Miracle Pie

by Edie Ramer

  “In the heart.” Gabe slapped his hand over his heart. “You’re slaying me.”

  “I doubt that you’d die that easily,” Rosa said.

  “You’re right. I don’t die easily at all.” He turned back to Katie. “Let’s roll.”

  She was about to scratch her eyebrow but quickly brought down her hand. “Uh. I’m Katie Guthrie and I make pies.” She smiled at the camera and guessed it looked like a scared grimace.

  “Let’s try that again,” he said.

  “Take in a few deep inhales and exhales before you talk,” Taz said. “Relax. We all know Gabe’s ugly, but try not to sound like you’re talking to an IRS agent.”

  Katie laughed nervously. When they left, she would have a glass of wine, a piece of pie—maybe two pieces of pie—then curl up on her bed and sleep for an hour.

  But first she had to get through this.

  Chapter Seven

  “You’ll be wonderful,” Gabe said. “Pretend you’re talking to your lover.”

  “I don’t think so.” Katie heard the breathiness of her voice, like Marilyn Monroe singing Happy Birthday, Mr. President. Cringing inside, she continued, “I don’t tell my lovers how to make a pie. I just bake pies for them.”

  His blue eyes seemed to glow, and her skin warmed. “A friend, then,” he said. “Tell a friend.”

  She took in a breath and said her name. It felt odd. In the tiny village of Miracle, everyone knew her name.

  The intro done without too much wobbling of her voice, she went through her talk once. Then went through it again. Then went through it seven more times, though Rosa only had to go through hers three times. Katie was ready to start again when Gabe said, “I think we’ve got it.”

  The tension seeped out of her. “Thank God.”

  Everyone laughed and Taz started to pull back the boom that angled over her head. Gabe put his hand out, stopping him. “Just one more thing. Tell us, why pies? Why not cakes or cookies or cupcakes?”

  “You don’t need this.” Rosa’s voice was sharp. “I’m making a cooking show, not an interview show.”

  He looked at her. “I won’t charge more for this.”

  Rosa shrugged. Sitting back with her legs crossed, she nodded at Katie to continue.

  “Well...” Katie wrinkled her nose and switched from one foot to the other. Finally she leaned forward over the counter. “Pies are love.”

  He laughed softly. “Tell me how pies can be love.”

  “Not every pie.”

  “Your pies are?” His left eyebrow and a corner of his mouth quirked up.

  He didn’t believe her.

  She stood straight. “I send love into the pies as I make them. I think of someone eating them, and for those few minutes I feel them with their eyes closed as they taste the deliciousness of the pie. At peace, all their troubles gone.”

  “That’s a lot to ask of one piece of pie.”

  “Not for my pies.” She heard the strength of conviction in her voice, talking directly to him. She knew the camera and sound were running, but it didn’t matter. Rosa certainly wouldn’t put this on her show. “Think of a two pie crust, like apple pie. The bottom crust is death and the top is birth. And in between, everything is happy. There’s no sad in pies.”

  He grinned widely. “I’ve got to tell you, I’ve eaten some sad pies.”

  “Not my pies. Not if you do it right.”

  “Doing it right is important?”

  “Of course. If you don’t make a pie right, it won’t taste good.”

  “What about life? Is it important doing that right?”

  She shifted, feeling uncomfortable. “Why ask me that? This is supposed to be about pies.”

  “You said pies are like life. You compared the crusts to birth and death.”

  “Oh.” Now it sounded stupid, and she was really glad no one but the four of them would see this. “I guess it’s important to do everything as well as you can. I have a wonderful life, with great friends and a wonderful father. But it’s nothing I tried to do. I’m just lucky that way.”

  “And you make wonderful pies,” he said.

  She nodded. “Yes, I make wonderful pies. Is that all?”

  Taz laughed and so did Rosa. Gabe nodded. “That’s all.”

  Only then did she smile. Putting her palms on the counter, her fingers splayed, she leaned forward. “Wait until you eat my pie. Then you’ll know.”

  “Can’t wait,” he said, the glow in his eyes making her skin warm. Then he bent to dismantle the camera. “I think it will look good.”

  Really? she wanted to ask. Really, truly? Like a child needing a pat on her back. Instead, she smiled stiffly and crossed to the cupboard at the end of the kitchen.

  “I’ll look at this on the computer in my room tonight,” he continued. “I think it will be great.”

  She climbed on the step stool to pull a cardboard pie box out of the top cupboard. “You like pumpkin pie?” she asked, climbing down. “You can have it.”

  “Yes,” Taz said.

  “No, you don’t,” Gabe said. “Who carried the bug out of the house?”

  “You can’t eat the whole pie by yourself.”

  “You want to bet money on it?” Gabe put the camera in its bag, and he and Taz continued their bickering while she packed the pie along with paper plates, plastic forks and a plastic knife.

  Rosa took her sauce and meatballs out of the fridge, saying it was dinner for her youngest son tonight so she wasn’t leaving them any. Her features were pulled tight, and she spoke faster than usual instead of dwelling on the words. No doubt thinking of her second oldest son who still worked at Fabrini’s with his dad and her oldest at a culinary college in New York.

  Carrying the pie to Gabe, Katie frowned, her steps slow, as if she carried fifty pounds of sorrow instead of one of the best tasting pumpkin pies in the world.

  Why did some men have to be assholes? What was wrong with them? If she were a man, she would be happy to have a wife like Rosa.

  When Rosa walked by a group of men, their heads turned. Besides that, she was smart and she could cook.

  How could Mike want Amber more than her?

  She scowled at Gabe as he zipped his tripod in a case. “Here.” She thrust the pie at him along with a container of whipped cream. “You take it.”

  His gaze sympathetic, as if he knew what she was thinking, Gabe slung the tripod and the camera over his shoulders. Only then did he take the pie and the whipped cream. “You were great,” he said.

  “I am great.” She held her head high, and expected him to smile again, but he just looked at her eyes and her mouth, saying nothing.

  “You doing anything tonight?” Taz asked.

  Aware of Gabe’s gaze on her, she shook her head. “I’ll be doing prep work for tomorrow. Sorry.”

  Taz shrugged. “Good luck on selling the pilot.” From his lack of enthusiasm, she guessed he thought there wasn’t a chance of a key lime pie in hell.

  A snort came from the table in the corner of the kitchen. The sound of an old Beagle awakening. Then claws tapped on the floor, Happy limping toward her, though with the cataracts that made her eyes look glassy, Katie guessed she only saw her silhouette. Or maybe Happy smelled her. Happy’s nose still seemed to work, as well as her appetite and her ability to love.

  Both men said their goodbyes then headed out to the back door, Taz first. Seconds later the storm door clanged shut and the butterflies in Katie’s chest stopped twirling, as if they all dropped down dead with disappointment.

  Why did Taz have to ask her out instead of Gabe? She shouldn’t have made up an excuse. She should have just smiled, thanked him and said no. No explanation needed.

  Then Gabe might have asked her out.

  Or not. While she’d been thinking of a fling, he’d probably been eager to leave.

  Huffing breaths reminded her that she had responsibilities. “Come on, sweetie.” She scooched down with her hands out to Happy whose head was bobbi
ng up and down, tongue out.

  Love for her valiant dog filled Katie. A large-capacity refrigerator full of love, she thought as she lifted Happy, then nuzzled her nose on Happy’s ear.

  “Love you,” she whispered, though Happy didn’t hear anything she said unless she yelled. Bringing her head up, Katie saw Gabe in the doorway. Staring at her.

  Her breath stopped and she couldn’t breathe.

  Then he nodded and left. Gone.

  Chapter Eight

  Pumpkin pie reminded Gabe of his childhood in fall: raking leaves, carving pumpkins, Thanksgiving turkey dinner with his mom, stepfather and two half-sisters, a phone call from his dad in California with his new wife. In his motel room, Gabe added one more person to that list.

  Katie Guthrie. Shy, sly and sexy. She spoke softly and baked a mean pie.

  He sat behind the desk in the corner and watched the video of Rosa first. Not cutting anything yet, just watching with an editing eye. Taz swaggered in as it was wrapping up.

  “You better’ve saved a piece of pie for me,” he said.

  Gabe stopped the video. “Or what? You’ll never work for me again?”

  “Or I’ll punk you big time.”

  “You would, too.” Gabe slid the pie across the desktop toward him. Taz had a twisted mind, and Gabe wasn’t in the mood for practical jokes. What he was in the mood for was one tall woman with great cheekbones and eyes the color of a foggy sky...but that wasn’t going to happen.

  Taz scooped out a piece then topped it off with more than his share of whipped cream. Only then did he sit and take a bite, his eyelids lowering. “Umm, there really is something special about this pie. I’m feeling the love.”

  “Yeah, I’m a believer.” Gabe looked at the pie, wanting more, but since he’d already eaten two pieces, he decided to wait until later for the third.

  “I’m thinking of eating Mexican tonight,” Taz said, his mouth full. “The one we saw on the main drag.”

  Gabe doubted there were any drag races in the city of Tomahawk, a smallish city with aging buildings about a twenty minute drive from Miracle. With a coat of new snow, colored lights on store windows and wreaths on lampposts, the main street wouldn’t look out of place on a Christmas card.

  “I’ll pass. I want to watch the tape.”

  “Eager to get back to your woman in Chicago?”

  “Cherise isn’t my woman anymore.”

  “For sure? I gotta say, she was uppity.”

  “Uppity?” Gabe laughed again, and he realized in this one day he’d laughed more than in the last month with Cherise.

  He didn’t blame her. He blamed himself and the funk attached to him like a second, unwanted skin.

  “She’s one of those black hole joy suckers,” Taz said. “Spend too much time with them and they suck the joy outta you.”

  Gabe shrugged. “Before we moved in together, she was different.”

  Taz nodded like an old man who’d seen it all instead of a young dude in his prime. “Women do that. Most of ’em, anyway. Some asshole guys, too. My sister’s ex was like that. Once joy suckers like that get in your bed and your space, they think they got you like this.” He held out his hand, palm up, then curled his fingers into a fist. “You may as well slit your throat, ’cause you’re no better than road kill.” He nodded again, his lower lip overlapping the top. Another old man move. “Smart thing not to marry Cherise.”

  “Survival instincts. She’s part of my history now.”

  “And you learn from history?”

  “What are you?” Gabe narrowed his eyes at Taz. “My mom?”

  “Wrong gender, dude. If you’re not coming with me, you going back to Katie?”

  “She said she was busy.”

  “She shot me down, but I could tell she wanted you. And you wanted her.” Taz jabbed his plastic fork at Gabe. “The air stank of sex.”

  “Yet you asked her out.”

  Taz shrugged. “Never know for sure until you give it a try. If you don’t want her, maybe I’ll try again. If you’re not going back, she might change her mind.”

  Gabe stared at him. Not saying anything, just staring. Keeping his body relaxed. His face calm. But not taking his eyes off his friend with the younger body and the beautiful caramel-skinned face that made women melt like butter in the sun.

  Taz laughed. “I get the hint. She’s all yours.”

  “I never said that.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Taz gestured at the computer. “Did you watch them?”

  “Just Rosa. She looks great on film.”

  “No brainer there. What about Katie? She’s the make-or-break one.”

  “Aren’t you going out to eat?”

  “No rush.” Taz got up and dragged the chair closer to the desk. “Turn it around so I can see. Give it a go.”

  Gabe shrugged. No reason not to. But something inside him itched. He wanted to watch the film of Katie alone, not with Taz making comments. Ignoring the itch, Gabe angled the computer so they could both see.

  Katie appeared for her sound test, something he normally didn’t waste film on. He didn’t know why he did this time, but he instantly felt electrified. As if struck by lightning as he watched her on his laptop screen. He’d been right about the camera loving her. Loving her face, her red-brown hair, her height. She wore a green apron, but even with the apron, the viewer could tell Katie’s breasts were not defective.

  Film wasn’t about looks, though. Not even close. It was about personality; like Oprah, Ellen, Rachel Ray. All of them outgoing and, in Rachel Ray’s case, perky. The last word Gabe would use to describe Katie would be perky.

  She started to talk in a kind of robotic way. A no-no. But then she jumped back, seeing the bug, and Rosa came into the scene. Taz laughed and so did Gabe. It was a good bit. Though Rosa did most of the talking, Gabe’s gaze kept travelling to Katie. Watching the expressions flash across her expressive face, all her walls down.

  “Perfect,” Taz said.

  Gabe shrugged. No one was perfect. Taz would know that in a few years. But who wanted perfect? That would bore him.

  “It’s good,” he said.

  “You’re not bad, either.” Taz grinned at him.

  “I like being behind the camera. Now, shut up and watch.”

  Rosa went back to the table, and Katie started again, flubbing her intro, the first syllable out of her mouth the dreaded uh. Gabe heard himself telling her to make her voice looser, and she spoke in a breathy voice, saying she didn’t tell her lovers how to make a pie.

  His body tightened.

  Jesus, she was good.

  She started again without the uh. Not great, not bad. Not a ball of fire like Rachel Ray, but it didn’t matter, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  It wasn’t a surprise. Just looking at the picture his uncle sent him had made his heart beat faster. But he’d promised himself he wouldn’t mix business with pleasure again as he did with Cherise. A bad idea, making those kind of promises. He was like a kid spotting a ball in the grouchy neighbor’s yard. Knowing he wasn’t supposed to play with it, but unable to stop himself.

  That kid had been him.

  As a kid, the more untouchable it was, the more he wanted to touch.

  He’d thought he’d gotten over it.

  Shutting off his thoughts, he paid attention to the video. Katie relaxed a bit more the next take. Then again. And again. And again. In her quiet way, she commanded his attention. Not just his, either. Taz slid to the edge of his seat, his head inches from Gabe’s so he could see the screen better.

  And then the cooking scene ended, and anticipation built inside Gabe.

  This was what he’d been waiting for. He heard his own voice asking “...why pies?”

  His breath sucked in.

  “Pies are love,” she said...and the look on her face, as if she were transcendent, made his heart thunder.

  He gripped the wood chair arms and watched her, transfixed. Not able to take his gaze from the screen.r />
  When it was over, he sat back, dazed. He slowly turned to look at Taz. Wondering if the younger, cooler friend looked as stunned as he did.

  “You might have a winner,” Taz said, grinning. Not dazed but seeing the screen magic.

  “Not me. Them.” Gabe jerked his head at the laptop, as if tiny people lived inside it instead of tiny pixels. Rosa had hired him to make the video. That was all. She’d planned from the beginning to shop it around herself. Not a good idea, but he saw her point. Who cared more about her success?

  “Rosa might sell this after all,” he said. “The two of them...they’re special.”

  “Could be. But I bet they aren’t the only hot chick duo with no credentials shopping their show around.” Taz stood. “That last bit with Katie, that was different. That was hot.”

  Gabe didn’t answer. Staring at the frozen image of Katie on the laptop monitor, relief on her face that the filming was over.

  In his mind, an idea bubbled up.

  He pushed up from the chair then lowered back into it. Katie had said she’d be busy. If she got up so early in the morning, she might be in bed now. This could wait until late tomorrow morning.

  Much better to see her when she was wide awake with her brain fully functioning before talking her into changing her life.

  Chapter Nine

  “I want you to see something.” The intensity in Gabe’s eyes made Katie’s breath hitch. “Something that could change your life.”

  Katie blinked at him. This was the second morning she had an angel in her kitchen, though she suspected he had the devil in him. An angel wouldn’t make her skin warm from the inside out and her fingertips tingle.

  “It’s very odd.” She eyed the laptop he was holding.

  His smile bloomed. So did a wave of heat and confusion inside her, but she kept her attention on his face.

  “What’s odd?” he asked.

  “It’s odd that every time the doorbell rings lately, it’s someone who wants to change my life. I’m only doing this cooking show thing to help Rosa. I like my life as it is.” Her hands curled as she looked up at him. She half expected him to use his charm on her.