Pecan Pie Predicament

by Addison Moore

  Cormack comes up just as Everett and Noah are discussing tactics on how to best attack their meal.

  “Oh, Big Boss.” She does her best to scoot in close to Noah, but he holds an arm out.

  “Sorry, Cormack. I don’t want to be disqualified before the fun begins. Everett and I are trying to win the free weekly family meal. And seeing that my family is growing, we’re going to need it.” He offers an affable nod my way.

  “Cormack”—Everett narrows his eyes over the blonde ditz, his demeanor not nearly as friendly—“what’s this petition nonsense I’m hearing about?”

  Cormack gasps and quickly tucks the papers she’s clutching into her designer tote bag.

  “Why, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Essex.” She winks his way. “I can’t believe you both fell for the oldest trick in the book. A pregnancy, Lyla, really?” She takes a moment to glare my way. Cormack has never bothered to get my name straight. I’ve long suspected it’s a cheap way to try to get under my skin. Little does she know, she achieves just that with her presence alone. “You really pulled one out of the bottom of the drawer,” she continues. “I suppose you were insecure in your relationships, or you wouldn’t have had to stoop that far.”

  “My bio mom tried that tactic,” Evie says. “It never really worked out for her, though. But seeing that I ended up with Dad and you, Mom, it clearly worked out for me.” She shoots Cormack a look. “And don’t you think for a minute my mother is going to leave town.”

  Cormack growls over at her, “I almost have double the signatures required to prove she’s a public nuisance. I even got Mayor Nash and Carlotta to sign it.”

  I gasp so loud I almost inhale that ambrosia salad without taking a single bite. And, my God, does it look so very delicious. There’s no doubt in my mind my dinner will start there.

  “Carlotta, Mayor Nash, how could you?” I shoot them both a beady-eyed look for even thinking about it, let alone doing it.

  Mayor Nash moans something out, as does Carlotta, the both of them looking as if they were about to drop dead right this minute.

  “Hear that, Cormack?” My cheeks rise her way. “You’ve made them both sick to their stomachs.”

  Cormack makes a queasy face herself. “I’ve already seen three people run out of here looking as if they never wanted to see food again. I’m not the one making them sick. It’s their sick desire to have a competitive edge.”

  An announcement is made over the speakers letting us know the next pie eating competition is set to begin in ten minutes.

  “I’m in,” Evie says. “But don’t worry. I’ll have some dinner first. You can box up the rest and I’ll have the leftovers tomorrow. That way it’ll be like a real Thanksgiving dinner, or so I’ve heard. I’ve never had one, you know.” She shrugs. “Cressi-duh would leave me to rot at school, so I was subject to the cafeteria’s lame offerings.”

  “Oh, Evie.” I pull her in for a quick embrace. “You’re going to have a real Thanksgiving from here on out. And you will never be without family to share it with.”

  Evie came into our lives last spring, so everything has been a first for her in many ways. She just celebrated her first birthday with our family when she turned sixteen a couple of months ago. It was her first birthday party ever, and just knowing that broke my heart.

  Cormack sniffs over at Evie. “Look at you, always giving your real mother a bad name. Didn’t she outfit you with the best the fashion industry had to offer? Were you not gifted the education reserved for the most elite of our kind? Had you not been trained in the delights of caviar from all over the world? That woman bled green for you, Everly Baxter. And all you’ve done in return is give her grief. She’s so angry at the way you treated her last month, she went straight to one of her super yachts and is cruising the Med for the next few weeks. I hope one day you have a child just as spiteful as you’ve been. Only then will you know the true pain an unappreciative child such as yourself can cause.”

  Everett’s eyes are red with rage, but before he can let an expletive fly, Noah holds up a hand.

  “Leave.” Noah doesn’t mix words while looking right at the menace herself.

  “Don’t worry, Big Boss. I’ll get you a stiff drink from the bar. With Lola here holding your baby hostage, you’re going to need it.”

  She takes off, and I shudder in her wake. “Noah, Everett, good luck to you both,” I say as they prepare to dig in. “And please, if you can’t finish, it’s not a big deal. Although, it would be nice not to have to worry about one meal a week for the next solid year. Lord knows I’ll have my hands full with this little sugar cookie come March.”

  Evie nods. “And we can’t live off the Wicked Wok and Mangias alone. Get to it, Dad. You too, Uncle Noah. No slacking.”

  Evie and I get to our own meals, and just like I promised myself, I indulge in a heaping scoop of ambrosia salad first with its whipped cream base, mini marshmallows, mandarin oranges, bananas, strawberries, and pineapple. The sweet potato pie is my next victim.

  Evie makes a face at it, and that means there’s just more for me. The sweet potatoes taste like a sugary dream, and coupled with the crispy roasted marshmallows on top it’s a light and airy delight. The turkey is moist and tastes slightly smoked. The mashed potatoes are creamy and luscious with a mountain of dark brown gravy so thick it almost qualifies as pudding. The cornbread stuffing tastes like a savory dessert with every bite, but I won’t lie, I sure wish they had honey butter to go with it. The cranberry sauce is perfectly minced, but I still like the kind my mother serves from the can. I’m old school that way. And the creamed green beans are especially tasty, so I eat both mine and Evie’s since she’s already declared them the equivalent of toxic sludge.

  A whistle goes off toward the front, and Evie bounces out of her seat as she heads that way where the rest of the people ready to nosh on pumpkin pie at lightning speeds have gathered.

  “Don’t worry,” I tell Noah and Everett. “You’ve got a great view from here, but I’ll go take some pictures and cheer her on just in case.”

  Everett nods. “And when you come back, here’s hoping there’s not a speck of food left at this table.”

  Noah groans. “I don’t know. I’m already feeling it.”

  “That’s because you’re a bull.” Everett points to Noah’s plate with his fork. “Pretend you’re a bear for once and don’t let go of the task at hand.”

  “Something tells me that’s how you got through law school.” I give a little wink as I take off for the bar.

  Barry waves me over to where he sits with Greer, and I head their way.

  “She’s right over there, Lottie.” Barry points a ghostly finger to the redhead seated at the end of the bar with her laptop open and a plate that’s nearly finished in front of her.

  Greer leans my way. “I was snooping at her work from over her shoulder. She’s doing an excellent write-up on your bakery, Lottie. An article like this could be great for business. My mother used to subscribe to Better Homes and Calories. It’s a huge publication.”

  “Mine did, too,” I say the words through my teeth. “Wish me luck.” I head that way just as a seat opens up next to her.

  “Shirley Temple, please,” I say to the bartender as I fall into the stool beside her.

  Autumn leans back and inspects me. “Well, if it isn’t the famous Lottie Lemon!” A warm laugh strums from her. She’s donned a red boiled wool jacket with a white turtleneck poking through at the neck. She’s got on jeans and tall brown boots, and looks nice and toasty for a night out on the town in the cool fall weather.

  “Famous? I’m almost afraid to know why. Please say it’s because you’ve fallen in love with my pecan pie. I can’t keep a single slice on the shelf at the bakery.”

  She bounces with a laugh. “Well that, too. But mostly because your sweet mother does nothing but talk about how wonderful you are.”

  “Consider the source. Not only that, but she knows you’re doing a write-u
p on the bakery.”

  The bell rings, and a row of six contestants, including Evie, dive their faces into a pile of whipped cream.

  “I’m assuming there’s a pie in there somewhere.” I laugh as the two of us turn to watch the carnage. “That’s my daughter, Evie, on the end, the one with the black hair knotted up at the base of her neck.” It’s a quick updo that Evie just pulled off in an effort to save her tresses.

  “She’s off to a great start,” Autumn muses. “You’re really lucky, Lottie. I wanted to have kids, but I guess it just wasn’t in the cards for me.”

  “Oh, you’re so young,” I tell her. She might be a smidge older than me, but she couldn’t be older than her mid-thirties. “I mean, you still have time. Love comes first. How are things working out in that department? Good, I hope.”

  Autumn glances to the ceiling. “Not really. I’ve never been lucky in love. My husband and I parted ways a few months back. But it’s a good thing. I thought we were meant for one another, but I guess we grew into two different people. I’m not opposed to falling in love again, but let’s just say I don’t have a very trusting heart.”

  I nod. “I’m sorry to hear it. Any word from Hannah’s family? You mentioned the two of you were friends. Any funeral arrangements?”

  Her eyes widen. “I’m not that close. I knew Hannah, but I don’t know her parents. I think her father was the one that raised her. He was on that reality show—and from what I heard—the spotlight went to his head. Anyway, Maizy mentioned he had Hannah cremated and her remains sent back to him. So that’s the end of that. No service or anything. She’s just gone.” She sighs at the thought.

  “That’s heartbreaking,” I say as I watch Evie plowing her way through the whipped cream and into the thick of the pumpkin pie. “I guess the sheriff’s department is still baffled by who could have poisoned her. They tested my pies, and the poison didn’t originate in my bakery. So there’s still a killer out there.” A thought comes to me. “Hey? You wouldn’t happen to know anything about a man in a fedora, would you? Just a little bit before my husband and I stumbled upon Hannah’s body, we saw some man in a fedora roughing her up in the alley.”

  She blinks back, stunned. “Really? That’s so strange.” Her gaze darts around the room as though she were truly stymied. “I have no idea who that could have been. But then, I’m not from the area. I’m actually from south of Ashford. I guess I could have driven here each day, but I sort of liked the thought of taking a vacation on the company’s dime. My husband and I used to vacation up in Hollyhock now and again. There’s a beautiful lodge up there. You should really see it.”

  A laugh gets caught in my throat. “The Maple Meadows Lodge?”

  She nods. “That’s the one. Boy, do I have some memories there.” She closes her eyes a moment.

  “Well, I’ve seen it. And funny story? I happen to own it with my husband and Noah.” I’m not sure if she knows Noah on a first name basis, but it took a lot to refrain from calling him my boyfriend. I’m so trained to do it, I typically don’t give it a second thought, but it does tend to throw people for a loop and I definitely don’t want to throw Autumn for a loop.

  Autumn’s green eyes grow wide. “Are you the one that did the remodel? I went up last week just to poke around, and it’s stunning inside.”

  “We did as much as we could,” I tell her. “But we have plans to do more in the future.” I pat my stomach. “I’m afraid it’ll have to wait, though. I’m sort of remodeling my life at the moment.”

  “I’m still envious.”

  The bartender slides a pink drink my way, and I take a careful sip. “So Hannah’s killer—they must really be living it up thinking they’ve gotten away with murder.”

  She tips her head toward the street. “She’s still out there taunting the sheriff’s department. Laughing at them, too.”

  “She?”

  Autumn nods. “I’m sticking to my story. I think Reese has the biggest motive. Hannah all but shut down her business. And her business was brand new. Even the slightest financial hit could prove fatal.”

  I lift a finger as I try to digest this. “Wait, I thought last week you were sure it was Maizy who did this?” I know for a fact she did because that’s what led me to the Slammer Jammer where Everett was a deity among mere mortals—as he is always.

  She squeezes her eyes shut a moment. “I did think that, but after really considering it, the evidence can’t be denied. They found Reese’s fake pink hair at the scene. That kind of cinched it for me. I thought they would have made an arrest by now. It’s a breadcrumb that can’t be overlooked, and it leads right to Reese Underwood’s own body.”

  “You’re not wrong.”

  Barry and Greer float this way.

  Barry twitches his ghostly head her way. “Any luck?”

  I shake my head at the two of them.

  Greer makes a face as Evie tries her best to plow her way through that pie.

  “I’m going to help that girl out.” Greer speeds over, and soon every last bit of Evie’s pie has up and disappeared.

  The bell goes off, Evie is declared the winner, and the crowd goes wild, especially me as I document every moment with my phone. By the time I’m done frolicking in the victory, I glance back to the bar, but Autumn is gone and her plate has already been cleared.

  So there’s that. But she did have a good point regarding Reese. I’ll have to talk to Noah about that again.

  Evie and I head back to the table to find both Carlotta and Mayor Nash, and Noah and Everett have polished off every last bit of their Thanksgiving feast set before them.

  “You did it!” I cheer just as the waitress arrives and sets a pumpkin pie down on each of their tables. And each pumpkin pie has at least six inches of whipped cream nestled on top of it to boot.

  “You’re almost there!” The waitress gives a cheery laugh. “Just devour the pie, and you’ve got a free family dinner once a week for an entire year!”

  A horrible moan comes from Carlotta. Her eyes float into the back of her head, and she rocks right then left before doing a face-plant into that nest of whipped cream.

  “We’re out.” Mayor Nash holds up his hands. “We’ve had enough Thanksgiving dinner to last the next seven years.” He gets up and does his best to hoist Carlotta to a standing position. “We’ll see you all back at the cabin. Carlotta’s got a key. There’s no way I’m letting her spend the night at my place in this condition. The woman is ready to blow.”

  Carlotta murmurs something to us from under that whipped cream facial she just gave herself as he drags her out the door.

  “I think she just wished the two of you luck,” I say. It was just a guess on my part, but regardless, they look like they can use it.

  But Everett and Noah are at a standoff as they stare one another down.

  “Go to it, Everett,” Noah says. “Prove to Lottie you’re the bear that never gives up.”

  Everett glances down at the pie and closes his eyes as if it hurt to even look at it. He pulls out a wad of bills and plops them down onto the table.

  “Don’t worry, Lemon. I’ll buy dinner every night of the week for a year, wherever you want, however much you want. But that pie isn’t getting anywhere near my pie hole.”

  We head on out and walk down the street to our car as the icy wind picks up and makes my hair fly to the sky. Twinkle lights have been strung up from lamppost to lamppost as the town gets ready for Christmas, and it gives all of Main Street a magical appeal.

  “Autumn thinks Reese did it,” I say to Noah as he rubs his belly.

  “I’m thinking she might be right.” He moans. “Here’s hoping I have this buttoned up before Thanksgiving.”

  “Here’s hoping, indeed,” I say.

  There is a killer on the loose who is very thankful for the fact they’ve been able to maintain their freedom.

  But if I have anything to say about it, their thankful days are numbered.

  Chapter 11

&nbs
p; The fall winds blow a flurry of leaves just past my bakery window as I box up as many of my delicious cookies as I can. I’ve got plans for these cookies, and they just so happen to be a part of a grand scheme to get my own cookies frosted. I’m about to put an end to this dry spell Everett and I are having, once and for all.

  The morning rush just ended, and Lily is wiping down the counter while Carlotta fashions a wreath out of a string of silk leaves she plucked off the counter. And Keelie is here on a break while noshing on pumpkin cheesecake since the Honey Pot Diner isn’t all that busy just yet.

  “Carlotta”—I make a face—“you do realize that was a part of my fall decor.”

  “I know, but it’s the first official day of my new business. Your mama made me those curtains for my van, and I just slapped the magnetic signs onto the sides of it. It’s go time, Lot. Which reminds me, box me up a couple dozen of those chocolate chip cookies of yours, would you? I’m guessing people are better tippers after they’ve been sugared up a bit.”

  Lily grunts, “Try liquored up.”

  Keelie nods. “My vote is for tequila.”

  “No way, no how.” Carlotta is quick to dismiss the hard stuff. “I saw how quickly the feds shutdown Miranda’s haunted house a few months back. Besides, I don’t qualify for a liquor license, I’ve already checked.”

  I put together a whole new box of chocolate chip cookies and slide them her way.

  Lily scoots in. “What exactly is happening in that van of yours, anyway?”

  Carlotta holds up the newly fashioned wreath and pokes her head through it. “I’m opening a mobile spa!”

  “Yup,” I say. “And sadly, I am fully aware of it.”

  “Oh, come on, Lot.” Carlotta pulls the boxes of cookies her way. “Don’t be such a killjoy. I know why you’re so glum. You think now that I’ll be rolling in the dough, I’ll move out on my own and you’ll never see me again, don’t ya? You’re afraid that I won’t be your trusty sidekick when you go out hunting for a killer. Well, you’re wrong on both counts. The next time you go snooping, give me a ring. In fact, I’ll drive. It’ll be good exposure for my business.”