Peach Pies and Alibis (25 page)

He laughed derisively. “The real me was the guy in the elevator with that pair of
frisky redheads. There’ve been lots of elevators and lots of other women, Ella Mae.
I come from a long line of men and women with voracious appetites. I’m sorry, but
I could never be satisfied by one woman.” He touched his flat stomach. “At least you
satisfied this appetite.”

Ella Mae felt her anger rise, filling her blood with heat. She longed to pick up the
carving knife and point it at him, wiping the smug expression from his face. Instead,
she curled her hands into fists and willed her face to betray no emotions. “You said
that you didn’t have to hide the truth from me anymore. Who gave you permission to
share your secret?”

“When I answer that question, you’ll know my secret too,” he said and tapped the tip
of her nose with the pad of his index finger. It was all Ella Mae could do not to
sink her teeth into that finger. “I’m done with this town and our sham of a marriage,
so here it is. Drumroll, please.” He gave her an expectant look and when she didn’t
move, he released an exasperated sigh. “Fine, be a spoil sport. Cousin Opal told me
I was free to live my life as I saw fit. She talked me into marrying you seven years
ago and I listened to her…advice. Now I don’t have to listen anymore. My dues have
been paid.”

Ella Mae was flabbergasted. She stared at Sloan, trying to make sense of what he’d
said. Finally, she managed a single question. “You’re a Gaynor?”

“Mom’s maiden name is Gaynor.” He checked his watch, clearly growing restless. “You
never guessed because I grew up in Connecticut. My folks didn’t call our apartment
and only visited us a few times. I’d never been down South until I moved to Atlanta.
Can’t say that I care for it much either.”

A powerful crash of thunder shook the pans hanging from the ceiling rack, but Ella
Mae was too stunned to notice. “I married a Gaynor?”

“You did. One whose gift is making lots of money by selling secrets.” Sloan pulled
off his wedding band and tossed it on the cutting board. “And now you can be divorced
from a Gaynor. Good-bye, Ella Mae. Have a nice life.”

Ella Mae stood with her palms flat on the cutting board, the juice from the mangled
strawberry oozing from beneath her palms.

Suddenly, Reba was beside her. She led her from the kitchen, through the dining room,
and out the front door. Gently pushing Ella Mae into a rocking chair, she stood above
her and stroked her whiskey-colored hair. “It’s gonna be all right, sugar. Your aunt
Verena’s gone on home, but Reba’s here. I’m right here.”

Raindrops ricocheted off the flagstone path and sidewalk, and the sky had morphed
from a pale pewter hue to an angry charcoal gray. The grass no longer looked solid,
but had the watery, liquid appearance of a marshland. The wind was stripping the magnolia
blossoms off the branches and hurling them into the air, and the battered petals fluttered
to and fro like drunken butterflies, occasionally colliding with one of the hundred
twigs torn from the trees and shrubs surrounding the pie shop.

“This’ll be a fine mess to clean up,” Reba grumbled to the storm. “As if we don’t
have enough goin’ on already.” She released Ella Mae and sat down in the other rocking
chair. “I figured since no shots were fired and Sloan came out of that kitchen lookin’
pleased as punch that you two were givin’ your marriage a second chance. But then
I saw your face and I knew that wasn’t happenin’. If that man hurt you again, I swear
by all that’s good and holy that I’m gonna—”

“Sloan’s a Gaynor,” Ella Mae said, her voice strained and hoarse. “And apparently,
he only married me because his cousin Opal told him to. He’s never been faithful and
now that he’s been given permission to get a divorce, he wants out.” She reached for
Reba’s hand. “He never loved me. Never. For seven years, I lived a lie.”

Reba traced circles on Ella Mae’s palm. “Some people wander through their whole lives
like that, hon. At least your eyes have been opened and you can move on. You’re young
and beautiful and strong. Plenty of time to net another fish.” She frowned. “But what’s
with Opal? Why would she give two figs about the man you chose to marry? Unless…”

“Unless what?”

Reba shrugged. “Sloan took you to a concrete jungle. You couldn’t be Awakened there.
The closest sacred grove is far upstate. As long as you stayed in Manhattan, you’d
be a regular girl. No chance of any magic flowin’ through you. It’d keep on sleepin’
and, eventually, it’d fade away. Truth be told, most folks thought it already had.”

Ella Mae nodded absently. “And because the Gaynors don’t realize that I’ve been Awakened,
they’re letting Sloan cut me loose.” She inhaled deeply, drawing the moist storm air
into her lungs. The tiny molecules of rain and wind gave her strength. “At least I
don’t have to keep wondering. It’s over and I’m glad to be rid of him.”

“What about the other kitchen confessions?” Reba
wanted to know. “Opal’s and the Shermans’? Please tell me that there’s a killer for
me to chase after. I’d like nothin’ better than to sneak up on someone under the cover
of thunder and lightnin’. It’d be like a Shakespearean play. A real tragedy of course.
Like
Macbeth
.”

Quickly recapping everything that the Shermans and Opal Gaynor had told her, Ella
Mae tapped the pocket of Reba’s apron. “You can disarm yourself for now. We still
don’t know who gave Melissa and Freda the contaminated cheese unless Aunt Verena heard
something useful.”

“She didn’t,” Reba said, clearly disappointed. She removed a small pistol from the
apron, reached under her shirt and pulled another from a holster strapped against
her right breast, and eased a small dagger from within a niche in her left cowboy
boot.

“How are you able to wait on tables wearing that?” Ella Mae asked, unable to keep
from smiling.

Reba pivoted the dagger so that its thin blade caught in the light, and grinned. “Girlie,
this is nothin’. I’ve still got a throwing star taped to my lower back. That’s why
my posture’s so damn good.”

The two women laughed and all the tension that had been slowly building for the past
few weeks shattered like broken glass. Ella Mae sighed and sank back into her chair.
She began to rock, relishing the rhythmic creaks the curved runners made as they met
the wood planks of the porch floor.

“My father and Opal,” she whispered to the rain. “Who would have thought?”

“He was a charmer, that’s for sure,” Reba said. “I vowed never to talk about him,
Ella Mae. Your mama made me promise and I’d never break my word to her.”

Ella Mae shook her head in resignation. “I know, I know. You’ve been singing that
same old song since I was in diapers. But why won’t my mother share her memories with
me?
I want to know him. It might even help me understand why she kept me at a distance
for so long.”

“All I can say is that he and your mama weren’t supposed to be together. The price
they paid for goin’ against the tide was a dear one.” Reba stood up and collected
her guns and dagger. “We’ve done all we can here today. Let’s close up and hash this
over with your mama and aunts, preferably over a bottle of whiskey and a big pot of
my heart-warmin’ beef stew.”

Nodding, Ella Mae pushed herself out of the rocker, though she was loath to leave
it. She felt utterly drained, and as she took a step forward, she nearly lost her
balance. Reba’s arm shot out and encircled Ella Mae’s waist. “You put lots of energy
into those pies. Magic doesn’t happen without a cost,” she reminded her. “Sometimes
it just wipes you out for hours. That’s why your mama sleeps half the day after one
of her Luna rose ceremonies.”

“But I’ve used enchantment in my pies before and I never felt like this.”

“You didn’t just bake them with a certain emotion this time, did you?” Reba asked.

Ella Mae thought about that for a moment. “I guess not. I was really focused on forcing
the people who tasted my food to come back into the kitchen and tell me their secret.
I mean, I put everything I had into bending them to my will.” She shrugged wearily.
“I couldn’t be that strong or August would never have settled for talking to Maurelle.”

Reba snorted. “Puh-lease. Once he started in on the subject of Dee, he couldn’t stop
if he wanted to. Her, you, me, the fire hydrant—the man’s dam broke. Shoot, he’s probably
still singin’ Dee’s praises to—”

“Maurelle!” Ella Mae exclaimed. “I forgot all about that poor girl. I need to drive
to August’s office and pick her up. She can’t be walking around in this storm. Will
you take care of everything here?”

“Of course. I’ll see you back at Partridge Hill,” Reba said and escorted Ella Mae
to her Jeep. They were both soaked by the time Ella Mae slid behind the wheel. “Where’s
the Colt?” Reba demanded before closing the door.

“Under a pot holder,” Ella Mae said. “But don’t go back for it. I’ll be home soon
enough.”

Reba held up a warning finger. “Don’t you move.” She dashed back into the pie shop
with the speed of an Olympic athlete and returned to the Jeep with a very heavy takeout
container.

“Clever,” Ella Mae said, and on impulse, threw her arms around Reba’s neck. The two
women held each other, water sneaking into the Jeep’s interior and streaming down
from Reba’s face and hair onto Ella Mae’s shoulders.

“I love you too, sugar,” Reba murmured. She then broke away and raced up the front
path again.

Maurelle was just jogging down the steps of August Templeton’s law office when Ella
Mae pulled up to the curb. Cracking her window, she yelled, “Hop in!” and then pivoted
in her seat to grab a beach towel she kept in the back. Handing it to Maurelle, who’d
gotten drenched in the space of a few seconds, Ella Mae glanced up at August’s building.
The red bricks were so wet that they’d turned a ruddy brown and the gutters had spit
water into the flower beds until they’d turned into small pools, drowning the pretty
pink asters and golden mums.

“I’m sorry you were stuck here,” Ella Mae said as Maurelle rubbed her short, dark
hair with the towel and wiped the moisture from her face. “August can be rather verbose.”

“I’m not sure what that means, but if you’re referring to the way he talks and talks
without taking a breath, then he is that.” Maurelle’s tone had a sharp edge to it
and she hastened to soften it. “I feel bad for him. He’s got a major crush on your
aunt.”

Ella Mae checked for traffic before pulling away from
the curb, but downtown was nearly deserted. “He certainly does, and I don’t think
he has much hope. It’s a shame, because we all love him. But we’re not the ones who
matter.” She turned her windshield wipers on to their highest setting, and they fought
furiously against the rain. “I wonder why he’s staying at the office when the rest
of Havenwood has packed up and gone home.”

“He said that no storm would keep him from doing a full day’s work.” Maurelle turned
to Ella Mae. “I’m with him. I’d rather wait tables than sit at home waiting for the
wind to knock my trailer over.”

This was the first time Maurelle had ever raised the subject of where she lived.

“Can you tell me how to get to your place?” Ella Mae asked. When Maurelle hesitated,
she added, “Reba’s closing the shop, so I’m taking you home. Are you in the trailer
park on Leafwing Street or have you rented a place farther outside of town?”

Fidgeting, Maurelle muttered, “It’s off Orion Road.”

Ella Mae was stunned. That had to be at least seven miles from the pie shop. “You
bike that far every day?”

“Yeah. I’m not as weak as I look.”

Picking up the defensive note in her employee’s voice, Ella Mae told Maurelle about
the bike rides she’d taken as a kid, recalling how the distances had never seemed
as long as they did now. She prattled on as she drove west, even though she didn’t
feel like talking. Eventually she tried to get Maurelle to open up a little about
her past.

“My family isn’t very close,” she reluctantly mumbled as Ella Mae turned onto her
street. “We’re all loners,” she said. “We talk on the phone and stuff, but not very
often. It’s cool though. We’re just wired like this, I guess.”

Despite the fact that Maurelle seemed untroubled by her solitude, Ella Mae felt sorry
for her. When they reached a group of dilapidated mailboxes and Maurelle told her
to turn
right, Ella Mae paused. The narrow road ahead was littered with branches, and the
unpaved surface was muddy and pocked by puddles.

“This will be a good test for my Jeep,” Ella Mae said with forced cheerfulness. However,
the first puddle she drove through was deceptively deep and the Jeep lurched roughly
to the side. Maurelle thrust out an arm to steady herself against the dashboard and
Ella Mae shot her a worried glance. Her gaze was attracted to a brown mark on Maurelle’s
right forearm, just above the wrist. It was thin and bent in the middle, like the
jointed leg of an insect, and Ella Mae wondered if both of her arms were covered with
similar scars. It was as if the flesh had been burned, leaving a brand seared into
the skin.