A Slice of Magic

by A. G. Mayes

  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 q
uestions 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-presen
t 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?