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A division of HarperCollins Publishers
www.harpercollins.co.uk
HarperImpulse
an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2019
Copyright © A. G. Mayes 2019
Cover illustrations © Shutterstock.com
Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2019
A. G. Mayes asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008319137
Ebook Edition © January 2019 ISBN: 9780008319120
Version: 2019-01-31
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
Keep Reading …
Acknowledgements
About the Auhor
About HarperImpulse
About the Publisher
To Rosemary
for making the magic pie.
To my family, who taught me to see
the magic in the world.
And to my husband who jumped into the seat
next to me on the emotional roller coaster
of writing this book, threw his hands up in the air and said,
“You can do this!”
Chapter 1
Day 1 — Wednesday, November 2nd
This whole crazy thing started with a voicemail.
Last night I was face down on the sofa in my basement studio apartment. I let the phone fall away from my ear as I listened to yet another long-winded voicemail from my mother complaining about her difficult clients. I let out a sigh of relief into the pillow as her message ended. When the next message began I sat up straight on the sofa as I heard a voice I hadn’t heard in a very long time.
‘Susanna, I know I left suddenly, but I need you.’ Aunt Erma sounded anxious. Tears welled up in my eyes. ‘Things are going on here. I can’t really explain it all right now, but I need your help at my pie shop. It’s asking a lot after everything.’ She paused to take a deep shaky breath. ‘I’ll email you the details in case you decide to come.’ Another pause. ‘Please come.’
I sat frozen for a minute and then put down the phone. Just like when she left so long ago, I had many unanswered questions. I tried to call the number she had called from, but the phone just rang and rang.
I checked my email and found directions to a small town a couple of hours north. I hadn’t known she lived so close. The email ended with her repeated plea of, ‘Please come.’
I couldn’t sleep that night. My mind was uncovering the memories of Aunt Erma that I’d kept buried for so long. Her face was a little fuzzy, but her laugh came back crystal clear. I remembered the way she made a whole room sparkle when she walked in.
My mother had gotten rid of all the photographs of Aunt Erma after she left. I’d salvaged one before they all disappeared. I still had it in a box in the back of my closet. I kept it hidden so my mother wouldn’t see it when she came over. I hadn’t looked at it in years because it brought up too many questions and too much pain.
I climbed out of bed around three in the morning to find it. My tiny apartment had a surprisingly large closet. More than once I’d considered converting it into a workshop. But the lack of windows and my occasional bout of claustrophobia kept me from following through. I pulled boxes out of the back corner of the closet until I found the one labeled “Random Crap.”
I lifted the lid and dug through the things I just couldn’t let go of. There were the cassette tapes I used to listen to while dancing around the living room, a Christmas tree ornament shaped like a pie, and several of my favorite t-shirts that were stained or torn. Then I found it. The smooth purple frame with the picture of my parents, Aunt Erma, and I crowded around my fifth birthday cake. I felt breathless under the weight of the memory. We all looked so happy. I stared into her sparkling eyes.
If anyone could get me to make an impulsive decision, it was Aunt Erma.
The next day began as one of those crisp November mornings where the sun feels warm and the breeze feels cold. A perfect day for a new adventure.
I threw my suitcase in the trunk of my car next to the ever-present tool bag that had belonged to my father. The red canvas was faded, and it had his initials embroidered on the front pocket. I ran my finger along the stitching then cringed a little when I thought about my call to Hal, my boss at Hal’s Handyman Services. I had been relieved when I got his voicemail. I left a rambling message about needing a week off for a family emergency even as I wondered if a week would be enough time.
According to my GPS, the drive would take two hours and twelve minutes. I slid across the front seat into the driver’s seat of my little red car and prayed it would be able to make the journey. A week after I bought my car from a friend of a friend, the driver’s side door stopped opening from the outside. A few days after that, the muffler started falling off – it was long gone now – and the car started shaking every time I hit the brakes. I promised myself that would be the last time I bought anything just because it was red.
I was grateful for the distraction the car provided. It was easier than wondering how I could help at a pie shop. My baking resume was short. It included a few batches of flat cookies and one failed attempt to make scones for my friend’s baby shower that left the mother-to-be with a chipped front tooth.
I wanted answers to the questions that lingered from my childhood – the ones my mother refused to discuss. That’s how I ended up here in my car with a packed suitcase and a printed copy of the directions in case my old GPS failed me.
I imagined being in the kitchen with Aunt Erma again. Now that I was an adult, I pictured us joking and talking about life, but still eating lots of chocolate.
I stretched the two hours and twelve minutes into an even three hours by stopping three times for coffee and car snacks. By the time I passed a large wooden sign with sparkly gold letters that welcomed me to the small town of Hocus Hills, I had gone through two lattes, one mocha, a bag of chips and half a box of donuts.
The breeze rustled through the trees, and the leaves were so bright red, yellow, and orange that they practically glowed. The streets were lined with small shops with colorful awnings. I passed a large grass filled town square with a bright blue gazebo in the middle. The sidewalks were wide leaving lots of room for people to walk, and on this sunny November day, there were plenty of people out strolling around. A few heads turned my way. I wasn’t sure if it was because of my loud muffler-less car or because I was new in town. I was so amped up on sugar and caffeine that when I pulled up to park in front of the pie shop, I was in the middle of a beautiful, or at least loud, sing-along with my Annie soundtrack.
There was a tap at my car window and I let out a bloodcurdling scream in the middle of ‘The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow.’ I turned to see a startled woman with big brown eyes and graying brown hair pulled back into a low ponytail, peering in at me. She wore a long, bright blue sweater dress and a white sparkly flower pin. Embarrassed, I slid across the seat so I could open the car door and get out. Maybe she hadn’t heard anything, I thought hopefully.
‘So sorry I startled you,’ she spoke in a musical voice. ‘Are you Erma’s niece?’ Wow, word got around fast in a small town.
‘Yes, I’m Susanna.’ I stuck out my hand.
She reached out and shook it enthusiastically with both of hers. Her hands were warm and soft while I’m pretty sure mine were still covered in a thin layer of powdered sugar.
‘I’m Flora. I own the bookstore across the street. Oh my, you look a lot like Erma,’ she noted, looking at my curly hair and big blue eyes. ‘Your aunt had to leave for a few days, but she said you would have no trouble handling things while she was away.’ My mouth fell open. She ignored my shock and reached into her sweater pocket. ‘She left this note for you explaining things. I’m sure you’ll be fine but let me know if you have any questions. I’ll pop by later to check on you.’ She shoved a purple sparkly envelope and a set of keys towards me. My eyes widened as the words, ‘Mmm, pie,’ came from my hand. ‘Oh, that’s just Erma’s keychain,’ she said, pointing to the pie-shaped keychain I was holding. ‘She has so many fun things like that. Let me know if you need anything.’
‘Um, thanks,’ was all I managed to get out before she was off.
She paused and turned back, calling down the street. ‘Oh, and I just love Annie too.’ Well good, I thought; at least I was making memorable first impressions.
It was one of those fight or flight moments. I hadn’t seen Aunt Erma for years. What did I really owe her? I looked from the pie shop with its twinkling lights lining the window back to my car with the half-eaten box of donuts. I sighed as my sense of family duty got the best of me and went to unlock the front door.
A little bell tinkled as I stepped inside, and I inhaled deeply. The place smelled like buttery pie crust and cinnamon. The bright yellow walls gave the illusion the lights were on even though they weren’t. My eyes wandered around the room, and I traced my finger along the chipped edge of one of the purple wooden chairs. I noticed that a leg on one of the bright red tables had broken near the bottom, and the table was now supported by a couple of old encyclopedias. There were two overstuffed red chairs tucked into the corner by the window next to a small bookshelf. The wood floors were stained a dark walnut color, and they creaked under my feet. There were several framed pictures on the wall of people crowded around the red tables eating slices of pie. Intermixed with those pictures were posters of various kinds of pie. One had a large piece of blueberry and the words, ‘A touch of magic in every slice,’ scrawled in purple letters. Another had a picture of pumpkin pie piled high with whipped cream and, ‘Pick up a pie and no matter where you are, you’ll be home,’ written in a cheerful red.
I stepped between the cash register and the display case to get back to the kitchen. The floor changed from wood to golden brown square tiles. The walls were the same bright yellow as the front. I walked past a sink and a dishwasher and then around a large kitchen island with a weathered wooden bottom and a stainless-steel top. All the cupboards that lined the walls were painted teal. There were two large refrigerators and two large freezers along the side wall. Across from those were four large ovens. I paused in front of what must have been a mixer. It was bright red and as tall as me.
I wandered around the room for a minute, occasionally grabbing random utensils off the hooks on the walls and studying them. I tried to figure out what they might be used for. I was pretty sure at least a few of them were torture devices.
As I reached the small desk in the back corner, I remembered the note in my hand. There was a lump at the bottom of the envelope and I pulled out a small bottle full of sparkly white glitter attached to a chain. I set it on the desk and pulled out the piece of paper. I unfolded the page and saw her familiar curly handwriting.
Dear Susanna,
Thank you for coming to help me. I’m sorry to leave you like this, and I’m sorry I left you all those years ago. When I get back, I’ll explain everything. I’m sure you’ll do a great job keeping the pie shop running. I’ll be gone for a few days. A week at the most. There are enough pies for today in the fridge, but starting tomorrow you’ll have to make your own. Wear the necklace while I’m gone, it might come in handy. If you have any problems, Flora, Lena, or Mr Barnes can help you.
Love and Sparkles,
Aunt Erma
P.S. Please take care of my Mitzy for me.
I stared at the note. What the heck was a Mitzy?
There were two purple doors at the back of the kitchen. I opened one and peered out into a little alley. Behind the other one was a staircase. I heard the pitter patter of little feet and a small brown ball of fluff came flying at me.
‘Ah!’ I jumped back in surprise. The fur ball shot around me in circles before coming to rest at my feet, perfectly still except the wagging tail. Big brown eyes gazed up expectantly. Oh no, I thought as I saw the name ‘Mitzy’ written in rhinestones across the glittery red collar.
I took a step back, and the dog calmly stood, took a step forward, and sat down again. I checked the paper in my hand, hoping to find more thorough instructions, but there was nothing else. Between the ages of four and eight, I asked for a puppy every year for my birthday. Every year my parents bought me a stuffed animal dog and presented it as though they were fulfilling my every wish.
Since then I had learned to recognize dogs for what they were – dirty, smelly, and unpredictable. Great.
I could pinpoint the exact moment when my feelings about dogs changed. I was thirteen and I was over at my friend Lily’s house. She had a twin brother, Ed, and I was totally in love with him. I was at their birthday party, and I had lost an earring. I was on my hands and knees looking for it under the sofa while everyone else was in the kitchen getting pizza. Ed came to help me find it. He told me he liked my side ponytail. At that moment, I knew we were going to kiss. As I leaned forward and closed my eyes, ready to take this next big step in my romantic life, I was greeted not by the warm soft lips I was expecting, but by the large wet tongue of their black Lab who had appeared out of nowhere to participate in this monumental occasion. Needless to say, a romance with Ed didn’t blossom from that day, but my aversion to dogs did.
I shuddered. I could still remember exactly how that dog’s tongue felt in my mouth.
As though she could sense I was at a loss, Mitzy walked over to the back door and looked meaningfully over her shoulder. I found a leash hanging on a hook nearby and clipped it on her collar. She led me around to the front of the shop where there was a patch of grass. While she did her business, I took the opportunity to look around and take in my new surroundings.
The pie shop was just off the main street. On one side was a florist called Petunia’s Petals. The windows were packed with various brightly colored bouquets. On the other side was a vacant building. Remnants of clear tape clung to the front windows, and I could see the outline of the letters over the door that read, ‘Vinnie’s Video Galaxy.’ Flora was watching me through the window of her bookstore just across the street. She waved when she noticed I was looking back at her. I felt a little tug on the leash and realized Mitzy was directing me back towards the door.
‘Excuse me.’ I heard a voice behind me. I turned and saw a round man with thinning brown hair and a dark green cardigan hurrying towards me. He stopped by my side and pushed his gold-rimmed glasses further up on his nose. ‘You seem to have forgotten to pick up after your dog.’
‘What?’
‘You need to pick up after your dog,’ he repeated.
‘Pick up what?’ I asked.
He pointed to the pile in the grass. Mitzy assumed we were admiring her handiwork and wagged her tail proudly at us.
‘Ew, no,’ I said horrified.
‘It’s the law,’ he said almost joyfully. ‘I’m Sheriff Buddy.’
I glanced around uncertainly. ‘I’m Susanna. How do I…’ I trailed off. Was this some kind of new girl hazing? He pulled a plastic bag out of his pocket. I’m guessing he always kept a stash on him in case opportunities like this arose. He demonstrated putting it over his hand and mimed picking up the pile before pulling it off his hand and giving it to me.
Disgusted, I put the plastic bag over my hand and picked up Mitzy’s mess under his watchful eye. With a satisfied nod, he was off.
‘Nice to meet you,’ he called over his shoulder.
‘You too,’ I said, not really meaning it.
Once inside, I disposed of Mitzy’s mess before heading upstairs to Aunt Erma’s apartment. There was a door at the top of the stairs that stood open. Had it been left open or could Mitzy open doors?
The apartment was colorful and cozy, just like Aunt Erma’s house had been when I was a kid. She used to have a secret room in her house that only she and I were allowed to go into. It was filled with toys and games and books. We would pile blankets and pillows on the floor and spend hours in there. In retrospect it was probably just a walk-in closet, but at the time I thought it was the most fabulous place in the whole world.
The door opened into the living room where there was a soft red sofa in front of a small television. The sofa had a blue and green quilt draped over the back. Fairy lights lined the bookshelves on the wall. One of the shelves was full of toys. I recognized some of the toys from the secret room. There was a new addition, a doll with blue hair, wings, and a wand. When I picked her up she said, ‘Can you feel the magic?’ in a sing song voice. Hmm, a little creepy. I set her down facing the back of the shelf.
I walked through the living room to the kitchen. It was small. There wasn’t even an oven, only a toaster oven on the counter. A small wooden table with two chairs was pushed into the corner. There was a bedroom just through the kitchen and a bathroom off of that. The bathroom had decals of frogs and monkeys on the walls. Mitzy followed me for about ten seconds before deciding I was boring and settling down to sleep in the middle of the queen-sized bed.
I was on my way back to the door when a framed drawing hanging on the wall caught my eye. As I looked closer, a lump formed in the back of my throat. It was a picture I had drawn for her when I was eight. It was me and Aunt Erma standing in the middle of a giant blueberry pie. Or at least that’s what it was supposed to be. I squinted at the mess of jagged marker lines. I had presented it to her on her birthday, and she had fawned over it in the way only a loving aunt could, but a few months later she left and I never saw her again. I shook my head a little and turned to go back downstairs.
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.