She retrieved her apron from the hook by the stove and tied it around her waist for good measure. Next, she grabbed a small bowl and poured a bit of flour into it, dusting her hands lightly before swiping them on the apron’s front. It wasn’t exactly convincing—there weren’t any mixing bowls or rolling pins in sight—but it would lend her an air of culinary authenticity if anyone asked.
It wasn’t long before the pies began to emit a heavenly scent, the buttery crust mingling with the sweetness of cherries, apples, and pecans. Reva took a deep breath and let herself enjoy the aroma. “If I’d baked these myself, I’d be downright smug,” she said with a sly grin.
She set the table with her best dishes and made sure the dessert forks sparkled under the light. When she heard laughter and approaching footsteps, she quickly positioned herself by the counter, wiping an imaginary streak of sweat from her forehead.
There was a quick knock, and the door swung open. Capri was the first to saunter in, followed by Charlie Grace and Lila. “Smells amazing in here!” Capri exclaimed, tossing her jacket over the back of a chair.
“Homemade pie,” Reva said nonchalantly, waving a hand toward the oven. “Been at it all afternoon.”
Lila raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “You’ve been baking? Between chasing after little Lucan and managing the town’s affairs, when do you even have the time?”
Reva laughed nervously and shooed them toward the table. “A woman has to have her secrets.”
Charlie Grace leaned against the counter, a teasing smile playing on her lips as she watched Reva take the pies from the oven. “Hmm, let me guess—Tillman’s Bakery in Jackson? Their pies have that unmistakable crust pattern.”
Reva froze but quickly recovered, waving a dish towel in Charlie Grace’s direction. “Oh, stop. Don’t you have a hunky new boyfriend to focus on? I heard he took a trip back to California.”
Charlie Grace shrugged. “Yeah, he’s in L.A. this week. Some post-Oscar event. I’m learning schmoozing is about half of his job when he’s not filming.”
Reva picked up a knife and began cutting into the cherry pie. “Networking is important.” She paused, considering whether to come clean. Finally, her guilt got the best of her. “Okay, okay. I didn’t make the pies. I just…baked them. But I did make the chocolate martinis.” She tilted her head in the direction of her own glass. “And my mocha milk.”
Capri chuckled, taking a seat. “Ha, the truth comes out. If they taste half as good as they smell, I don’t care where they came from.”
“I agree,” Lila said, picking up a fork. “I like two kinds of pies…hot and cold.”
Charlie Grace raised an eyebrow while pointing. “So, the flour on your apron was just for show?”
“Exactly. I’m a visionary, not a baker.” Reva waved her fork like a wand. “Besides, those bakery pies are better than anything I could whip up, and they don’t come with the risk of a fire alarm.”
Lila shook her head, laughing as she reached for another slice. “You’re shameless.”
“Absolutely,” Reva said, popping a bite into her mouth. “And you love me for it.”
Charlie Grace caught her eye with a knowing smirk. “Sure, Reva. Whatever you say.” She turned to Lila. “What do you hear from your daughter? How’s school?”
Immediately, a wide grin broke out on Lila’s face.
“What?” asked Charlie Grace.
“It’s hard not to smile. Camille is loving it at the university. She’s made friends and is taking a full load of classes she seems to be acing.” Her voice drifted slightly. “She’s living what I’ve always wanted for her.”
Reva picked up her glass of mocha milk. “You’ve done a fine job, Lila. I’m learning parenting is hard on so many levels. I can’t imagine doing it as a single mother.”
She eyed Capri. “What’s up with you? You look like you just won the lottery or something.”
Capri leaned back in her chair, her fork idly pushing crumbs around her dessert plate. “Nothing much,” she began, a mischievous glint in her eye, “Only that I signed up for the snowmobile race next weekend.”
The room went silent, forks paused mid-air. Charlie Grace was the first to break the silence. “Wait. The one up on Devil’s Staircase?”
“That’s the one,” Capri said, a satisfied grin spreading across her face. “Racers from multiple states will be competing. I’ll be one of them.”
Reva’s jaw dropped. “Capri! You know that area’s a deathtrap this time of year! The avalanche warnings have been off the charts.”
“Warnings, schwarnings,” Capri said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “It’s fine. I know the terrain like the back of my hand.”
Lila narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms. “Knowing the terrain doesn’t make you immune to a thirty-ton wall of snow coming down the mountain.”
Capri rolled her eyes. “They always set off blasts prior to the race to trigger possible slides. I’m not worried.”
