Lemon Pies and Little White Lies (8 page)

“I offered the position to Jenny, but she said that the odds of her slapping the first bridezilla she came across were on the high side.”

Suzy laughed. “No wonder she and Reba get along so well. Let me pop into the kitchen, and then I’ll start reading. Just push a pile of materials my way.”

Ella Mae complied and then opened to the page her mother had bookmarked in
Women of Arthurian Legend
. She began to read the chapter on the women of Avalon.

She instantly became absorbed in the author’s description of life on Avalon, which was also known as the island of
apples. Because the book was over two hundred years old, the author’s florid descriptions enhanced the mystical nature of the isolated community of magical women. For several minutes, Ella Mae was transported from the library at Partridge Hill to a mist-veiled island.

“The author calls them priestesses,” she murmured to herself, and began to jot notes on a memo pad. She continued to read about Avalon’s hierarchy and how the Lady of the Lake ruled over dozens of women. Until now, Ella Mae had never heard of a group of people coming together to pool their magical talents. What the book didn’t say, however, was what the priestesses did with their combined abilities.

“The Lady of the Lake is a title given to the most powerful woman of Avalon,” she told Suzy after finishing the chapter. “Centuries ago, the first woman to become Lady of the Lake was a priestess called Nimue. According to this book, she was also Merlin’s lover.”

“And his nemesis. See?” Suzy gently pivoted an illuminated manuscript page so that it faced Ella Mae.

Ella Mae couldn’t read the Latin penned so carefully in ink on the parchment, but she could decipher the meaning behind the exquisite images drawn in the wide margins. On the left-hand side, a bearded man was instructing a lovely young woman. He showed her scrolls in one scene, pointed out a bird in a tree in the next, and stood over a reflecting pool in the third. On the right-hand side, the older man and woman were caught in a passionate embrace. The last drawing showed Merlin being absorbed into a tree as lightning bolts flew from Nimue’s fingers and tears dripped down her cheeks and fell on her pale blue gown.

“It’s just like our curse.” Ella Mae stared at Merlin and the tree. “He was trapped inside. Not dead, but no longer human.”

“That’s just one version.” Suzy tapped on another piece
of parchment. “According to this author, Merlin is sealed inside a cave, but I’ve also read other interpretations claiming that he was imprisoned in a large rock or locked away in a glass tower. And while Nimue is angry and grief-stricken in the document you’re examining, she’s power-hungry and triumphant in the version I have here.”

“Nimue.” Ella Mae couldn’t stop staring at the illustration. “The Elders told me about a woman named Nimue a few months ago. Apparently, she was an enemy of Morgan le Fay’s. Though Morgan put Nimue under a sleeping spell hundreds of years ago, rumors have been circulating across the UK claiming that Nimue is awake and bent on revenge.” Ella Mae shook her head. “Of course, that’s ridiculous. Some crazy woman is using the name to scare people. She probably read the same books we’re reading.”

Ella Mae returned to her reading. After finishing the segment on Avalon from
Women of Arthurian Legend,
she reached for a tattered book of indeterminate age entitled
The History of Water Spirits: From the Greeks to the Celts.

She and Suzy read in silence for over an hour. Other than the crackle of the fire and the whisper of turning pages, there were no other sounds. Finally, Ella Mae looked up from her book, and said, “According to this, Morgan le Fay was also the Lady of the Lake. She left Avalon to offer her services to Arthur following Merlin’s disappearance. When Arthur refused to listen to her counsel, she retired to her castle on the coast. Both she and Nimue are referred to as powerful water spirits. The priestesses of Avalon all seem to have some connection to water.”

“I stumbled across a passage about that too,” Suzy said. “In this sixteenth-century poem, the Lady of the Lake is known for being as changeable and destructive as water, but then the poet adds half a dozen stanzas describing how these
women could heal and stimulate crop growth using water. So, depending on what you choose to believe, these ladies either worked together to help their community or they used their magic to flood whole villages.”

Ella Mae closed the book she’d been reading and sighed. “These stories are always contradictory. I remember how shocked I was when I first learned that Morgan le Fay wasn’t evil. She was merely portrayed that way by male writers who didn’t approve of her wealth, intelligence, or influence. The same could be said of Nimue. Is she, along with the other priestesses of Avalon, being rewritten as villain because she’s a woman? And if water is their strength, then what’s their weakness? What overcomes water? Fire? Earth?”

Suzy drained the wine from her glass and shrugged. “All I’ve found is a cryptic hint about alchemy. Not the turning-stone-to-gold kind, but ancient alchemical charts and recipes alluding to defeating a person who is able to control a particular element.”

“Element,” Ella Mae whispered the word. “What if there’s an entire group of women who are also water elementals? What if they’re like Hugh?”

Suzy pulled a face. “We shouldn’t leap to any conclusions. We’re just gathering information right now, remember?”

Ella Mae motioned for Suzy’s laptop and searched for the footage of Nuckelavee that showed the clover-shaped eye. “I don’t think this is a random occurrence. I think it’s a message, and I believe it’s meant for me.”

Suzy stared at the image on the computer screen. “If I’m not helping customers, I’ll do more research at the store tomorrow.” She failed to stifle a yawn. “There are a few rare-book databases I can check out. I’ve never read about a group of our kind creating storms. In the meantime, what will you do?”

“Throw myself into work. Founder’s Day will be here
before we know it, and if I can gather enough of our people in one place, we might be able to change our future for good. I’ll keep researching too, but right now, I need to focus on all things pie.”

“Is that realistic?” Suzy asked softly. “Can you just flip a switch and turn your other emotions off?”

Ella Mae thought of the chocolate raspberry pie in the freezer of The Charmed Pie Shoppe. “I have no choice.” Her mouth curved in a humorless grin as she pointed at the wine bottle. “At the moment, however, I think I need a few more ounces of liquid courage. Being a queen kind of sucks.”

Suzy laughed and filled Ella Mae’s glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

•   •   •

The next day, Ella Mae turned on the television and was horrified by the damage Nuckelavee had done. By the time the storm had passed and a timid sun had shone down on the Scottish coast, the landscape was nearly unrecognizable. The waters of the North Sea had swept farther inland than anyone had imagined, flooding towns and villages and causing millions of dollars in damage. Livestock had drowned, crops were obliterated, and houses had been torn from their foundations. Fishing trawlers, ripped from their moorings, ended up on high hills, and cars were scattered throughout saturated meadows like lost sheep. People had been lost too. How many the experts could only guess, but the number was over a hundred and rising.

Ella Mae watched the coverage until she was too sickened and saddened by the sight.

In need of solace, she went to church and bowed her head alongside her fellow townsfolk. The congregation prayed for the victims of the storm, but neither the comforting
words nor the hymns nor the sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows alleviated Ella Mae’s anxiety.

What if it
is
possible?
she thought on her way home after the service.
What if that storm was made to serve a purpose? To destroy groves and create destruction? But why would anyone do such a thing?

With no answer to these questions, Ella Mae tried to find a release by running for six miles. When she finally stopped, her legs aching and her lungs burning, she felt almost human again. Back at home, she took a very long, very hot shower, ate a huge egg-and-cheese omelet, and played catch with Chewy on the lawn.

When her terrier grew tired of fetching balls and sticks, she made herself a chicken salad sandwich, wrapped it in wax paper, and drove to the pie shop.

She entered through the kitchen, pushed through the swing doors leading into the dining room, and gasped.

There was a jagged hole in the front window and shards of glass were strewn across the pine floor. Resting at the base of one of the café tables was a red brick. Ella Mae quickly scooped Chewy into her arms and carried him back into the kitchen. She then grabbed a broom and returned to the dining room to examine the brick.

Moving carefully, she cleared a path with the broom and then squatted down next to the brick. She picked it up, feeling its weight, and then flipped it over.

“What the hell?” she cried, and dropped the brick as if she’d been burned.

There was a chalk clover drawn on its porous surface.

She retreated to the kitchen and called the police. After asking Office Wallace to come to the pie shop to investigate a case of vandalism, Ella Mae stroked Chewy. Her agitation
was contagious, and he began to whine and shift back and forth on his feet.

“It’s all right, boy. It’s all right.” As Ella Mae soothed her dog, her own fright slowly morphed into something else. Anger.

Unable to sit still while she waited for Officer Wallace, Ella Mae brewed a pot of coffee. She poured herself a mug of hot, strong coffee, gave Chewy a treat, and was just composing an invitation for the upcoming History in the Baking event when there was a knock on the kitchen door.

“I saw the broken window,” Officer Wallace said.

Ella Mae led her into the dining room. “Here’s the projectile.”

“Not very original,” the policewoman said, turning the brick over in her hands. Seeing the clover, she added, “It could have been a Saint Patty’s Day prank. We made a number of arrests last night. Several townsfolk had too many pints of green beer. A few of them are still sleeping it off in our holding cell.”

When Ella Mae didn’t respond, Officer Wallace touched her arm. “Do you have any known enemies?”

“Loralyn Gaynor and I have disliked each other since birth, but this isn’t her style.”

“Do you want me to write this up? I’m not sure there’s much to investigate, but—”

“No.” Ella Mae shook her head. “I’m sorry I even called you. I was scared at first, and then furious. But it’s just a window.”

Officer Wallace dropped the brick into an evidence bag. “I’ll keep this just in case, and I’m going to file a report as soon as I return to the station so you can get an insurance claim started. I hope you know someone in the glass business.”

“Reba does.” Ella Mae reached for the broom. “Thank goodness we’re closed tomorrow.” She smiled. “Thanks for coming, and good luck dealing with the guys in lockup.”

When Officer Wallace was gone, Ella Mae swept and vacuumed the floor, and then she and Chewy moved to the front porch. Ella Mae opened her laptop, took a sip of coffee, and tried to concentrate on creating an invitation again.

“How can I word this so that it sounds like more than a bake-off?” she asked Chewy. “Because it’s so much more than that. It’s a dynamic, multifaceted celebration of pie.”

Chewy responded by releasing a contented moan and then rolling onto his back, his paws dangling limply over his belly. His eyes remained shut, but his nostrils were quivering.

“You keep chasing those dream squirrels.” Ella Mae smiled down at him.

But Chewy was unable to sleep for long. A police cruiser pulled to a stop at the curb and Officer Hardy alighted from the car. Seeing Chewy, the two boxers in the passenger seat launched into a round of frenzied barking. Chewy bolted to his feet, his bark of surprise high and shrill.

“Shhh!” Ella Mae scolded. “He’s one of the good guys.” Setting her laptop aside, she gestured at the empty rocking chair next to her. “I see you brought your K-9 units with you,” she teased, knowing full well that the boxers were Hardy’s beloved pets, and then her smile vanished. “Is this an official visit? Because Officer Wallace already responded to my call about this.” She jerked her thumb at the broken window.

He frowned and moved closer to the jagged glass. “When did this happen?”

“I don’t know. I came in at lunchtime and found a brick in the dining room.”

Hardy released an exasperated sigh. “If I discover any more evidence of last night’s tomfoolery, I’ll have to ask the mayor
to impose a curfew for our next Saint Patrick’s Day.” He turned to Ella Mae. “I’m sorry that you have to deal with this, but I hope I can cheer you up a little. I was able to locate Mrs. Drever.”

“Thank goodness!” Ella Mae exhaled in relief.

“She’s in Edinburgh with her daughter,” Hardy continued. “They’re both safe, but Mrs. Drever was understandably shaken by the news about Mrs. Mercer. She and her daughter have booked flights and should be in Havenwood by tomorrow evening.”

“And Mrs. Mercer’s son?”

Hardy looked pained. “He arrived late last night. His mother’s death has hit him hard. She was all the family he had.”

Ella Mae fell silent. Here on the front porch, with birds flitting in the dogwood trees and clumps of cheerful tulips and daffodils swaying in the mild breeze, it seemed hard to believe that so many people were grieving. Finn Mercer. And countless people overseas.

In her mind, she saw the clover in the center of the storm. She thought of the clover drawn on the brick and couldn’t help but glance at the identical shape burned into her palm. Closing her hand into a tight fist, she said, “Mrs. Mercer had a dog. Coco. She’s at Canine to Five. Maybe seeing her would bring a measure of comfort to Mrs. Mercer’s son.”

“I’m sure it would. I’ll let him know,” Hardy promised. “He asked me to spread the word that his mother’s memorial service will take place Wednesday morning. He doesn’t really know who her friends were, and I’m afraid I’m not much help . . .”