Peach Pies and Alibis (11 page)

Ella Mae already had a dozen breakfast pies in the oven when Maurelle showed up for
work the next morning. For the first time since she’d opened The Charmed Pie Shoppe,
she felt like a complete klutz in the kitchen. Her thoughts were so scattered that
she rolled several piecrusts too thin and they tore when she tried to transfer them
to the pan.

“Damn, damn, damn!” she shouted, running her flour-encrusted fingers through her hair.

“Girl, you’ve got to settle down!” Reba scolded, coming into the room with a freshly
brewed latte. She perched on her usual stool, her strawberry scent instantly calming
Ella Mae. Taking a deep breath, she began to roll out another ball of dough. Reba
watched her, sipping her latte and humming along with a Miranda Lambert tune. When
the bells attached to the front door jiggled, Reba was off the stool like a shot.

“That’s just Maurelle!” Ella Mae called out, but Reba was already gone.

Maurelle entered the kitchen a few seconds later, with Reba following closely on her
heels.

Ella Mae made the introductions and then glanced at the oven timer. “Let me give you
a quick lesson on the cash register and espresso machine before the breakfast pies
are done.”

Maurelle turned out to be a quick study. She had an excellent memory and seemed familiar
with the café’s various machines and appliances. While Ella Mae explained how the
pie shop operated, Reba set the dining room tables and shot inquisitive glances at
Maurelle.

Eventually, Ella Mae asked her newest employee to write the daily specials on the
chalkboard and motioned for Reba to join her in the kitchen.

“What’s up with you?” she whispered. “You’ll chat with a total stranger at the Piggly
Wiggly for an hour, and yet, you’re being so reserved toward Maurelle.”

Reba crossed her arms over her chest. “I know. I just like bein’ in charge of the
dinin’ room.”

“No one’s replacing you,” Ella Mae said. “No one ever could, but she’s a nice girl
and we need her, so crank up the Southern hospitality a bit, okay?”

“Have you forgotten about yesterday already? I just wanna get to know her a bit before
I get all buddy-buddy,” Reba replied. “Why’s she wearin’ long sleeves anyhow? It’s
gonna be in the nineties today with a billion percent humidity. The poor girl must
be dyin’.”

Ella Mae curled her hands around her rolling pin. “It sounds like she almost did.
She had skin cancer, and I can only assume that she has some sort of embarrassing
scars.”

Reba clucked her tongue in sympathy. “I’d best crank up the AC for her then. Any of
our customers complain too much about the temperature and I’ll stuff them in the oven
Hansel and Gretel style.”

Glancing at the clock, Ella Mae knew that she needed to
get a move on. “No threatening our patrons,” she teased. “Paste on your prettiest
smile and go out front. Please?”

Reba produced a frightening grin and dug in her pocket for her licorice twists. A
minute later, Ella Mae heard the low murmur of women’s voices and knew that Reba was
chatting up Maurelle.

In no time at all, she was too busy with breakfast orders to give a second thought
to her new server. Reba and Maurelle flew in and out of the kitchen, picking up orders
and dropping off dirty dishes until Ella Mae wondered if the swing doors were in danger
of coming off their hinges.

“Everything going all right?” she asked Maurelle during a lull between breakfast and
lunch.

“Yep,” the younger woman said. “The customers are really nice and Reba’s been a big
help. She’s covered me every time I’ve made a mistake.”

Ella Mae smiled. Knowing that her patrons were being taken care of would allow her
to relax and concentrate on cooking. She didn’t want to taint her pies with feelings
of agitation, so she was thrilled that Maurelle had fallen into an easy rhythm so
quickly. “Take a break whenever you want,” she said. “We’re pretty casual about that
kind of stuff. And make sure you get something to eat. The lunch rush might be heavy
today since it’s so hot out, so I’m making lemon icebox pie to cool everyone off.”

In fact, she was just about finished with the dessert pies. Having already blended
the juice and zest of a handful of sun-ripened lemons with cream cheese, vanilla extract,
and sweetened condensed milk, Ella Mae was just about to sprinkle a little sugar into
the mixture. However, she wanted Maurelle to leave before adding the last ingredient.

“I’ll grab a slice of bacon and mushroom pie,” Maurelle said. “I’m not usually hungry
at ten in the morning, but I am today.” She looked around. “Where should I eat? Out
back?”

Ella Mae considered Maurelle’s aversion to sunlight. “No, no. Sit at a café table
on the front porch. It’s nice and shady out there.”

Maurelle gave her a thumbs-up sign. “Cool, thanks.”

As soon as the kitchen’s swing door stopped moving, Ella Mae closed her eyes and began
to sprinkle sugar into the stainless steel bowl of her commercial mixer. As she let
the granules fall through her fingers, she thought back to December of last year.
She was living in Manhattan then and was attending culinary school. She’d just finished
her last class of the day, and when she’d stepped outside, it was snowing. The weather
forecast had called for clear skies, but the clouds were so thick that Ella Mae could
barely see the city’s skyline.

Feeling like a little girl, Ella Mae had held out her hand, catching a single flake
in her palm. She’d stared at its star shape until it melted, feeling lighthearted
and carefree. The snow continued to fall even harder, covering her hair and coat.

Forgoing the subway, she’d walked back to her apartment, reveling in the sight of
the newspaper stands and parked cars being blanketed in white. Everything became hushed.
Even the taxis stopped their endless honking. Rosy-cheeked businessmen grinned like
boys on their way to the sledding hill, and women caught flakes on their tongues,
smiling at the simple joy of the season’s first snow.

The air had felt crisp and Ella Mae’s breath plumed around her face. Half an hour
later, the world was white and quiet and breathtakingly beautiful. It was as if the
snow had cleansed the city and her people. Everyone felt a jolt of hope, a twinge
of childish pleasure, and for a moment, they forgot their adult responsibilities and
took a moment to scoop up a handful of snow, delighting in the kiss of cold against
their skin.

Now, standing in her toasty kitchen in northwest Georgia,
Ella Mae finished adding the sugar. Opening her eyes, she turned off the mixer, poured
the filling over the graham cracker crust, and placed the pies in the walk-in. Two
hours later, when she cut into the first of her lemon icebox, a breath of frosty air
rushed from the pie and hovered over the wedge like a pair of angel’s wings.

Another hour later, all the pies had been devoured.

“What’d you put in those things?” Reba asked as she plated the last piece.

“December snowfall,” Ella Mae said.

Reba brought the pie to her eye level and then shrugged. “Sounds as refreshin’ as—”
She stopped and cocked her head. “What on earth?”

Without another word, Reba disappeared through the swing doors, nearly colliding with
Maurelle.

“Um. You should come out front and take a look at something,” she said in bewildered
amusement.

Curious, Ella Mae followed Maurelle through the dining room and onto the porch. At
the end of the block, a crowd of people were clustered around a fire hydrant. Someone
had pried off the cap and water was jetting upward into the hazy sky. Lawyers, construction
workers, beauticians, bank tellers, shop owners, and the rest of the pie shop patrons
were dancing in the spray, laughing and smiling as they kicked off their shoes and
hopped up and down in the shallow puddles.

For a few seconds, Ella Mae forgot about her Awakening. She forgot about the Lady
of the Ash, her family’s enemies, Morgan of the Fay, and the harvest. There was only
this scene. This perfect moment.

“Does stuff like this happen often?” Maurelle whispered in awe.

Ella Mae gestured at the sign mounted above the front door. “That’s why it’s called
The Charmed Pie Shoppe. This place is enchanted.”

“What do you mean?” Maurelle frowned in confusion.

Ella Mae smiled. “Oh, just that we all seem to find what we need here.”

Maurelle glanced at the people in the street. Everyone’s clothes were soaked and the
women’s mascara ran down their cheeks in rivulets of black, but they were too busy
enjoying themselves to care.

“What did they need?” she asked.

“I couldn’t tell you that,” Ella Mae said, recalling her mother’s stern warning about
discussing magic in front of strangers. “But I think they found it.”

Ella Mae was just about to go back inside the pie shop when a cherry red BMW convertible
barreled up the street and screeched to a halt three feet from where she stood.

The driver was a stunning blonde wearing a silk wrap dress, Prada sunglasses, and
diamond earrings large enough to be seen from outer space. Easing the sunglasses onto
the point of her nose, she called out, “Why, Ella Mae! I do believe you’ve sprung
a leak.” The woman smiled, flashing a set of cloud white teeth, and turned to the
handsome man in the passenger seat. “It’s such a shame that we have to cut our time
short because of a silly fire hydrant,” she drawled, placing a possessive hand on
Hugh Dylan’s arm.

Hugh shrugged, clearly not sharing her disappointment. “At least we got to finish
lunch. I have so much to do at Canine to Five this afternoon that I couldn’t have
stayed much longer anyway.”

Getting out of the car, he walked around to the back and
waited expectantly. “Loralyn? Can you pop the trunk? I need my tools.”

Loralyn Gaynor was no longer smiling. She turned off the engine, slid her sunglasses
onto her forehead, and alighted from the sleek sports car with the grace of a Hollywood
starlet. Casting an icy glare at Ella Mae, she said, “I suppose this stupidity is
your doing. I’ve been trying to catch up with Hugh for weeks, and the moment I finally
have him alone,
this
happens.” She gestured at the happy scene at the end of the block with a dismissive
flick of her wrist.

“It was just a sandwich at Ham It Up,” Hugh said. “We can reminisce about high school
anytime.”

Loralyn watched Ella Mae’s customers splashing in the water, her pretty mouth turned
down in a sulk. Then, with an abrupt change of demeanor, she faced Hugh, held the
car keys an inch away from her right breast, and gave them a little shake. “If you
want these, come and get them.”

Ella Mae immediately stiffened. Loralyn’s voice sounded different. It was musical;
an alluring melody of seductive, honeyed tones. Even Ella Mae was nearly tempted to
respond to Loralyn’s invitation, but she focused on Hugh instead. He seemed to be
struggling to resist Loralyn’s voice, but she took a step closer to him and whispered,
“Come on, big boy.” He relaxed his taut muscles and all the fight left him. With a
dazed expression, he moved to Loralyn’s side. She pressed her palm flat against his
chest and then shot Ella Mae a look of triumph.

“Are you sure you want to mess with that ole hydrant right now?” Her voice was magnetic.
It wrapped around Hugh in mellifluous waves until he seemed to forget about the rest
of the world. He had eyes only for Loralyn.

“Hey!” Reba shouted, coming up behind Ella Mae. “What are you waiting for, Mr. Fireman?”
She clapped her hands. “You wanna see Noah float by before you decide to shut that
thing off?”

Hugh snapped out of his stupor. Gently pushing Loralyn away, he reached down next
to the steering wheel, pressed the trunk release button, and grabbed his toolbox.
Thanking Loralyn for the ride, he strode toward the hydrant, saluting Reba and Ella
Mae as he passed by.

“Men,” Reba muttered and turned up the path leading to the pie shop. “The show’s over.”
She directed her words at Maurelle, who’d remained in the shadow of the front porch.
“Let’s clean up so we can all go home.”

The two women disappeared inside the shop, leaving Ella Mae and Loralyn alone. Ella
Mae was tempted to boast that she’d guessed that Loralyn’s power was her voice. She
also wanted to warn Loralyn to stop using her enchanted speech on Hugh ever again,
but held her tongue. It was better for Loralyn to view Ella Mae as a clueless fool.
That way, Ella Mae could quietly find a way to break her enemy’s hold over the man
she’d been in love with since grade school.

She gestured at Loralyn’s left hand. “Don’t you have your fifth or sixth husband to
snag?”

“Fourth husband, actually.” Loralyn examined her reflection in the driver’s-side mirror
and, pleased with what she saw, smiled at Ella Mae. “And I do have someone in mind.
I can’t wait to see your reaction when you meet my latest paramour.”

“Don’t bother introducing me to the poor soul,” Ella Mae said. “He’s probably old
and rich and has a heart condition. He’ll be dead within two years and you’ll be even
wealthier and more depraved than before.” She gave Loralyn a look of disgust. “You
just buried your last husband a few months ago. Show some respect for his memory.”