Breach of Crust: A Charmed Pie Shoppe Mystery (11 page)

Ella Mae’s anger flared. “Other people don’t get to know for certain if their relationships will last. They rely on faith, trust, and love—not on glowing insects and enchanted flowers!”

Unfazed by her daughter’s outburst, Adelaide LeFaye gently moved Chewy’s head aside and got to her feet. “Perhaps that’s their loss. Look how many marriages fail these days. More than half. I have to admit, Ella Mae, that when Hugh
first asked me to perform the ceremony, my immediate reaction was to refuse him. But when I sat back and considered his request, I realized that he never would have come to me if he didn’t truly love you. I’ve doubted Hugh’s sincerity in the past, but I now believe that he would walk through fire for you. In a way, the Luna Rose ceremony is a test of faith, trust, and love. You need all of those, and a great deal of courage besides, to stand before that bush and await your destiny.”

Ella Mae bolted to her feet. “
I
am in control of my fate! If Hugh Dylan wants me to be his wife, then he can get down on one knee and propose. I’m not entirely sure I’d say yes, considering how furious I am right now, but it would be a good place for him to start.” She blew out a long, slow breath. “The only ceremony I want is the kind where vows are spoken in the presence of the people we love, rings are exchanged, Hugh kisses me, and after a declaration by the officiant, Hugh and I belong to each other for the rest of our days. It’s a simple and beautiful act. Why complicate it with magic?”

Her mother didn’t respond.

Feeling suddenly drained, Ella Mae opened her front door. “It’s time for me to turn in. It’s been a long day. Good night, Mom. Chewy, come on, boy. Bedtime!”

Before Ella Mae could enter her house, her mother’s voice held her in check. “Promise me you’ll think about it. Just take a few days before you reject the idea.”

Ella Mae sighed. “All right. But only if
you
promise to tell Henry how you feel about him. He’s scheduled to return to England in two weeks and I know you don’t want him to leave.”

“It doesn’t matter what I want. He has commitments—”

“Just tell him. Let
him
decide how to handle his commitments,” Ella Mae insisted. “Do we have a deal?”

Her mother raised her hands in surrender. “Yes, yes. But
I’m going to wait for the right moment. This is not a conversation I want to have in front of my sisters, Reba, and the Upton siblings.”

Ella Mae swept her arm in an arc, indicating the gardens spreading out behind Partridge Hill. “I’m sure you’ll find the perfect place.”

*   *   *

When Ella Mae saw Hugh the following night, she was tempted to rail at him for speaking to her mother about securing a Luna Rose ceremony, but she’d promised to consider it and she kept her word. However, she’d also made a vow never to lie to Hugh again, so when he asked her if anything was wrong, she was torn. They stood side by side at the sink, cleaning up after a supper of chimichurri skirt steaks, corn on the cob, and watermelon slices. Ella Mae dried her hands on the dish towel and looked at Hugh.

“Last night, my mom told me about your request. It made me really angry.” Unbidden, tears filled her eyes. “I’m not looking for a shortcut. Other people take chances and go forward blindly believing in their love. That’s what I want to do. I don’t want to rely on magic to predict our future.”

Hugh opened his mouth to reply but Ella Mae put her fingers to his lips.

“Hold that thought for just a second.” She moved to lower her hand but he grabbed it instead. Laughing, she went on. “I promised my mother that I’d weigh my options. To do that, I need to know what motivated you to ask for the ceremony. So convince me that it would be good for us. Why should we, the two people who have deliberately turned our backs on magic, use it to decide whether or not we should spend the rest of our lives together?” Her voice trembled. “Because you know what happens if we touch the rose and its light
goes out? It means that we won’t make it. Sooner or later, we’ll fall out of love.”

“Never,” Hugh whispered hoarsely and enfolded Ella Mae in his arms. He pressed her so hard against his chest that she could feel his heart hammering as though it might break through his rib cage. “I don’t doubt what we have,” he said into her hair. He then released her and cupped her face with his hands. “But I fear what the past has done to us. The scars it’s left on us. In places we can’t see. It’s these holes in my memory, Ella Mae. I know they’re the result of magic and I don’t want them to hurt us later on. After we’re married and have our own family. I can’t let that happen. I need to know that there isn’t something terrible lurking inside me like some sort of latent time bomb. Your happiness is all that matters to me, and the Luna ceremony is the only way I can be sure I’m the man who can deliver that happiness.”

Ella Mae let her tears fall unchecked. “Damn it, Hugh. Why did you have to present such a practical and yet incredibly romantic argument?”

Hugh smiled. “We have two weeks until the full moon. Just think about it, okay? I know the Camellias are coming tomorrow and you’ll probably be too busy to give this serious thought, but if those women start driving you crazy, I want you to picture this.” He pulled out a folded piece of paper from his pocket and set it on the counter. “Go on, open it.”

When Ella Mae unfolded the paper and flattened it with her palm, she saw that it was a real estate listing for a lot overlooking Lake Havenwood. It was just under an acre and included a dock.

“I was thinking of a craftsman-style house with a big back deck,” Hugh said. “We could have coffee there in the morning and a cold beer or a glass of wine at night. The dogs would love it. They’d have room to run and swim. We
could get a little boat. And later, I could put a play set with a sandbox here.” He pointed to a spot on the paper. “Or hang a tire swing.”

Ella Mae glanced up from the listing and caught Hugh’s faraway look. She could see that he was imagining their lives as though they were pages from a scrapbook, and she liked the picture he was painting. She wanted to climb into the vision with him, to sit on their deck at sunset, to cradle their firstborn child in a rocking chair as dawn broke over the mountain, to watch the dogs chase dragonflies during the summer and snap at snowflakes come wintertime. “I love it,” she said, sliding her arms around his waist. “And I love you too.”

*   *   *

The next morning, Ella Mae rose especially early. Leaving Hugh to sleep in, she put on her running clothes, fed Dante and Chewy, brewed a pot of coffee, and then ushered the dogs outside into the pale August light.

The dogs immediately spotted a brace of ducks by the lake’s edge and raced off to chase them, leaving Ella Mae free to enter the trail leading into the woods without company. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy having the dogs with her, but they tired too quickly and she needed to burn some energy in order to be calm and collected before facing the members of the Camellia Club.

Beneath the canopy of the pine trees, the air still held traces of the night’s coolness and Ella Mae maintained a steady pace over the packed dirt trail. She ran to the watering hole, where she’d seen Hugh swim like a dolphin so many times in the past. Deciding to take a brief water break, she leaned against the large boulder that teens had spray-painted for as long as Ella Mae could remember.

Every year, someone from the park service would drive
out to the swimming hole, clean the spray paint off the boulder, and post signs warning against vandalism. And every year, the signs would be uprooted and the initials of young lovers would appear in a rainbow of colors on the rock.

Ella Mae looked at the entwined letters and hearts, and decided that the boulder was wonderful. The kids knew that it was only a matter of time before their initials would be painted over again, but they didn’t care. They wanted their declaration to be public for as long as possible—in neon orange and swirls of deep purple and electric blue.

They’ll take what they can get and celebrate it
, she thought.
Boldly. Beautifully.

Because the rock wasn’t ugly. Each pair of initials had been meticulously drawn. And every set of lovers had their own style. No two hearts were the same. Some were surrounded by rainbows or butterflies. Others were decorated with gold lightning bolts or silver stars. There were Gothic designs as well. Black roses with sharp thorns and dark hearts bound by chains. Dozens of initials. Dozens of proclamations. Ephemeral pledges in paint.

Ella Mae cast one last glance at the tableau before sliding her water bottle into her runner’s belt and starting down the trail, back the way she’d come. When she cleared the woods and reappeared on the lawn behind Partridge Hill, she found her mother standing on the dock, tossing sticks into the water for Dante and Chewy.

She waved Ella Mae over. “I saw Hugh’s truck in the driveway, so I take it things are okay between the two of you.”

Ella Mae’s gaze moved across the lake to where the lot for sale was located. “We’re better than okay. I’ve agreed to the ceremony, Mom. I’ve given it plenty of thought, and I’m willing to go through with it, though I’m really scared.”

Her mother nodded. “Most things worth doing come with
a risk.” She smiled at Ella Mae. “Like having a child, for example. The worry never really ends, no matter how old the child is. Be sure to keep Reba close today. I’ve made arrangements to bring Opal to the resort first thing tomorrow morning. Until then, don’t let your guard down.”

“I really hope Opal and Loralyn can reconcile,” Ella Mae said quietly. “There has to be more to Loralyn than what people like Reba see. Because if Loralyn Gaynor is as cold and heartless as she seems, then she could prove to be the most dangerous enemy Havenwood has ever known.”

After receiving a surprisingly warm hug and a detailed itinerary from Julia Eudailey, who looked every inch the ladies club secretary with her tortoiseshell clipboard, fountain pen, and designer reading glasses, Ella Mae headed to one of Lake Havenwood Resort’s multiple kitchens to meet the other chefs.

Maxine Jordan, the organic chef from Charlottesville, Virginia, was a short, stocky woman with a mass of ginger hair. She had a laid-back, unhurried manner about her that instantly put Ella Mae at ease.

“Isn’t this setup amazing?” she asked, coming around a prep counter to shake Ella Mae’s hand. “My entire café could fit inside this space.”

“Mine too,” Ella Mae said. “And this is one of the
small
kitchens. The larger ones are undoubtedly being used to prepare breakfast for hundreds of guests.”

At that moment, a petite blonde wearing cat eyeglasses and a sky-blue, 1950s-style dress popped out from behind a stack of produce crates. “Not hundreds.” Seeing the look of confusion on Ella Mae’s face, she went on. “Didn’t you hear? The Camellia Club rented the
entire
resort! These gals must have some mighty deep coffers. I’m Caroline James, by the way. Of Carolina’s Cakes.”

Ella Mae was taken aback. Having seen the total number of members listed in the club directory, she knew the Camellias would occupy less than half the resort. Why did they feel the need to have the place to themselves?

Reba, who’d entered the room in time to catch Caroline’s remarks, shot Ella Mae a quick glance of triumph. Earlier that morning, she and Ella Mae had argued over which weapons to hide among their cooking tools. Ella Mae hadn’t been comfortable with the idea of stashing handguns and Tasers in with her rolling pins and spice canisters, but Reba had been adamant about arming themselves as thoroughly as possible.

“You can’t talk me out of bringin’ them,” Reba had insisted. “We have no clue what will happen over the next few days and I plan to be prepared for all kinds of crazy.”

After waiting for Reba to slide a cardboard box marked “Perishable” on a nearby shelf, Ella Mae introduced herself and Reba to Maxine and Caroline. The other two chefs had also brought female assistants, and before long, the kitchen reverberated with the pleasant din of women’s voices and the sound of utensils, pots and pans, and dry goods being arranged just so.

At one point, Maxine held up the itinerary they’d all been given and said, “This might be the only time we’ll be able to chat. I worked at a D.C. law firm before I opened my bakery, and I’ve seen entire case files that were less detailed
than this itinerary. I half expected to find bathroom breaks penciled in.”

Caroline laughed. “I’m wondering what will happen if one of my sessions runs late. When it comes to baking cupcakes, it’s good to get a little carried away. And these ladies will make mistakes. They won’t produce the perfect Cleopatra cupcake right from the start. They’ll need time to make them at least twice.”

“What are Cleopatra cupcakes?” Ella Mae asked.

“Honey cupcakes with mascarpone frosting and caramelized figs,” Caroline said. “Cleopatra loved honey and figs.”

Ella Mae tossed her apron on the counter. “That settles it. I’m playing hooky and coming to your class.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make extras.” Carolina examined the itinerary. “It looks like we’re all teaching at the same time. When the ladies aren’t cooking with us, they’ll either be having spa treatments, wining and dining, attending meetings, or engaging in some type of group exercise. I guess that last part makes sense, seeing how many desserts they’ll be tasting over the weekend.”

“What’s this dockside ceremony they’re having tonight?” Maxine asked. “We’re invited to join them for drinks and dinner, but after that, we’re supposed to make ourselves scarce. We’re not permitted near the back terrace or dock between nine and eleven. Isn’t that weird?”

Ella Mae knew that the ceremony was a final farewell to Bea Burbank, but she didn’t share this information with the other chefs. “Secret club business, I guess,” she said. “I’ve never been in a club before. Have either of you?”

Caroline smiled. “I started my own Nancy Drew Club when I was a girl. I handed out toy magnifying glasses and notebooks to my friends, and we met in the shed behind my house once a month to report on suspicious activity. All we
did was gossip about the neighbors and eat cookies. It was a very Southern club!”

The women laughed.

“I was involved in several political clubs back in D.C.,” Maxine said. “That was before I fell in love with a farmer named Aaron. To be closer to him, I quit my job, sold my condo, and moved to Charlottesville. Aaron taught me about living organically, and I began to cook and bake practicing those ideals. We opened From Scratch on our third wedding anniversary.”

Caroline clapped. “That’s so sweet! I never get tired of hearing how people fell in love with food. What about you, Ella Mae? How did you end up with a pie shop?”

Ella Mae, Maxine, and Caroline spent another hour getting to know one another while setting up their kitchen spaces. Finally, it was time to head to Café Soleil, the resort restaurant that served only breakfast and lunch.

The Camellias had ordered a lavish brunch buffet and the café was buzzing with activity. The waitstaff bustled around the room delivering orange juice, coffee, Bloody Marys, and mimosas. At the far end of the buffet line, one resort chef manned an omelet station while another served smoked salmon. Both the buffet tables and the dining tables were decorated with elegant floral arrangements of white magnolia blossoms and green viburnums presented in silver punch bowls.

Catching sight of Ella Mae and the other bakers, a willowy blonde made her way to their side. Ella Mae had already met Savannah McGovern at the nail salon in Sweet Briar, but having now memorized the directory, she also knew that Savannah was the club’s current vice president.

“Ladies!” Savannah beamed at them. “It’s such an honor to have you with us. I’m Savannah McGovern.” She pointed
at her gold nametag. Her age and fashion sense reminded Ella Mae of Bea, but Savannah lacked Bea’s warmth. “After we’ve all had a bite to eat, I’ll ask each of you to say a few words about your individual styles and what we can look forward to learning today. We’ll then break up into groups and get started with the first session. Is that acceptable?”

The three women murmured their agreement, and when Savannah turned away, Maxine whispered, “Why do I feel like saluting?”

Caroline pushed her glasses back onto the bridge of her nose and surveyed the room. “Don’t worry, sugar. I’ve seen my fair share of divas and debutantes. They all put on airs at first, but the instant I get these ladies in the kitchen and put a cupcake in front of them, they turn into little girls again. Little girls who are dying to lick pink frosting off their fingers and pour rainbow sprinkles onto everything. They’ll bounce on their toes and giggle. You’ll see. Your food will have the same effect on them. That’s why we’re here. We work a special kind of magic.”

Ella Mae let the other two chefs go ahead. When she and Reba were at a safe distance from everyone else, she nudged Reba in the side. “Did you hear what Caroline said?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t catch any vibes off her, Maxine, or their assistants.” Reba lowered her voice. “Some of the Camellias have special abilities, but it’s too crowded in here for me to sort out which ones. When they break into smaller groups and come into the kitchen to work with you, I can get a better read on them. Then we’ll know who to keep a closer eye on. Savannah already has my hackles up. She’s got a reptilian stare.”

Ella Mae sighed as she helped herself to some turkey bacon. “As much as I enjoy Caroline’s image of these women becoming playful during our cooking classes, there’s obviously more to this retreat than the creation of their centennial
cookbook. I remember Julia telling me back in May that the Camellias would be electing a new president this weekend. If someone murdered Bea to become the next president, then that woman will stop at nothing to gain that position. Anything could happen over the next few days.”

“I have a feelin’ that it won’t be all giggles and rainbow sprinkles either,” Reba grumbled while proceeding to load her plate with enough bacon and sausage to feed a high school football team. She then led Ella Mae to their assigned seats, which happened to be at the same table as Julia Eudailey and her daughter.

Julia introduced her offspring as Anna Katherine, but the young woman waved off the name with a smile. “Just call me Annie,” she said and turned to the other two women at the table. “This is Mary Grace Smart and her daughter, Shelby Smart. Shelby and I have known each other since preschool.”

Ella Mae recognized the Smarts from the directory, but it was clear that she wasn’t going to learn much about them during brunch because Annie wouldn’t let anyone get a word in edgewise. She prattled on about the Eudailey family business, which was real estate, while Shelby sat back in her chair looking bored. Mary Grace inserted a polite comment or two, but in general, she seemed anxious for the meal to be over. She kept glancing around the room, as though she were missing out on more important conversations. At one point, Annie mentioned that Mary Grace served as the Camellia Club treasurer and that both Mary Grace and Shelby were math whizzes.

“Between the Smart women and the Edgeworths’ financial acumen—Cora and Meg are sitting right over there by the window—we were able to add another scholarship this year,” Annie said proudly.

After locating the Edgeworths, Ella Mae focused on Annie
again. “That’s amazing,” she said. “I think I recognize all the club officers now. Savannah McGovern is the vice president. Julia, you’re the secretary. Mary Grace, you’re the treasurer. Is there anyone else?”

Mary Grace held up two fingers. “We actually have a
first
and
second
vice president. Cora Edgeworth is the second. We also have a parliamentarian. Her name is Lyn Croly. She’s the tall blonde flirting with the waiter by the coffee station. Lyn is a relative newcomer to our club.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “And yet our former president was convinced that Lyn held the key to our future.” Suddenly catching a warning glance from her daughter, Mary Grace added, “I suppose Lyn has promising ideas for fund-raising and such.” She suddenly seemed eager to leave. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll freshen up before the next bit of fun begins.”

Mary Grace didn’t head for the restrooms, however, but stopped to chat with another table of Camellias. The women bent their heads together and began whispering, drawing hostile stares from other groups of women in the room.

“Oh, Lord,” Reba whispered. “It’s worse than the cliques in a middle school cafeteria.”

Ella Mae’s gaze swept over Mary Grace and landed on Loralyn. Appearing in her Lyn Croly persona, Loralyn wore a wrap dress that revealed far less décolletage than usual. She’d also forgone her sexy stilettos, opting for a trendy pair of Jimmy Choo pumps instead. Her hair was modestly styled, her accessories were classy, and her movements were so deliberate that they looked choreographed.

The whole thing’s a dance
, Ella Mae thought.
A political dance. And by Sunday, one of these women will be crowned Belle of the Ball.

For a moment, Ella Mae was nearly overcome by the soft whisper of female voices. By the blend of so many perfumes,
the sparkle of diamonds and twinkle of gold, the sheen of silk, and above all else, the undercurrent of anticipation, hostility, and excitement. The sensation that something incredibly dramatic was about to happen, that they were all walking a tightrope, was almost palpable.

“Too much estrogen,” Reba muttered in Ella Mae’s ear. “We need to get in the kitchen so you can breathe a nice, healthy dose of cinnamon or orange peel. These women must have bathed in Chanel No. 5 before they got dressed.”

“Thank goodness for you,” Ella Mae said, looping her arm through Reba’s. “You smell like bacon and eggs. And toast spread with strawberry jam. Like home.”

*   *   *

Later, after the chefs had finished their short speeches, the Camellias broke into three groups and followed Ella Mae, Maxine, and Caroline into the kitchen.

Having seen her fellow chefs prepare for their lessons, Ella Mae knew that Maxine’s class would focus on several varieties of organic pound cake while Caroline was going to kick off the weekend with two types of cupcakes. The first was called Let’s Hear It for Chocolate, and the second was Vanilla Bean Dream. Ella Mae told her group that there was no point in addressing fillings, toppings, or decorations until her students had mastered the most difficult step of pie baking.

“It must be the crust!” Annie Eudailey declared. “I tried to make a homemade crust once. It was a disaster. After that, I stuck with the frozen kind.”

“We can’t list frozen crust as an ingredient in our cookbook,” Julia admonished her daughter with a grin. “Roll up your sleeves and tie on your apron. We can do this.”

As it turned out, Julia and Annie were attentive students. Ella Mae had sixteen women in her first group, and they all
managed to follow her directions for preparing basic piecrust dough using a food processor.

“Ice water and very cold, unsalted butter are the key ingredients,” she told them. “Using the pulse option until your dough forms pea-sized balls will help create the perfect curst. Cora’s looks just like mine. See?” She pointed at a food processor and then went on to inspect the other women’s results. They’d all managed to correctly blend their ingredients. Except for Loralyn. She’d been too heavy-handed on the pulse button and had overblended her dough.

“Don’t worry,” Ella Mae told her. “Unlike life, everything in the kitchen can be fixed. There’s always a chance to start over again.”

Ella Mae showed her students how to shape their dough into balls and then cocoon the balls in plastic wrap. The dough would chill in the refrigerator for thirty minutes while she taught the ladies the art of making a gluten-free piecrust. Annie was particularly excited about this next activity because her husband had celiac disease.