by A. G. Mayes
I assured her I would go to sleep earlier tonight, and she seemed happy. I should really get thicker curtains for the windows.
We drank champagne and ate pie. A little unorthodox, but a very satisfying experience. We were all suffering from a severe case of the giggles when my mother strode into the pie shop.
Chapter 21
Day 15 — Wednesday
It was strange having her in the kitchen. My mother stood next to the island in a crisp red suit. Her hair was dark, short, and straight, all the result of a lot of time at the salon. If she left it untouched, it would be the same curly brown mess that mine was. All of her features were like mine, but sharper – including her blue eyes which darted around critically studying everything. She kept fumbling with her hands as if she didn’t know where to put them.
The Morning Pie Crew had discreetly slipped out and moved the celebration to the bookstore after being introduced to my mother. I invited my mother back to the kitchen to visit with me while I prepared a special order. Henry had called and ordered three caramel apple pies for Penelope’s birthday. Apparently, they didn’t have caramel apple in the frozen section of the grocery store. I wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of him coming in, but I couldn’t afford to lose the business.
‘You could sit,’ I offered, walking to the back to pull out the desk chair.
‘Oh, no, that’s not necessary,’ she said, waving me off.
We talked about the weather – crisp, cold, and sunny. We talked about the best gift shops in town. Mom wanted to buy something for her friend Nina. We talked about what’s been happening on our favorite television show. Mom and I used to watch this historical drama together on television, and we both kept up with it. I don’t know if either of us really loved it that much, but it was the one thing we could connect over. It’s amazing the things people will do to stay connected. Usually I had to record it and watch it twice because I would fall asleep the first time, but I always made sure to watch it all. Otherwise, by some miracle, she would know which parts I had missed, and she’d only want to talk about the parts I had slept through. Sometimes it felt like a test, and she was trying to keep me from using the cliff notes. This time, however, I managed to discuss it in a satisfactory manner.
I began hand mixing the crusts in a bowl, not bothering with the large mixer since I was only making a few pies. I took out the ingredients while my mother recounted her favorite scene between the duke and duchess where the duchess had found out that the duke was lying to her and she was making very graphic threats to him. My mother loved drama, even though she tried to pretend she didn’t. If she were to talk about the show with one of her friends, she would probably focus on the outfits and the lovely scenery.
As I mixed the flour, butter, and water in the bowl, I saw my mother purse her lips out of the corner of my eye. I knew that look. I had seen it so many times before. She was dying to tell me what I was doing wrong. In fact, despite her effort to keep it inside, I had a feeling she wouldn’t be able to hold in her criticism for longer than five seconds. I began mentally counting. Five, four, three, two…
‘You’re adding too much water,’ she said.
Bingo. I knew it. ‘It’s fine, Mom,’ I said. ‘People haven’t been complaining.’
‘Well, then, people here are just too polite.’ She sniffed. ‘Too much water will make the crust tough instead of light and flakey.’
I wanted to bang my head against the table, but instead I plastered a smile on my face.
‘Will you show me?’ I asked, pushing the ingredients towards her.
She narrowed her eyes at me. ‘I am not really dressed to bake.’
‘Don’t worry, I have an apron for you to wear,’ I said sweetly.
My mother usually preferred to critique and oversee, not to participate. Participating opened her up to being judged by others and that was unacceptable. I gave her an apron covered in little yellow ducklings. She held it out between two fingers.
‘Is this the only one you have?’ she asked.
‘I could get you the one with dancing fairies on it or the one that says, “Will bake for Wine,” or the one that’s purple and sparkly.’ I listed them off as I headed back to the hook where the aprons were hanging.
‘Never mind,’ she said putting this one on over her head carefully so as not to mess up her hair. ‘This one is fine.’
‘Oh, I’m going to need you to wear either a hat or a hairnet too,’ I said apologetically. At least I hope it sounded apologetic; inside I was dancing with joy.
‘What?’ She froze, looking horrified.
‘Yes, the health inspector keeps stopping in, and I have to make sure I maintain the utmost standard of cleanliness.’ I was starting to enjoy myself now and wondered if I could snap a picture of my mom without her noticing. ‘The fact that you’ve even been in the kitchen without a hairnet or hat is probably enough to get me in trouble.’
‘Why has the health inspector been coming in?’ my mother asked.
‘I don’t know.’ I realized I had just given my mother ammo to further attack me. ‘She seems very intent on talking to Aunt Erma.’ At the mention of her name, my mother flinched a little. ‘I keep trying to show her the kitchen because it’s always spotless.’ I decided not to mention that it was spotless because mystery cleaners cleaned every night, not because I was particularly adept at keeping the place tidy.
‘Hmm,’ was all my mother said to me.
I offered her a hat and a hairnet. I could sense her inner struggle. A hat was more stylish, but a hairnet was necessary for not smashing her hair. Heaven forbid she end up with hat hair. I don’t know how my mother kept her hair so perfect. It was a skill I had always tried to master, but no matter how much I worked on it, I could not seem to maintain the same amount of perfection that she could.
She finally landed on the hairnet and put it carefully on her head. Seriously, I don’t think in the history of hairnets that one has ever been placed that carefully on anyone’s head – ever. She went over to the sink and washed her hands.
‘Mom,’ I said softly when her back was turned towards me as she dried her hands off. ‘What really happened between you and Aunt Erma?’ She froze for a moment, still clutching the paper towel.
‘Oh Susie,’ she began in the voice she always used when she was about to brush me off.
‘I know about the magic,’ I said. She was still facing the wall, and I could see her whole body tense. I thought for a minute she might storm out of the kitchen.
She turned towards me, and our eyes met. She seemed to be sizing me up as though deciding whether or not to tell me something. I held her eye contact and hoped that my face didn’t look too confrontational.
‘There’s a lot to explain,’ she said slowly. It was vague, but not a total shut down.
‘I have time to listen while we bake,’ I said. ‘Or while you bake since I’m not fit to make the crusts.’ I shrugged a little with a tiny smile on my lips.
A smile flashed across her face. Whoa. Usually my mother would tell me to stop being ridiculous and dramatic after a comment like that, but this time I just got a smile? I watched my mother surround herself with all the ingredients. She took the bowl I had been working in and went over to the garbage and dumped the contents out. That seemed more like it.
It was strange seeing her measure out the flour with such ease. As far as I knew, she hadn’t baked since before my dad died.
‘We have to start fresh,’ she explained. ‘There’s no going back once there’s too much water in the crust.’ It took all my willpower to make sure I didn’t roll my eyes.
‘So what happened with you and Aunt Erma,’ I prompted again. I washed and peeled the apples while my mother measured flour, salt, shortening, and just a smidge of water into the bowl.
‘Well, when your father died…’ She stopped to take a deep breath. I knew this was a hard topic for her. ‘You know he’d been sick for a while. I’d been trying to make him better with all the
spells I knew, but they weren’t working.’
My mind was spinning. Hearing my mother say things like ‘spells,’ was bizarre and unexpected. I just quietly listened though because I was afraid of stopping the topic of conversation when I needed to hear more. I didn’t want to scare her out of telling me the whole story.
‘I tried to get Erma to help me, but she wouldn’t. Erma’s always been the more powerful one in the family. No matter how hard I tried, how much I practiced, she was always more powerful.’ My mother sounded a little bitter now. ‘She didn’t even have to try.’
I wondered how far back this magic thing went in my family. Generations? Questions raced around in my head, but I continued to peel the apple in my hand slowly. It felt significant, like I was finally peeling back the layers of my mother. I tried to picture her, younger and performing magic. It must have been so difficult for her to believe that she should be able to save my father, but he died anyway.
‘I tried to get Erma to help. Begged her,’ she continued, ‘but she refused. She said that wasn’t what magic was for. That we couldn’t mess with mortality because it’s such a dangerous road to go down.’ My mother’s voice cracked. ‘I just wanted my husband for a little while longer. I wanted him to be there for me and help me raise our little girl.’ She looked at me, tears glistening in her eyes. I felt tears prickle at my eyes too. I fought them back. If we started crying now, we might never stop.
‘When he died, I lost it,’ my mother continued, blinking back her tears and looking down into the bowl. ‘I blamed Erma for not helping me. She moved away, and that was that.’ She squeezed the dough tightly in her hands.
‘You didn’t ever try to talk to her again?’ I asked. ‘I mean, it has been over twenty years.’
My mother shook her head. ‘She let your father die. She just stood by and watched, and then tried to comfort me. I wouldn’t have needed comforting if she had just helped.’ Her voice was rising, and she had a wild look in her eye.
I just stared at her silently. I wasn’t really sure what to say. We both stood there, frozen, looking at each other. After a minute I spoke. ‘Mom?’
‘What?’ Her voice had an edge to it.
‘I love you,’ I said.
She looked surprised for a moment. This was not exactly how my family behaved. We were more about implied love, not overt expressions of it. After a minute of silence, her face softened.
‘I love you too, Susie,’ she said, looking back down into her bowl of pie crust dough.
Chapter 22
Day 15 — Wednesday
Dinner with my mother. Why on earth was I having dinner with my mother? She was spending the night at the one inn in town. She said it was because she didn’t want to put me out, but I had a feeling she didn’t want to set foot in Aunt Erma’s apartment.
Henry had stopped by to get his special order. I grabbed his money and practically threw his pies at him before ushering him out. I saw him hesitate at the door for a moment, but I disappeared back into the kitchen.
I called Holly and told her to call me in exactly one hour with some emergency that would require me to leave dinner immediately and come to her aid.
‘But your mom came all this way to see you,’ she said. ‘Don’t you want to have dinner with her? One meal with your only mother?’
‘I don’t have the stellar relationship with my mom that you have,’ I told her.
‘Stellar relationship?’ she laughed. ‘My mother just told me that my underwear is too grandma-ish and if I’m ever going to reel in a woman, I need to spice it up with a little lace and maybe a thong or two.’
‘I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,’ I teased. ‘How does she know what your underwear looks like?’
‘I have been struggling with the very same question, but I’m afraid to ask,’ she said with a sigh.
‘One hour, please,’ I begged.
‘Fine,’ she said, ‘but if when I call everything is going really well, you should just say, “I’ll pick up the donuts tomorrow,” and I’ll know that everything is OK, and you don’t need rescuing.’
‘I’ll pick up the donuts tomorrow? That’s the code?’ I asked.
‘Well, you come up with something better.’
‘Donuts is fine,’ I said. ‘Thank you for your help. I’ll owe you one.’
‘I think you already owe me two or three,’ she said.
‘I’ll help you buy some sexy underwear. Maybe your mom and I can go shopping together.’
‘I’m hanging up now,’ she said, and with a click she was gone.
So there I was at dinner with my mother. She had been waiting for me at a table near the front when I got there ‘I got here early,’ my mom explained. ‘I wasn’t sure if we’d have to wait for a table.’
‘I don’t think anyone has waited for a table here since Eisenhower was president,’ I said. She was drinking water. The waitress came by. ‘Margaritas for both of us,’ I said. ‘The biggest ones you have.’
‘Oh Susie, I don’t know if that’s a good idea,’ my mom said.
‘Sure it is. They’re the best margaritas you’ll ever have,’ I announced as the server left.
‘I think you should come back to the city with me,’ my mom said abruptly.
‘Don’t start,’ I groaned.
‘I know you’ve always had a special connection with your aunt, but you don’t belong here,’ she said.
‘I don’t have a job to go back to. I’m at least going to stay until Aunt Erma gets back,’ I said.
‘There are still a lot of opportunities for you back home. Nina said she could get you a job as an office assistant.’
This was not the first time my mother and I had had this conversation.
‘No, Mom. I’m staying. At least for a while longer,’ I said firmly.
My mom got quiet and looked down at her menu as though she had never seen a menu before.
I pulled my phone out of my sweater pocket and glanced at the time. I had been here for three minutes. Fifty-seven more to go before Holly called. I had so many more questions for my mom. About magic. About Aunt Erma. I didn’t know where to begin. I wanted answers, but I knew my mom. If I didn’t broach the topic carefully, she would just shut down. We sipped our drinks and got warmed up with small talk.
The margaritas were magic. Hey, maybe they really were magic. I wondered if there was a spell they put on alcohol. Or maybe just alcohol was magic. My mother was halfway through hers and had actually begun to make eye contact with me again.
‘Hello ladies.’ Mr Barnes appeared behind me.
‘What are you doing here? You should join us,’ I said. I pulled out a chair.
‘I don’t want to intrude,’ he said. ‘I’m just waiting for my to-go order.’
‘Nonsense, we’d love to have you,’ my mother said, using the same bright voice she used when a cashier asked how her day was going.
‘So you just came up from the city?’ Mr Barnes asked my mom.
‘Yes, I just wanted to check on my only child.’
‘Alice, the woman who runs the cookie shop in town,’ he clarified for my mother, ‘was heading to the city for some family thing tonight. I think she’s originally from there. I don’t get down there much myself anymore.’
‘Yes, it’s fabulous. Full of so many wonderful opportunities.’ My mom was talking to him but looking at me.
Luckily the conversation moved on to happier topics like where my mother could buy a snow globe for her friend Nina. After that burning question was answered, Mr Barnes got his bag of food and left.
‘I wonder how early the shops open,’ my mother said. ‘I certainly hope that place he mentioned doesn’t stay closed on Thursdays or something crazy like that. I hate how small-town stores always close on some random day during the week, usually the day you want to go there.’
‘Mom.’ I let out an exasperated sigh.
‘What?’ she took a sip of her margarita.
‘Why didn’t
you ever tell me about magic?’
‘I wanted to raise you to be practical,’ she said. ‘Believing in magic just sets you up for disappointment. Your father and I decided to wait until you were eighteen to tell you, but then he died, and I didn’t want to shake up your world again. Or mine.’
‘How does magic work? Could you teach me?’ I asked.
My mother looked like I’d asked her to teach me how to do a keg stand.
‘I told you, I don’t do that anymore.’
I wasn’t going to let her off the hook that easily, but just then Holly rushed over to our table looking panicked. Wow, she was really committing to this get-me-out-of-dinner thing.
‘It’s OK, Holly. I’ll eat the cupcakes. Or get the donuts?’ I really needed to write these secret codes down in the future.
‘I need to talk to you.’ She sounded as panicked as she looked. Her acting was superb. She must be going for extra friend points.
‘Can we talk tomorrow?’ I nodded towards my mother meaningfully.
‘Flora got arrested!’ she said, ignoring me.
‘What?’ I leapt out of my seat and a few heads turned. ‘Why?’
‘Let’s talk about this outside.’ My mother threw some money down on the table and took the last swig of her drink before ushering us to the door.
‘Mom, this is Holly. Holly, this is my mother, Corinne,’ I said, remembering my manners before turning my full attention on Holly.
‘Why was Flora arrested?’ I asked again.
‘They think she did something. She didn’t do it, of course. She must have been set up.’ Her words tumbled out.
‘Holly.’ I put my hands on her shoulders and looked her squarely in the eye. ‘Does it have something to do with magic?’
Her eyes widened in shock for a second, and she looked from my mother to me.
‘Yes. They think she’s trying to alter Erma’s spices to control people. They found a spice bottle stashed in the back of one of the shelves in her shop. There’s no way it was her though. There’s just no way.’ Holly almost sounded like she was trying to convince herself just as much as us.