A Slice of Magic
The Magic Pie Shop Book 1
A. G. Mayes

A division of HarperCollins Publishers

www.harpercollins.co.uk

HarperImpulse

an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2019

Copyright © A. G. Mayes 2019

Cover illustrations © Shutterstock.com

Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2019

A. G. Mayes asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008319137

Ebook Edition © January 2019 ISBN: 9780008319120

Version: 2019-01-31

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Epilogue

Keep Reading …

Acknowledgements

About the Auhor

About HarperImpulse

About the Publisher

To Rosemary

for making the magic pie.

To my family, who taught me to see

the magic in the world.

And to my husband who jumped into the seat

next to me on the emotional roller coaster

of writing this book, threw his hands up in the air and said,

“You can do this!”

Chapter 1

Day 1 — Wednesday, November 2nd

This whole crazy thing started with a voicemail.

Last night I was face down on the sofa in my basement studio apartment. I let the phone fall away from my ear as I listened to yet another long-winded voicemail from my mother complaining about her difficult clients. I let out a sigh of relief into the pillow as her message ended. When the next message began I sat up straight on the sofa as I heard a voice I hadn’t heard in a very long time.

‘Susanna, I know I left suddenly, but I need you.’ Aunt Erma sounded anxious. Tears welled up in my eyes. ‘Things are going on here. I can’t really explain it all right now, but I need your help at my pie shop. It’s asking a lot after everything.’ She paused to take a deep shaky breath. ‘I’ll email you the details in case you decide to come.’ Another pause. ‘Please come.’

I sat frozen for a minute and then put down the phone. Just like when she left so long ago, I had many unanswered questions. I tried to call the number she had called from, but the phone just rang and rang.

I checked my email and found directions to a small town a couple of hours north. I hadn’t known she lived so close. The email ended with her repeated plea of, ‘Please come.’

I couldn’t sleep that night. My mind was uncovering the memories of Aunt Erma that I’d kept buried for so long. Her face was a little fuzzy, but her laugh came back crystal clear. I remembered the way she made a whole room sparkle when she walked in.

My mother had gotten rid of all the photographs of Aunt Erma after she left. I’d salvaged one before they all disappeared. I still had it in a box in the back of my closet. I kept it hidden so my mother wouldn’t see it when she came over. I hadn’t looked at it in years because it brought up too many questions and too much pain.

I climbed out of bed around three in the morning to find it. My tiny apartment had a surprisingly large closet. More than once I’d considered converting it into a workshop. But the lack of windows and my occasional bout of claustrophobia kept me from following through. I pulled boxes out of the back corner of the closet until I found the one labeled “Random Crap.”

I lifted the lid and dug through the things I just couldn’t let go of. There were the cassette tapes I used to listen to while dancing around the living room, a Christmas tree ornament shaped like a pie, and several of my favorite t-shirts that were stained or torn. Then I found it. The smooth purple frame with the picture of my parents, Aunt Erma, and I crowded around my fifth birthday cake. I felt breathless under the weight of the memory. We all looked so happy. I stared into her sparkling eyes.

If anyone could get me to make an impulsive decision, it was Aunt Erma.

The next day began as one of those crisp November mornings where the sun feels warm and the breeze feels cold. A perfect day for a new adventure.

I threw my suitcase in the trunk of my car next to the ever-present tool bag that had belonged to my father. The red canvas was faded, and it had his initials embroidered on the front pocket. I ran my finger along the stitching then cringed a little when I thought about my call to Hal, my boss at Hal’s Handyman Services. I had been relieved when I got his voicemail. I left a rambling message about needing a week off for a family emergency even as I wondered if a week would be enough time.

According to my GPS, the drive would take two hours and twelve minutes. I slid across the front seat into the driver’s seat of my little red car and prayed it would be able to make the journey. A week after I bought my car from a friend of a friend, the driver’s side door stopped opening from the outside. A few days after that, the muffler started falling off – it was long gone now – and the car started shaking every time I hit the brakes. I promised myself that would be the last time I bought anything just because it was red.

I was grateful for the distraction the car provided. It was easier than wondering how I could help at a pie shop. My baking resume was short. It included a few batches of flat cookies and one failed attempt to make scones for my friend’s baby shower that left the mother-to-be with a chipped front tooth.

I wanted answers to the questions that lingered from my childhood – the ones my mother refused to discuss. That’s how I ended up here in my car with a packed suitcase and a printed copy of the directions in case my old GPS failed me.

I imagined being in the kitchen with Aunt Erma again. Now that I was an adult, I pictured us joking and talking about life, but still eating lots of chocolate.

I stretched the two hours and twelve minutes into an even three hours by stopping three times for coffee and car snacks. By the time I passed a large wooden sign with sparkly gold letters that welcomed me to the small town of Hocus Hills, I had gone through two lattes, one mocha, a bag of chips and half a box of donuts.

The breeze rustled through the trees, and the leaves were so bright red, yellow, and orange that they practically glowed. The streets were lined with small shops with colorful awnings. I passed a large grass filled town square with a bright blue gazebo in the middle. The sidewalks were wide leaving lots of room for people to walk, and on this sunny November day, there were plenty of people out strolling around. A few heads turned my way. I wasn’t sure if it was because of my loud muffler-less car or because I was new in town. I was so amped up on sugar and caffeine that when I pulled up to park in front of the pie shop, I was in the middle of a beautiful, or at least loud, sing-along with my Annie soundtrack.

There was a tap at my car window and I let out a bloodcurdling scream in the middle of ‘The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow.’ I turned to see a startled woman with big brown eyes and graying brown hair pulled back into a low ponytail, peering in at me. She wore a long, bright blue sweater dress and a white sparkly flower pin. Embarrassed, I slid across the seat so I could open the car door and get out. Maybe she hadn’t heard anything, I thought hopefully.

‘So sorry I startled you,’ she spoke in a musical voice. ‘Are you Erma’s niece?’ Wow, word got around fast in a small town.

‘Yes, I’m Susanna.’ I stuck out my hand.

She reached out and shook it enthusiastically with both of hers. Her hands were warm and soft while I’m pretty sure mine were still covered in a thin layer of powdered sugar.

‘I’m Flora. I own the bookstore across the street. Oh my, you look a lot like Erma,’ she noted, looking at my curly hair and big blue eyes. ‘Your aunt had to leave for a few days, but she said you would have no trouble handling things while she was away.’ My mouth fell open. She ignored my shock and reached into her sweater pocket. ‘She left this note for you explaining things. I’m sure you’ll be fine but let me know if you have any questions. I’ll pop by later to check on you.’ She shoved a purple sparkly envelope and a set of keys towards me. My eyes widened as the words, ‘Mmm, pie,’ came from my hand. ‘Oh, that’s just Erma’s keychain,’ she said, pointing to the pie-shaped keychain I was holding. ‘She has so many fun things like that. Let me know if you need anything.’

‘Um, thanks,’ was all I managed to get out before she was off.

She paused and turned back, calling down the street. ‘Oh, and I just love Annie too.’ Well good, I thought; at least I was making memorable first impressions.

It was one of those fight or flight moments. I hadn’t seen Aunt Erma for years. What did I really owe her? I looked from the pie shop with its twinkling lights lining the window back to my car with the half-eaten box of donuts. I sighed as my sense of family duty got the best of me and went to unlock the front door.

A little bell tinkled as I stepped inside, and I inhaled deeply. The place smelled like buttery pie crust and cinnamon. The bright yellow walls gave the illusion the lights were on even though they weren’t. My eyes wandered around the room, and I traced my finger along the chipped edge of one of the purple wooden chairs. I noticed that a leg on one of the bright red tables had broken near the bottom, and the table was now supported by a couple of old encyclopedias. There were two overstuffed red chairs tucked into the corner by the window next to a small bookshelf. The wood floors were stained a dark walnut color, and they creaked under my feet. There were several framed pictures on the wall of people crowded around the red tables eating slices of pie. Intermixed with those pictures were posters of various kinds of pie. One had a large piece of blueberry and the words, ‘A touch of magic in every slice,’ scrawled in purple letters. Another had a picture of pumpkin pie piled high with whipped cream and, ‘Pick up a pie and no matter where you are, you’ll be home,’ written in a cheerful red.

I stepped between the cash register and the display case to get back to the kitchen. The floor changed from wood to golden brown square tiles. The walls were the same bright yellow as the front. I walked past a sink and a dishwasher and then around a large kitchen island with a weathered wooden bottom and a stainless-steel top. All the cupboards that lined the walls were painted teal. There were two large refrigerators and two large freezers along the side wall. Across from those were four large ovens. I paused in front of what must have been a mixer. It was bright red and as tall as me.

I wandered around the room for a minute, occasionally grabbing random utensils off the hooks on the walls and studying them. I tried to figure out what they might be used for. I was pretty sure at least a few of them were torture devices.

As I reached the small desk in the back corner, I remembered the note in my hand. There was a lump at the bottom of the envelope and I pulled out a small bottle full of sparkly white glitter attached to a chain. I set it on the desk and pulled out the piece of paper. I unfolded the page and saw her familiar curly handwriting.

Dear Susanna,

Thank you for coming to help me. I’m sorry to leave you like this, and I’m sorry I left you all those years ago. When I get back, I’ll explain everything. I’m sure you’ll do a great job keeping the pie shop running. I’ll be gone for a few days. A week at the most. There are enough pies for today in the fridge, but starting tomorrow you’ll have to make your own. Wear the necklace while I’m gone, it might come in handy. If you have any problems, Flora, Lena, or Mr Barnes can help you.

Love and Sparkles,

Aunt Erma

P.S. Please take care of my Mitzy for me.

I stared at the note. What the heck was a Mitzy?

There were two purple doors at the back of the kitchen. I opened one and peered out into a little alley. Behind the other one was a staircase. I heard the pitter patter of little feet and a small brown ball of fluff came flying at me.

‘Ah!’ I jumped back in surprise. The fur ball shot around me in circles before coming to rest at my feet, perfectly still except the wagging tail. Big brown eyes gazed up expectantly. Oh no, I thought as I saw the name ‘Mitzy’ written in rhinestones across the glittery red collar.

I took a step back, and the dog calmly stood, took a step forward, and sat down again. I checked the paper in my hand, hoping to find more thorough instructions, but there was nothing else. Between the ages of four and eight, I asked for a puppy every year for my birthday. Every year my parents bought me a stuffed animal dog and presented it as though they were fulfilling my every wish.

Since then I had learned to recognize dogs for what they were – dirty, smelly, and unpredictable. Great.

I could pinpoint the exact moment when my feelings about dogs changed. I was thirteen and I was over at my friend Lily’s house. She had a twin brother, Ed, and I was totally in love with him. I was at their birthday party, and I had lost an earring. I was on my hands and knees looking for it under the sofa while everyone else was in the kitchen getting pizza. Ed came to help me find it. He told me he liked my side ponytail. At that moment, I knew we were going to kiss. As I leaned forward and closed my eyes, ready to take this next big step in my romantic life, I was greeted not by the warm soft lips I was expecting, but by the large wet tongue of their black Lab who had appeared out of nowhere to participate in this monumental occasion. Needless to say, a romance with Ed didn’t blossom from that day, but my aversion to dogs did.

I shuddered. I could still remember exactly how that dog’s tongue felt in my mouth.

As though she could sense I was at a loss, Mitzy walked over to the back door and looked meaningfully over her shoulder. I found a leash hanging on a hook nearby and clipped it on her collar. She led me around to the front of the shop where there was a patch of grass. While she did her business, I took the opportunity to look around and take in my new surroundings.

The pie shop was just off the main street. On one side was a florist called Petunia’s Petals. The windows were packed with various brightly colored bouquets. On the other side was a vacant building. Remnants of clear tape clung to the front windows, and I could see the outline of the letters over the door that read, ‘Vinnie’s Video Galaxy.’ Flora was watching me through the window of her bookstore just across the street. She waved when she noticed I was looking back at her. I felt a little tug on the leash and realized Mitzy was directing me back towards the door.

‘Excuse me.’ I heard a voice behind me. I turned and saw a round man with thinning brown hair and a dark green cardigan hurrying towards me. He stopped by my side and pushed his gold-rimmed glasses further up on his nose. ‘You seem to have forgotten to pick up after your dog.’

‘What?’

‘You need to pick up after your dog,’ he repeated.

‘Pick up what?’ I asked.

He pointed to the pile in the grass. Mitzy assumed we were admiring her handiwork and wagged her tail proudly at us.

‘Ew, no,’ I said horrified.

‘It’s the law,’ he said almost joyfully. ‘I’m Sheriff Buddy.’

I glanced around uncertainly. ‘I’m Susanna. How do I…’ I trailed off. Was this some kind of new girl hazing? He pulled a plastic bag out of his pocket. I’m guessing he always kept a stash on him in case opportunities like this arose. He demonstrated putting it over his hand and mimed picking up the pile before pulling it off his hand and giving it to me.

Disgusted, I put the plastic bag over my hand and picked up Mitzy’s mess under his watchful eye. With a satisfied nod, he was off.

‘Nice to meet you,’ he called over his shoulder.

‘You too,’ I said, not really meaning it.

Once inside, I disposed of Mitzy’s mess before heading upstairs to Aunt Erma’s apartment. There was a door at the top of the stairs that stood open. Had it been left open or could Mitzy open doors?

The apartment was colorful and cozy, just like Aunt Erma’s house had been when I was a kid. She used to have a secret room in her house that only she and I were allowed to go into. It was filled with toys and games and books. We would pile blankets and pillows on the floor and spend hours in there. In retrospect it was probably just a walk-in closet, but at the time I thought it was the most fabulous place in the whole world.

The door opened into the living room where there was a soft red sofa in front of a small television. The sofa had a blue and green quilt draped over the back. Fairy lights lined the bookshelves on the wall. One of the shelves was full of toys. I recognized some of the toys from the secret room. There was a new addition, a doll with blue hair, wings, and a wand. When I picked her up she said, ‘Can you feel the magic?’ in a sing song voice. Hmm, a little creepy. I set her down facing the back of the shelf.

I walked through the living room to the kitchen. It was small. There wasn’t even an oven, only a toaster oven on the counter. A small wooden table with two chairs was pushed into the corner. There was a bedroom just through the kitchen and a bathroom off of that. The bathroom had decals of frogs and monkeys on the walls. Mitzy followed me for about ten seconds before deciding I was boring and settling down to sleep in the middle of the queen-sized bed.

I was on my way back to the door when a framed drawing hanging on the wall caught my eye. As I looked closer, a lump formed in the back of my throat. It was a picture I had drawn for her when I was eight. It was me and Aunt Erma standing in the middle of a giant blueberry pie. Or at least that’s what it was supposed to be. I squinted at the mess of jagged marker lines. I had presented it to her on her birthday, and she had fawned over it in the way only a loving aunt could, but a few months later she left and I never saw her again. I shook my head a little and turned to go back downstairs.

I opened one fridge door. It was packed full of butter, cream, apples, cherries, and blueberries. When I opened the door of the other fridge, I found shelves full of pies. I pulled them out, sixteen in total. Each pie had a yellow sticky note on top that said what kind it was and gave baking directions. I preheated three of the wall ovens at different temperatures to bake the four apple, four blueberry, and four cherry pies. There were four mocha cream pies that didn’t require baking.

Once I put all the pies in the ovens to bake, delicious smells filled the whole shop. My mouth watered. I checked the timers every few minutes, the excitement building. I was going to get to eat Aunt Erma’s pies again. I felt guilty for wishing that no customers would come today so I could eat all of them myself.

I dragged myself away from watching the pies bake to look for a recipe book so I could start planning for tomorrow. I started with the desk. The top drawer had jars full of pens, pencils, scissors, paper clips, rubber bands, and twist ties. The next drawer down had a stack of paper. I pulled the whole stack out and flipped through it, but every page was blank except for one that was in the middle. That piece of paper had a list of names on it. Maybe a guestlist for a party. I tossed it back on top of the pile, and then opened the bottom drawer. It had file folders with the top tabs labeled ‘receipts’ and ‘bank statements.’ None of them were labeled ‘recipes.’ I grabbed a sheet of paper that was crammed at the back of the drawer and hoped it would have a recipe or two printed on it. I unfolded it. It was a map. Hocus Hills was circled on the map, and Aunt Erma had drawn little stars with dates next to the names of surrounding communities. The dates were all within the last few months. Knowing Aunt Erma, she was probably keeping track of some butterfly migration patterns. I put it back in the bottom drawer and moved on to the rest of the kitchen. I opened up every single cupboard, but there was nothing – not even a recipe card.

Just like when I was a kid, I closed my eyes and wished Aunt Erma would come back. I was just getting ready to go upstairs and check the apartment for recipes when the timer beeped, letting me know it was time to take the first set of pies out. After a frantic search, I found oven mitts in a drawer to the left of the ovens. The mitts had cow faces on them and mooed every time I grabbed a pie.

Once all the pies were cooled and cut, I lined them up in the display case and wrote the different flavors on the chalkboard out front. I took one slice from each kind of pie and stashed them in the kitchen. If I was going to bake tomorrow, I had to have something to study I reasoned.

I flipped the sign from closed to open and unlocked the door just after noon. According to the sign in the front window, I should have opened at 11 o’clock, but I hadn’t anticipated doing this on my own, and baking the pies had taken awhile.

My heart was pounding and I couldn’t decide if I wanted someone to walk through the door or if I wanted it to stay safely empty in here. I was suddenly aware that the only sound in the shop was my breathing, so I found a CD player behind the counter and hit play. Show tunes filled the air. I slowly swayed and was just about to burst into the main chorus of ‘Singin’ in the Rain’ when I noticed some people were approaching the door. I quickly turned the music down as the group walked inside.

The first one through the door was a man in a red fedora who wore a royal blue shirt with a red vest and dark brown pants. His slightly overgrown white hair stuck out the sides under his hat and dark thick rimmed glasses sat on his face. He looked like Spider-man’s grandfather.

Next through the door was Flora, and right behind her was a pleasantly plump woman with her white hair pulled into a bun on the top of her head. Her bright blue eyes sparkled, and she had a face that looked like it spent a lot of time smiling. She was wearing a lime green sweater with jeans and carried a very large yellow purse.

‘Hello, Susanna,’ Flora greeted me in her soft sing-song voice. ‘I want to introduce you to Lena and Mr Barnes.’ She gestured towards her two companions.

‘Nice to meet you.’ I was relieved that Flora was going to be one of my first customers. She seemed so sweet, like one of those people who would tell you what a wonderful job you were doing even if you were totally messing everything up.

‘I am not formal,’ the gentleman said, ‘but I go by Mr Barnes because my first name is just too embarrassing. I don’t think my parents wanted to have children.’ He gave me a wink and took off his fedora.

‘We don’t even know what it is,’ Flora said.

‘We’re the Morning Pie Crew. We’ll probably always be your first customers of the day,’ Lena chimed in, heaving her large purse onto its own chair. ‘We’ve been trying to come up with a cleverer name, but nothing has stuck. Sometimes Henry joins us, but he had to work today.’

I had no idea who Henry was, but I just nodded and smiled.

‘We need our daily pie fix,’ Flora said, eyeing the case.

‘I always tell people they should start their days with some cleansing breaths and a piece of pie,’ Mr Barnes chimed in.

‘And a little gossip,’ Lena added.

‘What can I get for you?’ I asked.

After some hemming and hawing, I served up two mocha creams, one blueberry, and three coffees.

‘You should probably make that four coffees, sweetheart,’ Mr Barnes said to me.

‘Why’s that?’

‘You have to join us, of course,’ Lena said, patting the chair next to her, ‘Grab yourself a piece of pie too. I recommend the blueberry.’

This seemed like an offer I couldn’t refuse, and I filled a coffee cup and heaped a plate with one of the larger pieces of blueberry pie. I felt a little weird sitting down for a break already, but I was the boss so who was going to stop me?

‘Lena and I live in apartments over our shops, and Mr Barnes lives in a house at the edge of town,’ Flora said.

‘So about three blocks away,’ Mr Barnes said with a chuckle.

I learned that Lena owned the hardware store, and Mr Barnes owned the yoga studio on the other side of town. According to him, I could use a little meditation in my life.

‘Come in for a free class,’ he offered.

My mouth said, ‘Of course,’ but my mind said, ‘heck no.’

I took a bite of my pie and sighed with pleasure as the flavors hit my tongue. The sweet crumbly topping mixed with the slightly tart juice of the blueberries created the perfect combination. I was still savoring when Lena launched in with the questioning.

‘Why haven’t we seen you around here before? Erma talks about you but hasn’t told us why you don’t keep in touch. Was there some sort of falling out? Why haven’t you tried to reach her before?’ she asked.

‘Lena,’ Flora gently swatted her arm. ‘Don’t be rude.’

‘I am not being rude, I am just trying to get to know the girl,’ Lena said defensively. ‘Fine,’ she said, responding to Flora’s very scary stern librarian face. ‘What do you do for a living?’

‘Are you a baker like your aunt, dear?’ Flora asked.

‘Not exactly,’ I said, ‘I work for a handyman company back home. My baking is usually limited to take and bake cookies.’

All of their eyes widened a little, and they plastered nervous smiles on their faces.

‘I’m sure you’ll do great,’ Mr Barnes said after a slightly awkward pause.

Chapter 2

Day 1 ― Wednesday

Word must have spread through town because I didn’t get to sit for too long. People started pouring through the door. I noticed they weren’t as concerned with ordering a piece of pie as they were with asking me questions. Where are you from? How long are you here? What did you do back home? Are you in a relationship? How long was your last relationship? Why do you think you aren’t in a relationship? What kind of experience do you have with making pies? What is your favorite pie? Will you be able to make pie just like Erma does? Where is Erma? When will she be back? It made the questioning by the Morning Pie Crew seem tame. I tried to deflect their questions by giving short answers or awkwardly changing the topic to the weather.

It didn’t take many people to fill the pie shop. They squished inside standing shoulder to shoulder and spilled outside onto the sidewalk. Somewhere in the blur of scooping pie and questions, I noticed the pie tins were getting empty. I glanced at the clock. It was only 1.30 p.m. I felt a trickle of sweat run down my back as I served the last piece of pie to a middle-aged man who wore a jersey with a picture of a cat holding a bat. He was asking me if I played softball and inviting me to join his team the Killer Kittens but all I could think was, how could this happen? What was I supposed to serve for the next four and a half hours? I thought a little guiltily about the pieces of pie I had stashed in the fridge. Not quite guilty enough to put them out though.

My hand shook a little as I wrote ‘Out of Pie’ on a piece of notebook paper and taped it to the front of the display case, cringing at the thought of people storming out in a fit of rage. Nobody stormed out. People just ordered coffee instead. Then they used the time when I was serving their coffee to ask me if I’d ever traveled out of the country, if my hair was naturally curly, and if I wanted children.

‘OK, all you nosy Nellies.’ Flora appeared in the middle of the crowd. Her quiet voice commanded attention. ‘Leave this poor girl alone. She’s got plenty to worry about without you all giving her the third degree.’

The crowd grumbled a little and began to shuffle out the door. I began to breathe a little easier once it was just me and Flora. She rolled her eyes at me.

‘Sorry, they mean well, but usually people just pass through town. We don’t have outsiders who come to stay like this,’ she said. ‘People have to come to stare. It’s like you’re the only clown at the carnival, and they expect you to do tricks for them.’ She shook her head. ‘If they start gathering again, you just holler for me, honey. You’re doing great here.’

I thanked her and she was gone. It was a relief to have quiet in the shop again.

I found a ‘Back in 10 minutes’ sign on a shelf by the front door. I hung it in front of the open sign and locked the door before running upstairs to check on Mitzy. She was curled up on my jacket. Hadn’t I left that hanging in the closet? I shooed her off it, and she moaned as she headed towards the door to be taken outside. I reluctantly found the plastic bags next to the dog leash. I detested the thought of picking up after her, but I was too much of a rule follower to risk defying the sheriff.

Once we were out on the patch of grass, I stood still, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. I tried to pretend I hadn’t seen Flora from her perch in the window of her bookshop.

‘You can run a pie shop,’ I repeated in my head over and over until I almost believed it.

I held my breath while I picked up after Mitzy. How many times could a dog go in one day? I threw it away and jumped back a little when a cat appeared from behind the dumpster. It had long shiny silver fur and huge bright blue eyes. Mitzy began to hop around like a little jumping bean, barking like crazy.

‘Shh, Mitzy,’ I scolded. ‘Go on, cat.’ I tried to shoo it away so I could get Mitzy inside. The cat listened about as well as Mitzy did and sat blocking the door, calmly blinking up at us.

‘You need to move,’ I said. I spoke slowly and loudly as though that would make the cat understand. Great, day one and I was talking to a cat.

‘Meow,’ it said back, but it didn’t budge.

Finally, I grabbed the still barking Mitzy and carried her inside. I had to slide through the door because the cat tried to follow us in. I set Mitzy down once we were safely inside and she gazed up at me, her tail wagging proudly.

Back upstairs, I made sure all my possessions were out of reach before going back to the pie shop. It was still early, so, very reluctantly, I put my secret pieces of pie in the display case. Well, all except the piece of mocha cream. I needed something to get me through the day.

Just after three, a woman in a tailored black business suit came in. She looked taken aback when she saw me.

‘Hi, what can I get for you today?’ I asked with a smile.

‘Where’s Erma?’ She glanced around suspiciously.

‘She had to go on a business trip, but she left some delicious pies. It’s been busy today, but there’re still a couple pieces left.’ I waved my arm across the bakery case.

She continued to eye me skeptically. ‘And who are you?’

‘I’m Erma’s niece, Susanna,’ I said with a big smile. She continued to stare at me. ‘And you are…’

‘Violet Flowerfield. When will Erma be back?’

‘I’m not sure.’ The smile on my face felt a little more forced now, but she didn’t seem to notice. ‘Is there anything I can help you with?’

‘I’m here for an inspection,’ she replied curtly.

Oy, a health inspector on top of everything else today? Based on the deep furrow in her brow, she was not happy about her last inspection. I didn’t know how that could be possible since the place had been so clean when I arrived. I was eager to help in any way that I could, including charming this grouchy health inspector so she’d get off Aunt Erma’s back.

‘Come on. I’ll show you the kitchen.’ I led her by the arm around the wall to the kitchen. The woman started to protest, but I was determined to help, so I gritted my teeth and gripped her arm a little tighter. ‘See, everything is spotlessly clean.’ I let go of her so I could present the kitchen with a flourish of my arms. ‘Don’t you have a clipboard or something so you can write all this down?’ I noticed her hands were empty, but a briefcase hung over her shoulder.

She surveyed the kitchen for a minute, and suddenly I saw it through her eyes. A trail of crumbs led to the piles of pie smeared plates that I’d stacked by the dishwasher. The island was a rainbow of assorted colored mugs, several of which were still partially full of cold coffee. In my haste to keep up with the earlier rush, I had spilled coffee grounds all over the counter and floor by the coffee pot. How did it get so bad back here without me realizing it?

With her eyebrow cocked, she turned back to me. ‘I need to speak with Erma,’ she said.

‘I wash my hands regularly,’ I said, holding them out for her to see.

‘This is really something I need to speak with Erma about,’ she said, straightening out her blazer.

Wow, she was really One Note Nancy. I slowly exhaled my frustration. ‘I’m wearing my hat!’ I pointed to the purple baseball cap on my head that had Erma’s Pie Shop stitched across it in gold, in one last ditch effort to persuade this woman to pass us.

She gazed at my head for a moment before meeting my eyes. ‘When can I see Erma?’

‘I’m sure she’ll be back in the next few days,’ I said, hoping my words were true. ‘I can let her know you stopped by.’

‘Fine.’ She turned to leave.

‘Does she have your number?’ I called as she headed out the door.

‘She knows how to get a hold of me,’ she said without turning around.

I started stacking dishes in the dishwasher. I looked at the huge mountain of crusty dishes and stopped. Why was I here? My car was out front. I could leave this all right now and who would even know? Aunt Erma wasn’t here. She hadn’t even bothered to call today. She hadn’t left a forwarding number. What reason did I have to stay?

I thought about my job back home. The hours were long, and my boss was a big burly guy with just two emotions, angry and annoyed. Despite that, I knew I was really good at my job. I’d had a knack for fixing things ever since I was a kid and my talking doll stopped talking. I had ripped her open at the seams – which originally concerned my parents because they thought I was a serial killer in the making – and I carefully took the box from her torso out and reconnected some wires. The doll began to talk again, and I duct-taped her closed. That was not manufacturer recommended, by the way.

Even though I’d just left home, I longed for the familiarity of my tiny studio apartment with the thin walls where the ever-present sound of cars rushing down the highway reminded me that I wasn’t alone. There was no dog who might lick me in the mouth while I was sleeping. I had the number of the best pizza place on speed dial in my phone. Was there even a pizzeria in this town? My pillow was lumpy in all the right places. Why didn’t I remember to bring my pillow? The pillow was the final straw. I was going home. If I left right now, I could be home before the pizza place closed. I went upstairs and grabbed my bag. I began to throw the few things I’d unpacked back inside. Mitzy watched me from her perch on the arm of the sofa.

‘The shop will be better off without me. I don’t even know why she called,’ I justified to Mitzy. ‘C’mon. I’ll take you to Flora’s,’ I said, hoping Flora wouldn’t mind the intrusion. Was it my imagination or did she just shake her head no? I sighed; I was in no mood to deal with a reluctant dog.

‘Come,’ I said a little more forcefully. Mitzy popped to her feet and went over to the bookshelf. She pawed at a book with a blank purple spine. ‘Don’t do that,’ I said. She made eye contact with me and pawed at it again.

‘Obedience school, that’s what you need,’ I told her as I grabbed the book off the shelf. The cover was embossed with a gold flower. I opened it up, and the pages were filled with pictures of me throughout the years. Me as a baby sitting on the floor with a bowl in my lap all covered in flour. Me at about three years old wearing a bright yellow dress proudly holding up a pie. Me in that same dress smeared in dark blueish purple juice as I cried at the overturned pie tin on the floor. Me on Aunt Erma’s lap as she read me a book. There were even pictures from after she’d left. Me awkwardly trying to pin a corsage on a boy before a school dance. Me and my mom at my college graduation. How had she gotten these pictures?

Before I could even give myself permission to cry, the tears began to fall. I felt the sharp loss of the family I’d once had. We had been so happy – my parents, Aunt Erma, and me. I had a chance to reconnect with Aunt Erma. Maybe we couldn’t get those lost years back, but we didn’t have to lose any more.

When the tears stopped, I sighed and unpacked my bag.

Chapter 3

Day 2 ― Thursday, November 3rd

I woke up before my alarm. A rarity for me. Even though I had been exhausted, it took me a while to fall asleep. It was just too quiet. In my apartment back home I could hear cars driving on the highway all night. Here, nights were quiet aside from Mitzy’s snoring. I eventually turned the television on for a little background noise. I had slept on the red sofa in the living room. The thought of sleeping in Aunt Erma’s bed made me uncomfortable. I knew she wouldn’t mind, but it felt like an invasion of privacy.

I stood up and stretched. My stomach knotted when I thought about baking pies by myself. Mitzy cracked open an eye when I got up, but since she wasn’t nervous about anything, she decided to stay curled up on her perch on the back of the sofa.

As doubts over my abilities crept into my mind, I packed my bag again. If things went badly today, I wanted to be able to leave quickly. Then, I showered, got dressed, pulled my mess of curls back in a ponytail, and went downstairs with my coffee. I dreaded facing the mess in the kitchen.

I stopped in my tracks the minute I entered. The place was spotless. All of yesterday’s dishes were clean and put away. The floor had been mopped. The kitchen actually seemed to sparkle.

What was going on here? I’d never been the victim of a break-in, but I was pretty sure most criminals didn’t clean up. I debated about what I should do. Call the sheriff? And tell him what? That my kitchen was inexplicably clean? That would probably give him a good laugh. There had to be a good explanation for all of this, even if I didn’t know what it was yet.

Mitzy brought me out of my head with a bark from upstairs, reminding me that dogs have to go outside in the morning even if they are reluctant to get up.

Once Mitzy was back upstairs and curled up on the couch (it looked like she had her day planned), I went back to the kitchen to once again look for pie recipes.

I opened cupboard doors and dug through the papers on the desk in the back corner hoping I’d missed something yesterday. But after another thorough search, I was still empty-handed.

I sighed and went upstairs to get my laptop. Mitzy had managed to pull down my pillow from the spot I had carefully tucked it and was now sprawled across it.

‘Hey,’ I said indignantly as I pulled the pillow out from under her and tried to brush off any dog essence. She looked surprised and confused. ‘Don’t lay on my pillow,’ I scolded, and I swear she narrowed her eyes at me.

I put my pillow on top of the high bookshelf. Then I saw the necklace Aunt Erma had left for me. I had left it next to her less-than-helpful note. I examined the sparkly bottle at the end of the chain, and then slipped it on over my head. It wasn’t really my style, but I tucked it under my shirt. It made me feel slightly more connected to Aunt Erma. I grabbed my laptop and headed downstairs.

As I began searching online for pie recipes, I thought about all the hours I had spent in Aunt Erma’s kitchen growing up. I closed my eyes for a minute and tried to dig way back in my memory to see if I could recall anything Aunt Erma had taught me when I was a kid. It was amazing. I could remember the exact pattern of her star covered apron, every word to the songs we used to make up and sing, and the number of gnomes on the wallpaper border in her kitchen, but I could not for the life of me remember anything concrete about the actual baking.

I think the butter in the crust was supposed to be chilled. Or was it supposed to be melted? Or was I supposed to use shortening in the crust? I distinctly remember Aunt Erma telling me that one was better than the other, but which one? I let my head bang down against the computer keyboard for a minute before taking a deep breath and scrolling through the recipes. I found a couple that looked doable.

I lined up all the ingredients from the two recipes I had picked out and cracked open the back door to let in some cool air. Today was going to be a choice of two kinds of pie: apple or blueberry. I would make six of each pie and hope that the day didn’t get too busy or I might have to shut down early. If these went really well, I might get crazy and add a third, like French silk. I loved French silk, but that recipe looked complicated.

I was very young when I started helping Aunt Erma in the kitchen. I remember her tying me to chairs with towels so I wouldn’t fall off as I stood at the counter to help her. Mostly I helped by playing in the flour. My parents didn’t let me make a mess in the kitchen like Aunt Erma did. She would pour a cup of flour onto the counter in front of me just so I could squish it between my fingers or spread it around and draw in it. She would sing and tell me stories that would leave me breathless with their magic. Keeping a child like me quiet took a special gift. I always thought it was funny when she would talk to the pies, singing little rhymes as she sprinkled the spices on top. She would wink at me and say, ‘Now they can work their magic,’ as she slid them into the oven.

I loved those days in Aunt Erma’s kitchen. They were full of pure joy and deliciousness. Aunt Erma made sure we had a pre-baking snack, usually cheese and crackers and some kind of fruit. ‘We have to make sure we have energy to complete this grand task of ours,’ she would say as we stood by the corner of her kitchen counter. We would pause after making the crust for another snack, which was usually a few pieces of chocolate eaten while we stood in the middle of the kitchen surveying our work-in-progress. She would ask me about my day and patiently listen to my long-jumbled stories about something that had happened on the playground or a dream I’d had the night before. She never interrupted me or told me I wasn’t making any sense. She just let me talk.

Then there was the post-baking snack – a big slice of the fresh pie, which we usually enjoyed as we sat with our legs outstretched on the light green carpet in her living room. She never worried about me spilling pie, though I did more than once. Somehow, she always got the stains out of the carpet.

I stared at the ingredients and drank my coffee. Did I have time to eat some cheese and crackers? I looked at the clock and realized I had to focus. Maybe if I concentrated all my energy, it would somehow magically turn into finished pies. Unfortunately, the power of my mind seemed to be failing me, so I set to work. I added all the ingredients for the crust to the industrial mixer. It was a little daunting to flip the switch to the on position because even though it had a protective guard around the bowl, I was still afraid somehow I would fall in and get mixed to death. I carefully read and re-read the recipe to make sure I wasn’t missing anything. I felt my confidence build as I looked at the giant ball of dough that actually seemed to resemble the pictures of pie crust I had found online. I covered the counter with a layer of flour and plopped the ball of dough in the middle so I could divide it into smaller chunks. Out of the blue, I sneezed right on the pie crust. A cloud of flour surrounded me.

I jumped when I heard a snort behind me. I turned and saw a tall man standing in the doorway. He was a good-looking guy who was probably in his early thirties with wavy dark brown hair, brown eyes, and thick eyebrows. His lips were pursed together as though he was fighting to suppress laughter.

He cleared his throat trying to compose himself. I attempted to brush the flour off me, but there was really no recovering from this.

‘I saw your door propped open, so I stopped to say hi,’ he explained. ‘I’m Henry.’ He looked like he was going to shake my hand but then, as if he remembered that I’d just sneezed, he dropped it back by his side.

‘I’m Susanna,’ I said with a sigh as I grabbed the ball of dough and dumped it in the garbage.

‘You’re the niece,’ he said. ‘I heard some rumblings in town about you.’

‘Oh yeah?’

‘Something about you loving the musical Annie?’ He raised his eyebrows questioningly at me.

‘That doesn’t sound like me,’ I said, somehow managing to keep a straight, innocent face. ‘You must be confusing me with someone else.’

He looked suspicious. ‘There’s not a lot of new people in town to confuse you with.’

‘So, what do you do, Henry?’ I asked, in what I hoped was a smooth change of subject.

‘I work at the nursing home.’ As he spoke, he walked into the kitchen and washed his hands. ‘The people there are great, but it’s like I have eighteen grandparents always trying to “help” me make my life decisions.’ Without missing a beat, he was over at the sneeze counter, washing it off.

‘What are you doing?’ I asked.

‘The shop is supposed to open soon, and…’ He waved his hand over the counter where I had all the ingredients lined up. ‘There are no pies. I thought maybe you could use a hand.’

‘You bake?’ I asked.

‘Oh yes,’ he said with a smile. ‘Erma is one of my many surrogate grandparents.’

Part of me wanted to shoo him away. ‘I can do it myself,’ had been my motto ever since I was a little kid and had read a Sesame Street book by that same title. But I glanced at the clock, and he was right. The shop was supposed to open in a couple hours. I had a feeling the town wouldn’t respond well to me just putting the ingredients in the display case and trying to sell them as a DIY pie kit.

‘Thanks,’ I said, a little reluctantly. I started peeling the apples.

He tossed the ingredients into the mixer, barely glancing at the recipe I had out on the counter. In no time, he had the ball of dough on the counter and was dividing it up.

‘Ah, ah,’ he began as if he was going to sneeze, then dazzled me with a smile. ‘Just kidding.’

I was tempted to throw a handful of flour at him, but I settled with fixing my withering glare towards him. I wasn’t quite ready to laugh at that yet.

‘So, tell me more about life at the nursing home,’ I said, as I slowly peeled my second apple.

‘They’ve all discovered social media,’ he said, darkly.

‘Really?’ I laughed.

‘Yup,’ he nodded. He had all the crusts prepared and had moved on to helping me peel apples. ‘Life used to be easy. I just had to set up bingo games and card tournaments. Now everyone is constantly handing me their phones and asking me to help them take selfies.’

I laughed. He was already on his fourth apple, and I was still struggling with my second. Tomorrow I would be sure to pick recipes that didn’t involve peeling anything. I wondered if with all the genetic engineering out there if you could buy peel-less apples.

‘That’s not even the worst part,’ he said. ‘Betty asked me to explain sexting to her.’ He shivered in horror at the memory.

‘Wow, no wonder you’re hiding out in here,’ I said.

‘I’m not hiding,’ he said, a little indignant. ‘I’m just doing a community service. The town needs their pie.’

He helped me make the apple pies and prepare the crusts for the blueberry pies. Soon the place was smelling like the pie shop it was.

‘I should probably get going.’ Henry headed towards the back door. ‘Remember to reduce the temperature in fifteen minutes.’ He pointed at the timer he’d set. ‘And here’s this just in case.’ He held up a handkerchief and set it on the corner of the desk with a wink before sliding out the back door.

I found myself still smiling after he left. I tried to wipe the smile off my face as I mixed the blueberries and sugar together. Sure, he was cute and he could bake, but I had to focus on the pie shop. Who knew how long I’d be here anyway?

I had a habit of ending up with boyfriends when I was lonely. Usually I chose them without much discretion. My mother disapproved of anyone I dated, so I had learned to accept her disapproval early on. As a result, it often took me longer to recognize when I disapproved.

I was startled out of my daydream by a meow, and to my horror I saw the same silver cat from yesterday sitting on the floor by the pantry. I lunged at it. Why had I left the door open? The cat smoothly sidestepped my grasp. I could hear Mitzy barking from behind the door at the top of the stairs.

Thank goodness I hadn’t unlocked the front door yet. The last thing I needed today was the health inspector stopping by while I chased a stray cat around the kitchen. I followed it as it ran under the kitchen island and around to the front of the shop. I stretched out my arms and felt the fur slip through my fingers. I grunted when I fell on my knees and prayed that Flora wasn’t looking in from her window just then. The cat disappeared under the display case. Out of breath, I dropped to my stomach and peered underneath expecting to see blue eyes staring back at me, but I couldn’t see anything. I ran back and found my phone so I could use the flashlight on it. I shined the light across the dark corners and saw nothing but a few dust bunnies. Mitzy continued to bark her encouragement from upstairs.

‘Here kitty, kitty, kitty.’ I tried to use a soothing voice. ‘I have tuna.’ I felt slightly guilty for lying, but I reassured myself that it was for a good cause. Where did the cat go?

I reached my hand underneath, cringing slightly as I imagined cat teeth taking off a finger. I felt nothing. Did she move when I wasn’t looking? I found that hard to believe, but as I flashed the light back and forth, I couldn’t figure out where she had ended up. I did four more laps around the kitchen dropping to the floor to check every nook and cranny. She must have gone out the back door when I wasn’t looking.

I closed the back door and locked it for good measure, then finished making the blueberry pies. Every now and then I thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye, and I turned my head expecting to see a cat. It was always my imagination.

I found the plates in one of the upper cupboards, all stacked and clean. I stood on my tip toes and carefully pulled the whole stack down. Whew, no problem. I balanced the plates in my hands and turned to bring them out front.

Something wrapped around my foot. Oh no, it’s the cat, I thought. I danced around trying to free myself before I realized that my computer was sliding precariously towards the edge of the kitchen island. I was tripping over my computer cord. Instinctively, I lunged to save my computer, dropping all the plates I had in my hands. The crash was still ringing in my ears as I froze, holding my computer. Every single one had broken. ‘Into a million pieces’ didn’t seem at all like an exaggeration. I crunched through the plate bits and found the broom and dustpan. I swept it up all the while wondering what I was going to serve pie on today.

With the pies still in the oven, I couldn’t run to the store to buy paper plates so I searched the cupboards for the second time today. The best I could come up with was a stack of pie tins. I was hoping that word would get out that I was quirky and fun with my innovative idea of serving pie in pie tins instead of the truth that I was a bumbling butterfingers.

My phone beeped and I jumped for it. It was a text from my friend, Michelle, asking if I wanted to go out for a drink tonight. Michelle and I had been friends since college when I helped her fix the desk in her dorm room. It had broken after she’d danced on top of it during an overly enthusiastic round of karaoke.

She considered it her job to make sure I got out on the town at least one night a week. I guess we hadn’t talked for a couple days. I explained where I was.

‘Whoa, that’s major. Keep me posted,’ she wrote back. We texted back and forth a little more, and I already felt homesick as our exchange reminded me how nice it was to talk to someone who knew me so well. ‘I have to go, but hurry home and bring pie,’ she wrote.

‘Will do.’ I blinked back tears as I set down my phone.

Flora, Lena, and Mr Barnes quite literally danced into the shop that morning. Mr Barnes was singing a Frank Sinatra song and twirling Lena as he walked through the door. Then he dipped her. I was amazed at their grace considering she was almost twice his size.

‘Pie’s on me this morning, ladies,’ he said, pausing his singing for a moment. ‘I’m just lucky to have three such beautiful women in my life.’ He looked up at me. ‘Would you like to dance?’ he asked, extending his hand in my direction.

‘I think I’ll just stick to serving pie for now,’ I laughed.

They all ordered blueberry pie and insisted that I sit with them again. I tried to turn them down as I still had a lot of baking practice to do today, but in the end, they wore me down. I was hungry, and anyway, it’s pretty much biologically impossible for me to turn down pie.

Flora said that the pie tin plates were fun, but she gave me a look that made me think she knew what had really happened. She probably heard the crash all the way over at her shop.

‘Who cleans the kitchen at the pie shop?’ I asked. They all froze with their eyes wide, forks poised over their slices of pie.

‘What do you mean, dear?’ Flora asked. She set down her fork and adjusted the napkin on her lap.

‘Last night when I went to bed, the kitchen was a disaster zone, and this morning when I woke up it was sparkly clean,’ I said.

‘Oh, that’s just…’ Lena began and then paused.

‘Minerva,’ Mr Barnes said just as Flora said, ‘Jane.’

‘Right, Minerva and Jane,’ Lena said. ‘They clean the kitchen every night.’

‘What time do they come?’ I asked. I wanted to be ready so I would know not to be panicked if I heard noises coming from downstairs. It would be best to know when to write it off as the cleaners and when to call the police.

‘They come different times each night,’ Mr Barnes said. ‘Usually when you’re sleeping.’

‘Like Santa Claus,’ Lena offered with a forced laugh.

‘OK,’ I said. I wondered why they were so acting so strangely. It seemed like a simple question.

My attention shifted, and I watched them all closely as they took their first bites of pie.

‘Did any of you read today’s “Ask Elodie”?’ Flora asked. She put her first bite into her mouth and sucked her cheeks in for a second before chewing. She glanced at me and gave me a big smile when she saw I was watching. Maybe I should have steered them all away from the blueberry pie and towards the apple pie that Henry had made.

‘Yes, of course,’ Mr Barnes said, and Lena nodded. They turned to me, and I stared at them all blankly.

‘It’s a column in the local paper,’ Flora explained. ‘It’s fantastic! Elodie gives out amazing advice.’

‘There’s usually a little gossip about the happenings in town too,’ Lena said. ‘Which of course we all love.’

‘That Elodie seems like a real spitfire,’ Mr Barnes chimed in taking his first bite and chewing only twice before swallowing.

‘Seems like?’ I asked. ‘Don’t you know who she is?’

Flora shook her head, ‘No, it’s a big mystery!’

‘Every now and then, Crazy Jackie claims it’s her, but that woman couldn’t find a shoe in a shoe store, much less give coherent advice like Elodie,’ Lena said. When she took a bite, her eyebrows rose for just a fraction of a second.

‘Anyway, we talk about her columns a lot, so you should probably keep up with them,’ Flora told me.

‘Of course, I’ll start to read them,’ I said, hoping that I would remember to do it when the day was over. It felt like it was non-optional homework. I took a bite of my blueberry pie, and slowly chewed as all the wrong flavors burst into my mouth. This didn’t taste like Aunt Erma’s pie. It was too sweet and the crumble topping wasn’t crumbling at all. It was too hard and crunchy. I would have to try a different recipe tomorrow. Or maybe I would have to just practice more.

When there was a lull in the conversation, I asked questions about Aunt Erma. ‘Didn’t she give you any idea where she was going?’ I asked.

‘I’m sorry, but she didn’t say,’ Flora said.

‘Don’t worry, she’ll probably be back before you know it,’ Lena offered.

‘But how did she sound when she left?’ I asked, remembering the anxious pitch of her voice in the message on my phone.

‘I didn’t actually see her before she left,’ Flora spoke slowly. ‘She taped the note for you and one for me on the back door of my shop.’

‘But you didn’t see her?’ I was hoping Flora would tell me that Aunt Erma seemed just fine and had a perfectly logical explanation for leaving me here alone. ‘What did she say in the note to you? Can I see it?’

‘She wrote that she had to go take care of something. I think I tossed the note out, but don’t worry, she sounded very calm and said she’d be back soon,’ Flora explained. She glanced over at Mr Barnes.

I wanted to believe her. I got up to serve two customers some apple pie.

‘It’s in a prime spot. It won’t be empty long,’ Lena was saying when I sat back down at the table.

‘What’s a prime spot?’ I asked.

‘There’s an empty storefront in the town square. It used to be McCullen’s Dress Shop until Stewart ran off with that woman who was passing through. What did she do for a living?’ Lena asked.

‘Pinball machine maintenance,’ Flora chimed in.

‘That’s a job?’ I began to wonder how many pinball machines there were in the world, how often they broke down, and how one would train to become a pinball maintenance person.

The conversation slid along while I pondered these things, leaving me no time to ask my suddenly burning questions about pinball machine maintenance.

‘I hope it’s a pet store,’ Mr Barnes said. Apparently, the only thing holding him back from getting a cat was the lack of easy access to pet supplies.

‘He’s been using that excuse for ages,’ Lena said. ‘He’s never going to get a cat.’

‘There’s a cat that’s been hanging around the back door. You could probably adopt her,’ I offered.

‘I think I’ve seen that cat. The one with the silver fur?’ Flora said.

‘Yes!’

‘I hadn’t seen her until recently but I don’t think she’s a stray. She looks well cared for,’ Flora said, shoving the last of her pie into her mouth and washing it down with a big gulp of coffee.

‘I wish she’d spend more time at her home then,’ I grumbled.

‘Maybe it will be one of those fancy wine bars. I’ve always wanted to sniff and swirl a glass of wine and talk about the various subtle flavor notes,’ Lena said.

‘I just hope it’s not another bookstore,’ Flora said. ‘It’s a tough market already.’

‘Even if there were a hundred bookstores in town, yours would still be the best,’ Mr Barnes said, patting her arm.

‘I just hope that whatever it is, they’re ready to deal with the idiosyncrasies of this town. That takes a special person,’ Lena added. ‘Like Susanna.’

I nodded, giving them a weak smile as I thought about my packed bag upstairs.

Chapter 4

Day 3 ― Friday, November 4th

Dear Elodie,

I just started a new job, and it’s not going well. I’m over-motivated and under qualified. I feel like everyone is watching, waiting for me to make a mistake. Unfortunately, I give people a lot to talk about with all the mistakes that I make. Should I just go back to my old job? Or should I stick it out and hope that I get better?

Sincerely,

A Success at Failure

Dear A Success at Failure,

‘Fake it till you make it’ is a phrase for a reason. You can succeed at your new job. It just might take a little time, and even though you may not realize it, there are people around you who want to see you succeed and will be happy to help you. Put a smile on your face and move forward with confidence. I have no doubt you’ll be successful at anything you put your mind to.

Ask and I’ll Answer,

Elodie

I could still see the flames dancing behind my eyelids every time I blinked. Day two of baking my own pies was not going better than day one.

‘The fire extinguisher is right here. Try to remember that next time.’ A man with cropped blond hair pointed to the red canister on the wall while two other firefighters opened the windows to air the place out. I certainly hoped there wouldn’t be a next time.

‘Yeah, I see it now. Thanks.’ I couldn’t keep the edge out of my voice, and my hand shook as I brushed the hair out of my face. I vaguely remembered seeing it there, but I had never been one to react well in a panic situation.

When I’d first started working at Hal’s Handyman, I drilled a hole in a water line when I was hanging some pictures in a bathroom. Water was spraying out of the wall, and I ran around in circles yelling and slipping in puddles until my friend and coworker Josh walked in and calmly turned off the water at the shutoff valve. Josh was one of those people who never got riled up about anything.

‘I heard this little guy whimpering at the top of the stairs.’ The redheaded firefighter came over carrying Mitzy. She handed me the wide-eyed dog.

It had happened so fast. Smoke poured out of the oven. The smoke detectors screeched loudly. When I opened the oven door, the bottom was on fire. I ran to the sink and filled my hands with water and splashed it inside, which of course did nothing. So, I’d grabbed a towel, got it wet, and threw it on the flames. It wasn’t wet enough because it ignited immediately. Finally, I got a bowl of water and managed to douse the flames, but not before getting a visit from the friendly neighborhood fire department.

‘Could you turn the flashing lights off?’ I asked. A crowd had begun to gather in the street.

‘Yes, but everyone in town will still know we were here within the hour,’ the guy said.

‘Don’t worry. They’ll have something else to talk about tomorrow.’ The last firefighter came over carrying a clipboard. He took his helmet off and tucked it under his arm. His gray hair was slicked back, and his piercing blue eyes gave me a good-natured wink.

I’d found Aunt Erma’s sales records in one of the files in the bottom drawer of her desk. My first day in town, when everyone came to gawk, I had sold more than she did on an average day. Yesterday, I had only done about a quarter of the business she usually did. I was hoping I could do better today. I was not off to a good start.

After the firefighters left, I set Mitzy on one of the red chairs out front and surveyed the kitchen. I coughed a little. The smoke was thinning now that they had all the doors and windows opened.

I could still hear the excited chatter of the lookie-loos outside. Why didn’t they just go home?

I finished putting together and baking the other pies. I stared through the window of the oven, panicked that some juice might spill over and start an oven fire. I couldn’t have the fire department out twice in one day.

The Morning Pie Crew were my first customers of the day. Mr Barnes and Lena teasingly sang a few rounds of ‘Ring of Fire.’ Flora, with her brow wrinkled, kept asking if I was OK. Finally, they changed the subject.

‘The Fall Festival is next week!’ Flora said, clapping her hands.

‘I know! I can’t wait!’ Lena squealed. ‘I heard that they are going to have dueling pianos as the entertainment this year. There’s something about two people playing the piano that really gets me going. I’ll be ready to shake my money maker!’ She wiggled a little in her seat, giving us a preview of things to come.

‘What’s the Fall Festival?’ I asked.

‘It’s our town’s celebration of fall,’ Mr Barnes offered helpfully. ‘Really, just an excuse to eat mini donuts and drink Lena’s special lemonade.’ He gave her a wink.

‘My lemonade will put hair on your chest,’ Lena added.

‘Erma’s Pies has a booth there,’ Flora told me. ‘You should probably start preparing in case Erma’s not back in time.’

My eyes widened. How could I prepare for this when I could barely keep the pie shop running?

‘Erma made eighty pies last year,’ Lena chimed in. ‘And she sold out before noon!’

I tried to speak, but I think I just let out a little squeak. Eighty pies? At the rate I was baking, I would have to start now to be ready … for next year’s festival.

‘Remember six years ago when the clown snuck up on Gerald?’ Lena hooted. ‘Gerald is the town wrestler,’ she explained to me, as though ‘town wrestler’ was an actual title that should make sense to me.

‘Oh yes,’ Mr Barnes said with a chuckle. ‘Gerald is a big guy, as you can imagine, and he ran screaming from the town square. We had to send out a search party! We finally found him in the lilac bushes behind the old church.’

‘You guys shouldn’t be laughing at him,’ Flora tsked. ‘Fear of clowns is a legitimate thing.’

‘Even Gerald laughs at it now,’ Lena said. ‘Though we haven’t had a clown at the festival since.’

I stopped listening as I began to wonder how I could make enough pies for the festival. On the plus side, my baking wasn’t as good as Aunt Erma’s yet, so maybe I wouldn’t sell as much. Perhaps I could get by with baking forty, or maybe even thirty pies. But the thought of baking even thirty pies all at once made my head spin. When I finally tuned back into the conversation, they had moved off the topic of clowns and phobias.

Just before closing time, a customer came in. She was much shorter than I was and very muscular. She wore a bright yellow workout shirt with the name Gina’s Gym embroidered in the corner. I greeted her with a smile.

‘What can I get for you?’ I asked. ‘The blueberry crumble has been mighty popular today.’ I tried my best sales pitch even though most customers today had only come in to order coffee so they could ask me about the fire.

At that, she wrinkled her nose. How dare she? Who wrinkled their nose at blueberry crumble pie? I could already tell that she and I would not be friends.

‘I’m not here for pie,’ she said. Clearly, she wandered through the wrong door. ‘I’m here to discuss the possibility of you serving healthier options at your establishment.’

‘What?’

‘The town is participating in a statewide weight loss challenge,’ she told me. ‘It’s going to be great publicity for my gym, but so many people have been coming into your shop every day and overindulging on empty calories that we’re having trouble making much headway.’

I stared blankly at her, which she took as a sign that she should continue talking.

‘I’m certainly not suggesting that you close your doors completely,’ she said, though the look on her face made me think she would like to suggest that. ‘I’d just like to recommend you try some of these recipes for healthier alternatives.’ She pushed a booklet across the counter towards me. I read the title: Fat Free Pies and Desserts. She had to be kidding. I wanted to throw her out, but despite my height advantage, I was pretty sure she could take me. So, I tried a different approach instead.

‘I’ll have to discuss it with my aunt when she gets back. She is the owner, after all. I don’t really have the power to make these decisions,’ I told her with a forced smile.

‘Well, every day counts,’ she said brightly. ‘Maybe you could call your aunt and then start implementing some changes. After all, obesity is a growing epidemic, and we all need to do our part to keep our town healthy.’

‘Pie makes people happy,’ I said through gritted teeth.

‘Ah, you’re one of those people. You probably eat chocolate when you’re sad too.’ She sized me up, her eyes rested for a moment on my thighs.

‘Oh look, it’s closing time,’ I said, even though there was still twenty minutes to go. ‘I have to lock up. Thanks for stopping in.’ I was unable to keep the hint of sarcasm out of my voice for the last part. I forced a polite smile, straining my cheek muscles, as I ushered her out the door. I picked up the booklet she left by the corner as though it might bite me and carried it directly to the garbage. I was pretty sure Aunt Erma wouldn’t be changing any of her famous recipes to low fat options. Even the thought made me shudder.

I was relieved to flip the sign at the front door from open to closed and lock up as soon as the clock switched from 5.59 p.m. to 6 p.m. I waved to Flora who was sitting in the window of her bookshop. Her open sign was still lit up.

Upstairs, I found Mitzy drooling on the newspaper that had been sitting on the kitchen table from this morning. She cracked an eye open when she heard me come in.

‘Oh, come on,’ I said, pulling the newspaper out from under her. She stood up with a sniff and stretched. I brought her outside, fed her, and took her outside again. She seemed to enjoy lying on my stuff, and I was worried what else she might do if given the opportunity.

After I was convinced Mitzy’s bladder was empty, I decided to stop at Flora’s bookshop to see if I could find a cookbook. Maybe something there would spark my inner Aunt Erma that I couldn’t seem to find on the internet. The sun was beginning to set on my short walk over to Flora’s, giving the streets a nice orange glow.

A bell tinkled as I walked in the door.

‘Hi Susie,’ I heard Flora’s voice call to me from somewhere.

‘Hi Flora,’ I called back, looking around, but I didn’t see her anywhere. How did she even know it was me?

‘Go ahead and look around. I’ll be there in a minute,’ Flora’s voice called.

The shop had floor-to-ceiling shelves crammed full of books. The shelves weren’t set up in straight aisles like I was used to. They twisted and turned around the shop, creating quite the maze. Within minutes I wasn’t sure if I’d find my way back out again. I wished I’d left a trail of breadcrumbs. How would I locate the cookbook section? Every now and then, there was a small break in the shelves where an overstuffed chair sat as an invitation to curl up with a good book.

I was startled when I heard a snort and rounded the corner to see a white-haired man sprawled over a chair sleeping. His glasses were askew, and a book about relaxation techniques rested on his chest. That was an advertisement if I ever saw one. I wondered if Flora knew he was in here.

Halfway down one of the aisles I stopped when the word ‘pie’ caught my eye. There was a stack of books on baking pies sitting there as though it were waiting for me. I examined the covers and flipped through the pages ogling the photographs of pies next to each recipe. I decided almost immediately to buy all five of them.

I clutched the stack to my chest and walked a little further, eyeing a few books all while trying to remind myself that I didn’t have a lot of disposable income right now. I was somewhere near the back of the shop (I think) when a door caught my eye.

The door was smaller than most doors and rounded at the top. I would have to bend over, but Flora would probably fit through it without ducking. I took a few more steps towards it and felt a tingling sensation run up and down my spine. What was behind that door? I glanced around. No one was in sight. I reached for the knob.

Flora suddenly appeared by my side. ‘Did you find everything you needed?’ she asked.

I dropped my hand and held up the books.

‘I bet you’ll find some of the answers you need in those,’ she said.

‘What’s back there?’ I asked, nodding towards the door.

‘Just some storage. It’s a real mess.’ She put her arms around my shoulders and ushered me away, but before we got too far, I could have sworn that I’d heard a thump come from behind the door.

‘Hey, Flora?’ I began as she rung up my purchase.

‘Yes, dear?’

‘Are you sure you don’t have the note Aunt Erma left for you around here somewhere?’ I asked, glancing around the counter behind the cash register. I was hoping she had included something more in Flora’s note than she had in mine. Maybe a phone number or some more specific information about where she went or when she’d be back.

‘I’m sorry, but I don’t have it. It didn’t say much. I’m sure she told you everything she told me.’ She took my money.

‘Should I be worried?’

‘No, your aunt is a very strong woman. I’m sure she’s just fine. She just had a few things she had to take care of.’ Flora handed some coins back to me, but didn’t meet my eyes.

‘OK, thanks.’ I grabbed my books. When I got to the door, I glanced back, and Flora was staring at the cash register as though lost in thought.

When I got back to the apartment, I found Mitzy in the kitchen sink licking off the dirty dishes I’d left in there. I couldn’t fathom how that tiny dog had leapt up that high. I had to set up a camera to see how this dog pulled these things off.

Chapter 5

Day 4 ― Saturday, November 5th

I grabbed the newspaper from outside the front door and shuffled through the pages quickly trying to find Ask Elodie. I was hoping to get the gist of it before the Morning Pie Crew came in. Before I could find it, something caught my eye and I turned back a page.

The headline read, ‘Beloved Pie Shop Left in the Hands of a Beginner.’ My mouth fell open as I read the article underneath.

Residents of Hocus Hills were surprised when Erma Crosby, a leader in the community, disappeared on a business trip earlier this week leaving her pie shop in the hands of her niece, Susanna Daniels, 31 years old, who doesn’t seem to know a rolling pin from a bowling pin.

Erma’s pies have been a daily staple for many in town. It’s often claimed that they have an almost medicinal quality to them. Several residents are concerned that Susanna won’t be able to achieve that same high quality that we all know and love. Stay tuned readers – we’ll be updating the story as we learn more throughout the week.

I crumpled the paper up and threw it down on the table. I longed for the quiet anonymity that I had in the city. Back home, the list of people who knew my name or cared about what I did was short. My mother, my friends Josh and Michelle, and a couple baristas at the local coffee shop. I was good at my job, and no one printed updates about it in the local paper.

I flattened out the paper a little to check the byline. It simply read, ‘Elodie.’ Who was this Elodie anyway? What gave her the right to write about me?

I finished setting everything up, slamming any cupboard door that got in my way. This wasn’t exactly the pep talk I needed.

‘How’s your day going?’ Mr Barnes was the first of the Morning Pie Crew to walk through the door.

‘Great,’ I said, a slight edge to my voice. His eyebrows rose a little.

‘I take it you read the newspaper today.’

Just then, Lena and Flora walked in. ‘I brought matches so we can burn all the newspapers.’ Lena held up her purse.

‘No fires,’ I practically shouted.

‘Oh, right.’ She set her bag down on a chair. ‘We could all just rip our copies into shreds. That could be satisfying too.’

I considered the possibility as I served us all some pie.

‘Whoa,’ I said, looking out the window, almost dropping the last piece of pie. ‘What is that?’ Henry was walking down the street next to a giant gray and brown furry creature.

Mr Barnes glanced out the window. ‘That’s Henry’s dog, Willy.’

‘What’s Willy? Part dog, part horse?’ I had never in my life seen a dog that big. His face was covered with shaggy fur, and his back was taller than Henry’s waist.

‘He’s an Irish wolfhound,’ Flora explained. ‘Don’t worry, he’s very gentle.’

‘What does Henry do if Willy sees a squirrel?’ I asked.

‘Willy doesn’t really care for chasing squirrels,’ Flora said.

‘But he does love ice cream,’ Lena chimed in. ‘Remember that time Willy took off chasing the Miller kid who was eating an ice cream cone? That boy took off as fast as his little legs would carry him. Willy was close at his heels licking the air in anticipation, and Henry was being dragged behind grasping the leash with both hands.’

Lena and Mr Barnes hooted. Flora gave them a disapproving glare, but I noticed the corners of her mouth twitched.

I was relieved that Mitzy wasn’t the size of Bigfoot, but I felt a twinge of disappointment that Henry wasn’t coming into the pie shop as I watched them disappear around the corner. I glanced back at the Morning Pie Crew and Lena gave me a knowing look. I hurried back to the table and changed the conversation to Elodie.

‘Someone has to know who she is,’ I said. ‘She’s publishing articles about me. I want to talk to her and get a chance to set the record straight.’

‘Willard Jefferson runs the paper, but he’s always been very tight-lipped about Elodie,’ Mr Barnes said.

‘Where’s the newspaper office?’ I asked, still determined to get to the bottom of it.

‘In the basement of the bowling alley,’ Flora said.

I let the conversation drift into more important topics like whether or not the gazebo should be repainted the same shade of blue or if it should be painted two shades lighter.

‘It should match the sky,’ Lena said.

‘It’s been the same shade of blue for a hundred years,’ Flora said. ‘Tradition is important.’

Mr Barnes seemed decidedly undecided about the issue.

I realized I’d left my phone upstairs in the apartment. I excused myself to go fetch it in case Aunt Erma called. While I was upstairs, Mitzy gave me her big puppy dog eyes and I was guilted into taking her outside again. I was almost back to the front of the pie shop, when I heard the Morning Pie Crew speaking in hushed tones. I paused out of view in the kitchen doorway when I heard my name.

‘If she suspects something, she’s a great actress,’ Lena whispered.

‘Erma made it very clear that we’re not to talk about it,’ Mr Barnes said.

‘Poor thing, she doesn’t even know…’ Flora began.

‘Shh, I think I hear her coming,’ Lena said.

I made a big show of entering the front of the pie shop. I hoped I wasn’t smiling too brightly.

They all spoke at once about how busy their days were and then they paid for their pie and left. I assumed their conversation had something to do with the article in the paper, or maybe they were talking about my pie baking abilities. Either way, I felt knots forming in my stomach as a feeling of loneliness settled over me.

I scooped a small slice of cherry pie onto a plate for a snack. My phone rang, and I saw Josh’s name on the caller ID. My finger left a sticky smear on the screen as I answered it.

‘Where have you been?’ he greeted me. Josh was one of my coworkers and a good friend. He had heard my Aunt Erma sob story more than once. Usually it was after a bad day at work or a fight with my mother and a few beers.

‘Are you OK?’ he asked when I finished telling him that Aunt Erma was gone. I felt a lump form at the back of my throat. I nodded because I couldn’t speak even though I knew he couldn’t see me.

I took a deep breath. ‘Actually, I’m kind of making a mess of everything.’ I told him about my baking disasters and the judgement from the townspeople.

‘You went to a strange town to do a new job, and even when your aunt wasn’t there, you stayed. She’s lucky to have you. You’re the most fearless person I know,’ he said.

I smiled into my phone. ‘Thanks.’

‘Now go be the best pie baker you can be, and we’ll grab a beer when you get back,’ Josh said. We said our goodbyes, and I tried to hold on to the confidence he had given me.

The rest of the day was fairly quiet. A few people wandered by and peered in the windows, amplifying my feeling of being a fish in a bowl. With all the time alone with my thoughts, my loneliness was soon replaced by frustration towards Elodie.

Mitzy and I were walking off some of that frustration after dinner, the cold breeze sweeping through the streets fueling my anger. I was relieved that there weren’t many people out and about. ‘Doesn’t know a rolling pin from a bowling pin?’ I said to Mitzy, and she wagged her tail a little as she struggled to keep up. ‘It’s not my fault Aunt Erma abandoned me here to do all this work. Why won’t she call and check in?’ I grumbled. ‘Doesn’t she have a cell phone?’ I paused to let Mitzy sniff a leaf.

‘I’m sorry. Do you require some sort of assistance?’ A voice behind me made me jump. I turned and saw a woman about my age. Her frizzy blonde hair was held back by a thick navy headband that matched her leggings. She had a long thin bag slung over her shoulder and was evaluating me with slightly wide blue eyes.

‘No, I’m fine,’ I sighed.

‘You must be Erma’s niece,’ she said, noticing Mitzy. I introduced myself. She told me her name was Holly, and she ran the grocery store. ‘I’m on my way to Mr Barnes’s yoga class. You should come with me. You look like you could use a little yoga right now.’

‘I think I need a drink more than yoga,’ I said. ‘Know where I could find one?’

‘Sal’s is the best and basically only place for a drink in town, but it’s closed tonight,’ she said, leaning down to pet Mitzy who was demanding some attention.

‘Closed? On a Saturday?’

‘His kid’s in a play at the elementary school tonight, so he shut down to go watch it. The liquor store is closed too. Nancy’s kid is in the same play. Welcome to a small town,’ she said with a laugh. She looked at her watch. ‘I gotta run, but it was nice to meet you.’

I said goodbye then rounded the corner by the barber shop and saw Henry sitting on a bench in the town square looking up at the sky. Willy lay on the ground next to him. Even lying down, Willy looked gigantic.

‘Finding any answers up there?’ I asked, which seemed to startle him back to earth.

‘Just daydreaming. Or night dreaming, I guess.’ He smiled.

Mitzy shamelessly leapt up into his lap, and he stroked her head. I took that as an invitation to sit next to him. Willy stood up and sniffed Mitzy. His tail wagged, and he put a paw up on Henry’s lap.

‘Oh no, there’s not room for you too,’ he said. Willy gave me a hopeful look, and I crossed my legs. He reluctantly settled back on the ground.

‘How are things at the nursing home?’ I asked.

Henry’s brow furrowed. ‘It was kind of a rough day.’

‘I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?’ He looked so distraught. Part of me wanted to hug him, but since this was only our second meeting, I settled for resting my hand on his arm. He put his hand on top of mine, and I felt a little jolt of excitement run through me. His hands were so warm.

‘No thanks. Enough about me. Let’s talk about you,’ he said. ‘How are things going at the pie shop? Sneeze on any dough balls today?’

‘Of course not. Things have been going quite smoothly.’ I skipped telling him about the fire, the crazy gym owner, and the newspaper article. He probably had enough going right now that he wasn’t plugged into the gossip mill. I did tell him a very light and amusing anecdote about blueberries though.

‘How are you adjusting to this small town of ours?’

‘Well, I was going to stop at the liquor store, and I’ve just discovered that nothing is open because there’s a play at the elementary school,’ I said. ‘So that’s where I’m at.’

‘Ah, yes. Most of us know to plan ahead and shop around these major events.’ He removed his hand from mine and his warmth was replaced by the cold night air. I stuck my hand in my pocket. ‘For example, if you’re looking for a bottle of wine,’ he said, reaching into a canvas tote that was sitting next to him, ‘I happen to have one on me.’

I stared at him open-mouthed. His big brown eyes blinked brightly back at me. He might actually be the perfect man.

‘Why are you carrying a bottle of wine around with you?’

‘I had book club tonight, and it was my turn to bring the wine.’

‘The bottle is almost full.’

‘It was the fourth bottle.’

‘How many people in the club?’

‘I’d rather not answer that question,’ he giggled.

‘I’m guessing three.’

He answered with a wide smile and a wink before handing me the bottle. ‘Here. Consider it a welcome to town gift.’

‘Thanks,’ I took the bottle. ‘Pink. My favorite flavor.’

‘Not really a wine connoisseur, huh?’

‘I consider myself to be more of a wine enthusiast than a connoisseur,’ I said.

We sat in a comfortable silence for a few more minutes before Mitzy jumped off Henry’s lap and gave me her patented ‘are you coming?’ look.

‘I guess it’s time for me to go. I’ll see you around.’

When we were several steps away, I turned back to give him one more look. He was watching me go.

Mitzy and I strolled around the edge of the mostly deserted town square. Apparently, everyone was at the play. As we rounded the corner near the diner, I saw a blinking neon sign advertising the bowling alley. Without any plan whatsoever, I marched over to the bowling alley and found a dark staircase that lead to a red door. A small plaque next to the door said ‘Hocus Hills Gazette.’ This was the place. A tiny bit of my gumption had evaporated upon arrival, and I hesitated at the door. I glanced down at Mitzy who looked even more unsure of my actions.

‘We have to find out who this Elodie is,’ I rationalized with her. She sat down defiantly. ‘C’mon,’ I said, gently tugging her leash as I took a couple more steps towards the door. I could hear something happening inside and I wanted to see. It would make sense if Elodie was in there right now. If her identity was such a secret she would probably work at night. ‘Come on, we have to see. Quick, before anyone comes,’ I urged Mitzy, and she reluctantly got up and followed me down steps to the door.

I cracked the door open. I could hear something inside. It sounded like printing presses running. And something else. A popping sound, almost like popcorn. Strange noises, but not dangerous sounding.

I was just about to push the door the rest of the way open when a man appeared, blocking my path.

‘Hi,’ I said, taking a flustered step backwards. I could see half of his glasses and some curly strawberry blond hair on top of his head. He didn’t open the door any further. He just peered out the opening at me with one eye for a moment. Was this Willard Jefferson?

‘Can I help you?’ His voice was gruff and the fact that he was still masked by the darkness inside and the half-closed door made me take another step back. Then I remembered the newspaper article about me, and my righteous indignation returned.

‘I’m looking for Elodie,’ I said, clearing my throat when my voice wavered.

‘Not in.’ He started to close the door, but I stuck my foot out to stop him.

‘Are you the editor?’ I asked. ‘I’m Susanna Daniels.’

He opened the door a little further. I could tell I had piqued his interest. I tried to look around him to see what was happening inside or if Elodie was in there, but his body still took up most of the opening, and I couldn’t tell if anyone was behind him.

‘Would you like to comment on today’s story?’ He whipped a notebook out of his pocket, his pen poised over the paper ready for a quote.

‘No,’ I said flatly. ‘I just want to talk to Elodie.’

‘No one talks to Elodie,’ he said, and with that, he shut the door in my face.

‘This isn’t over yet,’ I said to the closed door. But Mitzy and I trudged back up the stairs and out to the town square to continue our walk.

I paused in front of the empty store front. This must have been the place the Morning Pie Crew was talking about. I peered in the window. I could make out stacks of boxes and a large floor mixer like the one in the kitchen at the pie shop.

‘Can I help you?’ A woman’s voice behind me made me jump. I turned and saw a plump woman in her mid-sixties. Her dark hair was streaked with gray, and she wore it in a pile of curls on top of her head. She had sharp blue eyes.

‘My name is Susanna.’ I stretched out my hand.

‘Alice.’ She shook it with a crushing grip, and I tried not to wince.

‘Are you opening something here?’ I asked, hoping that it was going to be something that would stay open past 8 p.m. For once, maybe I would have fresh gossip to share with the Morning Pie Crew.

She sized me up and looped her fingers through the straps on her denim overalls before answering, ‘Just setting up my cookie shop. Hoping to open in a couple days.’

‘Oh, that’s great,’ I said, trying to hide my disappointment. Not only did it sound like a place that would close early, but it also sounded like competition. I tried to force my most neighborly smile, thinking it would be what Aunt Erma would want me to do. ‘I’m new in town too. I work at the pie shop down the street.’

I could have sworn her eyes narrowed for a second before she smiled. ‘That’s wonderful,’ she said. ‘I’m looking forward to stopping in and trying your pie.’

‘Come on in anytime,’ I said.

The silver cat appeared by Alice’s feet, and she scooped her up. The cat yowled.

‘This is my cat. I named her Cookie,’ she said. How original, I thought. She stroked the cat’s head while it struggled slightly in her grip.

‘I’ve seen her around,’ I said.

‘Are you planning to enter the baking contest at the Fall Festival?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know. I’m still honing my baking skills,’ I said.

She nodded sympathetically. ‘I wouldn’t bother if I were you. My cookies are definitely going to win.’

My eyes widened. She had to be joking, but if she was, nothing on her face gave it away.

‘Well, it was nice to meet you.’ I hurried off down the street, not sure what else to say.

‘You too,’ she called after me, making my skin prickle.

When we got back to the apartment, I immediately flopped down on the sofa, the exhaustion of the day setting in. Then I sat straight up and grabbed my computer and found the online form to sign up for the baking contest. I hit the keyboard a little too hard as I entered in my information. I sat back, satisfied. I tried to picture the look on Alice’s face when I beat her.

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