A Slice of Magic. A. G. Mayes

       Chapter 1

      Day 1 — Wednesday, November 2nd

      This whole crazy thing started with a voicemail.

      Last night I was face down on the sofa in my basement studio apartment. I let the phone fall away from my ear as I listened to yet another long-winded voicemail from my mother complaining about her difficult clients. I let out a sigh of relief into the pillow as her message ended. When the next message began I sat up straight on the sofa as I heard a voice I hadn’t heard in a very long time.

      ‘Susanna, I know I left suddenly, but I need you.’ Aunt Erma sounded anxious. Tears welled up in my eyes. ‘Things are going on here. I can’t really explain it all right now, but I need your help at my pie shop. It’s asking a lot after everything.’ She paused to take a deep shaky breath. ‘I’ll email you the details in case you decide to come.’ Another pause. ‘Please come.’

      I sat frozen for a minute and then put down the phone. Just like when she left so long ago, I had many unanswered questions. I tried to call the number she had called from, but the phone just rang and rang.

      I checked my email and found directions to a small town a couple of hours north. I hadn’t known she lived so close. The email ended with her repeated plea of, ‘Please come.’

      I couldn’t sleep that night. My mind was uncovering the memories of Aunt Erma that I’d kept buried for so long. Her face was a little fuzzy, but her laugh came back crystal clear. I remembered the way she made a whole room sparkle when she walked in.

      My mother had gotten rid of all the photographs of Aunt Erma after she left. I’d salvaged one before they all disappeared. I still had it in a box in the back of my closet. I kept it hidden so my mother wouldn’t see it when she came over. I hadn’t looked at it in years because it brought up too many questions and too much pain.

      I climbed out of bed around three in the morning to find it. My tiny apartment had a surprisingly large closet. More than once I’d considered converting it into a workshop. But the lack of windows and my occasional bout of claustrophobia kept me from following through. I pulled boxes out of the back corner of the closet until I found the one labeled “Random Crap.”

      I lifted the lid and dug through the things I just couldn’t let go of. There were the cassette tapes I used to listen to while dancing around the living room, a Christmas tree ornament shaped like a pie, and several of my favorite t-shirts that were stained or torn. Then I found it. The smooth purple frame with the picture of my parents, Aunt Erma, and I crowded around my fifth birthday cake. I felt breathless under the weight of the memory. We all looked so happy. I stared into her sparkling eyes.

      If anyone could get me to make an impulsive decision, it was Aunt Erma.

      The next day began as one of those crisp November mornings where the sun feels warm and the breeze feels cold. A perfect day for a new adventure.

      I threw my suitcase in the trunk of my car next to the ever-present tool bag that had belonged to my father. The red canvas was faded, and it had his initials embroidered on the front pocket. I ran my finger along the stitching then cringed a little when I thought about my call to Hal, my boss at Hal’s Handyman Services. I had been relieved when I got his voicemail. I left a rambling message about needing a week off for a family emergency even as I wondered if a week would be enough time.

      According to my GPS, the drive would take two hours and twelve minutes. I slid across the front seat into the driver’s seat of my little red car and prayed it would be able to make the journey. A week after I bought my car from a friend of a friend, the driver’s side door stopped opening from the outside. A few days after that, the muffler started falling off – it was long gone now – and the car started shaking every time I hit the brakes. I promised myself that would be the last time I bought anything just because it was red.

      I was grateful for the distraction the car provided. It was easier than wondering how I could help at a pie shop. My baking resume was short. It included a few batches of flat cookies and one failed attempt to make scones for my friend’s baby shower that left the mother-to-be with a chipped front tooth.

      I wanted answers to the questions that lingered from my childhood – the ones my mother refused to discuss. That’s how I ended up here in my car with a packed suitcase and a printed copy of the directions in case my old GPS failed me.

      I imagined being in the kitchen with Aunt Erma again. Now that I was an adult, I pictured us joking and talking about life, but still eating lots of chocolate.

      I stretched the two hours and twelve minutes into an even three hours by stopping three times for coffee and car snacks. By the time I passed a large wooden sign with sparkly gold letters that welcomed me to the small town of Hocus Hills, I had gone through two lattes, one mocha, a bag of chips and half a box of donuts.

      The breeze rustled through the trees, and the leaves were so bright red, yellow, and orange that they practically glowed. The streets were lined with small shops with colorful awnings. I passed a large grass filled town square with a bright blue gazebo in the middle. The sidewalks were wide leaving lots of room for people to walk, and on this sunny November day, there were plenty of people out strolling around. A few heads turned my way. I wasn’t sure if it was because of my loud muffler-less car or because I was new in town. I was so amped up on sugar and caffeine that when I pulled up to park in front of the pie shop, I was in the middle of a beautiful, or at least loud, sing-along with my Annie soundtrack.

      There was a tap at my car window and I let out a bloodcurdling scream in the middle of ‘The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow.’ I turned to see a startled woman with big brown eyes and graying brown hair pulled back into a low ponytail, peering in at me. She wore a long, bright blue sweater dress and a white sparkly flower pin. Embarrassed, I slid across the seat so I could open the car door and get out. Maybe she hadn’t heard anything, I thought hopefully.

      ‘So sorry I startled you,’ she spoke in a musical voice. ‘Are you Erma’s niece?’ Wow, word got around fast in a small town.

      ‘Yes, I’m Susanna.’ I stuck out my hand.

      She reached out and shook it enthusiastically with both of hers. Her hands were warm and soft while I’m pretty sure mine were still covered in a thin layer of powdered sugar.

      ‘I’m Flora. I own the bookstore across the street. Oh my, you look a lot like Erma,’ she noted, looking at my curly hair and big blue eyes. ‘Your aunt had to leave for a few days, but she said you would have no trouble handling things while she was away.’ My mouth fell open. She ignored my shock and reached into her sweater pocket. ‘She left this note for you explaining things. I’m sure you’ll be fine but let me know if you have any questions. I’ll pop by later to check on you.’ She shoved a purple sparkly envelope and a set of keys towards me. My eyes widened as the words, ‘Mmm, pie,’ came from my hand. ‘Oh, that’s just Erma’s keychain,’ she said, pointing to the pie-shaped keychain I was holding. ‘She has so many fun things like that. Let me know if you need anything.’

      ‘Um, thanks,’ was all I managed to get out before she was off.

      She paused and turned back, calling down the street. ‘Oh, and I just love Annie too.’ Well good, I thought; at least I was making memorable first impressions.

      It was one of those fight or flight moments. I hadn’t seen Aunt Erma for years. What did I really owe her? I looked from the pie shop with its twinkling lights lining the window back to my car with the half-eaten box of donuts.