Peach Pies and Alibis (5 page)

“You two might want to talk to this lady while you’re here,” Vaughn said, beckoning
Ella Mae closer and then addressing the couple again. “She owns The Charmed Pie Shoppe
in Havenwood. All of Northwest Georgia has fallen in love with her baking. Lynn, this
is Ella Mae LeFaye. I believe she and your old Jeep had a nice drive.”

Lynn Sherman clasped her hands over her heart. “Oh, I hope so! That Jeep has gotten
me through rain, snow, sleet, and some seriously deep mud puddles. Come on over and
grab a stool. We’re sampling our Farmer’s Cheese, mozzarella, and herb chèvre.”

Ella Mae took a seat next to the pretty brunette and her boyfriend. She instantly
noticed the younger woman’s diamond engagement ring. It had a vintage look and was
more modest than the ostentatious rings featured in most jewelry store ads.

“It was my granny’s,” the girl said, following Ella Mae’s gaze.

“It’s beautiful. I love the Art Deco setting.”

Spreading her fingers, the brunette admired her ring for what was probably the millionth
time. “I still can’t believe I’m getting married in a few weeks,” she said. “I’m Candis
and this is Rudy Lurding, my husband-to-be.”

Rudy pointed at his cheek to indicate that his mouth was full and smiled apologetically.
Both Candis and Rudy seemed so bright eyed, fresh faced, and innocent. They looked
like they’d just graduated high school, and while Ella Mae realized that they were
probably in their early twenties, she felt ancient in comparison.

It’s because they’re just beginning their lives together,
she thought.
And at thirty-two, I’m just starting mine over again.

Candis bit into a cracker covered with the herb chèvre and moaned in delight. “This
is amazing, don’t you think?” she asked Rudy.

“Totally,” he agreed. “We have to get my folks over here to try this.”

“We’re having a small wedding at my parents’ house in three weeks,” Candis explained
to Ella Mae. “And because we’re saving money to buy our own place, we didn’t want
to spend much on the wedding. We heard about the Shermans’ cheeses and decided to
do a fruit and cheese bar and dessert bar. With champagne, of course. We have to splurge
on something.”

Ella Mae swallowed a bite of smooth, creamy mozzarella and nodded. “It sounds lovely,”
she told Candis. “And I can’t imagine you’d find better cheese than this anywhere.”
She looked at Lynn. “How did you and Vaughn get into this business?”

“It started as a hobby,” Lynn said. “I bought a book on making artisan cheese at home
and I began experimenting. Vaughn and I were both working as corporate accountants
in Atlanta this time last year. We had high-pressure jobs, long commutes, windowless
cubicles—you get the idea. So we decided to leave the rat race and take a chance on
leading a different kind of life. We decided to buy a farm and give ourselves three
years to see if we could make ends meet selling cheese.” She reached over and took
Vaughn’s hand. “So far, we’re doing just fine.”

After glancing at the Shermans’ brochure, Ella Mae said, “I’d love to talk with you
about placing an order for my pie shop. I’d especially like to try your ricotta and
mascarpone. I’m always using them in my savory pies and I think the freshness of your
cheeses would really make those flavors pop.”

“Oh, Rudy and I are wild about pie!” Candis exclaimed. “We wanted to have a bunch
of different mini pies and tarts at our dessert buffet. Do you cater?”

Ella Mae hesitated. “Honestly, I can barely keep up with the orders at the shop. If
I managed to hire the extra employee I need, I might be able to handle a smaller job
like yours. When is the wedding?”

“September fourteenth,” Candis answered and then plucked her fiancé’s sleeve. “Honey,
tell Maurelle to come over. I think we’re about to see serendipity in action.”

Lynn put out three more plates of cheese samples. “We already have. Ella Mae was looking
for the perfect used car. She saw our ad and drove up here, just when you and Rudy
and the rest of your family arrived to taste our cheese. You need someone to make
desserts for your wedding and here’s a talented pastry chef. Now if that isn’t serendipity,
I don’t know what is.”

“Fate isn’t done yet!” Candis declared, grabbing another young woman by the arm and
pulling her toward Ella Mae. “This is my friend Maurelle. She’s smart, hardworking,
polite, and is never late. And she needs a job.”

Maurelle, who was petite with silvery blue eyes and close-cropped dark hair, reminded
Ella Mae of Sinead O’ Connor. However, Maurelle’s nose, chin, and ears were pointier
than the Irish singer’s, giving her an elfish appearance. Maurelle raised her hand
in a self-conscious gesture of greeting and managed a little smile. “Yep, that’s me.
The unemployed maid of honor.”

“It’s not like you had a choice,” Candis stated firmly. “Most people would have a
hard time holding down a job in the middle of chemo and radiation treatments.” She
jerked a thumb at Maurelle. “She had cancer, but she kicked its butt.”

Ella Mae wondered how Maurelle felt about having her health issues discussed in front
of strangers. Her expression remained neutral, but something flitted across her eyes.
A shadow. The briefest flash of anger or maybe anguish that made her appear far older
than her twenty-odd years. Perhaps
it was the memory of the pain and fear that had ruled her existence during her battle
with the disease. And Ella Mae guessed the fight had been recent, judging by the length
of Maurelle’s hair.

Poor thing,
Ella Mae thought.
To have been tested like that at such a young age. She should have been out there
taking the world by storm—dating, traveling, being free.

“It’s cool,” Maurelle answered as if Ella Mae had spoken aloud. “If I hadn’t gone
to that Women with the Big C support group, Candis and I wouldn’t have met.” She smiled
at Candis and tugged the cuff of her long-sleeved tee down until it covered her wrist.
Seeing that Ella Mae had noticed the movement, Maurelle said, “I had skin cancer,
so now I’m super paranoid about being exposed to the sun.” Again, there was a flicker
of pain in her eyes. “And I have…marks on my arms.”

Candis grabbed Maurelle’s bicep and squeezed. “But, girl, your muscles are rock hard.
You could probably whip Rudy at arm wrestling.”

“Hey, now!” Rudy protested. “Don’t go emasculating me like that. Mama, tell these
ladies how strong and manly I am.”

A woman in her early fifties drew up alongside Rudy and gave his tummy an affectionate
pat. “I don’t know, sugar. I’m not feeling any washboard abs like…” She turned to
the man who’d come up behind her. “Who’s that boy, dear? The one from New Jersey who
takes off his shirt all the time?”

The man rubbed his salt-and-pepper beard and thought for a moment. “The Situation?”
he guessed.

“That’s him!” Rudy’s mother exclaimed and everyone laughed. “I’m Joyce Lurding and
this is my husband, Tom. We can provide Maurelle with a character reference. She really
helped us out last week when Tom’s mama got sick. If she’s half as patient and attentive
with your customers as
she was with my mother-in-law, then you’ve found yourself a real treasure.”

A blush spread across Maurelle’s fair cheeks. “Can we stop talking about me now? I
thought we were here to pick out cheese for the wedding.”

Everyone focused their attention on the plates of samples, and the Lurdings began
to iron out details with Lynn while Vaughn led Ella Mae a short distance away to discuss
the original purpose of her visit.

“We’d love to sell you the Jeep,” he began. “And we’d also love to become your cheese
suppliers. So let me sweeten the car deal by offering you a complete cheese order
at no cost. Sample as many kinds as you’d like. We can deliver your selections to
your pie shop along with the Jeep. How does that sound?”

Ella Mae didn’t hesitate. Holding out her hand, she said, “It’s a deal.” She handed
Vaughn several business cards. “Would you mind giving one of these to Maurelle? If
she’s serious about finding a job, I’d love to interview her as soon as possible,
but I don’t want to intrude on your time any more than I already have. The other card
is for Candis and Rudy. Please tell them I’d like to help out with their wedding if
I can.”

“In that case, I hope you have a good interview with Maurelle. I can envision our
two businesses stealing a few of the smaller catering gigs away from Le Bleu. I tried
to get the chef to buy some of our cheeses, but he shot me down. Wouldn’t even taste
them. He looked down on Lynn and me like we were pond scum.” He lowered his voice.
“They say success is the best revenge, and that’s what we’re shooting for.” With an
impish wink, Vaughn walked off to rejoin his wife behind the counter.

As Ella Mae drove home, she considered Vaughn’s words. She wanted the pie shop to
succeed with her whole heart. First and foremost, she needed to know that her passion
for
baking could translate into a profitable business. She also hoped to make her mother,
her aunts, and Reba proud of her. She’d stayed away from Havenwood for her entire
seven-year marriage, nursing her anger toward her mother until it became a dark and
angry thing that convinced her to keep a tight hold on her grudge, to deny her roots
and embrace her life as Mrs. Sloan Kitteridge. And because her mother had been just
as stubborn, she and Ella Mae were now practically strangers. Ella Mae regretted that.
She wanted to connect with her mother, to move beyond the damage they’d inflicted
upon each other. To create new memories.

Those were her reasons for being successful, but Ella Mae knew that she also wanted
to prove herself to Sloan and her old nemesis, Loralyn Gaynor. She fantasized about
sending her future ex-husband a copy of
Gourmet
magazine featuring The Charmed Pie Shoppe on its cover or imagining Loralyn’s expression
of shock and envy as she read about Ella Mae’s entrepreneurial achievements in the
Wall Street Journal
.

Loralyn had made Ella Mae’s school days a living hell, bullying her and spreading
lies about her until Ella Mae thought of nothing else but escaping Havenwood forever.
The worst blow of all had been when Loralyn had started dating Hugh Dylan, the only
boy Ella Mae had ever loved. Now Loralyn used him when it suited her, only to toss
him aside to pursue the next in a long line of rich, older men she’d coerce into marrying
her. And still, despite how badly Loralyn treated him, Hugh couldn’t seem to resist
her. He was at her beck and call like a well-trained dog.

Loralyn didn’t care who she stepped on to acquire as much wealth as possible, and
she’d done little to hide her desire to ruin Ella Mae’s business and to scare her
into running back to New York. But Ella Mae refused to be cowed.

“We’re at war, Loralyn,” Ella Mae said as she drove through downtown Havenwood and
passed Perfectly
Polished, her enemy’s nail salon. “And this time, you don’t have all the power. Now
I have some of my own.”

As she drove on toward Skipper Drive and Partridge Hill, she repeated Vaughn’s mantra.
“Success is the best revenge.” Ella Mae smiled. “And I’m ready for my fair share of
both.”

Ella Mae’s fingers ached from making so many balls of pie dough. She covered the last
one in plastic wrap and put it in the freezer and massaged the sore muscles of her
lower back.

Chewy was out on the pie shop’s front porch, snoozing under one of the tables, his
belly facing the sky and a smile of contentment on his sweet, young face. Ella Mae
had put him on a long lead so he could reach the flower bed, but up until this point,
he’d spent the morning dreaming away.

After tidying the kitchen, Ella Mae made herself a cappuccino, grabbed the notepad
she kept alongside the cash register, and joined her dog outside. Armed with a stack
of old cookbooks and a pile of the season’s most popular food magazines, she began
to create the week’s menu using the items she’d bought earlier that morning.

On her way into town, she’d stopped at her favorite fruit and vegetable stand. The
farmer, who’d been selling fresh produce at the same location since Ella Mae was a
little girl, rarely spoke to his customers, preferring to bury his nose in
a paperback. He only accepted cash and refused to bag his customers’ purchases until
he reached the end of a page. Ella Mae had happily waited for him to finish many a
long paragraph over the course of the summer. Unlike most of the impatient tourists,
she found his ability to get lost in a book utterly charming.

This morning, he’d been so engrossed in a Harlan Coben thriller that he’d taken Ella
Mae’s money without bothering to count it. With his eyes fixed on the printed page,
the old man folded the bills and shoved them in the pocket of his overalls, grunting
a thank-you before resuming his stool and his reading.

Ella Mae was unperturbed by the farmer’s distraction, for the taste of his juicy peaches,
succulent tomatoes, or crisp lettuce was unrivaled. Today, she’d also come away with
an armload of fresh zucchini, a carton of soft, white nectarines, ruby red strawberries,
aromatic peppers, and plump, waxy cucumbers. Since Chewy took up all the space in
her bike basket, she strapped part of her haul on the bike’s grocery carrier and the
rest had gone into her backpack. As a result, pedaling to the pie shop had been quite
a feat.