Miracle Pie (5 page)

“Be careful of this one,” Rosa said, sitting
at the table. “He’s a player.” She switched her attention to Gabe.
“And be more careful of this one.”

“In the heart.” Gabe slapped his hand over
his heart. “You’re slaying me.”

“I doubt that you’d die that easily,” Rosa
said.

“You’re right. I don’t die easily at all.”
He turned back to Katie. “Let’s roll.”

She was about to scratch her eyebrow but
quickly brought down her hand. “Uh. I’m Katie Guthrie and I make
pies.” She smiled at the camera and guessed it looked like a scared
grimace.

“Let’s try that again,” he said.

“Take in a few deep inhales and exhales
before you talk,” Taz said. “Relax. We all know Gabe’s ugly, but
try not to sound like you’re talking to an IRS agent.”

Katie laughed nervously. When they left, she
would have a glass of wine, a piece of pie—maybe two pieces of
pie—then curl up on her bed and sleep for an hour.

But first she had to get through this.

Chapter Seven

“You’ll be wonderful,” Gabe said. “Pretend
you’re talking to your lover.”

“I don’t think so.” Katie heard the
breathiness of her voice, like Marilyn Monroe singing
Happy
Birthday, Mr. President
. Cringing inside, she continued, “I
don’t tell my lovers how to make a pie. I just bake pies for
them.”

His blue eyes seemed to glow, and her skin
warmed. “A friend, then,” he said. “Tell a friend.”

She took in a breath and said her name. It
felt odd. In the tiny village of Miracle, everyone knew her
name.

The intro done without too much wobbling of
her voice, she went through her talk once. Then went through it
again. Then went through it seven more times, though Rosa only had
to go through hers three times. Katie was ready to start again when
Gabe said, “I think we’ve got it.”

The tension seeped out of her. “Thank
God.”

Everyone laughed and Taz started to pull
back the boom that angled over her head. Gabe put his hand out,
stopping him. “Just one more thing. Tell us, why pies? Why not
cakes or cookies or cupcakes?”

“You don’t need this.” Rosa’s voice was
sharp. “I’m making a cooking show, not an interview show.”

He looked at her. “I won’t charge more for
this.”

Rosa shrugged. Sitting back with her legs
crossed, she nodded at Katie to continue.

“Well...” Katie wrinkled her nose and
switched from one foot to the other. Finally she leaned forward
over the counter. “Pies are love.”

He laughed softly. “Tell me how pies can be
love.”

“Not every pie.”

“Your pies are?” His left eyebrow and a
corner of his mouth quirked up.

He didn’t believe her.

She stood straight. “I send love into the
pies as I make them. I think of someone eating them, and for those
few minutes I feel them with their eyes closed as they taste the
deliciousness of the pie. At peace, all their troubles gone.”

“That’s a lot to ask of one piece of
pie.”

“Not for my pies.” She heard the strength of
conviction in her voice, talking directly to him. She knew the
camera and sound were running, but it didn’t matter. Rosa certainly
wouldn’t put this on her show. “Think of a two pie crust, like
apple pie. The bottom crust is death and the top is birth. And in
between, everything is happy. There’s no sad in pies.”

He grinned widely. “I’ve got to tell you,
I’ve eaten some sad pies.”

“Not
my
pies. Not if you do it
right.”

“Doing it right is important?”

“Of course. If you don’t make a pie right,
it won’t taste good.”

“What about life? Is it important doing that
right?”

She shifted, feeling uncomfortable. “Why ask
me that? This is supposed to be about pies.”

“You said pies are like life. You compared
the crusts to birth and death.”

“Oh.” Now it sounded stupid, and she was
really glad no one but the four of them would see this. “I guess
it’s important to do everything as well as you can. I have a
wonderful life, with great friends and a wonderful father. But it’s
nothing I tried to do. I’m just lucky that way.”

“And you make wonderful pies,” he said.

She nodded. “Yes, I make wonderful pies. Is
that all?”

Taz laughed and so did Rosa. Gabe nodded.
“That’s all.”

Only then did she smile. Putting her palms
on the counter, her fingers splayed, she leaned forward. “Wait
until you eat my pie. Then you’ll know.”

“Can’t wait,” he said, the glow in his eyes
making her skin warm. Then he bent to dismantle the camera. “I
think it will look good.”

Really?
she wanted to ask.
Really,
truly?
Like a child needing a pat on her back. Instead, she
smiled stiffly and crossed to the cupboard at the end of the
kitchen.

“I’ll look at this on the computer in my
room tonight,” he continued. “I think it will be great.”

She climbed on the step stool to pull a
cardboard pie box out of the top cupboard. “You like pumpkin pie?”
she asked, climbing down. “You can have it.”

“Yes,” Taz said.

“No, you don’t,” Gabe said. “Who carried the
bug out of the house?”

“You can’t eat the whole pie by
yourself.”

“You want to bet money on it?” Gabe put the
camera in its bag, and he and Taz continued their bickering while
she packed the pie along with paper plates, plastic forks and a
plastic knife.

Rosa took her sauce and meatballs out of the
fridge, saying it was dinner for her youngest son tonight so she
wasn’t leaving them any. Her features were pulled tight, and she
spoke faster than usual instead of dwelling on the words. No doubt
thinking of her second oldest son who still worked at Fabrini’s
with his dad and her oldest at a culinary college in New York.

Carrying the pie to Gabe, Katie frowned, her
steps slow, as if she carried fifty pounds of sorrow instead of one
of the best tasting pumpkin pies in the world.

Why did some men have to be assholes? What
was wrong with them? If she were a man, she would be happy to have
a wife like Rosa.

When Rosa walked by a group of men, their
heads turned. Besides that, she was smart and she could cook.

How could Mike want Amber more than her?

She scowled at Gabe as he zipped his tripod
in a case. “Here.” She thrust the pie at him along with a container
of whipped cream. “You take it.”

His gaze sympathetic, as if he knew what she
was thinking, Gabe slung the tripod and the camera over his
shoulders. Only then did he take the pie and the whipped cream.
“You were great,” he said.

“I am great.” She held her head high, and
expected him to smile again, but he just looked at her eyes and her
mouth, saying nothing.

“You doing anything tonight?” Taz asked.

Aware of Gabe’s gaze on her, she shook her
head. “I’ll be doing prep work for tomorrow. Sorry.”

Taz shrugged. “Good luck on selling the
pilot.” From his lack of enthusiasm, she guessed he thought there
wasn’t a chance of a key lime pie in hell.

A snort came from the table in the corner of
the kitchen. The sound of an old Beagle awakening. Then claws
tapped on the floor, Happy limping toward her, though with the
cataracts that made her eyes look glassy, Katie guessed she only
saw her silhouette. Or maybe Happy smelled her. Happy’s nose still
seemed to work, as well as her appetite and her ability to
love.

Both men said their goodbyes then headed out
to the back door, Taz first. Seconds later the storm door clanged
shut and the butterflies in Katie’s chest stopped twirling, as if
they all dropped down dead with disappointment.

Why did Taz have to ask her out instead of
Gabe? She shouldn’t have made up an excuse. She should have just
smiled, thanked him and said no. No explanation needed.

Then Gabe might have asked her out.

Or not. While she’d been thinking of a
fling, he’d probably been eager to leave.

Huffing breaths reminded her that she had
responsibilities. “Come on, sweetie.” She scooched down with her
hands out to Happy whose head was bobbing up and down, tongue
out.

Love for her valiant dog filled Katie. A
large-capacity refrigerator full of love, she thought as she lifted
Happy, then nuzzled her nose on Happy’s ear.

“Love you,” she whispered, though Happy
didn’t hear anything she said unless she yelled. Bringing her head
up, Katie saw Gabe in the doorway. Staring at her.

Her breath stopped and she couldn’t
breathe.

Then he nodded and left. Gone.

Chapter Eight

Pumpkin pie reminded Gabe of his childhood
in fall: raking leaves, carving pumpkins, Thanksgiving turkey
dinner with his mom, stepfather and two half-sisters, a phone call
from his dad in California with his new wife. In his motel room,
Gabe added one more person to that list.

Katie Guthrie. Shy, sly and sexy. She spoke
softly and baked a mean pie.

He sat behind the desk in the corner and
watched the video of Rosa first. Not cutting anything yet, just
watching with an editing eye. Taz swaggered in as it was wrapping
up.

“You better’ve saved a piece of pie for me,”
he said.

Gabe stopped the video. “Or what? You’ll
never work for me again?”

“Or I’ll punk you big time.”

“You would, too.” Gabe slid the pie across
the desktop toward him. Taz had a twisted mind, and Gabe wasn’t in
the mood for practical jokes. What he was in the mood for was one
tall woman with great cheekbones and eyes the color of a foggy
sky...but that wasn’t going to happen.

Taz scooped out a piece then topped it off
with more than his share of whipped cream. Only then did he sit and
take a bite, his eyelids lowering. “Umm, there really is something
special about this pie. I’m feeling the love.”

“Yeah, I’m a believer.” Gabe looked at the
pie, wanting more, but since he’d already eaten two pieces, he
decided to wait until later for the third.

“I’m thinking of eating Mexican tonight,”
Taz said, his mouth full. “The one we saw on the main drag.”

Gabe doubted there were any drag races in
the city of Tomahawk, a smallish city with aging buildings about a
twenty minute drive from Miracle. With a coat of new snow, colored
lights on store windows and wreaths on lampposts, the main street
wouldn’t look out of place on a Christmas card.

“I’ll pass. I want to watch the tape.”

“Eager to get back to your woman in
Chicago?”

“Cherise isn’t my woman anymore.”

“For sure? I gotta say, she was uppity.”

“Uppity?” Gabe laughed again, and he
realized in this one day he’d laughed more than in the last month
with Cherise.

He didn’t blame her. He blamed himself and
the funk attached to him like a second, unwanted skin.

“She’s one of those black hole joy suckers,”
Taz said. “Spend too much time with them and they suck the joy
outta you.”

Gabe shrugged. “Before we moved in together,
she was different.”

Taz nodded like an old man who’d seen it all
instead of a young dude in his prime. “Women do that. Most of ’em,
anyway. Some asshole guys, too. My sister’s ex was like that. Once
joy suckers like that get in your bed and your space, they think
they got you like this.” He held out his hand, palm up, then curled
his fingers into a fist. “You may as well slit your throat, ’cause
you’re no better than road kill.” He nodded again, his lower lip
overlapping the top. Another old man move. “Smart thing not to
marry Cherise.”

“Survival instincts. She’s part of my
history now.”

“And you learn from history?”

“What are you?” Gabe narrowed his eyes at
Taz. “My mom?”

“Wrong gender, dude. If you’re not coming
with me, you going back to Katie?”

“She said she was busy.”

“She shot me down, but I could tell she
wanted you. And you wanted her.” Taz jabbed his plastic fork at
Gabe. “The air stank of sex.”

“Yet you asked her out.”

Taz shrugged. “Never know for sure until you
give it a try. If you don’t want her, maybe I’ll try again. If
you’re not going back, she might change her mind.”

Gabe stared at him. Not saying anything,
just staring. Keeping his body relaxed. His face calm. But not
taking his eyes off his friend with the younger body and the
beautiful caramel-skinned face that made women melt like butter in
the sun.

Taz laughed. “I get the hint. She’s all
yours.”

“I never said that.”

“Yeah, sure.” Taz gestured at the computer.
“Did you watch them?”

“Just Rosa. She looks great on film.”

“No brainer there. What about Katie? She’s
the make-or-break one.”

“Aren’t you going out to eat?”

“No rush.” Taz got up and dragged the chair
closer to the desk. “Turn it around so I can see. Give it a
go.”

Gabe shrugged. No reason not to. But
something inside him itched. He wanted to watch the film of Katie
alone, not with Taz making comments. Ignoring the itch, Gabe angled
the computer so they could both see.

Katie appeared for her sound test, something
he normally didn’t waste film on. He didn’t know why he did this
time, but he instantly felt electrified. As if struck by lightning
as he watched her on his laptop screen. He’d been right about the
camera loving her. Loving her face, her red-brown hair, her height.
She wore a green apron, but even with the apron, the viewer could
tell Katie’s breasts were not defective.

Film wasn’t about looks, though. Not even
close. It was about personality; like Oprah, Ellen, Rachel Ray. All
of them outgoing and, in Rachel Ray’s case, perky. The last word
Gabe would use to describe Katie would be perky.

She started to talk in a kind of robotic
way. A no-no. But then she jumped back, seeing the bug, and Rosa
came into the scene. Taz laughed and so did Gabe. It was a good
bit. Though Rosa did most of the talking, Gabe’s gaze kept
travelling to Katie. Watching the expressions flash across her
expressive face, all her walls down.