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She slides a bowl of pinto beans towards me, which already has the tiny onions on top, and I reach for a piece of fat back, which melts in my mouth when I lay it on my tongue. “I was starving,” I say. I grin at Evie and she fixes a bowl for herself.
“There’s apple pie, too, so we can celebrate your big job.” Ms. Markie reaches over and squeezes my arm. “So proud of you,” she says.
And if I had peacock feathers, they’d be spreading in a proud display of beautiful colors right about now.
“You know, Evie makes a better apple pie than I do.”
I snort around a bite of beans. “I highly doubt that.”
Evie glares at me. “Want to bet?”
I narrow my eyes at her. “What are the terms?”
“You try a bite from each of the pies in the fridge. I made one and Grandma made the other. If you think mine’s better, I win.”
“And if I think your grandma’s is better?”
“Then you win.”
“What do I win?” I stare at her.
“If I win, you have to take me somewhere. Tonight.”
“And if I win?”
“Then you get to take me somewhere you choose. So, if I win, I pick. If you win, you pick.”
“But either way, you get to go out with me,” I remind her. Either way, I can’t lose. I get to spend some time with Evie, which lately has become my favorite thing to do. “So where’s the loss for you?”
She rolls her eyes. “You and I both know that you’ll pick something I’ll hate and I’ll have to do it anyway.”
I point to my chest with my spoon. “If I win, we’re going to the turkey shoot at the Methodist church tonight. My mama said she needs a turkey for Thanksgiving.”
She looks mildly sick just thinking of it. “Do we have to shoot real turkeys?”
“No.” I roll my eyes at her. “You shoot at the target, and you get a frozen turkey, dummy.”
“With real guns?”
“With real guns.”
She huffs. “Fine. I accept.” Her phone rings from somewhere down the hall. “Be right back,” she says absently.
As soon as she’s gone, Ms. Markie looks furtively down the hall, and then leans close to me, whispering, “Hers has the little rosettes on it. Mine has the lattice.”
“I have no idea what rosettes and lattice are,” I admit with a grin. Unless they’re like the ones you find outside. “Are they like little roses and the crisscross things?”
She nods. “Yes, exactly. And it won’t hurt my feelings none if you pick hers. So you do the right thing, you hear?” She shushes me as we hear Evie come back up the hall. The old woman doesn’t even look guilty as Evie walks back into the room.
Evie walks over to the fridge and takes out two pies. She sets them on the table. “I can’t wait until you lose, Grady Parker. I’m going to make you go shoe shopping with me, and you’ll have to hold all my bags.” She laughs maniacally.
“You are evil,” I say.
“Yep.” She cuts two tiny pieces, one from each pie, and slides them toward me. One does, indeed, have tiny roses on it, and the other has webbing on the top.
“Is it too late for me to back out?” I ask. “I hate shoe shopping.” I let out a groan. But to be honest, I’d go just about anywhere Evie wanted me to go.
I take a bite of the one with the lattice on it, savoring the hearty flavor. “That one has to be yours,” I say to Evie.
