by A. G. Mayes
‘Thank you. This is so nice,’ I said. He hesitated for a minute, and I wondered if I should invite him up. My head was still spinning after being fired and I wasn’t sure I was in the best mood for company, so I let the moment pass while wondering if I would regret it later.
He said goodbye and promised to stop in the next day for pie.
Chapter 7
Day 6 ― Monday, November 7th
Dear Elodie,
I’m trying to launch my music career, but it turns out there’s not a lot of interest in Pig Latin rap these days. I know in my heart this is what I’m meant to be doing. My family is trying to make me give up and go to school for engineering.
So, what do you think? Should I go back to school or should I ollowfay ymay reamsday?
Sincerely,
Appingray Reamerday or Engineer?
Dear Appingray Reamerday or Engineer?
I know it’s easy to follow the path that your family lays out for you, but real bravery and happiness comes from following your dreams.
Sometimes you have to take some side jobs to make ends meet, but never lose sight of your goals. Happiness is so important. Never give up on yourself.
Ask and I’ll Answer,
Elodie
The next day the Morning Pie Crew came in first thing in the morning. Little did I know at the time that they would be the only customers who would walk through the door all day.
‘Do you think I should talk to the police?’ I asked.
Lena pursed her lips.
‘I don’t think it’s come to that yet,’ Flora said. ‘Erma probably just got caught up longer than she expected. I wouldn’t worry about it.’
Mr Barnes put his hand on my arm, and I felt wave of calm wash over me.
‘OK,’ I agreed before I could stop myself.
‘Who is the Pig Latin rapper in town?’ Flora asked, pulling out her newspaper.
‘Probably the Warner kid,’ Lena said. ‘Janet is always crowing about how her little David is going to be an engineer.’
‘It could be that woman who works at the diner sometimes. What’s her name? The one who pushes her poodle around in a stroller,’ Mr Barnes said.
‘Nina,’ Lena offered.
‘Right, Nina. I’ve heard her speak in Pig Latin after a few beers at Sal’s,’ he said.
We spent a long time discussing whether or not parents should pressure their children to do one job if their children wanted to do something else. My mother wasn’t thrilled with the idea of me going to trade school to become a handyman, but she couldn’t argue that I was really good at fixing things. She always thought I should become a lawyer like her instead of following in my dad’s footsteps. I could never complain to her about work because she would always use the opportunity to tell me I would have been happier in a more ‘elite’ job. I was never sure what an ‘elite’ job would get me besides less comfortable work clothes.
Once they were gone, I wandered around aimlessly for a while before wiping off all the tables … again. Then I stared out the window. I tried to imagine what Aunt Erma would do when the shop was empty. Then I wondered if that ever happened to her or if, because her pie was so amazing, there was a constant line of people wanting more.
I looked around the shop. A broken table leg caught my eye. Now there was something that I could fix. Relieved to be back in my comfort zone, I found a piece of paper and wrote a to-do list, including things I would need from the hardware store. Besides the table, there were a few small holes in the sheetrock, a leak under the kitchen sink (a problem Aunt Erma had solved by putting a coffee tin below it), and the small table the cash register sat on desperately needed to be repainted. I grabbed the ‘Back in 10 minutes’ sign and hung it on the door.
I was making the walk to the hardware store just two doors over, when curiosity got the best of me. I went to the end of the street, tiptoeing as I approached the corner and peered around it.
Just as I feared. There was a crowd around the cookie shop.
Was that Tanner O’Connell playing the harmonica out front under the grand opening banner? He paused his playing to sing a few lines about the delicious wonders you could find in the cookie shop.
Just yesterday, I had given him an extra dollop of whipped cream on his pumpkin pie. Didn’t a dollop mean anything to anyone anymore?
People milled around happily munching cookies, many holding bags with more cookies. I could hear the loud ‘yums’ from here. I felt slightly guilty for wishing they would all end up with food poisoning.
I turned back down the street to the hardware store. Lena greeted me cheerfully when I walked in.
‘Missed me already?’ she asked.
‘Of course,’ I answered.
I surveyed the shop and felt at home. Shiny new tools lined the shelves. The shelves were painted varying shades of purple, which it turned out was Lena’s favorite color. I could see bottles of different flavored soft drinks selling for seventy-five cents each in the window of a vending machine by the front door. A sign above the vending machine read, ‘Enjoy a pop while you shop.’ There was a row of shiny new red snow blowers displayed near the front.
With Lena’s help, I searched through bins of screws and aisles of wall patch, light bulbs, and spray foam. She mixed up a couple colors of paint for me, one to match the table and one for the walls. Then she showed me the corner that had scrap wood, and I was able to find the perfect piece to fix the table.
‘Erma’s going to be so happy with the work you’re doing,’ Lena said with a glowing smile as she rang me up.
I forced a smile, hoping Aunt Erma would only see the things I fixed when she got back. Perhaps some new paint would distract her from the fact that I’d lost all her customers. I tried to push the image of the crowd outside the cookie shop out of my mind.
I carried my purchases back over to the pie shop. It didn’t look like anyone had missed me while I was gone.
I was in the zone for the next few hours, fixing every broken thing I could find as I listened to Nineties pop music. It was pure bliss. Well, mostly bliss. Occasionally lyrics from a song would remind me of Alice and her stupid cookie shop. The table soon stood on four solid, even legs. I brought the stack of encyclopedias that had been keeping the table upright upstairs to put on a bookshelf and groaned when I saw Mitzy laying on one of my sweatshirts. I could have sworn that sweatshirt had been in my still zipped suitcase.
I shooed her off, and Mitzy reluctantly moved. I had to admit, she looked pretty proud of herself though. I shook off the fur and hung the sweatshirt high on a hook in the bathroom before going back downstairs.
As closing time approached, I was only mostly exhausted, a huge step up from the days before. I was cleaning off some paint brushes when the phone rang. It was Henry.
‘I really hate to bother you, but I haven’t been able to get away today. I was wondering if you would mind bringing five pies to the nursing home? I would really owe you!’ He sounded desperate.
‘No problem,’ I assured him, even though my feet were protesting the idea of walking anywhere other than upstairs to the sofa.
‘Great.’ He sounded relieved. ‘Things can get really ugly over here if people don’t get their Monday night pie.’
He gave me directions to the nursing home. I didn’t even have to write them down. It was easy to remember directions in a town the size of a thimble.
I finished closing up, gave Mitzy some food and attention, and changed out of my flour covered clothes before packing up the pies and heading to the nursing home. I could smell the pies through their boxes, and my stomach growled. I had three custard and two cherry. I had sampled both kinds earlier in the day. The cherry had a crumble topping made of brown sugar, flour, and butter, and that had gotten a little too hard when I accidentally left the pies in the oven too long. I overcompensated with the custard and took them out too early which resulted in a slightly squishy filling. They were all edible, I repeatedly reassured myself on the walk.
I got there quickly. There was a wooden sign out front with ‘Enchanted Woods’ stamped on it in thick gold letters. It was a large brick building that looked more like a mansion than a nursing home. I walked up the ramp to the door, and as soon as I stepped inside, I felt the heat. How warm did they keep it in here? It had to be at least 85 degrees!
A pleasant blonde woman at the front desk directed me toward the dining room down the hall. I thanked her and headed in that direction. I noticed it didn’t smell like most nursing homes I had been in before. When I was growing up, my grandfather had been in a nursing home for six years. I used to visit him a couple times a week to read to him. That place smelled like depression and death. I would try to take shallow breaths until my nose got used to the smell and didn’t notice it anymore. This place smelled like orange blossoms though. I peeked through doorways half expecting to see a grove of orange trees.
The dining room was inviting, and I stood just inside to take it all in. A fire crackled in the corner and fresh flowers filled vases at the center of five round wooden tables. The whole back wall was a shelf crammed full of books. There were a few residents talking and laughing. A man in a maroon sweater vest and large glasses, whose face was more wrinkled than not, was juggling flaming batons. I felt my heart begin to race. No more fires, I thought. Somehow the fire department would blame me for this.
Henry was standing near a table with three little old ladies. He turned to the juggling man. ‘Harold, I said no fires,’ he called. I don’t know how Harold doused the flames, but the fire disappeared, and he was juggling rainbow colored balls instead.
Henry went back to the group of ladies. He was very animated, telling a story with lots of big hand gestures. He spoke loudly and distinctly. At one point, he filled his cheeks up with air and the whole table hooted. I smiled as I walked closer with my stack of pies. He looked up and noticed me.
‘Susie, we’re so glad you’re here!’ he exclaimed. ‘I’d like you to meet Sandy Kay, Bernie Clausen, and Claire Sprinkles.’
‘Hello everyone!’ I said. ‘Ms Sprinkles, that’s such a wonderfully unusual name!’
‘It was my stage name, dear,’ she told me with a dazzling smile. She had bright red hair and teeth so white I almost had to look away.
‘Oh, were you an actress?’ I asked her.
‘Of sorts,’ she said as she wiggled her eyebrows at me.
I didn’t understand until Sandy leaned over to me and stage whispered behind her hand, ‘She was more of a dancer.’
‘A pole dancer,’ hooted Bernie.
‘And I was good,’ Claire told me. ‘This one—’ she pointed at Henry ‘—gets embarrassed when I start to talk about my old life, but if you ever want to hear any of my stories, I have some really spicy ones.’
The other women nodded in agreement. My smile froze.
‘I see you brought our pies. Let me take those from you.’ Henry smoothly switched the topic and carefully grabbed the stack from my arms. ‘I’ll just get these all set up on the buffet table, and then I’ll walk you out.’
‘Great,’ I said.
Residents had begun to gather in the room and most of them were closely watching the boxes of pie. I put my hands on my hips in an attempt to keep the sweat from accumulating under my armpits.
‘Have a seat,’ the woman named Sandy said as she pulled out a chair for me. ‘Tell us what it’s like to be young!’
I laughed and sat down. They began to grill me with questions about myself, my job, and my love life. How long did it take for someone to slice and set out a few pies? Sandy was telling me about her son. The nicest young man you could ever meet, a doctor, and he was just waiting for a lovely young woman like me to settle down and start a family.
‘Oh, your son isn’t a real doctor. He’s just got his PhD in some business psychology mumbo jumbo,’ Ms Sprinkles said. ‘Plus, she’s too young to settle down. She needs to be out there sowing her wild oats.’
Every part of this conversation was making me uncomfortable. I casually backed up my chair a little bit and looked over towards the buffet. Henry was still carefully serving up the pies and arranging the slices in neat rows on the table.
‘Maybe I should go and help Henry serve the pie,’ I said as I began to stand up. Bernie, who had been pretty quiet up until now, grabbed my arm and pulled me back to my seat. She was surprisingly strong for being such a small, frail-looking woman.
‘Nonsense! He’s fine,’ she said to me. She took a deep breath, her eyes closed, and her tone changed. ‘You need to dust the cat.’ She released her grip on my arm, and her eyes fluttered open. ‘Don’t forget what I told you,’ she said forcefully. The other two women exchanged an uncomfortable look, and I wondered if Bernie was slipping into dementia. I smiled at her.
‘Thank you. I’ll get right on that,’ I assured her.
Just then, Henry came back. ‘If you’re ready to leave, I can walk you out,’ he said.
‘Well ladies, it’s been a pleasure talking to you.’ I stood up and backed away quickly.
‘Remember if you need any tips on how to please a man, just come and see me. I had them install a pole in my room upstairs, and I can show you some of my best moves,’ Claire Sprinkles said with a little shimmy of her shoulders. My eyes widened.
‘I’ll show you a picture of my son next time you come,’ Sandy said with a wink.
‘Don’t forget about the cat,’ Bernie said, her brow furrowed.
I waved goodbye and rushed out of there with Henry close behind me.
The woman at the front desk was gone. I turned to Henry. He was looking into my eyes and I felt a little shiver run through me. He was really quite handsome.
‘How are you?’ He had the kindest eyes, and I felt like he wanted a genuine answer.
I automatically answered, ‘Good,’ and then I paused. ‘Well, I think I’m OK,’ I amended. He encouraged me to go on and I spilled my guts about the cookie shop and my fears of failing Aunt Erma.
‘This is just a small bump in the road,’ he said. ‘I haven’t known you very long, but I already know you’re brave and amazing, and I have no doubt you’ll be able to get all the customers back and then some.’
I felt a lump at the back of my throat. His kind words were exactly what I needed to hear tonight.
‘Thanks,’ I said softly.
‘Thank you so much for delivering the pies,’ he said. ‘It has been an absolute madhouse here today!’ He gave my arm a gentle squeeze.
‘No problem,’ I said but hoped he wouldn’t need me to do it again anytime soon. I was terrified at the prospect of Claire dragging me up to her room to pole dance.
I was startled out of my pie high that night when my cell phone rang. I sighed when I saw it was my mother’s home number. Ignoring her calls had become a habit since I’d got to Hocus Hills, but if I didn’t answer soon, she was bound to make a police report or send out search parties.
I muted the drama-filled reality show I was watching, where the guy was so in love and the girl was just playing him, and sat up straighter on the sofa. Mitzy sensed my movement and assumed it meant I dropped food. She leapt to her feet and eyed me intently.
‘Hello,’ I said, trying hard not to sound like I was annoyed.
‘Susanna, finally.’ My mother’s exasperated voice hit me. ‘I’ve been trying to call you for days.’ I could almost hear my mother pacing around her bedroom upstairs on her cordless phone.
‘What’s up?’ I was eager to get this conversation over with.
‘What’s up? What do you mean, “What’s up?” Where have you been? I tried to stop by your apartment, but you weren’t there. I have been calling you, but no answer. I’ve been worried.’ My mother said it all in a tone that indicated her worry was a huge inconvenience for her.
‘I’ve been busy.’ I played with the fringe on the corner of the purple blanket. Mitzy had decided I was not about to feed her pie and curled up on my lap. It was soothing. I was beginning to se
e the benefit of having a dog.
‘Susanna Penelope Maxine Bennett Daniels,’ I cringed as my mother used all five of my names. Who gave their kid five names? What kind of baggage was that for them to carry around their whole lives? ‘I want to know exactly where you are and what you’ve been doing! Are you on drugs? Have you joined a cult?’ Her voice lowered in horror. ‘Are you a Scientologist now?’
‘No, Mom, nothing like that.’
‘Well, what then?’ she demanded.
‘I am at Aunt Erma’s,’ I said, reassuring myself silently that I was a grown-up who could make these decisions without her mother’s approval. My shoulders still tensed as I waited for her reaction.
‘Why?’ she demanded. Her voice reached the low angry tone I had only elicited a couple times in my life - once when I lied about spending the night with a boy, and once when I had punched a girl on the playground in middle school.
‘She needed help in the pie shop. She had to go away for a while.’ I decided to keep my explanations short and simple. It was the safest way with my mother.
‘She’s not there? Where is she?’ she demanded.
‘I don’t know,’ I answered truthfully, but it sounded like a lie even to my ears. ‘What happened between you two? Why won’t you tell me?’
‘Because it’s none of your business,’ she said. ‘But trust me, you need to stay away from her.’
‘I told her I would help. If you can’t give me a real reason why I should leave, I’m going to stay,’ I said.
‘Why would you do this?’ My mother was almost hysterical now.
‘Do what?’
‘Just come back to the city,’ she insisted.
‘I’ll be back when I can,’ I tried in a soothing tone, but my mother’s frustration was palpable through the phone.
We hung up, and I went back to my pie. I chewed, not really tasting it – tragic. I had even more questions than answers now.
Well, at least now my mother knew where I was.
Chapter 8
