Pecan Pies and Homicides Read Free

the air a sniff. “You did it! I don’t even have to taste the pie to know that it’ll light a fire inside your customers—like they’ve gone and swallowed a pack of sparklers. The magic is thick as a cloud all around you. You’re gettin’ real strong, Ella Mae.”
    â€œWhat good has magic ever brought me?” Ella Mae demanded. “Being enchanted has robbed me of my mother and forced me to keep secrets from the man I love.”
    Reba made a strangled sound in the back of her throat. “Regardless of your thoughts on magic, we still need an extra pair of hands. The two of us can’t run this place from dawn to dusk. I could ask around. See if any of our kind are lookin’ for a part-time job.”
    Ella Mae shook her head. “Hiring someone to take the position as a way of paying homage to my family won’t work. It was my mother who sacrificed herself to keep all of us safe, not me. I don’t want people doing me favors because she was brave and selfless.” She finished adding garnishes to the tart orders. “No, I need to hire a waitress from outside Havenwood, though finding someone interested in moving to an isolated mountain town in the middle of winter to serve pie isn’t going to be easy. If I’d held interviews when this place was packed, when it was hip and fun, then it would have been more of a draw. But now? I hear people whispering that The Charmed Pie Shoppe won’t see its first anniversary. Maybe they’re right. We have smaller and smaller crowds every week.”
    â€œMy tips have been mighty lousy too,” Reba complained. “I keep tellin’ you that it’s time to snap out of it. I know Christmas was awful rough without your mama, but you’re not alone. You’ve got me and your aunts and your best friend, Suzy. And you’ve got sweet Chewy and that beautiful fireman. Your louse of a husband is now officially an ex-husband, so you and Hugh are free to do all sorts of things together.” She fanned herself with her order pad. “Lord help me, but I’d better think about somethin’ else or I may just spontaneously combust.”
    Grinning, Ella Mae grabbed a handful of flour and tossed it at Reba. “Don’t you have customers to serve? What about that old man?”
    â€œHis name’s Mr. Crump,” Reba said. “And he’s takin’ his sweet time over lunch. I don’t think he has much to go home to.”
    Glancing at her watch, Ella Mae inhaled a breath of cinnamon, baking apples, and buttery dough. “Whatever you do, don’t let him leave. I made this pie specifically for him. Just keep topping off his coffee.”
    â€œThe poor guy’s gonna float away,” Reba mumbled. After placing the ham and onion tarts on a tray, she made room for a slice of cranberry and almond pie and a pear crumble drizzled in warm cardamom vanilla custard and left the kitchen.
    Ella Mae stared at the empty cooling racks next to the oven and thought that not so long ago they’d been loaded with pies and tarts. A few months ago, Ella Mae had barely been able to keep up with the in-house and takeout orders. She’d had to turn down catering requests because she was too busy baking and serving half the town on a daily basis. She drove around Havenwood in her retired U.S. mail Jeep, waving at friends and neighbors like a homecoming queen. Everyone recognized her pink raspberry truck. One of Aunt Dee’s artist friends had transformed the white Jeep. A luscious cherry pie glistened on the driver’s-side door while a peach pie with a lattice crust sparkled on the passenger side. Silver stars shot across the hood, and the name, location, and phone number of the pie shop had been painted in a butter yellow font across both side panels.
    â€œThis is the most beautiful car I’ve ever seen!” Ella Mae had exclaimed when Dee revealed the transformed mail truck. But