Pies and Prejudice (31 page)

As always, it gave Ella Mae immense satisfaction to watch another person eat her food. Chandler put the first forkful in his mouth, mechanically chewing without interest
as he glanced around the kitchen. However, as the combination of the farm-fresh eggs, creamy cheese, and the sweet, nutty flavor of the avocado caressed his taste buds, Chandler’s eyes widened in unexpected delight.

“This is delicious,” he mumbled before hurriedly shoveling in another bite.

Ella Mae waited for a sign of hopefulness to blossom across Chandler’s features, but nothing happened. He ate his breakfast, asked about the day’s menu, and mustered up a smile every now and then.

“I didn’t think I’d feel like eating, but that was just what I needed. I came here in search of comfort and I got it. Thank you, Ella Mae.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it firmly to emphasize his gratitude, and she couldn’t help but feel the tremor running through his fingertips. She couldn’t imagine what it felt like to lose a parent and be betrayed by a sibling within such a short stretch of time.

“You’ll make it through this and so will the equine center,” she assured him. “Remember when you told me about accompanying your father to that difficult birth? How he rewrote the fate of that colt? How you saw the magic of that newborn horse rising to life on wobbly legs?” Chandler nodded, lost in the memory. “Hold on to that feeling,” she advised. “Picture that foal as your dream. Feed it, care for it, and encourage it to grow. Don’t let it fade away.”

Chandler bolted to his feet, shrugging the lethargy from his body as if slipping off a coat. “You’re right! I can still honor the Knox name by being the best horse doc in the region.” He carried his empty plate to the sink, drained the rest of his coffee, and kissed Ella Mae on the cheek. “And I’m not going to waste another second. Thank you for everything. Wish me luck!”

Grinning in wonder over his change in demeanor, Ella Mae led him to the door and opened it just in time to see Reba getting out of the Buick. Reba cocked her head inquisitively
as Chandler jogged to his car, the morning sun burning a path of light beneath his feet.

“What’d you do to him?” Reba asked in astonishment once she and Ella Mae were back inside the kitchen. “He looks like he’s ready to run a marathon carryin’ a refrigerator on his back.”

Ella Mae indicated the breakfast tarts waiting on the baker’s racks. “I gave him one of those. I tried to put a sense of hope into the cheese I sprinkled on top.” Her cheeks turned pink. “Listen to me, Reba! Do I sound sane? My words influenced him, not my food.”

“Maybe it was a bit of both, but you definitely enchanted that boy.”

The bells on the front door chimed and Ella Mae shot Reba a questioning glance. “Did you hang out the open sign before you left with Chewy?”

“Nope. We’ve got another thirty minutes before the mornin’ rush. I haven’t even finished makin’ the fruit salad, so I suspect we’ve got a few LeFayes in our midst.”

As if on cue, Verena, Sissy, and Dee rushed through the swing doors and flew at Ella Mae, assaulting her with hugs, kind words, and questions. Shooing all of her aunts into the dining room, Ella Mae gave a brief explanation of the previous night’s events while Reba served coffee and breakfast tarts.

“You’re in the clear!” Verena shouted. “Buddy talked to the chief of police while the roosters were still crowing and said that they had a signed confession from a man named Dirk Ridley. From what I gather, this Dirk fellow was Ashleigh’s contact at Uraeus. He also bashed Bradford Knox over the head with the rolling pin, so his hands are very, very dirty! Naturally, he jumped at the chance to make a deal with the DA. In exchange for copies of all of his communications with Ashleigh Knox, he’ll get a reduced sentence. When Ashleigh heard that her boy Dirk sang like a
bird, she wanted to confess too. This nightmare is over! Let’s mix up some mimosas to celebrate!”

Sissy jerked her thumb toward the front porch. “Not until the feeding frenzy is past. If you wanted free advertising for The Charmed Pie Shoppe, you’ve got it.
Again
.”

Ella Mae peered out the display window and was annoyed to find the street’s prime parking spots occupied by television vans.

“Even ESPN sent someone,” Dee said quietly. “This is big news for fans of horseracing.”

Groaning, Ella Mae rubbed her throbbing temples. “I am too tired to deal with this. I just want to hide in the kitchen and then go home and sleep for two weeks.”

The women made soothing noises and Reba tried to cheer Ella Mae by telling her that her mother would be joining them as soon as she’d gathered fresh flowers for the table’s bud vases.

Verena threw her arms out and exclaimed, “Wait! I’ve got it! Invite the media inside, feed them, and answer a few, safe questions. They’ll mention the shop in their articles and you can have them out of the way before your paying customers arrive. Brilliant, right?” She popped a piece of tart in her mouth and rolled her eyes in pleasure. “Oh, divine!”

Dee and Sissy agreed with Verena’s plan and once again offered to serve as Ella Mae’s honorary wait staff. They gobbled up their tarts, donned aprons, and invited the press inside.

“No cameras!” Verena bellowed once Sissy had issued a genteel invitation to the group waiting outside.

Ella Mae prepped a dozen plates in the kitchen and then, smoothing her hair and dusting some of the flour and pastry dough from her apron, provided the reporters with a short and heavily edited version of Dirk’s and Ashleigh’s arrests. She was careful to avoid mentioning why she and Reba were in the clinic after business hours and played up Chandler’s bravery in the face of his sibling’s treachery and betrayal.
Beyond that, she refused to elaborate, stating that she didn’t want to risk jeopardizing the case by repeating important details to members of the press.

“And you don’t think Chandler Knox had any prior knowledge of the horse doping?” one reporter asked dubiously once she had finished.

“Absolutely not,” Ella Mae declared, her eyes flashing. “He would never inject an injured thoroughbred with cobra venom so it could run another race or two. He is devoted to his patients and runs a safe and ethical practice. People shouldn’t judge him by either his father’s or sister’s actions.”

She answered one last question and then thanked the reporters for joining her for breakfast. Most of them chuckled and offered to pay for their meals, but she waved away their cash. “This time, it’s on me. But if you come back, I’ll definitely take your money.”

They filed out quickly, intent on tracking down Chandler, Peggy, and Officers Wells and Hardy. One young woman remained behind, lingering near the counter where she prevented Reba from busing the dirty dishes into the kitchen.

She showed Ella Mae her press card, revealing the name of an infamous gossip rag. “Are you and Chandler Knox romantically involved?”

Ella Mae looped her index finger through the handles of three coffee cups and shook her head. “No, we’re not. And now I need to get to work. If you stay any longer, I’ll ask you to wait tables. Have a nice day.”

Thus dismissed, the reporter departed. The moment the bells rang out their good-bye, Reba muttered, “You and Chandler might not be involved yet, but it’s gonna be a long six months, Ella Mae. By the time you’re free of Sloan, you’ll be ready to jump the bones of the first man you see.”

“I certainly hope not,” Adelaide announced. She’d passed through the kitchen’s swing doors without a sound, her arms laden with stunning lavender-hued roses. “Ella Mae has to be very careful who she chooses to date.”

“Because Havenwood’s such a small town?” Ella Mae asked, putting her nose into the flowers and drinking in their scent of warm currants, dewdrops, and elderberries.

Her mother snapped off a single blossom and tucked it into her daughter’s hair. “Because there’s no one else like you, Ella Mae. You were born to do amazing things.”

Ella Mae smiled. “Like opening this pie shop?”

Glancing around the inviting dining room, redolent with enticing aromas and the glimmer of memories yet to be made, her mother nodded with satisfaction, though something mysterious and slightly calculating flitted through her eyes.

Holding a rose out to the light, she watched the velvety petals shimmer beneath the sun’s caress and said, “This, my dear girl, is just the beginning.”

Two days later, Ella Mae and August Templeton were settled at one of the cast iron tables on The Charmed Pie Shoppe’s front porch. The pair sipped from tall glasses of pomegranate-flavored iced tea and discussed the fate of Ashleigh Knox.

“Word from my source inside the courthouse is that she tried to retract her confession. She began to boast that the authorities had nothing substantial on her, and that while Dirk Ridley, her shady associate, has a string of prior misdemeanors, she’s a veritable pillar of society. She’s positive that no one will listen to him and she’ll have the last laugh at the trial.”

“A trial? Oh.” Ella Mae’s heart sank. The last thing she wanted to pencil in on her wall calendar was the date she’d need to go to court to and testify. “Will you coach me, August? The defense will want to know why my prints were on the murder weapon.”

Folding his handkerchief into a neat triangle, August shook his head. “In actuality, the smoke was the murder
weapon and Mr. Ridley graciously provided the Havenwood police with the location of the plastic gas canister he used to start the fire in the nail salon. His prints are on the canister, and so are Ashleigh’s. She claims she always kept it in the trunk of her car for emergencies, but I doubt any jury would fall for that.”

“She left her own father inside a burning building,” Ella Mae declared angrily. “I don’t care what piece of evidence trips her up, as long as she gets her comeuppance.”

August crossed an ankle over his opposite knee and waved cheerfully at a passerby. “Ashleigh’s attorney is no fool. He’s accepting the DA’s terms as we speak. Ms. Knox faces a charge of accessory to commit murder at the very least. I expect her to be sentenced to ten to fifteen years in a remote correctional facility loaded with some real dangerous women. She could be released in eight years on good behavior, but since she’s not
exactly
Miss Congeniality…” He chuckled. “Oh, I do feel sorry for her future cell mate.”

Ella Mae couldn’t help but grin, but she quickly became solemn again. “Have the missing bearer bonds been located? Chandler could really use that money. The equine center is barely limping along.”

“Don’t know, my dear. I’d guess they were inside the rolling pin Ashleigh left at the scene, there was a switcheroo, and someone walked away with a tidy sum of money.”

“I’d swear the culprit is Loralyn, even though she was in Atlanta. It would have been easy for her to take the rolling pin from my mother’s kitchen, but how could she switch that pin with the one Dirk used on Bradford if she was fifty miles away?” Ella Mae fell silent. Loralyn could have made it back to the nail salon in an hour if she’d been driving above the speed limit. Had Loralyn had the opportunity to switch pins once the fire department was on scene? Could Hugh possibly have been involved?

What if he’s been on her side all along?
she thought miserably.
What if he’s been spying on me? Is that why he
spent the day with me? Is that why he kissed me?
Her throat suddenly dry, she reached for her tea.

August rose to his feet, smoothed his suit jacket, and patted Ella Mae on the hand. “Stop churning this over or your mind will look like a tub of butter. If there were a clear solution to the matter of the missing bonds, the police would have made an arrest, but they are simply untraceable. You need to focus on your own affairs, my dear. Don’t let the past drag down your future.”

She simply nodded in reply.

“How about selling me a boxful of your cheeky cherry hand pies?” August asked hopefully. “I cannot get enough of those little darlings.”

Ella Mae packaged a half dozen hand pies—crescent moons of folded pie dough coated with a healthy sprinkling of confectioners’ sugar. They’d been such an immediate hit that she knew she’d be baking twice as many tomorrow morning. Perhaps she’d fill the next batch with fresh peaches. A bike ride to the farm stand would make for a nice afternoon outing. It had been too long since she and Chewy had had any fun.

On the way to Canine to Five, she paused at the intersection of Emperor Street and Painted Lady Avenue, her attention drawn to the enormous television screen hanging above the bar inside the Wicket Pub. Through the pub’s spotless window, she could easily see the screen.

“I’ll be damned.” Ella Mae instantly recognized the mustached face of Mr. Malone, her debonair table companion at the Mint Julep Gala and one of the horse owners she’d suspected of being involved in illegal doping. The footage showed him exiting a courthouse, head bowed, eyes downcast. The screen flickered and a commercial for men’s antiperspirant came on.

Ella Mae locked her bike to a parking meter post and studied the pub’s large wooden archway, which had been constructed to resemble a real door but didn’t actually
function as one. A smaller door with the same arch, an aged metal handle, and curlicue embellishments made of brass offered entrance into the pub. When Ella Mae was a child, the door within a door had fascinated her. She’d imagined that the large door was a gateway, a portal that could grant entrance to magical creatures like unicorns and griffins on certain nights of the year.