Sweet as Pie by Alicia Hunter Pace

Chapter Eight

“We have a grilled salmon with Greek spices and feta cheese,” the Hammer Time host said. It was Saturday night and Evans, Hyacinth, and Ava Grace had met for dinner to go over their fall fest plans. “The drink special is spiced apple margaritas. Stacy is your server and she’ll be right with you.”

“He didn’t offer to bring us that drink,” Hyacinth said after he left. “I could use one after shoehorning Chloe Harper into her wedding dress. I swear, she’s gained ten pounds since her last fitting.”

“Soup Carter isn’t old enough to serve alcohol. That’s why he’s a host.” Ava Grace knew everything that was worth knowing about everybody in Laurel Springs—and a whole lot that wasn’t worth diddly-squat.

Evans drew her wrap around her. The heat had broken, leaving a whisper of fall in the air, but the cold weather that Jake hated was still a long way off.

“I’m freezing my Southern ass off.”That’s what he had said nearly every time they’d talked when he was at the University of North Dakota and she was in culinary school. She would complain that it was muggy in New Orleans because it always was. Then they would laugh and spend the next hour expounding on the particulars of their lives—his sore ankle, her soufflé class, what they would eat when they were next together in the Delta. Tamales. Always tamales from Fat Joe’s—with Cokes in bottles when they were teenagers, and later, Abita beer—eaten at that outside picnic table that hadn’t seen new paint since 1987.

And now she was never going to get that picnic table back. During the argument she’d felt that her reaction was valid, but she wasn’t so sure anymore. And even if it had been, had it been worth it?

She still hadn’t heard from him.

In the three days that had passed, she’d picked up the phone to call him more than once, but hadn’t followed through. She’d thought he might be here tonight, but there wasn’t a hockey player in sight. Maybe Claire’s plans for this to be the Yellowhammer hangout wasn’t working out. It was just as well. What would she say to him if she saw him?

“Are you looking for someone?” Hyacinth interrupted her thoughts.

“The waitress,” Evans lied. “And here she comes.”

Once they had a whole pitcher of apple margaritas and had ordered food, Evans took a notebook from her bag. “Should we go ahead and get this done?”

“I have something first.” Ava Grace pulled two envelopes from her bag and handed one to Hyacinth and one to Evans. “Claire came by my shop before she left town and asked me to give y’all these.”

“What is it?” Hyacinth asked, already ripping the envelope open.

“Yellowhammer season tickets. She gave us each two for all the regular season home games,” Ava Grace said.

This meant Claire expected them to go to these games. Evans wasn’t sure how she felt about that. If she and Jake were no longer on speaking terms, did she really want to go see him play?

“The preseason games are not included,” Ava Grace went on, “but she wanted us to have these so we could go ahead and get the games on our calendars.”

Hyacinth leafed through hers. “Mother of Pearl! How many games do these people play?”

“A lot,” Ava Grace said with a sigh. “It took me thirty minutes just to write them on my calendar.”

Hyacinth tossed the envelope on the table and took a sip of her drink. “It won’t take me that long. In fact, it will take me no time.”

Evans was afraid of that.

“What do you mean, Hyacinth?” Ava Grace asked.

“I mean I don’t need to put them on my calendar because I’m not going to any stinking hockey games.”

“Now, Hyacinth.” Ava Grace was the blue blood of the group and spent a great deal of energy trying to keep Hyacinth from causing herself trouble. “Claire was kind enough to give us the tickets and the seats are good. You know she wants the community to support the team. She’s been so supportive of us, the least we can do is go to some of these games.”

Hyacinth rolled her eyes. “I guess. But you can believe it now or believe it later. I’m going to as few as I can get by with.”

“Oh, come on,” Ava Grace coaxed. “You might have fun.”

“How would you know?” Hyacinth said. “You’ve never been to a hockey game in your life. None of us have.” She gestured to the table with her glass.

Oh, hell. Here it comes. Evans could feel it bearing down like a rickety wooden wagon on a country road.

“Evans has,” Ava Grace said like she was delivering good news. “One of those Yellowhammers—Jake Champagne—is her friend from the Delta. She’ll want to go see him play. If nothing else, we should keep her company.”

Hyacinth sat back, crashed her eyes into Evans’s, and smiled an evil little grin. “Are you, now?” She had the look of a vampire who smelled blood. “Why didn’t I know this?”

Evans shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t think much about it.”

Hyacinth put her elbow on the table, made a fist, and leaned her cheek on it. “Is that right? All anybody has talked about for months is hockey, hockey, hockey, Yellowhammers, Yellowhammers, Yellowhammers. And you never thought to mention that your friend was on the team. I wonder why.”

Evans didn’t have an answer for that and it didn’t matter because Hyacinth plowed on.

“Could it be that he’s an old boyfriend? Are you rekindling a romance?”

“Give it up, Hyacinth. I can’t be your hookup for All Dressed in White.”

Hyacinth’s fondest wish was to get on the reality show that went to bridal salons and filmed brides picking dresses. She had hounded the producers until they told her if she could come up with a high-profile customer, they would consider it.

“Are you sure?” Hyacinth said. “A pro athlete ought to be famous enough.”

“Of all the things I’m unsure of in life, I can promise you I won’t be buying a dress from you to marry Jake Champagne in.”

“Too bad.” Hyacinth looked unconvinced.

“If Jake gets engaged, I’ll pass that information right along to you.” That caused a little pang to radiate through Evans’s gut, but not nearly like the one she’d felt when he’d publicly proposed to Channing at her college graduation party. She supposed it would get easier and easier. By Jake’s fifth engagement, she probably wouldn’t feel anything at all.

“That’s something.” Hyacinth brought her back from her mean thoughts.

Evans opened her notebook. “Why don’t you tell us what you’re doing for fall fest?” It was time—past time—for a change of subject.

“Sure. I’m having a photo booth with a graveyard theme.” Hyacinth was clearly pleased with herself. “I’ve pulled some shop-worn wedding dresses and bought some used tuxes from Goodwill. The idea is for people to do dead bride and groom pictures. Not everybody will go to all that trouble, but they can still use the photo booth in their regular clothes. Anybody who tweets a picture gets a chance to win a wedding dress—no expiration date.”

Ava Grace looked a little panicked, and Evans got the idea she hadn’t planned much.

“I’d like to have some live wedding background music,” Hyacinth went on. “I’m still working on that.”

Evans was officially impressed. She hadn’t thought of music.

“What are your refreshments?” Ava Grace asked.

Hyacinth rubbed her hands together. “I’m having a wedding cake that looks like a haunted house with spiders, cobwebs, and a dead bride and groom topper.”

Ava Grace’s eyes got wider with every word Hyacinth spoke. “Claire will love it—especially the tweeting part.”

“You’ve gone all out,” Evans said. “My plans aren’t nearly that elaborate. I’m serving miniature pies, coffee, and hot chocolate. For my activity, I’m having cornhole. I ordered two boards last summer, one with a ghost and one with a pumpkin. At the end of the night I’ll give away a pie a month to the people with the three highest scores.”

“That’s smart,” Hyacinth said. “A prize will get them back in the shop.”

“I wish I had thought of something that smart,” Ava Grace said forlornly. “Oh. Here comes our waitress.”

Once they were settled with their food, Evans got back on task. “Ava Grace, it’s your turn. What are you thinking of for fall fest?”

Ava Grace frowned. “I don’t have everything worked out yet, but I thought maybe for refreshments doughnuts and cold spiced cider, since a lot of people will be serving hot drinks.”

Evans nodded. “That sounds good. I’ve got a witch’s caldron punch bowl from last year if you want to borrow it.”

Ava Grace brightened. “I would love that.”

Hyacinth said, “You can use some dry ice to make it look spooky.”

Ava Grace looked a little happier. “For large orders, Krispy Kreme will deliver, but I don’t know how many I need to plan on feeding since I’ve never done this before.” Heirloom had only been open since last December.

“I can help you with that,” Evans said. “I’ll look back at how much food I served last year and we’ll figure it out.”

“Thank you,” Ava Grace said.

“What about your activity?” Hyacinth asked.

“I was going to have a gallon jar of candy corn and let people guess how many pieces. Whoever wins gets a silver-plated vanity set.” She swallowed. “And the candy. They get the candy, too.”

No one said anything for a moment.

Then, Evans cleared her throat. “That’s a good start, but you really need something to get some attention for your shop—give people something to remember.” And doughnuts and candy corn weren’t going to do it.

Ava Grace nodded. “I know. Y’all have such good ideas, but I couldn’t think of anything.”

“An antique store is hard,” Hyacinth said kindly, “but we’ll figure something out. How about some kind of demonstration? Like how to cane a chair or refinish a table?”

Ava Grace shook her head. “Those things take a lot of time. I don’t think people would want to stay in one spot long enough—especially people with children.”

“And this is a family event, but there must be something,” Evans said. “How about someone who can appraise pieces that people bring in, like on Antiques Roadshow?”

“No,” Hyacinth said. “We want people to buy Ava Grace’s merchandise, not try to sell their own.”

And in that moment, Evans had an epiphany. “Ghost stories! We can find someone to tell ghost stories.”

The two other women looked at her, interested.

“Damn skippy!” Hyacinth said. “People love ghost stories. The ones where a ghost is haunting an object? That’s perfect for an antique store.”

Ava Grace clapped her hands. “I would have never thought of it. I can get some books with regional stories to sell. And I have a costume from when I was a hostess for the historical homes Christmas tour my debutante year.”

“Maybe we can pour fake blood all over you and give you some slash marks, like someone cut your throat!” Hyacinth’s eyes glowed with excitement, but Evans and Ava Grace were taken aback.

“Uh, no,” Ava Grace said. “Too scary for the kids.”

Evans nodded in agreement.

“I guess you’re right,” Hyacinth admitted.

“Now all we have to do is find someone who can tell ghost stories,” Evans said. “Do y’all know anyone?”

“I do. I can do it.”

The voice behind Evans might as well have been coming from a ghost for the start it gave her. But there was no doubt who it was. Nothing like a Delta accent.

She slowly turned and looked, just to make sure.

Jake Champagne stood there with a chapped face, five o’clock shadow, and messy hair, his hands in the front pocket of his gold and black Alabama Yellowhammers hoodie. Despite the cooler temperatures, he wore shorts and Adidas slides.

He’d never looked better—not at their junior-senior prom, not at Addison’s deb ball, not at his wedding, not ever—maybe because on those occasions, his smile hadn’t been for her. Was that smile an indication that he wasn’t mad at her, after all? Or was it window dressing for the tableful of women?

Behind him, other hockey players filed past with Soup in the lead carrying a stack of menus. A couple of them waved to her. She waved back, but didn’t note their identities.

Jake widened his eyes and let them go soft. “I know lots of ghost stories.”

“What?” Evans had to ask because she could not have heard him correctly.

“I know ghost stories aplenty.” Aplenty? Who used words like aplenty? Jake winked at her. “Evie, introduce me to your friends.”

There was nothing else to do.

“This is Jake Champagne. A Yellowhammers’ forward and my friend from back home. Jake, these are my friends Hyacinth Dawson and Ava Grace Fairchild.”

“Ladies.” He smiled and let his eyes sparkle. Damn him.

He pranced up and down the table shaking hands and making eyes like both acts would get him into heaven, laughing that charming laugh that made people want to fetch him a drink, lend him their beach house, and put him in their will.

Evans jumped back in before Hyacinth could become too charmed by him. Hyacinth was a tough nut to crack, but if she decided she wanted Jake Champagne, she wouldn’t stop until she was standing at the altar beside him in one of her own dresses or they were both dead.

“Hyacinth owns a bridal shop and Ava Grace has a wonderful antique store. Remember them when you do your Christmas shopping.”

“Sounds great. Wedding dresses and sideboards for everybody.”

They all laughed, but Evans found herself less and less charmed, maybe because that smile wasn’t just for her anymore. He was sharing it aplenty with her friends.

“Hyacinth sells more than wedding dresses. She has lovely accessories.”

“Can’t have too many of those.” He winked at Hyacinth. “Now.” He smiled up and down the table. “Who needs ghost stories?”

“I do,” Ava Grace said. “For the Laurel Springs Fall Festival.”

“I’m your guy.” He smiled at Ava Grace like she was the last woman on earth—and she was his type. Tall, beautiful, poised. She wasn’t blond like most of his previous girls, but her long, chestnut curls were worthy of a shampoo commercial.

Dial it down, Sparky. Ava Grace is all but engaged.

“You don’t even know when the festival is,” Evans said. This was not happening. It was bad enough that he was standing here letting his big eyes do their magic. He was not getting involved with her friends. “You might be playing hockey in Canada.”

“I do so know, and I will not. I’ve already gotten word from above that I’ll be helping out and glad-handing there, so this is perfect. This can be my volunteer gig.”

Ava Grace snapped her fingers. “Right. When she brought the tickets by, Claire told me the team was going to volunteer. I guess I forgot to tell you.”

“I guess you did,” Evans said.

Jake continued to make friends and influence people. “I’ll be glad to do it. And if I do say so myself, I’m not half bad.”

“Really?” Ava Grace said. “I can’t thank you enough.” And wasn’t it just like Ava Grace to believe everything she was told?

Evans met Jake’s eyes. “You don’t even know any ghost stories.” You just want to get in good with Ava Grace.

His mouth fell open and he had the audacity to look shocked. “I do, too!”

Evans took a sip of her drink. “Name one.”

He closed his eyes for the barest second—just long enough to confirm that he was flying by the seat of his pants. She knew that look. When he opened his eyes again, he looked very sure. “I can name more than one. There’s ‘The Atchafalaya Swamp Witch,’ and ‘The Haunted Doll of Maple Leaf Plantation.’ She comes to life and digs her way out of a grave.” He curled his hands into claws and made a digging motion.

He paused when Ava Grace and Hyacinth made shivery little sounds of glee. Evans wanted to scream at them not to encourage him.

“Those two are from the Delta. There’s also the dead goalie who haunts Scotiabank Saddledome in Calgary. He took a skate to the carotid artery. It happened fast.” He closed his eyes, lowered his face, and shook his head, as if he were questioning how such an awful thing could happen. “They say he doesn’t know he’s dead. He still comes back to defend his net and leaves blood on the ice. You won’t find anything about it online; they don’t talk about it. But one of my college teammates plays for the Express. He’s seen him—the blood, too.”

You won’t find it online because it didn’t happen.

Evans gave her friends a sidelong glance. They were mesmerized—even Hyacinth, and mesmerizing her was a tall order. Was Evans the only one who had any sense here?

“I was born and raised in the Delta, same as you,” Evans said, “and I’ve never heard of any swamp witch or haunted doll.”

He smiled that heartbreak smile and laid a hand on her head. “You were a sensitive child, Evie. We didn’t talk about things like that in front of you.” The hair on the back of her neck stood up—certainly from frustration because he was patronizing her, and not because he was moving his fingers against her hair.

Moving his fingers against her hair.He was ruffling her hair like she was a toddler! She moved her head away.

“Me sensitive?” Evans said. “I wasn’t the one who ran screaming from the room when the clown showed up at Rusty Kane’s eighth birthday party.”

“It was his fifth. And I think it was pretty smart of me. Have you ever seen the demonic look in those balloon animals’ eyes?”

Everyone laughed, never mind that balloon animals didn’t have eyes.

“I can’t thank you enough for this,” Ava Grace said.

“My pleasure.” Yep. There was pleasure on his face for sure.

“Hey, Sparks!” a dark-headed man called from around the corner. “Are you coming? The waitress is taking drink orders.”

Good. Go, Jake. Shoo. Order a big manly drink. Play with your friends and leave mine alone.

“No, Ryan. I’m good. I think I’ll join these ladies.” He met Evans’s eyes and jerked his head, indicating that he wanted her to move over.

Don’t you jerk your head at me!“There’s not enough room,” Evans said before she remembered it was a table for four.

He opened his mouth to speak, probably to point that out, when Hyacinth’s text notification chimed. It was Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March.” She looked at the screen then let out a cry of frustration and started gathering her things.

“Let me out, Evans. I have to go.”

“What’s wrong?” Ava Grace asked, alarmed.

As Hyacinth slid over, Jake took Evans’s arm to help her up.

“Nothing that requires a doctor—or the undertaker.” Hyacinth stood up. “Chloe made it through the ceremony, but had a seam burst during pictures. I’ve got to get over there and sew her back into that dress so she can go to the reception.”

“Will you be back?” Evans asked.

“No.” Hyacinth laid some money on the table. “I can only imagine what’s going to happen when the dancing starts.”

“Do you want to take your food?” Ava Grace asked. “We can get them to pack it up for you real quick.”

“No time.” She gave them a backward glance. “Jake? Why don’t you eat it? I just finished my salad. I haven’t touched the rest of it.”

He let his eyes drift to the plate of Monterey jack chicken, baked potato, and asparagus.

“I believe I will.” He steered Evans back to her seat. “Evie, if you’ll just slide over and pass me Hyacinth’s plate...yes. That’s it.”

Evans found herself sitting between Jake and Ava Grace with Jake on the outside—in her place. How did that happen?

“Thanks,” he said. “I like to sit on the outside. More leg room.” As he dug into the chicken, his knee knocked heavily into Evans’s.

Oh, no he wasn’t. Was—was he actually manspreading? Evie picked up her knife and stabbed it directly into the heart of her bloody steak.

Jake couldn’t believe his luck at running into Evie so soon. He’d just gotten back from a surprise team-bonding trip to Atlanta and had intended to hunt her down after he ate to set things right between them.

After the argument at Crust, he’d felt fairly defeated, but he wasn’t going to take it lying down. It was nothing short of divine intervention that he had happened upon the perfect vehicle for getting back in her good graces: helping out her friend. And all he had to do was tell ghost stories. It was true that he didn’t know any ghost stories, but who was he to walk away from divine intervention? Besides, how hard could it be? He’d have said he could knit a sweater if that’s what they’d been talking about. That had to be way harder than telling a ghost story. You had to have equipment to knit a sweater. All you needed for a ghost story was your own mouth.

And he’d never had any trouble running that.

Ava Grace held up a pitcher. “Would you like some of this, Jake?”

He did not. He did not like froufrou drinks that might have tequila hiding in them. He opened his mouth to decline but Evie jumped in.

“He doesn’t want that. Jake can’t drink tequila.” Evans cut her eyes at him. “He got drunk on it when he was a teenager and has never been the same since.” She hacked off a hunk of her giant steak and shoved it in her mouth.

Ava Grace laughed. “That’s adorable.”

“It was,” Evans said. “I especially liked the part where he was sick in my car when he called me to come get him and hide him until he sobered up.”

“I paid to have your car detailed.” He took another bite of his chicken. It wasn’t what he would have ordered. He would have preferred a steak like Evie had—rare and as big as a hubcap. But the chicken had cheese and bacon—never a bad thing. Maybe Evie wouldn’t be able to eat all that steak and she’d give it to him.

“I hear you’ve been in Atlanta, Jake?” Ava Grace asked.

Word sure did get around in this little corner of the world—sort of like Cottonwood. “Yeah. We didn’t know we were going until we were herded onto a bus first thing, day before yesterday. It was a team-bonding trip.”

“How did you know that, Ava Grace?” Evie asked. “Sometimes it seems like you have a crystal ball.”

“One of the players—Logan—” Ava Grace searched for his last name.

“Jensen,” Jake said.

“Jensen rents a house on Bungalow Circle. He called Adele and asked her to go over and let the cable people in.” She turned to Jake. “My friend Adele’s family owns the development. That makes him Evans’s new neighbor. Hyacinth’s, too.”

So noted. This was the first time in their lives that he hadn’t known where she lived and that didn’t seem natural.

“What did you do on this surprise team-bonding expedition?” Evie asked. “Play paintball? Tie yourselves together and climb Stone Mountain?”

“Nothing that exciting. We mostly checked into a hotel, had meals together, and skated.” It sounded lame even to him.

“But you had to leave without even packing a bag?” Ava Grace picked at her pasta. “I wouldn’t like that. What did you do for toiletries and clothes?”

Oh, hell. Now he had to tell them how things worked for major league pro players. “We had bags packed for us, so we had everything we needed.” Everything—toiletries, phone chargers, underwear, and Yellowhammer apparel—had been packed in Yellowhammer duffel bags.

Evie frowned. “Do they always do that for you when you travel?”

“Just our hockey gear. We’re responsible for our personal items. But not this time because we didn’t know.”

Evie peppered her potato. “I’m sure your roommate was relieved you didn’t have to sleep naked and go all weekend without deodorant.”

He almost didn’t respond to that, but he’d already lied about the ghost stories. He didn’t want to lie by omission.

He swallowed a bite of chicken. “I didn’t have a roommate. We don’t have roommates. It’s in our contracts.”

“And where did you stay?” Evie said it like she already knew.

“Ritz-Carlton.” There was no reason to feel bad about any of this. He worked hard—even if it was fun—and the teams made lots of money. “The point of the whole trip was to see how we deal with the unexpected—hotels and unfamiliar ice.” Though to be honest, the Ritz was no hardship for anybody and the ice they’d used in Atlanta had been no more unfamiliar than their practice ice at this point. “We ate together and got to know each other better. That’s important for a team sport.”

“What else did you do?” Ava Grace asked. “Anything fun? Maybe go to a Braves game?”

“We went to Six Flags Over Georgia.”

There was silence for a few seconds. “Seems like a Braves game would have been more suited to a bunch of hockey players,” Ava Grace said.

“Maybe, but it wasn’t about us. They bused some kids over from this area who haven’t had the chance to go to an amusement park. They paired up team members and gave us four kids to show around. Robbie and I had six-year-olds.”

Ava Grace cooed, and maybe teared up a little. Evie did not. She was hard to impress—not that he was trying.

He went on, “Your pal Claire Watkins arranged it. Turns out she’s going to do some PR work for the team.”

Evie nodded and her eyes were a little softer. “Even so, that was a nice thing for you to do.”

“Thank you.” He took the compliment. While it might be true that he hadn’t had a choice, he hadn’t been required to buy them T-shirts, stuffed animals, and all the funnel cake and cotton candy they wanted—which had been a mistake. Jeremy had thrown up, which had necessitated a whole new set of clothes—and clothes did not come cheap at Six Flags Over Georgia. He could have gone to Vegas for what that little outing had cost. “Major league teams give back to the community.”

“Like participating in the fall fest,” Ava Grace said. “I can’t wait.”

Evie’s head jerked up from that half a cow she’d almost polished off. She had the look of someone who’d just remembered something important.

“Ava Grace,” Evie said, “I know it was my idea, but maybe we should rethink these ghost stories.”

“But why?” Ava Grace asked. “It’s a great idea. And having a pro hockey player tell the stories is icing on the cake.”

“But here’s the thing,” Evie said slowly. “I’m not sure Jake knows the right kinds of stories.” She cut her eyes at him. “This is a family event. Don’t you think it will scare the children to hear about dolls that come to life and a dead hockey player who bleeds all over the ice?”

“Oh.” Ava Grace looked disappointed. “I guess you’re right. I should have thought of that. The stories sounded so good and I got carried away.”

Jake felt a little relief—the best kind. Where he would get credit for offering to do a thing without having to actually do it.

“Don’t worry.” Evie patted Ava Grace’s hand. “We’ll think of something else. Something better.” She gave him a nasty little look as she uttered the last word.

Hell, no! He would not be outdone. And also—the new and improved Jake ought to do what he’d said he would, even if there was an easy out.

“Here’s how we can fix it,” he said. “I’ll just get on the internet and find some ghost stories for kids—maybe even order a book. Yeah. That’s it. Don’t you worry about a thing.” He gave Evie a so there look and reached across her to pat Ava Grace’s hand.

“Oh!” Ava Grace clapped her hands together. “Jake, you would do that?”

“I’ll get right on it.”

Ava Grace was happy again, even if Evie wasn’t. Jake couldn’t figure why she was upset. He’d made the offer to help her friend just to please her.

He’d just have to figure out another way to please her. God help him if it involved a clown and demon balloon animals.