Delightful: Big Sky Pie #3 (17 page)

But the adventurous part of her, that she’d inherited from her mother, was making her try. She’d re-enrolled in that same Seattle culinary college, and her first classes started next week.
Here’s hoping the second time is the charm.

She reached for the truck’s door handle and hesitated. She had come to say the toughest goodbye of all…to Molly McCoy. Quint’s mother had treated her like the daughter she’d never had and been the closest thing to a real mother since losing her own. Staving off tears, Callee jumped down from the cab into the gloomy day and felt a sudden shiver, like a portent of something dreadful. Probably just her mood. She zipped her jacket and locked the U-haul.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, a text from her best friend, Roxanne Nash. Roxy owned a Seattle waterfront bistro, and she’d opened her heart and her home when Callee arrived on her doorstep after leaving Quint. Roxy was always egging Callee on, making her try new things and face her phobia of learning how to cook.

Roxy wanted to know if everything was okay, if Callee was okay, and if she’d started the eleven-hour drive back to western Washington yet. She answered the text, then stepped to the curb at Center Street, her gaze skipping across the road to be caught by a new sign: Big Sky Pie. She knew Molly was renovating the largest part of Quint’s office building into a pie shop, but her brows rose at exactly how much of a renovation had occurred.

She smiled, thinking of the treat that awaited Flathead County residents. No one made pies better than Molly McCoy. But it was the example Quint’s mother was setting that filled Callee with pride and happiness. Molly had grieved the loss of Jimmy McCoy worse than anyone, yet she’d turned her sorrow into something positive and productive. Callee wanted that end result for herself.

She patted her purse to make sure the ring was still there and hastened across the street, admiring the exterior of the pie shop. Bay windows wore white awnings, the exterior painted a rich ruby red with white-and-tan trim and lettering, reminiscent of Molly’s specialty, sweet cherry pie made with fresh Bing cherries from the orchards around Flathead Lake. The color scheme was one Callee had suggested when Molly first mentioned she might open a pie shop one day. Callee felt honored that her mother-in-law had remembered and taken the suggestion to heart.

She pasted a smile on her face and tapped on the door, prepared to give Molly an “I love what you’ve done with the place” greeting. But she startled and then grinned at the woman in the doorway, Andrea Lovette, Quint’s longtime office manager and Callee’s friend.

Andrea lit up like a delighted child at the sight of a favorite toy. “Oh my God, Callee. I didn’t know you were in town. Does Molly know?”

“Not yet, and I’m not staying.” They exchanged a quick hug, and then Callee stepped back and looked at her friend. “I’d ask how you’re doing, but you look fabulous.”

“I look ragged. Two little boys will do that to you.” Andrea laughed, her brown eyes sparkling as she shoved at her long, thick blond hair. She was taller than Callee, a fact made more pronounced by the skinny jeans and platform pumps she wore. “Since you’re not staying, what brings you back to Kalispell?”

“Tying up some loose ends.”

Andrea nodded, her lips pressed together. “Well, whatever the reason, I’m delighted to see you. And Molly will be, too. Besides, I hate being the only guinea pig.”

Guinea pig?
Callee found herself being pulled farther into the shop. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Where’s Molly?”

“In the kitchen with Rafe, her new assistant pastry chef. She’s teaching him something, I think.”

Muffled voices issued from the kitchen, one female speaking English and one male speaking Spanish. Callee smiled. “Do they even understand each other?”

“No clue, but Molly will be out in a minute. I’m sitting over there.” Andrea pointed to a booth. “Go ahead. Sit. I’ll bring you some coffee.”

“Okay, but I can’t stay long.” Only long enough to give Molly the ring and a hug good-bye. Callee settled into the booth and began to take in the décor. The interior reflected the colors used outside, but in reverse. The walls were tan, the crown molding and trim white, and the table cloths and napkins a ripe red. This was all café, display cases, cash register, and an espresso/coffee and tea counter. Seating consisted of a row of four, high-backed booths on one wall and round tables scattered throughout the space.

“Isn’t it great?” Andrea handed her a cup of steaming coffee. “The kitchen consumes the largest portion of this building, an L-shaped chunk that isn’t visible from this room.”

“It’s wonderful. Right down to the framed, poster-sized photos of juicy pies with sugar-coated crusts.”

“Mouth-watering, huh?” Andrea took a sip of coffee.

“That’s the idea, right?” Callee couldn’t get over the size of the room. “I didn’t know she was going to do a café. Last I heard, the pie shop would be take-out only.”

“Yeah, well, the café was kind of last minute,” Andrea said, quickly downing more coffee. “Molly told me the design was yours.”

Callee shook her head. “Nope. Only the colors.”

“All the same, I think you missed your calling, lady.”

Callee smiled. “I missed a lot of things.”

“So, how are you doing?” Andrea touched her hand.

The gesture made Callee feel less alone. Andrea had once been where she was now, figuring out how to be single again. The difference was that Andrea had had the burden of two little boys relying on her to get it right. Callee had only herself.
Thank God
. “I’m looking forward, not backward.”

“I’m glad. I’ve been worried about you.” Andrea offered a commiserating smile.

“I promise, I’ll be okay, eventually.” She smiled weakly.

“This whole thing is such a tragedy.” Andrea shook her head, but never one to hold back how she was feeling, she added, “When Quint comes to his senses, he’s going to be real damned sorry. I wish you’d stick around, Callee. I know he said and did some awful things, but that man loves you. Even if he can’t see past his grief right now.”

“If that’s what he thinks love is, I want no part of it.” It didn’t matter if he did love her, or even if she still harbored tender feelings for him. He was, after all, her first true love, but she had never been a priority with him, and watching the love his parents had shared, she realized she deserved better than what Quint was giving. One day, maybe she’d find her Mr. Right. But Quint McCoy was not that man. “My U-haul is parked right across the street. As soon as I have a minute with Molly, I’m on my way to Seattle. I’ve enrolled in college,” she said, keeping the type of college to herself. If she ended up with her degree then she would share details with trusted friends, but for now, it was her secret. “Classes start next week.”

“That’s awesome. I’m so excited for you.” Andrea’s smile flashed, then quickly faded. “Uh, by the way, Molly just spoke to Quint. He’s on his way here.”

“What? I thought he was still in Alaska.” The news tweaked Callee’s nerves, and she gulped down a swallow of coffee, the hot liquid burning its way to her stomach.

Andrea was studying her. “He got back last night.”

Callee set her mug aside, snatched hold of her purse, and scooted toward the end of the banquette. “It’s been wonderful visiting with you, but right now, I need to see Molly and get out of here.”

“Okay, Andrea, I hope you’re hungry,” Molly called, emerging from the kitchen. Quint’s mother, a bubbly, middle-aged redhead with short spiky hair, was followed by a tall, handsome Latino in his early twenties, who carried a serving tray with fragrant goodies on dessert plates.

“Callee!” Molly squealed, foiling Callee’s attempted escape. Molly wiped her hands on an apron spotted with flour, chocolate, and fruit juice and hugged Callee. “Oh my God, you’re like a gift from Heaven.”

Callee returned the hug, wishing she never had to let go, but she did, and since the memory of this moment would have to last her a long time, she held on a beat or two longer than she might have. Even though Molly would always welcome Callee into her home and her heart, Callee understood their relationship would never be the same once she left here today. Tears stung her eyes.

Molly stepped back, and Callee did a quick assessment. There was a smidge of flour in her choppy red hair and on her pert nose. The bedroom eyes she’d passed onto her son seemed weary, and the wide smile that lit up any room she entered seemed less brilliant. She was like a clock someone forgot to wind; not quite up to speed. Still missing her husband, Callee figured, still worrying about her son. At least the shop would joyfully fill a lot of lonely hours.

Callee glanced at the wall clock, wondering how soon before Quint arrived. She had to leave. Now. But Molly urged her back into the booth.

“I know why you’re here.”

How could she know that? Callee lowered her voice. “In that case, could I see you in private—?”

“You’re going to stay and come work for me,” Molly cut her off, hope erasing the worry lines near her mouth.

“What?” Callee’s eyebrows rose. “Work for you doing what?”

“A pie shop can always use more than one pastry chef.” She handed Andrea and Callee forks and napkins.

“A pastry chef?” Callee blushed, recalling the time Molly tried to teach her to bake a pie. Callee kept hearing her grandmother’s voice, taunting, telling her that she was only fit for washing dishes and taking out garbage. Not for cooking or baking anything. The end result had been a crust that resembled lumpy clay, and although Molly had been kind, Callee couldn’t stop cringing at the memory.

Callee gave Molly an indulgent smile. “You know perfectly well that my kitchen skills are limited to coffee and scrambled eggs. Period. Not pies.”

“Oh, all right.” Molly sighed. “But since you don’t have anything against
eating
pies, you can help us figure out which of these three items belongs on the menu.”

“I really need to go.”

“I’m opening next week, and I need to tick this off my to-do list.”

“I can’t st—”

“Nonsense. It’ll only take a few minutes.” Molly slipped into her side of the booth, blocking her in. As stuck as gum in cat fur, her grandmother was fond of saying. Resigned, Callee turned her attention to the tray, which held three colorful pie slices. Her mouth watered. Her early morning breakfast had consisted of a grande latte. Eating something now meant one less stop along the road later on.

Andrea said, “If presentation means anything…wow.”

Molly beamed. She handed Andrea a small green tart. “It’s key lime.”

Molly gave Callee a slice of chocolate pie and gestured for Callee to try it. “This is tar heel pie.”

Callee tried a bite. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s chocolate chips, coconut, and pecans. A word of caution. It’s very rich and should probably only be eaten in tiny increments.”

“Ooh, I like this,” Andrea said. “A definite ten.”

“This is to die for,” Callee exclaimed, her sweet meter tilting off the charts. She shoved the slice toward Andrea. “Try it.”

Molly pointed to the next item. “This last one is Daiquiri pie. Cream cheese, condensed milk, concentrated lemonade, and my own twist, 90-proof rum.”

Andrea and Callee dug in while Molly watched, waiting for their verdicts.

But Callee and Andrea could only moan in pleasure.

Molly glanced at Rafe. “So much for narrowing the menu.”

He muttered something in Spanish that sounded like “a bucket of Tequila” and headed back to the kitchen.

Outside, tires crunched on the gravel parking lot. Inside, forks stopped halfway to mouths. The three women exchanged knowing looks. Molly scooted out of the booth, then stood frozen beside the table. “Quick, Callee, go see if it’s Quint.”

“Me? Why me? I don’t want to see Quint.” She would just mail the ring to Molly. Feeling none too composed, Callee slipped from the booth. “Do you have a back door?”

“Please, Callee.” Molly’s face had gone a worrisome gray.

“What’s going on?” Callee looked from Molly to Andrea.

Andrea winced. “A sort of intervention.”

“Shock therapy,” Molly said.

“What?” Callee had no clue what they were talking about, and she didn’t want to know. She stole to the window and peered out through the blinds. The second she saw Quint, her heart began to thrum with a rhythm akin to a love song. He was sitting in his SUV, phone to ear. “It’s him.”

“It’s for his own good,” Molly muttered, as though to herself, as though her actions needed defending. “It’s true what they say about tough love. It is harder on the giver than on the receiver. If I hadn’t spoiled that boy to the edge of redemption…”

“What’s he doing?” Andrea asked, still seated in the booth, sucking up Daiquiri pie like she was downing shots in a bar and ignoring her cell phone, which kept announcing a new voice mail.

Callee had a bad feeling. “He’s putting his phone away.”

“What’s he doing now?” Molly asked, her face drained of color.

“Getting out of the car.”

“Does he look angry?” Molly asked.

He looks heart-stopping delectable—like always.
Damn. Callee hated that her pulse still skipped whenever she laid eyes on Quint, hated that every nerve in her body seemed to quiver as he shoved back the Stetson revealing his incredible face. God, how she adored that face. His smile, his touch, the things he did to her body, the responses he elicited…just recalling left her breathless.
No. Stop it. You’re over. He never put you first. Never.
“He’s glancing up and down the street as though he can’t understand why he isn’t seeing what he expects to see.”

“Like he’s wondering if he’s on the right street?” Andrea said, sounding…anxious?

And then Callee realized.
Shock therapy
. “You didn’t tell him you were turning his office into the café portion of your pie shop?”

Molly gulped. All the answer Callee needed. Before she could ask what the hell Molly was thinking, a fist hit the door. All three women jumped. But no one moved to let him in.

Delectable

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