Peach Pies and Alibis (36 page)

Kelly opened the passenger door and hopped out. “Ta-da!” she shouted, throwing her
arms out. “Isn’t she gorgeous?”

Noel came around from the driver’s side and handed Ella Mae the keys.

She couldn’t take her eyes off the Jeep. “This is the most beautiful car I’ve ever
seen.”

“There’s a peach pie on the other side,” Dee said from the edge of the driveway. “After
all, we are in Georgia. And
if you look closely, you’ll see little silver stars here and there. For those rare
few who don’t already know that your pies are charmed.”

Ella Mae swung around. “Is this your doing? I thought I was just getting a tune-up.”

Dee smiled and moved to her side. “One of my artist friends wanted to do something
special for you. Well, for all of us.”

“Another token of gratitude?”

“Yes.” Dee slid an arm around Ella Mae’s waist. “People need to do this. They’re grateful
to your mother for renewing their magic. Some of them depend on their abilities to
feed their families. It would be wrong to deny them the chance to thank us for that.”

“But this is just for me,” Ella Mae protested. “And all the help I’ve been getting
at the pie shop? I’m feeling a little too appreciated.”

“So should we have your Jeep painted white again?” Dee quipped.

Ella Mae ran her fingers along the glossy paint, noticing the silver stars for the
first time. They winkled and sparkled just like the real ones coming to life in the
night sky. “No way. But I would like to bake a few pies for the person who did this.
I have to do something to show how happy I am with my beautiful billboard on wheels.”

“I’m sure that would be fine,” Dee said. “Now let’s show this baby off to Reba and
my sisters.”

Every morning, Ella Mae would leave her guest cottage before sunrise and walk through
the brisk, end-of-September air to the garage. She’d raise the door, take one look
at her pink Jeep, and smile.

The bright, cheerful hues had the same effect on other motorists. No matter where
Ella Mae went, people would honk and wave or give her a thumbs-up.

“I love your car, lassie!” an old woman leaning heavily on a walker shouted one afternoon
while Ella Mae paused at a red light. “It makes me feel young and happy.”

Even though she was worn out from a long day at the pie shop, Ella Mae had immediately
pulled over and offered the woman a ride. “I know you’re not gonna rob me or kill
me or have your way with me,” she teased in a thick Scottish burr. “You’re a LeFaye.
You’re good folk.”

The woman’s name was Mrs. Drever, but she pronounced it “Dreever.” She lived in a
tidy, moss green cottage overlooking the lake. She invited Ella Mae in for a cup of
tea and the best shortbread Ella Mae had ever tasted.

“My people are all bakers,” Mrs. Drever explained. “Bakers and fishermen.”

“Where are you from?”

Mrs. Drever gestured at the framed map of Scotland hanging above the mantel. “Find
Inverness and keep going to the northeast until you hit the sea. The Orkneys are just
there. Nothing else nearby but ocean. My daughter, Carol, lives in the same village
where I grew up. She’s coming to visit tomorrow.”

“Please bring her to the pie shop. I’d love to treat both of you to lunch.”

Two days later, Reba marched into the kitchen and informed Ella Mae that her Scottish
guests had arrived. Ella Mae dusted off her apron and pushed through the swing door
in time to see a woman with ash-blond hair and gray green eyes help Mrs. Drever to
her seat.

“You must be Carol.” Ella Mae smiled and introduced herself. “Your mother’s a delight.
We had such a nice visit.”

“That was very kind of you to bring her home,” Carol said. “I don’t get to Havenwood
as often as I’d like and I worry about her.”

Carol’s burr wasn’t as pronounced as her mother’s, and Ella Mae was about to ask where
else she’d lived when she
noticed a glass pie dish on the table. It was covered with tin foil so Ella Mae couldn’t
identify it. Neither could she conceal her curiosity.

“What do we have here?”

Peeling back the foil to reveal a cloudy layer of whipped topping speckled with chocolate
shavings, Carol said, “Ma told me about your customer-of-the-week pie, so we made
you our favorite. Banoffee pie. I’ve tasted modernized versions, but I think our old
family recipe puts them all to shame.” She handed Ella Mae an index card listing the
ingredients and instructions.

“This is a real treat. People have given me recipes before, but this is the first
time anyone’s made me a pie.” She brought the dish close to her nose and inhaled the
sweet aroma of ripe bananas, melted toffee, and crispy gingersnaps.

Ella Mae thanked Carol. She gestured at the pie and smiled. “Ma always said that a
baker’s hands were especially beautiful. Even though they were covered with knife
cuts, burns, and scars, they spoke of all the things the baker had made to warm the
bellies and the spirits of the folks he or she served.”

“That’s lovely.” Ella Mae put the pie on the table and glanced down at her palms.
“I have a few marks.”

“You’d best get back in the kitchen and get some more,” Mrs. Drever said with a wink,
and she and Carol began to laugh. Ella Mae wished she could linger with them for hours,
chatting and listening to Scottish tales, but her apple ginger crumble pies would
be scorched if she didn’t get them out of the oven within the next minute or two.

She picked up the banoffee pie and thanked the Drevers once again.

“I believe you’ll be marked soon enough,” Carol predicted, her gray green eyes glowing
with warmth and wisdom. “You’re going to do great things. I’m certain of it.”

The comment made Ella Mae pause. Was Carol one of her kind? Was there a sacred grove
in the Orkneys? Mrs. Drever had said that the LeFayes were good folk. Could she teach
Ella Mae something new about her family?

Unfortunately, she couldn’t tarry or her pies would be ruined, so Ella Mae smiled
and told the two women to order anything they wanted, on the house, of course.

She barely got to the apple pies in time, but when they were safely positioned on
the cooling racks, Reba burst into the kitchen.

“Guess who’s here? Lynn and Sherman Vaughn. They wanna come on back. That all right
with you?”

Ella Mae nodded and took a quick peek at the second round of dessert pies baking in
the second commercial oven. These were apple pies too, but these had been mixed with
cranberries and walnuts and topped with a cinnamon spice crust.

Lynn Sherman came in first. She carried a rustic basket stuffed with a variety of
cheeses. “We promise this will be the last time we’ll invade your kitchen and interrupt
your work.”

“We just had to thank you,” Vaughn said. “We had our soil and water tested and it’s
clean. Thank the Lord. It’s clean.”

“But the cheese with chives was contaminated,” Lynn reminded him gently. “We don’t
know how and we were very straightforward with the health inspectors. They couldn’t
find any traces of
Listeria
on our equipment, and we’re allowed to continue making cheese.”

Vaughn took the basket from his wife and placed it on the worktable. “You made us
aware of how important food safety is to people in our line of work, and we’re grateful
that you cared enough to talk to us.”

“And to trust us to do the right thing,” Lynn added.

Ella Mae already knew that the Shermans weren’t
responsible for the
Listeria
contamination. Maurelle was. But since she couldn’t tell the Shermans the truth,
she congratulated them heartily instead. “Someone brought me a pie,” she said. “Pull
up a stool and we’ll share it.”

The kitchen was perfumed by the scent of apples and cinnamon. Ella Mae grabbed the
coffee carafe from the dining room and poured three cups before slicing the banoffee
pie. At the first taste, she moaned in pleasure. The blend of sweet bananas, silky
toffee, and airy whipped cream contrasted perfectly with the buttery crunchiness of
the gingersnap cookie crust.

“Heaven,” she murmured and then blushed as a slice of banana fell off her fork and
onto the floor.

“We didn’t see that,” Vaughn teased.

Having finished their coffee and pie, the Shermans chitchatted for a few more minutes
and then left Ella Mae to her work. The lunch rush was over, and Reba informed her
that the dining room was nearly empty.

“I’m goin’ outside for a Twizzlers break,” Reba said. “The garbage truck is due anytime
now, and there’s a fine, strappin’ young stallion who rides on the back. I like to
watch that boy in action.”

Grinning, Ella Mae turned off the oven timer and grabbed a potholder. With her left
hand, she pulled the first of the apple-cranberry-walnut pies from the hot oven. She
placed it on the worktable, took a step back, and reached for the next pie.

And then she lost her footing.

Careening off balance, she pivoted her body away from the oven door, her left hand
still closed around the apple pie. As she fell, she released her hold on the pie dish
in order to free both hands to help break her fall.

She landed hard on her right hip, and the glass pie plate crashed against her open
palm. She cried out in pain as it
burned her flesh, and yanked her hand from beneath it, but not fast enough.

“Ella Mae?” Reba was suddenly at her side. She glanced at the raw, angry wound and
quickly helped Ella Mae to her feet. “Come on, hon. Let’s put that hand under cool
water.”

With her hip aching and her hand throbbing, Ella Mae hobbled over to the sink and
leaned against the counter as Reba held her palm under a gentle rush of water. She
then snapped a stalk from the aloe plant on the windowsill and, pulling Ella Mae’s
hand out of the water stream, squeezed the fresh juice onto the red burn.

“Oh, that’s better.” Ella Mae could feel the pain receding a little.

Reba broke off another aloe leaf and cut it lengthways. Digging out the clear sap
and pulp with a spoon, she mashed the contents in a bowl until it resembled a thick
paste. She gently smeared it over the burn.

“I’m so glad Mom gave me that plant,” Ella Mae said.

Even though the burn was covered in paste, Reba continued to study Ella Mae’s hand.

“I slipped on a banana slice, of all things,” Ella Mae explained, and when Reba still
didn’t respond, she said, “It doesn’t hurt much anymore. I don’t think it’s that bad,
is it?”

“It’s gonna leave a scar,” Reba said, and when she looked at Ella Mae, her eyes were
as round as moons. “A real special scar.”

Ella Mae brought her palm closer to her face. “What are you…?” And then she saw it.

There, burned deep into the tender, soft skin, was a four-leaf clover.

A thrill of fear and exhilaration coursed through her. “I think it’s me, Reba. The
Clover Queen,” she whispered. “I don’t know why and I don’t know what this means for
me or for any of us, but I’m ready to find out.”

Reba exhaled and bit off the end of her licorice stick. She chewed mechanically, her
astonished gaze fixed on the puckered, red shamrock.

Finally, she looked at Ella Mae and smirked. “Well, just don’t go expectin’ me to
call you Your Highness.”

Ella Mae threw back her head and laughed. The sound mingled with the scent of aloe
oil and baking apples. It floated through curls of warm steam and wisps of pale sunshine.
It rang like bells from a high turret—loud and strong and magical.

Charmed Piecrust

Combine flour, salt, and sugar in a food processor; pulse to mix. Add butter and pulse
until mixture resembles coarse meal and you have pea-sized pieces of butter. Add ice
water 1 tablespoon at a time, pulsing until mixture begins to clump together. Put
some dough between your fingers. If it holds together, it’s ready. If it falls apart,
you need a little more water. You’ll see bits of butter in the dough. This is a good
thing, as it will give you a nice, flaky crust.