A Slice of Magic

by A. G. Mayes

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘I heard your pies have become more and more delicious. Have you been trying new recipes? New ingredients?’ she asked, leaning in.

  I wondered how many drinks she’d had to make her so friendly. ‘Nope,’ I lied. The bar wasn’t a relaxing place to be anymore. I swallowed the last of my beer and threw some money on the bar.

  She grabbed my arm, her grip was strong.

  ‘Wait, are you sure you didn’t do anything different today?’ Her voice was tinged with desperation.

  I wrenched my arm free and stumbled back a few steps. Everyone in the bar was openly staring now. I had to get out of here. The last thing I needed was for people to say I got into a fight with Alice. I was pretty sure she’d be able to spin the story and make herself come across as the victim.

  ‘Have a good night, Alice.’ I turned and rushed out the door.

  Chapter 12

  Day 11 - Saturday, November 12th

  Dear Elodie,

  I have two older sisters. We all live together in an apartment. My oldest sister and I get along wonderfully, but I have a huge problem with my other sister. She always borrows my books. That’s not the problem, books are meant to be read, but she writes in them. Sometimes it’s a note to herself, sometimes it’s a note about the book, and sometimes it’s a grocery list. Then to top it off, she folds the pages in half to mark her spot. I’m not talking about just folding the corner down, she folds them completely in half.

  I’ve tried giving her sticky notes and bookmarks, but she never uses them. I told her she can’t borrow my books, but she does anyway.

  How can I handle this situation before she destroys all of my books?

  She hates frogs with a passion. I know it’s immature of me, but I’m tempted to put a bunch of frogs in her bed.

  Sincerely,

  Revenge of the Frogs

  Dear Revenge of the Frogs,

  Don’t put frogs in your sister’s bed. I repeat, do not put frogs in your sister’s bed! It won’t accomplish anything.

  Try talking to your sister again. Explain your feelings and ask her why she does those things to your books. Maybe she’s frustrated about something you’re doing and damaging your books is her way of seeking revenge. Sometimes in roommate situations, it’s the small annoyances that fester until they consume you. You both need to talk about it or this could become an all-out war and no one will win.

  Ask and I’ll Answer,

  Elodie

  It was still dark outside when I was startled by a knock at the front door. I had been up for hours prepping for the Fall Festival. I peeked out from the kitchen, and Flora was standing there with her nose pressed against the glass. When she saw me, she waved enthusiastically. I unlocked the door to let her in.

  ‘What are you doing up so early?’ I asked.

  ‘I’m like a kid on Christmas. I can’t sleep when it’s Fall Festival day,’ she said, stepping inside. ‘I thought maybe I could help you with a few things.’

  ‘Um, OK. Come on in.’ I led her back to the kitchen and offered her some coffee. She said no. I poured her some anyway, and she began to drink it. I went back to prepping the pies. She watched me closely.

  ‘You discovered Erma’s spices,’ she said after a moment of silence.

  I paused, holding a cup of sugar over a bowl of blueberries. ‘Yes.’

  ‘We thought maybe she had taken them with her. She had some very strong spices, and some people react very strangely to them. You know how chamomile can make people feel calm? Some of Erma’s spices make people feel happy or loving,’ she explained.

  ‘OK,’ I said slowly, still holding the cup of sugar. I wasn’t sure I really believed all that hippy dippy stuff, but I couldn’t deny that people had acted strangely yesterday. Maybe there was some correlation to the spices.

  ‘I can help you add the perfect amount of spice,’ she offered.

  ‘Sure,’ I said. A little extra help wouldn’t hurt on a crazy day like today. On the off chance that she was right about the spices causing people to feel certain ways, I didn’t have enough napkin holders to do it wrong again.

  I had spent extra time on one of the blueberry pies. I wanted to make the perfect pie for the baking contest. I made sure the berries were heaped to the right height, the crust was perfectly smooth and flakey, and the brown sugar crumble topping was evenly distributed. I admired my work of art when it came out of the oven, even snapping a picture of it on my cell phone. I sent the picture to Henry before realizing he might not be up yet. He texted back right away though. ‘Looks amazing! I see first place in your future!’ I grinned at my phone. When I looked up Flora was looking at me, her eyebrows raised and a smile playing on her lips. I quickly set down my phone and got back to work.

  Once Flora was satisfied that we’d added the proper amount of spices to all thirty-seven pies I’d made, she went to get herself ready.

  I was so hopped up on caffeine and nerves that I was singing into a wooden spoon by the time Holly arrived. She had offered to help me set up my booth. We began to haul the first load of pies and decorations to the town square. I had been warned that the town took the Fall Festival very seriously, and I was beginning to see how true that was.

  There were people on ladders hanging giant glittering paper leaves from trees and stringing twinkle lights across the square. Despite the fact that we were still hours from the start of the festival, it looked like everyone already had their booths mostly set up. We were assigned a spot in the corner - not prime real estate, but not a bad location. We were just past Flora’s booth and kitty corner from a fortune teller booth. Flora had stacks of books on display. I was hoping for a break today so I could go page through all of them.

  The fortune teller already had little crystal balls hanging from the top of the booth with a giant one sitting in the front. I did a double take. I could have sworn I saw Aunt Erma’s face flash across all the crystal balls. I stared for a minute, but they just sparkled. It must have just been a reflection.

  ‘Hey, are you going to help with this?’ Holly nudged me as she began pulling decorations out of the box. First, we hung the ‘Erma’s Pies’ sign on the front. I’d found that along with some colored lights in the back of the closet when I was looking for recipes. Our final decoration was a paper leaf chain that I’d made myself. I had found the idea online, and I was proud that it only took me six tries to make it into something that I wasn’t too embarrassed to hang up.

  We’d made several trips back and forth between the festival and the pie shop to get all the pies and supplies. Despite the fact that I was wearing my most comfortable tennis shoes, my feet were begging me to sit down and put them up already. Holly had just finished writing the menu out on the chalkboard when people started to wander through. Soon we had a long line, and we were serving pie fast and furiously. On the plus side, I didn’t have time to think about my feet anymore.

  I noticed Henry at the end of the aisle. Bernie, Sandy, and Claire, as well as a couple of other residents from the nursing home whose names I didn’t know, crowded around him while he held up different cardigans that were on display from Bonnie’s Boutique. I couldn’t help but notice how cute he looked in his blue jacket and bright yellow hat. A long multi-colored scarf was wrapped around his neck. No doubt a gift from one of the residents. He said something, and they all laughed. I turned my attention back towards my own booth and the line had gotten twice as long.

  ‘Bless you for being here,’ I said to Holly. I smiled when I heard several people say, ‘Oh yum,’ as they took their first bite on their way out of the line.

  ‘I’m happy I could help,’ she said, scooping a piece of strawberry rhubarb into a paper bowl. ‘Just remember this when I ask you to do some research for my next book.’

  ‘Wait. What?’ I asked freezing with a five-dollar bill in my hand and turning away from the customer standing in front of me. How could I help with research for a romance novel?

  ‘Don’t wor
ry about it.’ She waved a hand dismissively at me and handed me the pie. ‘I’ll tell you later.’

  With all of the ups and downs at the pie shop this week, it felt good to have a line of people wanting to eat my pies. I exhaled feeling a little relieved when we finally got a break in the action.

  ‘I’m hearing rave reviews out there.’ Mr Barnes came up holding two cups of coffee. He handed one to Holly and one to me.

  ‘What’s the haps at the rest of the festival?’ Holly asked him. I gratefully took a large gulp of coffee and felt some energy start to flow through my veins again.

  ‘Gina’s booth is certainly an intense place to walk past,’ he said.

  ‘Is she force feeding people fat-free mini donuts?’ I asked.

  ‘She has people doing pull ups in front of her booth. They’re pure muscle. I’m pretty sure they’ve never eaten an ounce of fat in their whole lives, and they look angry about it,’ he said.

  ‘I’m all about staying healthy, but everyone needs to enjoy life too,’ Holly said. ‘Pie is a necessary part of the living process.’

  ‘Everything in moderation,’ Mr Barnes said. ‘That’s what I teach in my yoga classes. That and how to stand on one foot while saying “om”.’

  ‘Do you want to go to sunrise yoga tomorrow morning?’ Holly asked, turning to me.

  ‘Um, well,’ I stuttered. ‘Do we need more forks? Maybe I should run back to the pie shop and get some.’

  ‘Don’t worry, we have a few more boxes under here.’ Holly pulled them out and set them on the table.

  Luckily the line of questioning ended when more customers came, but I had a feeling I wasn’t totally off the hook yet.

  ‘You’re Stan’s parents, right?’ I greeted the couple who was studying the pies.

  ‘Yes, I’m Dennis and this is Brenda.’ Brenda gave me a thin smile that didn’t reach her eyes. No wonder Stan was such a nervous fellow. His mother was terrifying.

  ‘It’s nice to meet you. What can I get you?’ I asked.

  ‘Could you tell us what you put in your pies? Brenda’s allergic to some spices.’ Dennis studied the chalkboard. Brenda stared at me with such intensity that I shrank back a step.

  ‘We mix a lot of different spices together. If you’re concerned about an allergic reaction, it’s probably best to steer clear of the pie,’ I said. Also, I had no idea what was in Aunt Erma’s secret spice mixes.

  ‘Maybe we’ll just take one slice then.’ He picked the cheesecake, and as he walked away, Dennis took small careful bites while Brenda hovered over him.

  ‘I think I understand Stan better now,’ Holly said from her perch in the corner of the booth. I nodded in agreement.

  Gina stalked up to our booth and glared at our choices.

  ‘Hi Gina.’ I attempted a cheerful hostess tone, but my hand gripped the pie server tighter.

  ‘Still nothing low-fat, I see,’ she said.

  ‘Blueberries are pretty healthy with all those antioxidants,’ I offered.

  ‘Not in a pie filled with sugar, with a crust that’s full of fat.’ She wrinkled her nose.

  A couple walked up with their young daughter, smiling at the pie choices.

  ‘Are you sure you want to indoctrinate your daughter into the culture of obesity?’ Gina asked.

  My mouth fell open and the couple hurried away with their sad, confused little girl.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I asked. Anger swelled in my chest, and I gripped the tin of the apple pie in front of me tightly. I was tempted to throw the whole thing in her face.

  ‘If you’re not going to meet my demands, I am going to be your worst enemy,’ she threatened, narrowing her eyes at me.

  I almost laughed at her words. My worst enemy? Were we in a superhero movie?

  Chapter 13

  Day 11 - Saturday

  I’d never entered a baking contest before. Come to think of it, I’d never even seen a baking contest outside of a television show. The Hocus Hills Baking Contest was a serious event. There were nine of us who had entered. We all stood in a circle, each next to a little table that held our dish.

  After an opening ceremony during which the high school dance team performed and far too many children played solos on violins, the judges were sworn in. Each judge had to solemnly repeat that they hadn’t accepted any bribes and they would only favor their favorite flavors. By this point I was stifling a case of the giggles. I glanced around the circle and saw that everyone’s face was solemn. Alice stood next to me looking calm and confident as a wave of irritation passed over me. I closed my eyes for a second and willed my pie to win.

  Lena had given me the lowdown on the five judges. ‘Fred Lund is a soft-spoken man who began judging all kinds of town contests after his wife died. He’s probably the fairest person I know. Joe Turner is drunk with power when he’s a judge. He thinks he’s king of the universe and would prefer that everyone bows down before him. You can probably get by with a head bob though. Felicity Clayborn loves the color red, so make sure you wear that red polka dot apron. Janice Brent is a rabid fan of John Denver, so you can probably win her over if you hum one of his songs while she tastes your pie. And Ginger Robinson is just a cranky old bat, so there’s really nothing you can do there.’

  The judges began six people down from me. A tall thin middle-aged gentleman stood over a round cake covered in chocolate frosting and decorated with whipped cream and cherries. My mouth watered a little as I looked at it. It was hard to see the judges faces when they tasted it, but based on their nods to each other, they seemed to be enjoying it. The man looked pleased and turned to give a woman behind him a thumbs-up.

  The next contestant was a young woman with long blonde hair. She had made little cheesecake bites that she presented with a flourish of her perfectly manicured hands. I noticed Felicity Clayborn wrinkled her nose a little as she bit into it. I tried not to feel happy about that.

  I daydreamed about winning while the judges made their way closer to me. I thought of how proud Aunt Erma would be and the ways I could subtly rub it in Alice’s face while still appearing gracious. It certainly wouldn’t hurt if it drew more customers into the pie shop too.

  The judges started to line up in front of me and I began quietly humming ‘Take Me Home, Country Roads.’ I gave them a head bob and brushed off my apron, just to make sure Felicity noticed that it was red. Then I presented them each with a piece of pie and watched their reactions. Every one of their faces went from pleasantly surprised to horrified all at once. Janice spit her piece out and it fell into a gooey blob on her plate. Fred’s face had turned a deep shade of red as he struggled to swallow. Ginger began gagging, and the other two had their faces squished up into such looks of disgust it would have been very funny if it wasn’t happening in front of me.

  ‘What’s in that?’ Joe asked.

  ‘Um, blueberries?’ I said, uncertainly. I wasn’t sure what he expected me to say. Strychnine? Cow dung?

  ‘Keep practicing, honey,’ Fred said, setting down his plate and drinking the glass of water someone handed him.

  ‘Get rid of these,’ Felicity handed her plate to a woman standing off to the side and the others followed suit.

  ‘But, I … what?’ I stuttered through words unable to make a full sentence. I had practiced this pie for hours. Even if my baking wasn’t up to Aunt Erma’s quality yet, I didn’t think it was spit out worthy. The judges ignored my stutters and moved on. Joe was wiping his tongue off with a napkin.

  Alice was next. I glanced over and she was positively glowing, which made my blood boil even more. She lifted her tray of cookies and presented them to the judges. She gave a humble shrug as they oohed and aahed over the sparkly frosting she had used to decorate them.

  As though that wasn’t bad enough, as each one of them took a bite out of their cookie, they let out loud exclamations of delight.

  I kept my head down as the judges finished making their rounds. I just couldn’t figure out what went wrong. I waited un
til I thought no one was looking and grabbed a blueberry out of the pie tin and popped it in my mouth. It tasted fine to me.

  I glanced over at Alice, and she gave me a smug smile. I wanted to strangle her, but there were too many witnesses.

  The judges disappeared for a few minutes to confer and came back carrying a set of ribbons. After a speech about all the wonderful entries (well, almost all of them, Janice muttered glancing in my direction), they had decided to award first place to Alice. She beamed as the judges presented her with the ribbon and everyone clapped.

  ‘Oh, thank you, thank you!’ she gushed. ‘In honor of this win, my cookies will be half off all next week. Please stop by and enjoy!’ The cheers in the audience grew louder.

  Second place went to the man with the chocolate cake, and third place went to a woman who had made cookie dough cupcakes.

  I was still a little in shock about what happened when Holly came up behind me. ‘Are you OK?’ she asked putting her arm around my shoulders.

  ‘I’m confused,’ I said, holding my pie up. ‘Will you try a bite?’

  She looked nervous, but then to her credit, she said, ‘Of course.’ What a good friend. She grabbed a fork and shoved a bite in her mouth.

  She chewed it thoughtfully for a minute.

  ‘Tastes good to me,’ she said with a shrug. ‘Who knows what’s wrong with the judges? Don’t worry about it though.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it?’ I screeched a little louder than I intended, and a few heads turned. Then I lowered my voice. ‘The whole town just saw Janice Brent spit my pie out. How many customers do you think will come into the pie shop now?’

  ‘Maybe we can design a new ad campaign for you. Or write a jingle for the radio.’ She began to sing, ‘When you’re feeling sad and saggy, stop by Erma’s pies, it won’t make you gaggy.’

  ‘What?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s just a first draft.’ She looked at my face, ‘What? Too soon? I was just brainstorming. I thought this was a safe space.’

  ‘I think Alice did something to the pie,’ I whispered.