Peach Pies and Alibis (16 page)

She had made him that offer, but that had been months ago.

“You told me that you were staying in New York,”
she said. “Your life was there. You belonged there. That’s what you said.”

He shook his head. “I was wrong. My life is wherever you are.”

Wishing that Sloan’s words didn’t move her, Ella Mae fixed her gaze on the lake below.
The sight of the familiar water instantly steadied her. Knowing that Partridge Hill’s
dock was there on the opposite shore, obscured by the small island in the middle of
the lake, gave her strength. This was her home. The vast lake, the lush grass, the
unblemished sky. She fit here.

Sloan was from a different world. A different life. In her mind, he had already taken
a place in her past, fading from the present like a ghost. After only a few weeks
in Havenwood, she forgot how penetrating his dark eyes were, what his laughter sounded
like, or how it felt to hold his hand. And yet, now that he was here, all of those
things came rushing back to her.

She couldn’t help but remember how often she’d met his gaze and seen sparks of amusement
or affection in his eyes. Once, she would have found it hard to look away, but that
was before he’d made a fool of her. “I don’t think I understand what point you’re
trying to make. Showing up at a stranger’s wedding with Loralyn Gaynor on your arm
is your way of showing me love and devotion?”

Sloan frowned. “I’m not
with
her. I just rode with her. My big statement is that I moved to Atlanta. For us, Ella
Mae. I applied for a transfer and I’m working for the firm’s Georgia branch. The Gaynors
were my first important clients. When Mrs. Gaynor told me where they lived, I asked
about you.” He smiled. “I thought it was a miracle that I’d found someone who could
help me work my way back to you. Opal and Loralyn have been really gracious. And I
wouldn’t be a very good investment banker if I didn’t take advantage of every opportunity
that came my way.”

“So it was Loralyn’s idea to bring you here?”

“Yes.” Sloan touched the rose tucked into his buttonhole. “She thought the romantic
setting would remind you of how much we loved each other when we exchanged our vows.”

Feeling dazed, Ella Mae noticed that the wedding guests were beginning to take their
seats. A group of musicians positioned themselves to one side of the wooden arch and
a preacher carrying a Bible joined them. As the members of the string quartet tuned
their instruments, the preacher greeted the couple seated in the front row. Ella Mae
recognized Rudy’s parents. Rudy’s father looked proud and cheerful while Rudy’s mother
alternated between beaming and dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.

“We need to move,” Ella Mae whispered urgently to Sloan and, without waiting for him
to answer, turned and strode up the lawn in the direction of the back porch. She saw
Reba waiting for her, her mouth drawn in a tight line of anger.

“I’m all right,” Ella Mae said. “I just need a drink and a moment to wake up from
this nightmare.”

Reba dug a small flask out of her sequined handbag. “Let Mr. Jack Daniel settle your
nerves. As for the nightmare, I can take care of
him
.”

Ella Mae grabbed Reba’s arm before she rushed off. “Don’t. The wedding’s going to
start any second now. I don’t want to ruin it with my own drama. I’ll deal with Sloan
later.”

When her husband stepped onto the porch, Ella Mae held out a hand for him to stop.
She swallowed the contents of Reba’s flask, grimacing as the strong, bitter taste
of the whiskey coated her tongue and sent a rush of fire down her throat. “This isn’t
the time or place for this, Sloan. Give me your number and I’ll call you.”

“No way.” His voice was soft, but firm. “I’ve waited so long to be near you. I know
this setting is suboptimal and
that you’re working.” He gestured at the buffet table. “By the way, the desserts look
unbelievable, Ella Mae. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks,” she murmured, unable to conceal her pleasure over the compliment. Behind
Sloan, Reba scowled and Ella Mae couldn’t help but wonder if Reba had hidden a holster
somewhere beneath her form-fitting, emerald-colored dress.

The string quartet began to play “Air” from Handel’s
Water Music
and the guests stopped chatting and took their seats. There was no more time to argue
with Sloan. The wedding had begun.

“Sloan.
Please
.” Ella Mae felt the stirrings of panic. How could she focus on her job if he wouldn’t
leave? And what about Hugh? How was she going to explain her husband’s presence to
him?

“You heard the lady,” Reba growled over the music that floated over the lawn, the
notes featherlight and breezy. Ella Mae imagined them spiraling down the hillside
and skipping over the surface of the lake like a water strider.

Reba didn’t seem to notice the music. All of her senses were honed in on Sloan. “This
is her first gig,” she hissed at him. “Do you wanna ruin her professional reputation
or, for once in your self-absorbed life, act like a gentleman and hightail it outta
here?”

A shadow of annoyance entered Sloan’s eyes but he ignored Reba. “I don’t want to do
anything to hurt you, Ella Mae. Not ever again,” he said sincerely. “I’ll go sit with
the other guests, and when the reception is over, we can talk. Until then, I promise
to keep my distance. You won’t even know I’m here.”

Ella Mae was about to protest when the string quartet started to play the “Allegro”
movement from
Water Music
and an aura of delightful anticipation surrounded the guests. The time had come.
The bride was on her way.

Sloan hurried to a vacant chair and managed to sit down
seconds before Rudy and another young man took their places under the wooden arch.
The preacher stood in the center, cradling his Bible against his chest, and smiled
as the bride appeared from around the side of the house.

“Lord have mercy!” Reba cried in amazement. “Have you ever seen anythin’ like her?”

“No,” Ella Mae said breathlessly. “Never.”

There was Candis, resplendent as a princess, seated on the back of a tall horse with
a gleaming red coat and a lightning-strike-shaped blaze on his forehead. Satin ribbons
and clusters of Queen Anne’s lace had been woven through his blond mane and tail.
The name “Flash” was embroidered on his bridle. Candis’s father, Peter Shaw, walked
on one side of Flash’s head while Freda was on the other, looking lovely in a tea-length
dress made of cranberry chiffon.

Like Rudy, Peter wore a tux and a pale orange rose boutonniere. And though Ella Mae
noticed Peter, Freda, and the horse, she was utterly transfixed by Candis.

Perched astride Flash, Candis radiated happiness. The train of her soft white gown
billowed over the horse’s flank and hindquarters, reminding Ella Mae of the meringue
topping on some of her dessert tarts. The fitted bodice had a sweetheart neckline
with knife pleating on the edge, drawing attention to Candis’s slim figure. The skirt
had a beaded waistband that wrapped around her hips, and there was a lustrous, chocolate-colored
satin sash tied around her waist. Her hair was swept up in the front and cascaded
down her back in loose, touchable curls. Like Flash’s mane, delicate flowers had been
threaded into her shiny locks. She wore no veil and very little makeup. Her only accessories
were a pair of pearl drop earrings and the ivory ballet slippers that peeked out from
beneath the gown’s hem.

Freda caught Ella Mae’s eye and smiled. It was a brief, bittersweet smile, and Ella
Mae felt her eyes growing moist. “Candis is the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen,”
she
whispered to Reba, watching as Peter Shaw held out his hand. Candis slid off Flash’s
back and wove her arm through her father’s. Freda handed the horse to one of the ushers
and then took Candis’s free arm. Together, the family marched up the aisle of flower
petals.

“Check out Rudy,” Reba said gleefully. “Now that’s what real magic looks like.”

Ella Mae couldn’t agree more. Rudy’s eyes were glittering with joy and it was clear
that, for him, the rest of the world had faded away. There was only Candis. It was
as if the young couple were completely alone—that’s how intently they were staring
at one another.

“Did you feel that way?” Reba asked, shooting Ella Mae a curious glance.

“Not like that,” Ella Mae said. “I was happy. And hopeful. But I also remember wondering
if I really knew the man waiting for me at the end of the aisle. He always kept parts
of himself hidden from me.” She paused. “And if I’m being honest, I did too. I never
talked about Havenwood. It was like I put all those memories on a shelf for another
time, like my past would have interfered with our relationship.”

Reba nodded. “I suspect if you’d let those memories out, they’d have taken root. You’d
have felt a pull to come home. By leaving them in the dark, you cut yourself off from
the light, honey. You can see now that you and this place are linked, can’t you?”

Ella Mae took Reba’s hand, just as Peter Shaw placed his daughter’s hand in Rudy’s.
“I’ll never leave again, Reba. I can only be myself in Havenwood.”

The Shaws took their seats in the front row, and at that moment, Hugh Dylan turned
in his chair and smiled at her. When she saw the shining promise of his gaze, her
heart thumped with joy. Then she darted a quick look at Sloan and her hands grew clammy.
How was she going to handle this situation? Sighing, Ella Mae knew that unlike Candis
and Rudy, her evening was unlikely to end with a champagne toast and a long, deep
kiss beneath a canopy of stars.

“Take a breath,” Reba said and muttered, “neither of them are right for you anyhow.”

Ignoring her, Ella Mae did her best to focus on the couple standing beneath the arch.
A light wind had sprung up from the surrounding hills and was tickling the tree branches
and the ends of Candis’s hair. The scattered flower petals from the aisle twirled
in the air, forming little dervishes of color and scent.

After Rudy and Candis exchanged vows, three of the musicians lifted their instruments
and the sweet, subtle notes of Marc Cohn’s “True Companion” drifted from the strings
of the two violins and the viola. The cellist rested the fingerboard of his instrument
against his body, and then, with his the bow tucked under one arm, he began to sing.
His voice was gravely and raw and entrancing. The song penetrated the heart of every
guest, reminding them of old loves, lost loves, and in the case of the lucky few,
a love that had stood the test of time. Ella Mae saw Peter Shaw put an arm around
Freda’s shoulders. As he drew her in close, Ella Mae thought of how little time Freda
had left to be held by her husband. At the thought, she couldn’t stop the tears from
coming.

“It makes everything seem more beautiful, doesn’t it?” Reba said softly. Her eyes
were glistening with unshed tears. “Knowing it’ll all be gone soon.”

“There’s so much beauty here that it hurts,” Ella Mae said, her throat tight with
sadness. “Why do love and pain always have to walk side by side?”

Reba didn’t say anything. The two women listened to the rest of the song, captivated
by the lyrics and the hauntingly romantic melody.

When it was over, the preacher blessed the couple and, after smiling tenderly at each
other, Rudy and Candis shared their first kiss as man and wife.

More music burst into the evening air and the wind suddenly grew more purposeful.
Without warning, rose petals of yellow, white, and pale orange were raining into the
open palms of the spellbound guests.

“Did my mother…?” Ella Mae began and Reba nodded before she had the chance to finish
her sentence.

Rudy and Candis faced their friends and family, and the preacher introduced them as
Mr. and Mrs. Lurding. The guests clapped and cheered.

“I wish I could be like them,” Ella Mae said. “Normal. I don’t see the benefit of
being one of our kind. Look at you and my mother and aunts. Except for Verena, you’re
all alone. None of you have ever had what Rudy and Candis have, right? Freda seemed
to have found someone special, but she has to throw her life away to save our sacred
grove. I hate this. I don’t want to be different.”

Reba watched the newlyweds move down the aisle, hugging their loved ones and posing
for pictures. “Think of what you did for Mrs. Dower with a single piece of pie. You
put color in her gray world. You released her from guilt and grief. She’s going to
laugh and sing and
live
, all because of you. It is a gift, Ella Mae. As much as it’s a burden.”

Ella Mae wasn’t able to respond, because as soon as the recessional music ended, Peter
Shaw stood under the arch and invited the guests to gather on the back porch for refreshments.
“I don’t know about you,” he said. “But I can’t wait to see my daughter and new son-in-law
feed each other some wedding pie.”

“All hands on deck,” Reba said and took her place at the head of the buffet table.
She removed a pair of peach meringue mini tarts garnished with delicate caramelized
sugar hearts from the small cooler under the table and plated them. These had been
made especially for the bride and groom.

Candis swept onto the porch, hugging and kissing Ella Mae and Reba like they were
family.

“Rudy and I want everybody to meet the woman responsible for creating this amazing
dessert display!” Candis said, beaming at Ella Mae. “If you haven’t been to The Charmed
Pie Shoppe yet, then you’re missing out on a totally life-altering experience.”

Blushing, Ella Mae handed Candis the plate with the peach tarts and laughed as Rudy
smeared meringue on his bride’s nose. Candis returned the favor by pressing her whole
pie into his face. He then grabbed her and kissed her, leaving them both covered in
meringue.

“Your turn!” Candis taunted Freda, pursing her white, meringue-coated lips.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” Her stepmother giggled. “Lay one on your daddy!”

Peter Shaw stepped forward with open arms and Candis gave him a light kiss on his
chin. He then wiped off her face with his handkerchief, his movements so sweet and
tender that the guests clasped their hands and sighed. Suddenly, they were distracted
by the
pop, pop, pop
of multiple champagne bottles being opened at once. As if on cue, the string quartet
broke into a lively performance of Dvorˇák’s
Slavonic Dance
. The music, laughter, and chatter entwined, forming the jaunty sounds of celebration.