Pies and Prejudice (33 page)

Ella Mae stood her ground. She had no intention of simply walking away, leaving Loralyn to gloat in triumph. “You won’t get away with this,” she announced firmly.

Loralyn uttered a haughty laugh. “No one can prove that I switched the pins or took the money. You’ve got nothing on me, Ella Mae. It’s just like old times.” She lowered her
voice to a whisper. “I win. And you’re still a loser. Have a nice day.”

“Actually, I have plenty to hold over your head.” Ella Mae took a seat on the padded stool near the door and crossed her legs. Gesturing for Chewy to relax by her feet, she folded her hands on her lap as if she had all the time in the world to chitchat with Loralyn. “For example, I can support Ashleigh’s claims against you. If I back up her story and tell the police that you admitted to switching the rolling pins—bragged about it even—then they’re going to take a longer, closer look at you. And your family. So will the press. How do you think the Gaynor name and sterling reputation will handle such an examination? What will happen to your stables? If people link you to this scandal, you won’t sell a single foal.”

Her lips curling into a snarl, Loralyn said, “What do you want?”

“I’m here to tell you exactly how you’re going to spend that two hundred grand.” Ella Mae gestured at the massage table. “Why don’t you take a seat? You need to listen very carefully.”

A few minutes later, Ella Mae and Chewy left the salon, feeling the quizzical stares of the pampered women on her back. And though the whiskey’s warm buzz began to recede, Ella Mae felt as if she were floating on champagne bubbles. She’d forced Loralyn’s hand, and though she couldn’t prove her enemy’s guilt to the authorities, she could help remedy some of the pain Loralyn had caused.

Ella Mae pedaled into the sultry evening, Chewy’s toothy smile encouraging her feelings of giddiness in her victory over Loralyn Gaynor. Skipper Drive was bursting with the scents of honeysuckle and ripe blackberries. A breeze from the lake kicked up dust from the road and a million insects buzzed from the underbrush as she passed.

By the time she got home, Ella Mae was covered in dirt and sweat and wanted nothing more than to take a cool
shower and then relax in front of the TV with a large glass of wine.

But when she opened the front door, she discovered that the guest cottage wasn’t empty. Her mother was inside, futzing over an arrangement of coral and cream-colored roses. Chewy raced into the kitchen and nuzzled against her calves. She laughed and bent down to kiss the terrier’s black nose.

“Your roses needed some freshening up,” she said with a welcoming smile. “Long day?”

Nodding, Ella Mae poured two glasses of wine and sat down at the kitchen table. She waited for her mother to finish with the roses and then told her what she’d learned from August. After a moment’s hesitation, she also recounted her visit to Loralyn’s salon.

“You did well. One might argue that you could have told the police how she took the bonds and switched the rolling pins,” her mother stated matter-of-factly. “But they wouldn’t have been able to act on that information. There’s no evidence, Loralyn would have lawyered up or lied through her teeth about the entire affair, and the bonds aren’t traceable. If she’s smart, she’ll do exactly as you’ve instructed and will cash them in Atlanta.”

“What if Hugh Dylan comes forward and tells the authorities that Loralyn took the rolling pin from his truck?”

Her mother gazed into her wineglass as if she were a seer. “He won’t. Firstly, because he may have no idea that Loralyn stole evidence, and secondly, because Hugh displays a rather blind loyalty when it comes to Loralyn.”

Hugh had confessed as much to Ella Mae the day he’d helped at the pie shop, so why did it create an ache in her heart to hear further proof of an unbreakable connection between the high school sweethearts?

“One day, people will see her for what she is,” Ella Mae declared passionately. “A harpy.”

Her mother threw back her head and laughed, a musical
sound echoing the wind chimes in the garden. “You don’t know how accurate that statement is. And her mother is no prize either. Opal and I have been at each other far longer than you and Loralyn. But you’re home now. We’re together and things will change for the better.” She reached across the table and stroked Ella Mae’s cheek. “All those years ago, when you left with Sloan…I didn’t want to let you go. I regret how I handled that, Ella Mae, and I hope that you can forgive me. I’ve lost so much time with you and I don’t want to lose any more. Your return has taught me that it’s never too late to begin again. That family is forever.”

Ella Mae conjured up an image of Dee, Sissy, Verena, Reba, and her mother as they’d all gathered on the opening day of The Charmed Pie Shoppe. Such beautiful, intelligent, gifted women. And she was one of them.

She raised her glass, thinking no obstacle could stand in her way with such a troupe of exceptional women guiding her forward. The fatigue of the past two months dissipated like winter’s last frost. She felt unburdened, almost weightless, as if the promise of the days to come would enable her to drift out the window like one of her mother’s rose petals.

And yet, she didn’t want to travel beyond this moment. After seven years, her mother had finally apologized, and Ella Mae had forgiven her in an instant.

She clinked her glass against her mother’s and whispered, “Family is forever.”

Ella Mae’s days began to take on a predictable rhythm. She woke to a lavender sky, loaded Chewy into her bike basket, and pedaled into town. Her skin was tanned, her arms freckled, and her hair streaked with filaments of auburn and gold. She was also in the best shape of her life. Between the commute to Havenwood and a workday spent entirely on her feet, her body felt stronger than it had in years.

“The town should put your face on a billboard,” Reba teased one morning as she tied on her peach apron. “If the tourists think they’ll look like you after a long visit to Havenwood, spas around the country will be empty as tombs.”

“Thanks, but the last thing I want is more media attention,” Ella Mae had responded.

Helping herself to one of the plump, red raspberries drying on the counter, Reba nodded. “True. And we’ve already got more customers than we can handle. Folks are askin’ for delivery service, so you might wanna hire a nice, strappin’
young man to carry your pies all over the county. Somebody real easy on the eye.”

“I’ll make sure to include that requirement in the classified ad.” Ella Mae flicked Reba with a dish towel.

Reba popped the raspberry in her mouth and then her eyes grew wide. “Speakin’ of newspapers, guess what I read in
The Daily
this mornin’?”

Ella Mae shrugged. “Your horoscope predicted that a tall, handsome stranger is about to walk into your life?”

“Don’t I wish. I know just what I’d do with him too,” Reba said, wiggling her brows suggestively. “But this is almost as good. Annie Beaufort’s sister is gonna take charge of Respite Ranch. The sister’s from Texas, has two teenage boys, and has won a pile of rodeo trophies, so I reckon she knows a thing or two about kids and horses.”

Ella Mae was delighted. “That’s the best news I’ve heard in ages. But what about money? Can the ranch stay afloat?”

Reba nodded. “Thanks to your aunt Dee it can. She’s raffled off a custom-made sculpture to the highest bidder. Raised enough cash to keep the place in hay and frozen pizzas for a long, long time. We’re talkin’ six figures.”

“Aunt Dee is amazing.” Ella Mae shook her head in awe.

“It’s always the quiet ones that get the job done,” Reba observed, taking a licorice twist from her apron pocket. “Everybody underestimates them.”

Ella Mae grinned. “Let me have one of those. I want to see if they’ll make me as chipper as you.”

“There’s nothing magical about this candy,” Reba said and then bit off the end of a Twizzlers. “But it sure tastes like there is.” She then fluffed up her hair and went back to work.

In the middle of another busy Saturday, one of the pie shop’s regular patrons suggested that Ella Mae offer a customer pie or pastry of the week. Ella Mae agreed that it was a wonderful idea and the patron, a Mrs. Sandra Gregoire, informed her that lime pie had always been her favorite.

“Drop by on Monday,” Ella Mae told her. “And you’ll see your name and pie written on the chalkboard.”

After closing the shop, Ella Mae mounted her bike and slowly made her way south on Emperor Street. She was relieved to be able to skip the trek north to Canine to Five to pick up Chewy as her mother had decided to keep the terrier with her on Saturdays.

“He’s the perfect grandchild,” she’d informed Ella Mae. “He’s independent, an excellent eater, and chases off the rabbits before they can get to my vegetable garden.”

Turning left onto Painted Lady Avenue, Ella Mae noticed a narrow pillar of black smoke twisting into the summer sky. As she crossed over Monarch and headed toward Red Admiral Street, she saw a crowd of people gathered around what appeared to be a burning garbage can.

Ella Mae nudged her bike through a knot of pale-legged vacationers until she could see the façade of Perfectly Polished Too. Smoke was rising from the steel trash can outside the salon’s front door and a Havenwood fire engine had already arrived on the scene.

Her curiosity piqued, Ella Mae dismounted and then stopped short upon hearing Loralyn’s voice, which was raised in a harsh shout. If Ella Mae hadn’t seen her with her own eyes, she wouldn’t have believed Loralyn capable of such a screech. As long as she’d known her, Loralyn had been gifted with a lovely and musical voice. Even when she was angry or used cutting language, the words were delivered melodically, like a song.

The recipient of her disharmonious ranting was Hugh Dylan. He appeared completely unmoved by her tantrum and barely looked at her as he tried to maneuver the engine’s heavy hose around her feet.

“What kind of moron starts a fire in a garbage can? It’s got to be one of our chain-smoking townies. Find the culprit, Hugh!” Loralyn demanded, the cords of her neck taut and
angry. “I’m losing business every second this drama occurs outside my salon!”

Hugh reeled out the hose line with calm, deliberate movements. “It’s a garbage can, Loralyn. Relax.”

“I’ve already had one torched salon, thank you very much. I don’t need another. Hurry up before this somehow spreads!” Loralyn put her hands on her hips and waited.

Dropping the hose with a thud, Hugh turned on her and spoke in a low rumble. “Go back inside, Loralyn. I can’t concentrate when you’re this close to me.”

Loralyn was aghast. Ella Mae could tell that she was unused to being dismissed by Hugh. “You…you never talk to me like this. What’s come over you?”

Hugh jerked his hand at the engine. “This is my job, Loralyn, and I need to get back to it. Please go.”

A wicked smile spread across Loralyn’s face and her voice returned to its customary timbre. Gone were the petulant shrieks, replaced by a tone as rich and smooth as melted chocolate. “Just see to it that my customers can still get into my shop.”

Having delivered her command, Loralyn stormed off, shoving aside anyone not clearing a path for her quickly enough.

Ella Mae scanned the faces of the crowd and recognized one of the onlookers.

Standing between a man in a Bud Light T-shirt and a woman wearing a bikini top and denim cutoffs was Peggy. Waving, Ella Mae caught the older woman’s eye and walked her bike toward the receptionist.

“How are you?” she asked.

Peggy’s smile was like a ray of sunlight. “Good. Really good! Did Chandler tell you that we got an anonymous donation at the equine center? For two hundred grand! Can you believe it?”

“No!” Ella Mae pretended to be surprised. “How wonderful!”

“It sure is. Chandler, um, Dr. Knox, can relax a bit now. We’ve got enough funds to launch a media campaign and restore our image. The clients are already starting to trickle back in. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Ella Mae sighed in relief. Loralyn had followed her instructions to the letter. “And what about you? Are you recovering?”

“I am.” Peggy’s cheeks flushed a pretty pink. “Something unexpected and completely marvelous happened.”

“Oh?”

Peggy’s gaze grew dreamy. “My neighbor, Ernest Jenkins, is a widower. He and I have always been friendly. We chat whenever we’re outside and he’s borrowed the occasional cup of milk or sugar while I’ve borrowed hedge clippers or a socket wrench. And then, one day, everything changed.” She put both hands over her heart. “Ernest came to my door carrying the biggest armload of red roses I’ve ever seen. They smelled like warm honey.”

My mother’s Sweet Love roses,
Ella Mae thought. “Go on,” she prompted.

“Well, he dropped to his knee and said that he loved me—that he’d loved me from that first day when I pointed out the crabgrass growing around his mailbox bed.”

Ella Mae grinned. “And do you feel the same about him?”

“Not right away,” Peggy confessed. “I’d only had eyes for Bradford for so long and the grief was too raw, but Ernest has won me over and now I only have eyes for him.”

“I’m so glad,” Ella Mae said and the two women embraced.