Lemon Pies and Little White Lies (24 page)

By the end of the third day, however, Ella Mae heard just as much talk about the storm currently wreaking havoc along the Virginia coast as she did about the festival. The system was producing four inches of rain per hour, creating massive groundwater flooding, and causing every river, stream, and pond to overflow. Meteorologists across the nation were unable to explain the weather phenomenon. With the exception of hurricanes and nor’easters, storms just didn’t move from east to west. A celebrity meteorologist even joked that such a rebellious storm should have a male name, and when he suggested Caliban, a character in Shakespeare’s
The Tempest
, the name went viral.

“In the play, Caliban’s the son of a witch,” Ella Mae heard a woman say just before taking a bite of apple crumb pie during the Apple of My Eye bake-off. As one of the judges, the woman had the challenging task of picking the three best pies out of scores of entries.

“We live in Ohio, so we’ll be on our way home before that mess gets here,” the baker answered. “Thank goodness, because that storm is a nasty-looking beast.”

Spotting Ella Mae, the judge dipped her chin in greeting. Ella Mae smiled in return and kept moving. Everywhere she went, people bobbed their heads in deference, and as the days passed and the nightly meetings at the grove continued, she began to feel more comfortable in her role as leader.

However, when she was at home, Ella Mae couldn’t stop thinking about the clover symbols drawn in chalk and soap or the ones formed in storm clouds or burned into the grass next to Dee’s ruined barn. At night, she barely slept, twisting restlessly in her bed until she managed to doze off for a few
hours. Her dreams were filled with fragmented images of storms, swords, and Hugh.

Part of her was thankful for the frenzied pace and endless list of tasks, because it left her with little opportunity to think about Hugh. She didn’t run into him in town, but that didn’t stop her from looking for him. Whenever she moved through a crowd, she searched the faces for his. She missed Hugh. She missed their conversations, their intermingled laughter, and the way their bodies fit together as they slept. She missed his scent on her pillow, the sound of him singing in the shower, and the sight of his shoes by the front door. She missed all of it.

Even Chewy sensed something was wrong. He moved to Hugh’s side of the bed and slept closer to Ella Mae, as if he knew she needed comfort. He no longer went to doggie daycare at Canine to Five; he now spent his days with Miss Lulu and Ella Mae’s mother in the garden. He didn’t seem to mind the change. He and Miss Lulu raced around the yard, dug holes in the rich soil, rolled around in the herb bed, and napped in the sunshine. Ella Mae envied them their freedom.

As she strolled among the festivalgoers, it struck her how much more she would have enjoyed the events if she’d just been a regular woman.

All I’ve ever wanted to do was cook good food,
she thought.
Food that will make people happy. I don’t need magic for that.

She came upon a vendor tent and read the name stenciled on the yellow-and-white-striped awning. Sugar Pies—Lake Wales, Florida. Smiling lemons danced on little green feet on either side of the text.

“Best lemon pie this side of heaven,” someone behind her said. Ella Mae turned to find a short, round-cheeked woman in a checkered apron standing before her. “I’m
Sugar.” She waved toward the back of the tent. “Come inside, honey. You look all tuckered out.”

Ella Mae stepped into the shade and watched Sugar move behind a long table and remove a pie with a whipped topping from a portable refrigerator. She cut a slice, plated it, and handed it to Ella Mae. “A little bit of Florida sunshine. Free of charge. One piece of my Sunshine Lemon Pie will chase your worries away.”

“Thank you.” Ella Mae took a small bite and her eyes widened in delight. The pie was simultaneously smooth, sweet, and tart. The crust was made of lemon sandwich cookies, and the whipped topping was garnished with a sprinkling of crushed lemon drop candies. The filling was creamy and flavorful and reminded Ella Mae of a carefree summer day. She polished off the rest of the pie and then licked her lips. She felt like laughing. She felt like skipping. She felt overwhelmed by optimism, and she owed it to a stranger who’d served her an amazing slice of pie.

“You look much happier now,” Sugar said with a satisfied nod.

“Because you reminded me why pie matters.” Ella Mae took Sugar’s small hands in her own. “You reminded me that food can heal many ills. So can a stranger’s kindness. Thank you.”

Sugar’s smile was as bright as the Florida sun. It warmed Ella Mae for the rest of the day.

Chapter 13

It seemed like a thousand people were lined up for the Parade of Nations event.

Ella Mae couldn’t remember a time when Havenwood had been so crowded. She looked down the stretch of road leading from the public library to the Havenwood Community Center and saw a rainbow of awnings, tents, and food trucks. Pie makers from twenty different states were set up in kiosks along both sides of the street. Dispersed among the bakers was an assortment of food and merchandise vendors. Due to the warm temperatures and cloudless sky, Ella Mae predicted that the merchants offering cold treats would make a killing. After purchasing several pie samples, people would be more than ready for a snow cone, a tall cup of frozen lemonade, chilled bottled water, shaved ice, or Georgia Juice—a refreshing blend of peach juice, lime-flavored sparkling water, grenadine, and crushed mint.

Ella Mae and the rest of the judges started their tour of
the nation’s pies an hour before the event opened to the public, and by the time they’d completed the first half of their tasting duties, they were all hot and thirsty.

“I can’t eat another bite right now,” one of the judges said, and wiped his glistening brow with a napkin.

“Why don’t we take a break?” Ella Mae suggested. “We can catch our breaths at a picnic table and compare notes on what we’ve seen and tasted over cold glasses of Georgia Juice. I’ve chosen my favorites from the states we just visited, so maybe we can narrow down some of the entries before we proceed.”

The rest of the judges thought this was an excellent idea. After delighting in a few sips of Georgia Juice, they took turns sharing which pie makers had made an impression with their costumes, presentation, and food.

“I loved the ginger-crumble pumpkin pie made by Mrs. Redman of Illinois,” said one of the male judges. “Mr. Redman should get bonus points for dressing in that pumpkin costume. Did you spot his green tights? And the way those artificial vines curled around his arms and head?”

Another judge nodded. “The Redmans also used creative props to describe the history of pumpkins.” She glanced down at her notes. “They made mats of dried pumpkin the same way the Native Americans did, and I was fascinated by Mrs. Redman’s demonstration on how the colonists prepared pumpkins. She cut off the top, took out all the seeds, and then filled the inside with honey, milk, and several spices. She then baked the pumpkin in hot ashes. Did anyone else try a bite of the finished product? Delicious!”

“I also liked how they had printouts with pumpkin facts and activities for the kids attending today’s event. However, I didn’t care for their pie.” The judge gave an apologetic shrug. “The ginger overpowered the rest of the flavors.”

The group was in complete agreement that a contestant from Mississippi had designed a wonderful backdrop of paddleboats cruising down the mighty river, but had dropped the ball when it came to the mud pie. “It tasted like chocolate pudding topped with spray-can cream. There was no garnish and the crust was soggy. One shouldn’t have to eat pie with a spoon.”

Ella Mae felt guilty about placing an X next to Mississippi, because she knew the baker had devoted a great deal of time and energy to this event, but they had to move on.

“At this point, my favorite state is Kentucky,” Ella Mae said. “The baker’s excellent chocolate-nut pie followed the original nineteen fifties recipe from the Melrose Inn of Prospect, Kentucky. The walnuts were perfectly roasted, the bourbon gave the filling just the right amount of moistness, and the high-quality chocolate lent it a very rich flavor. The crust was perfect. It was as flaky as a Southern biscuit.”

“The lady baker did an amazing job with her presentation too,” agreed another judge. “I loved how the sampler plates were arranged on top of saddles and that she used a trophy to hold plastic forks and napkins. But the best part of her costume was that hat.”

The judge next to Ella Mae laughed. “I don’t know how she managed to serve us with that thing on her head. It must weigh twenty pounds. The whole racetrack is on that hat, including a Churchill Downs spire. And the horses actually move!”

“My top pick goes to the gentleman from Oregon. He promised that his chocolate hazelnut pie would make me swoon, and he wasn’t kidding.” The female judge shook her head in wonder. “I’m not even a big fan of hazelnuts, but he was very charismatic. I’ve never met anyone more passionate about nuts.”

“He can trace his family’s roots back to the pioneer days,” another woman said. “When his great-grandparents emigrated
from Germany, they brought filbert saplings with them. Apparently, his relatives have been growing
hasselnuss
ever since.”

The man across from Ella Mae frowned. “Unfortunately, I liked the name of his bakery, In a Nutshell, far more than I liked his pie. It was overpoweringly sweet.”

The woman who’d mentioned swooning looked annoyed. “You didn’t care for the mud pie either. Maybe you just don’t enjoy chocolate-flavored desserts.”

“I love chocolate. The Michigan couple made a lovely chocolate cherry pie.” He rubbed his jaw. “That pie would have gotten my vote, but there was a pit in my sample, which kind of ruined the tasting experience for me.”

In the end, the judges decided that the top bakers from the first half of the Parade of Nations were Kentucky and Oregon.

“The second half will be even more difficult, I’m afraid,” Ella Mae told the group. “We’ll be tasting incredible apple pies from New York, key lime and lemon pies from Florida, sweet potato pies from North Carolina, blueberry pies from Maine, and peanut butter pies from Georgia.”

The man next to Ella Mae was clearly confused. “Peanut butter? Why not peaches?”

“Don’t tell anyone, but South Carolina produces more peaches than Georgia.” Ella Mae spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. “They have for years.”

“How scandalous!” One of the women chuckled and put her finger to her lips. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with us.”

As Ella Mae walked from booth to booth with the other judges, sampling pies and listening to brief presentations, she was able to put her worries aside. The event had a carnival atmosphere. The air was perfumed by the aromas of buttered corn, sausage on a stick, pulled pork sandwiches, and fried pickles. A man selling pie-shaped balloons passed the time by juggling oranges until the general public entered.

“I’m glad you included other food vendors,” one of the judges said. “I never thought there could be such a thing as too much pie, but if I have any appetite later on—and I mean much later on—I’ll be lining up for a pulled pork sandwich and fried pickles.”

Their next stop was the Indiana booth, where they tasted Hoosier Pie. “Also called sugar cream pie,” said a middle-aged woman wearing a plain dress and cap in the Amish style. She went on to explain that pies with similar ingredients existed all over the country. “Pies made using ingredients you’d find in the pantries of most farms are known as Desperation Pies. Buttermilk, shoofly, and vinegar pies are some examples. One thing that hasn’t changed for a century is the tradition of stirring the Hoosier Pie filling with your finger instead of a spoon. This keeps the bottom crust from tearing.”

Ella Mae, who’d popped her pie sample into her mouth while the women was speaking, paused midchew. She swallowed the intensely sugary bite and cleansed her palate with a sip of water.

She and the judges thanked the baker and moved on to the North Carolina booth. The adorable young couple representing the state ran a bakery called From Scratch. They told the judges that they’d only been married for two weeks and had signed up for the event as a wedding gift to each other. “We love this place!” the fresh-faced bride declared. “And Lake Havenwood Resort is so romantic. For two people who share a passion for baking, this whole trip has been a dream come true.”

“We prepared two kinds of sweet potato pie,” her husband said, stepping forward with samples. He wore an orange suit and his new wife wore a sundress in the same shade. “The first is baked in a pecan gingersnap crust, and the second is topped with a cinnamon-flavored meringue. My beautiful bride and I think sweet potato pie can compete with the rest
of the entries here just fine on its own, but we try to incorporate layers of flavor into all of our pies. It’s what our bakery is known for back home.”

The young couple shared several interesting facts about the sweet potato. The judges were surprised to learn that it was one of the world’s oldest known vegetables. “Evidence suggests that it may have existed during prehistoric times,” the young man said. “That’s why our backdrop shows a dinosaur eating a mouthful of sweet potatoes.”