I only have pies for you, p.14
I Only Have Pies for You, page 14
In a way, Mom’s absence had worked to my advantage. It had given me the chance to talk to our customers about GG Hazel, to pick their brains for stories that I’d never heard before. I did some research at the Bonnet library and online, until finally I felt like I could talk about GG Hazel—not just as a legend, but as my great-grandma. As family.
That was what tonight was all about.
Mr. Jenkins took the tablet from Chayton.
“You sure you know how to work the video, Granddad?” Chayton asked for the tenth time.
Mr. Jenkins lifted a stern eyebrow in Chayton’s direction. “Son, I can drive a herd of five hundred head of cattle. I can push a dang button.”
“Just asking,” Chayton said, holding up his hands to plead innocence. Then he joined me and Zari, the three of us forming a semicircle around GG Hazel’s photo.
I nodded at Mr. Jenkins, who whispered, “Three. Two. One.”
I smiled into the tablet’s lens, trying not to think about how ridiculous my smile might look later on when we replayed this video. It didn’t matter. I needed to do this. For Mom. And GG Hazel.
Beside me, Zari began talking to the camera. “Hey, y’all. This is Zari Trent, reporting for The Beehive in Bonnet, Texas. I’m bringing you a very special streaming edition of the Bonnet Buzz. It’s special because Bonnet’s very own Dacey Culpepper Biel, great-granddaughter of the renowned Hazel Culpepper, is going to bake Hazel’s famous Heartstring Pie.”
“I am.” I beamed at the camera.
“And not only that!” Zari went on, “She’s going to bake it with Chayton Freedell, son of Prairie Living’s Julip Freedell!”
Chayton waved to the camera. “Hey, everybody! Mom, if you’re watching, please don’t hate us for our stellar pie crusts!”
I had to hold back a laugh. I knew Chayton was taking a big risk agreeing to be in this video, and that Julip was probably going to be furious when she saw it. But Chayton was handling it in his typical laid-back fashion. “We’re doing the right thing,” he’d told me when I asked him if he was totally sure he wanted to go ahead with it. “And it’s time I had a real talk with Mom anyway. Maybe this will jump-start the discussion.”
“More like ignite it,” I’d said, only half joking.
He’d taken my hand. “I’m okay with whatever happens. Really. I love my mom, but I need to be more honest with her about how hard things have been for me.”
“So, Dacey,” Zari said now, jolting me out of my thoughts. “Tell us about Hazel Culpepper and her Heartstring Pie. What’s their story?”
This was it. What I said over the next few minutes might very well determine the fate of Pies N’ Prattle, and GG Hazel’s recipe. It was up to me. I straightened, acutely aware of GG Hazel’s photo behind me, watching, waiting to see what I’d do.
“Well.” I looked directly at the camera, unwavering. “The story of GG Hazel’s Heartstring Pie really begins with a war and a candy bar. A Heath bar, to be exact.” I smiled, feeling some of my nerves quiet. “During World War II, the US government distributed Heath candy bars to enlisted men who were fighting overseas. It gave the men a little taste of something sweet in the bitterest of times. And GG Hazel, she had a similar idea, but she wanted to capture that sweetness in a pie …”
I kept talking, forgetting all about the camera, or how many people might (or might not) watch the video once we uploaded it. GG Hazel’s stories coursed through my veins, into my heart, and out of my mouth in a steady stream. There was the story Mrs. Beaumont had told me about her father, who’d come back from the war unable to speak. GG Hazel brought him Heartstring Pie every morning for three months straight, sitting with him through his quiet eating until, finally, one sunny morning, he said, “I don’t suppose I could have a second slice of that pie?” There was the story of Mr. Walker’s older brother in Dallas, who loved Hazel’s pie so much that he drove a hundred miles every Sunday to eat a slice at Pies N’ Prattle. And there were other stories, too. Dozens more.
I lost track of time as I talked, and probably would’ve kept going, if Zari hadn’t touched my arm to bring my attention back to her.
“Dacey, you’ve got our mouths positively watering for a taste of this pie. Soooo … are you going to bake us some?” She smiled with the perfected poise of an interviewer, and I made a mental note to tell her later how awesome she was at this.
“Absolutely.” I returned her smile. “But I’ll need a little help, of course. Follow me.” Mr. Jenkins followed us into the kitchen, where the ingredients for the Heartstring Pie were laid out on the counter. I turned to Chayton, adding teasingly, “Chayton Freedell, are you ready to bake the most famous pie in the entire state of Texas?”
Chayton feigned wiping sweat from his brow. “No pressure or anything, Dace.” He grinned. “Will GG Hazel haunt me if I get it wrong?”
“She won’t.” I elbowed him. “But I might.”
“That is a scary thought.” He laughed as I tossed one of my oven mitts at him.
“Hooooh, things are heating up in this kitchen already!” Zari teased for the benefit of the camera. “So, what’s the first step, Dacey?”
“It involves two of my favorite ingredients: chocolate chips and Heath bar.” I lifted the bowls of chips and Heath chunks to the camera, and then began mixing ingredients alongside Chayton. We moved through the recipe’s steps, starting with the cookies for the crust and then moving on to the pie filling. Chayton and I had fun the whole time, flicking spoonfuls of Heath bits and flour at each other and catapulting chocolate chips into each other’s mouths.
“We’ve added in all the ingredients now,” I said at last. “Except one.”
“What ingredient is that?” Zari asked.
“The secret ingredient,” I said. “One that we only have here, at Pies N’ Prattle. Viewers can bake the pie as it is, without this ingredient. But only our Pies N’ Prattle Heartstring Pie has GG Hazel’s one-of-a-kind healing touch. It wasn’t just the pie’s ingredients that helped folks. It was GG Hazel herself. Her way of listening to people, or talking with them, laughing with them. I think she understood, in her own heart, what they needed to start healing. Her shop has always been a special place. I just wish I could promise that it will be around forever.” My eyes suddenly misted over, and I fought to speak past the lump in my throat. “Only I can’t. Business has been slow lately. Not just in our shop, but all around our town. And if that doesn’t change, we don’t know what will happen.”
I swallowed, and continued. “So. If you want the real Heartstring Pie, the way GG Hazel made it, visit Bonnet and Pies N’ Prattle while you still have the chance.” My voice cracked on that last word, and I swiped at my eyes, trying hard not to give into my tears. Then, I took two handkerchiefs from a drawer. “And now, if you’ll excuse me while I add in the last ingredient …”
I blindfolded Zari and Chayton like we’d decided to do beforehand, to heighten the suspense. Then, with Mr. Jenkins keeping the camera focused on Zari and Chayton in the kitchen, I carefully took the uncooked pie into the main room. The truth was that I didn’t know if GG had ever added a secret ingredient to her version of Heartstring Pie, but this was going to be my secret ingredient from now on.
Holding the Heartstring Pie up to GG Hazel’s picture, I whispered, “Let this help some hearts, GG. Today, tomorrow, and always.”
I smiled at her photo, happiness sweeping over me. Then I walked back into the kitchen and slid the pie into the oven.
“And that’s how you make Heartstring Pie,” I announced as Chayton and Zari slipped off their blindfolds.
Mr. Jenkins hit PAUSE and lowered the tablet as Zari and Chayton whooped.
“That was amazing!” Zari said, giving me a high five.
Chayton hugged me. “You killed it.”
“Thanks.” I beamed. “So did you guys! Now all we have to do is the taste test when the pie’s finished baking …”
“And then we upload the video to YouTube and see what happens,” Zari said.
“Do you really think people are going to watch it?” I asked.
“I’ll tell you what,” Mr. Jenkins said. “People couldn’t get enough of Heartstring Pie when your great-grandma was alive. It’ll be the same this time, too. You wait and see.”
“But what about Julip?” I asked worriedly. “The fair’s the day after tomorrow, and she’s already miffed that we had to cancel the pie-eating contest. Do you think she’ll still go ahead with selling the Heartstring Pie recipe?”
“I don’t see how she can,” Mr. Jenkins said. “You’re putting it out in the world on your terms. Anything she does now will be playing second fiddle to the great-granddaughter of GG Hazel baking Heartstring Pie.”
I hoped with all my heart that he was right. “I guess we can clean up while we wait for the pie to finish baking—” My words died when I saw Chayton pulling out more bags of flour and sugar and dozens of aluminum pie pans from the cabinets. “Chayton? What are you doing?”
He gave me a look that said the answer should’ve been completely obvious. “Getting ready.”
“For what?”
“For the hundreds of Heartstring Pies we’re going to have to bake between now and Saturday.”
I stared at him. “Chayton, we canceled the pie-eating contest. We don’t need—”
“We will.” He smiled at me. “Dace, nobody cares about the pie-eating contest. They care about the Heartstring Pie. And when they see your video, they’re going to show up wanting a slice.”
“I don’t know,” I began. “We’ll use up most of the baking supplies, and …” My voice faltered. “It’s a big risk with business as slow as it’s been. Besides, how are we going to bake that many pies in less than forty-eight hours?”
Chayton held up his phone. “Already taken care of. I posted on the Bonnet Facebook page this morning, and over half the town responded. Everybody’s going to work in shifts. And the first shift starts in …” He checked his watch. “Two hours. Right after we finish filming.”
“But—but you posted before we filmed? How did you—”
“Hey, you’re a Culpepper. Rumor has it that you’re an unstoppable force. More than rumor, actually. I’ve witnessed it firsthand.” He shrugged, giving me that grin that was so familiar and yet still made my knees weak. “All I did was keep the faith.”
I threw my arms around him. “Thank you,” I whispered, then blushed when I remembered that Mr. Jenkins was still standing there. Bashfully, I pulled away from Chayton, but when I glanced at Mr. Jenkins, he was looking on, smiling in approval.
“So?” Chayton handed me a stack of Heath bars.
I nodded. “Let’s bake some pies.”
I woke up long before my alarm on Saturday, roused by the sound of cars driving past our house. Weird, I thought. We never had traffic on Main Street, not even on fair day.
I showered and dressed in record time, adrenaline and exhaustion mixing to give me a heady excitement. I’d gone to bed at close to midnight after baking the three hundredth Heartstring Pie. The Pies N’ Prattle ovens had been on for so long by then that the shop’s kitchen felt like an inferno. We’d even started carrying the unbaked pies to people’s houses to bake in their ovens. In the end, nearly every oven in Bonnet had baked a Heartstring Pie and nearly every Bonneter—old and young—had helped mix pie filling or crush cookies for the crust.
Our video had been viewed nearly one hundred thousand times since we uploaded it on Thursday night. I knew that didn’t mean that many people would show up to the fair, but it gave me a growing hope that maybe, just maybe, our plan would work.
I’d wanted to keep that plan a secret from my parents, but last night, Dad had shown up at the shop wearing his apron, and I knew the jig was up.
“How did you find out?” I asked.
Dad kissed the top of my head. “Honeybee, if you want to keep a conspiracy involving an entire town a secret, best not let your video air on the evening news.”
“What?” I gaped at him.
He nodded. “On all the local news channels.”
“Omigod. Does Mom know?” Mom had gotten the go-ahead from Doctor Higgins to attend the fair, but only if she stayed on brain rest until Saturday morning. She wasn’t allowed to have any screen time, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t snuck her cell phone into her bedroom.
“Nope,” Dad said. “There was no way I was going to spoil this surprise for her.” And then he took up the measuring cups and set to work alongside Mrs. Beaumont and Mrs. Gonzalez.
Now, as I slipped on my shoes, I thought about how hard we had all worked over the last two days, and I made up my mind that, no matter what happened at the fair today, I wouldn’t be disappointed. Even if all of the Heartstring Pies went uneaten, even if everything we’d done didn’t help Pies N’ Prattle or Bonnet, I was happy with knowing we’d done the best we could. GG Hazel, I thought, would’ve been happy knowing that, too.
When I walked into the kitchen, Dad was standing there wearing a grin as wide as the Rio Grande.
“Dad? Wha—”
“Shhhh,” he whispered. He motioned toward the master bedroom, where I guessed Mom was still sleeping. “Come with me.” He led me to the front door and opened it. I stared out at Main Street and gasped.
Last night, Julip’s Prairie Living team had added finishing touches to Main Street for the fair, and in the bright light of morning, the heart of Bonnet looked beautiful. The shops and restaurants, which only weeks ago had looked worn and weary with their peeling paint and dark windows, now were blazing with vivid colors, streamers, and flower boxes. Paper lanterns and balloons were strung overheard, giving the street a carnival atmosphere.
None of that, though, was what made my jaw drop. The cars were what did.
Cars were parked headlight to taillight at every inch of curb. And there was a steady stream of cars—legitimate traffic!—driving in the direction of the Jenkins ranch, where the fairgrounds had been set up.
“Bonnet’s first rush hour,” Dad said. “Some of the license plates are from out of state! And they’re all here for the fair.”
“This is so amazing.” A smile grew on my face. “But—” I checked myself. “They’re probably just here for the chance to get on Julip’s Prairie Living show.”
“I thought that, too,” Dad said, “until I took a little stroll over to the fairgrounds …”
My heart flipped. “What do you mean?”
He winked. “Why don’t you walk on over and check it out? Oh, and you might want to bring GG Hazel’s apron with you. Just saying.”
My heart began racing. I didn’t wait another second. I grabbed the apron from where I’d hung it on our coatrack the night before and took off at a run toward the Jenkins ranch.
The ranch was decorated just as impressively as Main Street, with festive balloon arches, brightly colored game booths, and carnival rides. And then there were food trucks, with their barbecue pits already smoking with ribs and cauldrons of chili and gumbo.
I wove past the mechanical bull, the pony rides, and the petting zoo, then came to a dead halt when I spotted the line of people. It snaked a long path through the booths and rides, arriving exactly where I hoped it would: at the Pies N’ Prattle table.
Maria, Bree, and Zari were already standing behind the table, even though the fair wasn’t scheduled to open for another two hours. They waved me over, but for a second, my feet wouldn’t budge. It was too much to take in, that all these people could’ve driven from miles away just for a taste of Heartstring Pie.
I felt such a rush of deep relief and joy that I thought I might actually lift off the ground.
“Dacey?” a familiar voice said in my ear.
I turned to see Chayton smiling at me. “You okay?” he asked.
I nodded. “It’s … I never expected this.”
“I did. I expected nothing less of you. And it’s not because you’re a Culpepper. It’s because you’re you.” There was a pride in his voice that made me blush, and I blushed even deeper when he slipped his arm around my waist. “Come on. You’ve got customers waiting. Technically, the fair’s not open yet, but Granddad said he’d make an exception for you. Mostly because I don’t think these people will do anything else until they’ve had a slice of your pie.”
I laughed softly, but when I reached the table, the laugh was quashed by the sight of Julip and her camera crew hovering nearby. I gave Chayton a questioning glance, but he looked as surprised as I was.
“She wasn’t here a minute ago,” he whispered. “I swear.”
I squeezed his hand. “It’s okay.”
I didn’t hesitate or falter, but stepped right up to Julip, ready to face whatever curve balls she could throw my way.
“And here she is now!” Julip said as her crew swiveled the cameras to zoom in on my face. “The pride of Bonnet, and Hazel Culpepper’s great-granddaughter, Dacey Culpepper Biel!” Julip leaned toward me, oozing friendly vibes. “Dacey, I for one am so proud to see that you’ve brought the Culpepper name back into the spotlight. Your video was absolutely charming! Thank you for bringing back Heartstring Pie.”
I paused for a millisecond, just long enough for inspiration to strike me with the force of a lightning bolt. And then I was smiling bright for the cameras, perfectly at ease. “No, Ms. Freedell,” I said evenly. “I’m the one who should be thanking you.”
Julip blinked, and I knew I’d caught her off guard. “Oh? For what?”
“For taking such good care of our family’s recipe. It’s GG Hazel’s original recipe, and I was so worried when it went missing, until I found out you had it.” My smile spread. “Thank you for keeping it safe and sound for us.” I held out my hand. “We’re so grateful to be getting it back.”
