They also swear that they heard the sound of a girl’s laughter being carried by the wind. Her mother and I knew then that she was very powerful.”

Ella Mae was certain she already knew the identity of the child, but she asked all the same. “What was this child’s name?”

“You know her name. I can see it in your eyes.”

Gripping her rolling pin, Ella Mae whispered, “Nimue.”

“Yes.” Fiona pushed her coffee cup aside. “She must have found out that I was living in Havenwood. That I was living in the same town as you—the one person who could shatter her dreams.”

“What does she want?” Reba’s voice was nearly a growl.

“To restore the old ways,” Fiona said. “To bring magic out into the open.”

Ella Mae gaped in astonishment. “That’s insane! We’d all be put in jail cells or psych wards. We’d be hunted.”

“Or worse. We’d become people’s weapons. Their lab rats,” Reba said, her voice laced with venom.

“Our people are ruled by laws. We pay a terrible penalty for using our gifts in public,” Ella Mae continued shakily. “So how is it possible for Nimue to disregard the rules? Is she above punishment?”

Fiona pulled a face. “More like immune to it. She’s as strong as you, dear, and she also wants to unite our kind. But her means of accomplishing this are to destroy groves wherever she goes, forcing people to be dependent on her. She will rule our kind by fear. But that’s nothing compared to what she wants to do to non-magical people.”

Ella Mae raised her chin, her hazel eyes flashing defiantly. “Is she partially responsible for the storm that swept through Scotland? Or is she here in Havenwood, throwing bricks through my window?”

“I don’t know where she is,” Fiona said. “And I can’t tell you the extent or limitations of her powers. I haven’t seen her for years. But I have an inkling of what she wants.”

“Which is?”

“Nimue believes she is the true Clover Queen and you are a false one. She will not rest until she proves that to our kind.” A flicker of pain surfaced in Fiona’s pale eyes. “I’m a threat because I know things about her that she wouldn’t want shared. I’m a reminder of the life she left behind. Anyone near me is in danger, and I wanted to warn you.”

Ella Mae walked to the dry-goods shelves and began to gather ingredients for the funeral pie. Taking hold of a box of raisins, she wondered how many more funeral pies she’d be making in the future.

“None,” she whispered resolutely. She spent a moment
in front of her spice tins and ran her fingers across the tubs filled with sugar, flour, and nuts. Only when she felt calm again did she return to the worktable.

Reflecting on everything Fiona had said thus far, Ella Mae measured out raisins and dumped them into a saucepan along with two cups of water. Turning on the gas, she watched the blue flame spring to life and thought of Joyce Mercer. Had someone truly closed the damper, injected Joyce with too much insulin, and then dragged her into the tub to drown? If so, where was her killer now? Could this deranged woman named Nimue be responsible for Joyce’s death?

When the raisins were simmering, Ella Mae focused on Fiona Drever again. “Tell me more about Nimue.”

“I only knew her as a child,” Fiona said. “She’d barely come into her powers when her mother died. I left Scotland shortly after that and never saw Nimue again. I heard she went to a boarding school in England where she disappeared along with a handful of other young women.”

Ella Mae raised her brows in question. “Was she recruiting them?”

“I don’t know.” Fiona looked worried. “The women were declared missing by their families. Incidentally, they were all water and wind spirits.”

Reba paled. “Sounds like trouble to me.”

Fiona slowly got to her feet. “I should be going now—let you get back to work.”

“Wait,” Ella Mae said. “Will you be safe?”

Fiona shrugged. “I can take care of myself. My daughter, Carol, is staying with me now as well. She lost her home in that storm.”

“I wish . . .” Ella Mae trailed off and then suddenly smiled. “Weren’t you once the wedding coordinator for the Methodist church?”

“I was, but the job kept me from visiting my daughter. I wanted to go to Scotland during the spring and summer months and that’s when most weddings take place.”

Ella Mae studied the older woman, her eyes glimmering. “Seeing as Carol is in Havenwood now, would you consider working here on a part-time basis? I need a catering manager and—”

For the first time since she’d entered the pie shop, Fiona Drever smiled. The smile transformed her. Her face glowed and her blue eyes sparkled. “I accept your offer, Ms. LeFaye.” She held out her hand and Ella Mae shook it heartily. “When do I start?”

Glancing at the raisins simmering on the stovetop, Ella Mae’s delight in having Fiona Drever join her staff was instantly dimmed. “You’ve just lost your friend,” she said softly. “You should take as much time as you need—”

“I’d like to help with the food for Joyce’s service. It’s the least I can do for Finn. It’s my fault his mother is dead.” Fiona raised her hand to stave off Ella Mae’s protest. “We can’t escape the past. Mine has caught up with me and it has cost Joyce her life.” Her eyes turned hard. “I will avenge her death. With your permission, I’ll go to the grove tonight and restore what’s left of my gifts.”

“Of course,” Ella Mae said, still unaccustomed to granting requests.

Fiona left and Ella Mae concentrated on the funeral and shoofly pies. Once they were in the oven, she started making the day’s savory pie—sausage and Swiss chard. She chopped onions and garlic and sautéed them in a frying pan. She was just adding a handful of crumbled Italian sausage to the mixture when Aiden entered the kitchen.

He sniffed the air. “Is that breakfast?”

“It could be,” Ella Mae said. “How about a sausage, onion, and garlic omelet?”

Aiden grinned and patted his flat belly. “This job
does
have its perks.”

“It’s the least I can do. I feel like I ruined your date with Suzy.”

He shook his head. “That was all me. I was acting like a frat boy at the pub. Pounding back green beer and shooting darts.” He sighed. “I’d love to show Suzy that there’s more to me than bluster and brawn. If I don’t, I’m afraid she’ll get bored with me.”

“Nonsense. Suzy’s crazy about you.” Ella Mae cracked eggs over a mixing bowl. She whisked them rapidly until the yellow liquid was a froth of tiny bubbles and poured them into a frying pan. She then gave the sautéing sausage, onion, and garlic mixture a quick stir.

“I hope so,” Aiden mumbled. “Anyway, I know you need her as much as I do. For different reasons, of course.” He held out his massive hands. “But I want to help you too. You saved Jenny and me. We owe you big-time.”

A sheen formed over the surface of the cooked eggs, and Ella Mae deftly flipped the pale yellow disc in the air. It fell back into the pan in perfect alignment, and she scooped the sausage filling into its center, folded the sides of the omelet, and slid the finished product onto a plate. She added a garnish of fresh parsley and a fan of sliced tomatoes.

“I do have an assignment for you,” Ella Mae said as Aiden dug into his meal. “After work, I need you to get together with Reba to conduct some weapons research for me.”

“Now you’re talking!” Aiden exclaimed, his mouth stuffed with omelet. At times, he was boyishly charming, but there were times when he was simply juvenile. Ella Mae decided
that he was right to be concerned about his relationship with Suzy. If he wanted to take it to the next level, Aiden Upton would need to put aside his youthful habits and become the man Suzy deserved. Someone who was not only strong and brave, but responsible and dependent too.

The oven timer beeped, and Ella Mae grabbed a pair of potholders and started transferring the funeral and shoofly pies to the cooling racks. Every crust was golden brown, and Ella Mae inhaled a whiff of buttery dough mingled with the syrupy scent of warm molasses and cooked raisins, an exotic hint of cinnamon and cloves, and the sweet tang of cider vinegar.

As Ella Mae gazed at the row of pies, she remembered the day Hugh had stood in this kitchen and told her about his grandmother—the one who’d made shoofly pies for him—and of how he loved to watch her cook. She recalled the affection with which he’d spoken of this merry, apple-cheeked woman. Ella Mae, who’d been rolling out a piecrust at the time, had been overwhelmed by feelings of tenderness for him. That longing still lingered in the depths of her heart, and though she sensed its presence, it didn’t overwhelm her as it had in the past.

Ella Mae grabbed a fresh ball of dough, sprinkled more flour on the worktable, and drew the design of a wave in the center of the flour. “Fire is the opposite of water,” she said to Aiden. “Electricity can travel through water, right? You’re an experienced electrician. Help me find a weapon to stop water.”

Aiden looked pensive. “Like harnessed lightning?”

“I’m not sure,” Ella Mae admitted. “Something that can counteract both wind and water. Recruit anyone you know who has a gift for weaponry and brainstorm ideas.”

“I’m on it,” Aiden said without a moment’s hesitation. “But what’s this all about?”

Ella Mae shrugged. “You know that whole the-best-defense-is-a-good-offense theory? It has to do with that, and
a water spirit. I’d go into more detail, but I have neither hard evidence nor facts.”

“No worries. Messing around with electricity is my idea of fun.” After saluting her, Aiden went to help his sister set up the dining room.

Doing her best to shut out thoughts of a killer prowling around Havenwood, Ella Mae dropped a handful of Swiss chard on top of the sautéed sausage, onion, and garlic. Once the leaves had wilted, she poured the contents of the pan into a large baking dish and added milk, beaten eggs, and Gruyère cheese to the mixture. After covering the entire dish with a lattice crust, she slid the entrée into the oven and started to prepare the filling for a large batch of chicken-and-mushroom pies with dill-flavored crusts. It was one of the shop’s best-selling savory pies, and people called for it all year long.

The morning passed quickly. The Charmed Pie Shoppe was busier than ever, and two newly engaged women begged Reba for the chance to convince Ella Mae to make the desserts for their wedding.

“Tell them to stop by on Thursday and ask for Fiona,” Ella Mae said.

When Aiden returned from his lunch deliveries, Ella Mae asked him to pop down to The Cubbyhole and purchase a day planner for Fiona. “Suzy can pick it out. And take her a generous helping of today’s special. I’ll pack sides of broccoli slaw and fruit salad for her as well.”

Aiden darted into the dining room to add the money he’d collected on his deliveries to the till and then hustled back into the kitchen. He gathered Suzy’s food and then paused at the door. “I have to ask. Why are you so worried about a water spirit?”

“Lake Havenwood is both wide and deep,” Ella Mae said. “There’s enough water in that lake to wipe this town off the
map. I was in grade school during the Flood of Seventy-nine. Havenwood had an unusual amount of snowfall that year and during the spring thaw, all that water ran down from the mountains into the lake. And then it rained like crazy. The lake rose higher and higher until it turned into a hundred rushing rivers. Schools closed because the kids were needed to help line the downtown streets with sandbags. It was crazy. People traveled by rowboat for days. I’ll never forget how Loralyn Gaynor decorated her boat like it was a parade float and got boys from our class to row her around.”