Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Tisha donned her oven mitts and opened the oven. As she slid the rack out, the rich aroma of golden-baked crust, tart apples, and cinnamon filled the air, making her mouth water.
“Oh my goodness, see? You’ve got this,” she whispered, carefully lifting the pie and setting it on the metal cooling rack.
“Well look at you,” Charlie said, coming in from her break and retying her apron. “Wow, that’s gorgeous. You really have a knack for this, pie lady.”
“Ha, thanks.” Tisha grinned, pulling off the mitts and hanging them on the peg on the wall.
Steam curled up from the pie. Pulling her phone from her back pocket, she opened the camera app and took a quick photo.
She and Melinda had discussed updating the café’s social-media accounts—another task Jennifer had managed until she’d left for Wyoming.
Owen gestured toward the fridge. “There’s sliced cheese in there if you want to put some on top.”
“What?” Charlie made a gagging face. “That’s a great way to ruin a good piece of pie.”
Owen, leaning against the counter with a teasing grin, raised an eyebrow. “What? You don’t put cheese on your pie, Miss North Carolina?”
Tisha wrinkled her nose. “Nope, sure don’t.”
She headed back out to the café, a flicker of annoyance crossing her mind. Owen’s teasing nickname had dampened her mood with thoughts of her complicated beauty-pageant history.
The door swung open, bringing in a gust of cold air. Outside, the wind rattled the building, picking up snow and blowing it across the street. It was howling so fiercely that she could barely see the yellow caution light blinking at the intersection.
“Oh my.” She pulled her pen and pad of paper from her apron. “It looks intense out there.”
A middle-aged blonde woman sat down at the counter, shrugging off her coat. “They just canceled the evening flight out,” she said, resting her elbow on the counter and propping her chin on her hand.
The man beside her unzipped his coat and settled in. “This calls for pie,” he said, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. “What are you serving, young lady? I hear you have some new options.”
Tisha fumbled her pen, and it slid from her fingers. “I’m Tisha. My late husband was Tom and Melinda’s son—oh golly, why did I lead with that?”
Recognition flashed in the woman’s eyes.
“I’m Amanda, and this is my husband, Reese. I think we went sea kayaking with you years ago!”
“Yeah, that might have been me.” Tisha retrieved her pen from the floor. “I used to come in summers and work as a guide.”
“Right, right. That was a fun trip. Not nearly as fun as Hawaii though,” Amanda said, her smile fading.
“Oh, are you headed to Hawaii?”
“We were.” Amanda frowned. “Since we can’t get our flight out of here, we’re going to have to rework our plans.”
“But not your whole trip, right?” Tisha pressed. “You can’t miss Hawaii!”
“We were just going to go to Anchorage a day early and stop at Costco to see the eye doctor. You know, boring grown-up stuff,” Reese said.
“Oh yeah, I get that.” Tisha drummed her nails on the Formica countertop. “I can’t make up for a canceled flight, but nothing says tropical vacation like coconut custard.”
“Ooh! You know, I’m normally not into coconut, but you’ve piqued my interest,” Amanda said, her hazel eyes lighting up.
“Besides, I heard someone at church talking about how you’re going to make the pies for the festival next month, and well, I’m just nosy enough to come over here and see what you’ve got. ”
Tisha laughed. “Amanda, I value your honesty. A slice of coconut custard coming right up.”
“You know, I’m in the mood for chocolate,” Reese said. “What do you have?”
“Well, back in North Carolina, we make something called chess pie.”
“I don’t like chess,” Reese said, frowning.
“Not like that. It’s more of a funny expression. Instead of saying, ‘It’s just pie,’ over time it was shortened into chess pie. It’s basically just chocolate. And I made my own whipped cream. How about a little dollop of that along with two coffees?”
“Absolutely.” Amanda rubbed her palms together. “Sounds delicious.”
“Perfect. Be right back.” Tisha quickly jotted down the order and tucked her notepad back into her apron.
“I’ve got the coffee,” Charlie chimed in, grinning as she approached. “You’ve got this, girl. I’m so impressed.”
“Thanks,” Tisha said, squeezing by her.
The bell on the café’s door jingled. A delicious jolt zipped through her.
Tisha glanced over her shoulder, hoping for Ethan, but Mrs. Dawkins stepped inside.
Oy. She clenched her jaw and headed for the back to fill the order.
She hated the ridiculous anticipation. The way her stomach flipped against her will.
Why did she care if he came by, anyway? He’d already said she’d have to find a new taste tester.
But then he’d thrown her for a loop when he’d apologized after church on Sunday, so now here she was, acting like a giddy teenager.
Get. A. Grip.
Reese and Amanda seemed pretty free with their opinions, so she’d ask them what they thought about these flavors. She hadn’t made coconut custard in a long time, but chocolate chess pie? She could whip that up in her sleep. The fresh whipped cream would surely make it a crowd-pleasing favorite.
Finding her pie server, Tisha grabbed the coconut custard and the chess pie, leaving the apple pie to cool a bit longer.
The plastic handle felt cool against her warm fingers as she plated the desserts, then retrieved the whipped cream from the walk-in fridge.
After adding a generous dollop to the chess pie, she carried both plates out to her new customers.
“All right, y’all, here you go,” Tisha announced, placing the plates in front of Amanda and Reese.
“Oh, you said ‘y’all.’” Amanda smiled. “That is so cute.”
“Thanks.” Tisha sighed, a little embarrassed. “I try to eliminate it from my vocabulary, but it creeps back in.”
“Why?” Amanda reached for her fork. “There’s nothing wrong with the way you speak.”
“Well, I feel like most people around here say ‘you guys.’ Not a lot of ‘y’alls.’”
“We’re glad you’re here,” Amanda said warmly. “I’m sure Tom and Melinda appreciate the help.”
“I heard you have a daughter,” Reese said. “In Miss Johnson’s class?”
“Yeah. Oh my gosh—yes—oh no!” Tisha glanced at the clock, panic surging through her. “I’m late for a meeting.”
“No worries.” Charlie patted her shoulder. “Owen and I will hold down the fort.”
“Tisha, this is excellent,” Reese said, his mouth full. “What’d you call it?”
“Chess pie,” Tisha said, tugging at the knotted strings on her apron. “Chocolate chess pie. The topping is super easy—just whip up some heavy cream and add a little sugar.”
“Oh, it’s so good,” Amanda said, swiping a bite from her husband’s plate. “And this coconut custard with this flaky crust? Incredible! I know you have to go,” Amanda added, “but man, ten out of ten.”
“You should take a picture of this and post it online.” Reese nudged Amanda’s shoulder with his own. “Spread the word about what’s up at the Homestead Café.”
“You know what? You’re right, sweetie.” Amanda dug through her purse until she found her phone. “It’s not a Hawaii picture, but I don’t care. I’m telling everybody about this! You are the pie whisperer!”
“Thanks, I think,” Tisha said. “Charlie, I’m so sorry. I’ve got to run.” She left Reese and Amanda’s check beside the napkin holder on the counter.
“It’s fine. Sadie needs you. Get to your meeting.” Charlie tipped her head toward the back. “See you tomorrow.”
“Oh, Tisha, I’m glad you’re here.” Mrs. Dawkins waved at her from the last stool at the counter. “I want to speak with you about these new flavors you’re offering. Have you considered—”
“I’d love to chat, but I’m running late. We’ll talk soon.” Tisha raced out the back door, sucking in a breath as blustery snow swirled around her. High winds and air so cold it stung her cheeks would take some getting used to.
She hurried to her car, then turned it on to let the engine warm up. She pulled her phone out of her bag. Sure enough, a text message from Aaron Price flashed on her screen.
“Oh no,” she groaned. Was he even still at the school? She was half an hour late for the restorative-practices session. Buckling up, she flipped on her headlights. The dwindling daylight and high winds made it hard to see, but thankfully, she didn’t have to go far.
As she eased onto Main Street, one of her favorite ’90s country songs came on the radio, but she didn’t feel like singing along.
She turned down the volume, her thoughts drifting back to Sadie.
The little girl had been so upset this morning, crying and not wanting to go to school.
Tisha had worried that Brody had messed with her again, but no—it was a girl who’d teased Sadie for wearing leggings under her dress.
Today, though, Sadie had opted for jeans, sneakers, a T-shirt layered with long sleeves, and a basic ponytail.
It broke Tisha’s heart that her daughter was already learning to change her appearance to please someone else.
“Oof, a lot to unpack there,” she whispered.
Minutes later, she pulled into the nearly empty school parking lot. When she got out of the car, the force of the wind slammed the door shut.
“I’m not built for this,” she whispered, tucking her chin deep into the collar of her jacket as she trudged toward the school’s entrance. How was she supposed to get in at four fifteen? She buzzed the intercom. Please, please answer.
“Hi, may I help you?” A man’s voice greeted her.
“Hi, this is Tisha Binford. I missed a meeting, but I still need to pick up my daughter, Sadie.”
“No problem, Mrs. Binford. Come on in,” he said, and the door unlocked. Tisha stepped inside, taking a moment to look around. She could hear shoes squeaking on the gym floor, basketballs bouncing, and the sound of someone blowing a whistle.
Mr. Price emerged from his office. “Hi there. Everything okay, Mrs. Binford?”