0.5 Chess Pie & Choices Page 4

  With a nod and a whimper, I slumped onto a bar stool at the counter, collapsing my head onto its cool surface.

  “Ooh, sounds like you need a double dose of whipped cream on top.” Blythe placed a glass full of ice in front of me and poured the sweet nectar of the South to the top.

  “Aren't you going to ask me how last night went with the Hawthornes?” I asked.

  My friend shook her head. “No need. If there’s something you want to tell me, you will.”

  I loved her for knowing exactly what I needed. Too many people in town paid attention to the upcoming nuptials. Everyone had been surprised when Tucker had asked me out after high school graduation. I had never been the type of girl that anyone would have pictured with someone like him.

  Back then, he hadn't cared what others thought. And I fell in love with that quality in him. We spent the summer before he left for the College of Charleston roaming about Honeysuckle and telling each other our dreams. Because I never had any real ones for myself, I fed off of his lofty goals for himself, like getting a business degree and finding a way to leave our small town and go anywhere in the world. Anywhere that didn't carry the burden of being a child of a founding family member with all the future expectations weighing on our shoulders.

  There was any number of magical communities out there where we could establish a new life together, or maybe even hide amongst the normal humans, doing whatever we wanted to make ourselves happy. That summer had been one of the happiest of my life, especially since it came so close on the heels of Mom's death. Tucker gave me the strength to move beyond my sorrow, adding another reason I kept falling for him to the list.

  But long-distance chipped away at our burgeoning connection. In Charleston, Tucker made friends with some of the most prominent families in town. Before long, I stopped hearing from him as often. He stopped coming back home to Honeysuckle on breaks, choosing instead to hang out or participate in the exclusive magical community in Charleston.

  Over time, I had to hear updates about him through his parents or the town’s gossip grapevine. Still, Tucker never fully broke up with me year-to-year, choosing my company every winter break and summer. He still professed his undying commitment to me despite his changes. Words like tradition and reputation peppered his shortened talks about his future rather than lofty tales of lands far away.

  And what did I do? Did I change during that time? Did I use those years to figure out what I wanted? No. I never found the courage to have the talk. The one that would finally reveal the truth—that I had doubts. That I didn't want to stay in Honeysuckle. That I wanted more from my life.

  I couldn't say any of it to him because I avoided exploring the answers myself. Instead of talking to my boyfriend, I said yes when he asked me to marry him. And now, it wouldn’t be long until I was permanently attached to a man I barely recognized anymore, a family that had no consideration for my wants or needs, and locked into a role that everyone expected me to play. To become Mrs. Hollis Tucker Hawthorne. The Fourth.

  A warm hand shook my shoulder. Blythe gazed at me with concern. “You gonna eat that or think about it?” She pointed at the dessert in front of me.

  “Sorry.” I tried to shake my mood with a bite of pie. It tasted like grit and dirt instead of sweet relief.

  A high-pitched voice called out to other customers at the end of the counter, and I steeled myself for the incoming annoyance. Pixie poop, give me strength.

  A fairy with green hair pulled back into a ponytail flounced her way through the air in our direction. Blythe frowned at her coworker, attempting to ward her off. No amount of dirty looks stopped the annoying force heading our way.

  “Why, Charli,” the smug fairy oozed. “I’m so surprised to see you here. I would think that you would be spending all your time preparing to marry that handsome boy. I know I would if I had so much work to do to keep his attention.”

  “Sassy, don't you have some baking to do?” asked Blythe, steam practically rolling off of her.

  The fairy sniffed in dismissal. “I’ll get to it. Just having a chat here with the betrothed. Rumor has it that there's trouble in paradise.”

  My stomach dropped. “Where'd you hear that?”

  Sometimes, I hated my small town. Sure, it was a safe haven for everyone who lived in it. But that gave people too much time on their hands to keep their noses in everyone else's business. And right now, Sassy needed to keep hers out of mine, or she might find my fist in hers.

  “W-e-l-l,” she drew out with too much glee, “Mrs. Hawthorne already approached me to commission the chess pies for your engagement party. You know, I was surprised she would order them, but I get the feeling that she did it under duress.”

  Wow, my future mother-in-law moved fast. On the one hand, the order locked in my one request for the party regardless of my success with the ring. I should feel relieved, but her take-charge attitude rubbed me the wrong way. At what point would the choices for my future be mine and Tucker’s, not hers?

  “I love chess pie,” I muttered, swallowing a bite of pecan sweetness.

  Sassy wrinkled her nose. “It's just not a fancy choice. If I had access to a huge budget, I would milk it for all it's worth. Everyone's expecting a huge gala celebration with the wedding and all. Something as common as chess pie just doesn't seem to fit the bill. Then again, maybe the choice is perfect, considering that nobody expected the engagement in the first place.”

  “You’re stepping way over the line, Sass.” Blythe placed her hands on her hips. “Get back to the kitchen and get baking.”

  My friend’s tone matched the abject horror and anger roiling inside me. I dealt with the hushed tones of doubt about Tucker and me on a regular basis. I didn't need someone throwing it in my face, especially a certain green-haired fairy who was about to find out how to live her life bald.

  With too many eyes and ears focused on us, any action I took against Sass would act as gossip gas. Swallowing a gulp of sweet tea, I steadied myself and gritted my teeth into a polite grin. Southern politeness and the desire to save face would be the only things to keep her from being destroyed at the moment, bless her heart and hex her tiny annoying hiney.

  “Well, then it's a good thing that I'm marrying Tucker, and you are not. Because I'm not afraid to ask for what I want, and I want chess pie at the engagement party. All flavors. You able to handle that?” I asked through gritted teeth.

  The tiny fairy rolled her eyes. “Of course. You know I'm the best at baking pies. I’ll make them so good that your fiancé might just dump you for me. At least he'd be trading up,” she muttered under her breath, turning to leave.

  I stood up from the stool at the same time Blythe yelled at her coworker. The minor commotion garnered the attention of everyone, and Steve popped his head through the pass-through window. “Sassy, I pay you to work, not to hassle the customers. You fly your behind back here or head home. Your choice.” He gave me a short nod, but the damage was done.

  “You can take your pies and shove him up a unicorn’s behind, Sass,” I cried out as her green trail of fairy dust ducked into the kitchen. Gripping my hands into fists, I did my best to keep the tears burning in my eyes from falling.

  Blythe gripped my hand in hers. “Ignore her, and don't worry about this. It's on Sassy.” She gestured at the sweet tea and dessert on the counter.

  My face flamed with anger and embarrassment. “I gotta go,” I uttered.

  My friend nodded in sympathy. “I’ll come by and check on you later. Hey, maybe us girls can all get together tonight at Lucky's bar?”

  I appreciated my friends attempt to cheer me up, but I was in no mood. “Sure. Maybe,” I lied.

  With a sniff, I trudged out the door, making it a few feet away until I ran into Patty Lou, the current owner of A Stitch In Time store a few doors down from the cafe. The friendly face of my mom's best friend eased some of my discomfort.

  “Oh, Charli. I'm so glad to run into you.” She folded me into a gentle embr
ace. Hey, are you okay?” She released me, her eyes inspecting me with concern.

  “I’m good,” I breathed out, determined to make that statement true.

  “Well, I was just headed to check in on Steve and have lunch with my husband.” She chuckled, “If not for me, I swear that man would feed everyone else and forget to eat himself. But I did need to talk to you, so I’m glad you’re here.”

  “What about?” I asked.

  Her eyebrows furrowed. “Clarice told me that the two of you were going to purchase your wedding dress from a store in Charleston. That took me by surprise because I thought you were planning on wearing your mother's dress. I’ve already started some alterations in preparation.”

  The hot tears I had managed to avoid a few moments ago welled up and fell down my cheeks. “What? Why would she say that?”

  Patty Lou reached out and wiped my wet cheek. “Oh, darling girl, I don't know. Did you tell her what you wanted?”

  Shaking my head, I couldn't find the words to express the deep emotions at war inside me. Anger with my future in-laws and their inability to let anyone else make decisions. Frustration with myself for not having the courage to tell any of them exactly what I wanted. Worried that if I told Tucker how I felt that he would side with his parents and not me. Anguish at the thought of not wearing my mother's dress. And a growing knot of despair because the paths of what I should do and what I would do did not necessarily match up.

  “I need to go home,” I managed, my bottom lip trembling.

  “Do you want me to go with you?” Patty Lou asked in a kind tone.

  “No, ma'am. Thank you though.” I accepted another hug from my mom's best friend, allowing a few more tears to slip.

  She patted my back. “It'll all work itself out. What needs to be will be.” With a final squeeze, she let me go.

  The connection to the ring still pulled at me, but I cut the cord of it, no longer caring whether I found what was lost. What I needed to concentrate on finding was myself.

  Chapter Six

  A dark cloud shadowed every heavy step on the way home. As soon as I arrived, I intended to stomp my way up the stairs to my room, pull the quilt on my bed over my head, and stay there forever. Tucker and his parents could go through the trouble of finding the ring on their own. At this point, he'd be lucky if I showed up to the engagement party with the quilt wrapped around me, dragging its patchwork and intricate stitching as a mighty train.

  A loud spluttering noise interrupted the quiet rustle of Spanish moss in the trees. The commotion rumbled and thundered to life before dying in mechanical coughs and wheezes. Curiosity attracted me to the old detached building that had served as my dad’s garage and tinkering man cave. Rounding the corner, I discovered my brother and Lee hunched over my dad's old motorcycle, arguing.

  “I’m telling you, it's the engine.” Lee tapped a tool against the metal.

  Matt crossed his arms. “Dad had Old Joe here working perfectly. There’s something wrong with the spellwork.”

  “Hey,” I called out. Neither of the boys responded.

  “I worked the spell perfectly.” Lee frowned, facing off with my brother. “If the mechanics were good, it should turn over just fine.”

  “Not if the spellwork is faulty,” accused Matt.

  “You think you can cast one better?” my friend challenged.

  No one in town could, and my brother knew it. He paused in his argument, coming up with a snappy response. “Well, if it's so good, then try it again.”

  “I think we should take the bike apart piece by piece and reassemble it,” Lee countered.

  The two of them exploded into more fighting, and I rolled my eyes. “Any chance you’ve forgotten something?” I asked. They stopped long enough to notice me.

  My brother waved. “Birdy, when did you get here?”

  “Been standing here for a few minutes, listening to you two idiots. And don't call me that,” I complained.

  “Wait a minute, go back,” Lee interrupted. “What did you mean we forgot something?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I was thinking that maybe it could be as simple as not having any gas in the tank?”

  The priceless dumbfounded looks on their faces rewarded my observation. They shot sheepish glances at each other and looked at the motorcycle.

  With a sigh, Matt stood up. “I’ll get the gas can.”

  Lee pushed his glasses up his nose. “I’ll spellcast again, just for good measure.”

  With a shake of my head, I left them to their work and headed up the porch and into the house. My foot hit the bottom of the staircase when Nana called out to me. “Charli, can you come here for a moment?” How that woman always knew confounded me.

  I had a choice. Either I could run upstairs, lock the door, and wait until Nana dragged me back downstairs, or I could just get it over with now.

  “Coming,” I called out. Once I met her in the kitchen, my eyes grazed over the ingredients in mixing bowls resting on the table. “What are you making?” I asked.

  “Not just me. The two of us. I thought maybe that we could bake something together.” She wiped her hands on her apron.

  “I’m not sure I'm really in the mood, Nan. You always told me not to bake when angry because we put a little of ourselves into whatever we make. And right now, I'm not sure whatever I produced would taste that good.

  My grandmother didn't say a word but approached me with an apron in her hand. She wrapped the loop around my neck and tied the strings around my waist. Bright yellow sunflowers dotted the dark blue fabric. It was a favorite of my mom's, a symbol of the sunshine she brought to our lives.

  “What are we making,” I surrendered.

  “I thought we could make some chess pies. Just for us.”

  Her suggestion squeezed my heart. I tried to talk to her and try to vocalize some of the storm of thoughts brewing in my head, but the heavy words refused to be uttered.

  She brushed a finger down my cheek. “You know, my own grandmother, bless her heart, used to tell me that baking was good for the soul. There's nothing that is so evident of our efforts. You add ingredients together, and in the right combination, you produce something worthy of your loved ones to eat. Get the balance of the components wrong, and it can be a disaster.”

  Nana broke her habit of making her messages too cryptic. We both recognized the grander meaning but focused on the simplicity of the task at hand.

  The thing I liked best about chess pie was its simplicity. Four main ingredients—butter, sugar, flour, and eggs—plus a few more things to make the crust, mixed together produced an understated masterpiece. I remembered my mom telling me all about the history of the pie while I watched her make it to surprise Dad.

  “Some say it’s called chess pie because we rest our baked goods in a pie chest. Or maybe it’s because someone misidentified the custard-like pie as cheese. But I think it’s because chess pie is just pie.” Mom would drag out her Southern drawl to make just sound like chess.

  “Just pie,” I mimicked, smiling at the memory.

  After I finished baking the first crust and Nana poured in the blended elements, we started on another one, this time adding in lemons for flavor. We worked in silent synchronicity, measuring out the ingredients, mixing them, and cleaning up after one another.

  The effortless act of baking relaxed me and eased some of my troubles. When we finished, three pies cooled on the windowsill. I liked the regular custard, and Nana preferred lemon. Matt would probably hog all of the chocolate chess. Ingredients covered me from head to toe, but I didn't care. The carefree relief from baking with my grandmother had been the balm to soothe my worries.

  “Should we call in Matt and Lee?” I asked, dusting flour off my hands. The sound of dad's old motorcycle revved outside.

  “No need,” my grandmother said. “They’ll follow their noses in a minute or two. Let me take that time to say a few things to you.”

  My stomach dropped. “Nana, please. D
on’t.” I didn't want to lose the happiness in the distraction.

  “It's my job, sweet girl.” She took out two glasses and set them on the table on opposite sides. Pouring us both some sweet tea, she gestured for me to sit down across from her. With reluctance, I obeyed, too weak to be able to run away.

  “Before I begin, tell me if you found the ring,” she inquired.

  I regaled her with the wandering path of my search. When I got to the part about canceling the order with Sassy, she stayed silent in that scary way that gave me the heebie-jeebies.

  “Don't you pay no mind to her. My friends and I will make sure that there’s enough chess pie at the party for everyone to take at least a slice home. So, take that off your worry list.”

  “Thanks, Nana.”

  “But we need to get down to the nitty-gritty,” she insisted.

  My hands gripped the edge of the table, steadying myself for a lecture about behaving properly and making sure I didn't bring dishonor to our family. Fear gnawed on my nerves. If Nana verbalized the truth, then everything would be real, and I could no longer ignore what my instincts screamed at me.

  “If you think that I don't know what's in your heart, then you haven't been paying attention all your life.” Her aching expression burrowed to the center of me. “I know you and your brother like the back of my hand. There's not much you can keep hidden from me.”

  I tested her theory. “Like the time that Loki broke your great-Aunt Bertha’s flower vase?”

  Nana crinkled her nose in disbelief. “I always knew it was the two of you.”

  “But you didn't punish us,” I exclaimed.

  “That's because I hated that ugly old thing. And I knew it was an accident, and the two of you were just children. Unlike the streaking incident at the Tanner's.” My grandmother lifted her eyebrows.

  “You knew about that?” I shrieked.

  Sometime right after graduation and before Tucker asked me out, my girls and I had dared Bennett Raynes and Lee to go skinny dipping in the water down on the Tanner property. It was a fool thing to do since there was a real threat of gators, but that added the element of excitement to the game.