Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
With Nana finally opening her little shop in town, selling lotions, potions, and everything in between, from wellness teas to magic crystals, it would be nice for her to take home another win. She could hang that ribbon right in the front window with her two most recent wins.
Jacob’s face twisted. He started coughing hard and spit the bite into a napkin. The other two judges followed suit. June wiped her tongue on her sleeve like she’d licked a battery.
“What in the world?” I whispered.
“Lotion. Or something horrible.” Jacob stumbled away from the table, still hacking. His red eyes watered streaks down his weathered face.
Gloria leaned toward her pie and sniffed. “What is that smell?” She went pale and swung her gaze to my grandmother. “Your peppermint-scented lotion.”
Nana reared back, looking small beside the taller woman. “That’s ridiculous.” She leaned forward to sniff the pie herself. Her frown deepened. “Well, that does smell like it.”
“You used it in my pie!” Gloria threw up both hands as if she might shove Nana, but she froze when movement surged from the crowd.
My sisters, my cousins, and I all moved at once, barreling toward the stage. Nobody laid a finger on Nana O’Shea. Gloria hesitated as we reached the edge, her hands still raised. Then she slowly lowered them. Smart woman. I would have taken her out myself.
Jacob, still gasping, pointed toward the table. “I’m sorry, but that pie is disqualified. That ain’t food.”
“It’s been sabotaged,” Gloria sputtered. “I want a full investigation.” She looked around wildly. “Sheriff? Sheriff, where are you?”
The sheriff ambled forward from the back of the crowd, looking every bit like a silver-haired Sam Elliott with a powdered donut in one hand. “Now, Gloria, hold on,” he started.
“No, I will not hold on. This is fraud and tampering and whatever else you can think of. I want her arrested.” She jabbed a finger toward my Nana.
Nana lifted her hands. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Oh yes, you did. It had to be you. You’re the only one with the key to the Elks fridge.”
My stomach cramped. The appliance was locked up like a gold vault with just one key, ever since Tommy Maloney had been caught sneaking out vodka bottles for his family reunion two years previous.
Nana blinked. “Well, yes, but only because I was the last one to put my pie in last night. I didn’t sabotage anything.”
I winced.
“Was anybody with you?” the sheriff asked.
Nana hesitated. “No.”
Gloria planted her hands on her hips. “My pie was just fine when I dropped it off. I passed you going in. Nobody else entered after you, did they? Did you give the key to anybody?”
“No,” Nana said, “I’m definitely the last person to have visited the kitchen before today when we all retrieved our pies, but I wouldn’t put lotion in your pie. You know that.”
“I do not know that. I think you’ve been cheating for years.”
A sharp gasp ran through the crowd like a ripple across water.
“Now, that’s enough,” Nonna Albertini, my other grandmother, said. She strode toward us from the Elks’ ladies float, where she’d been wiring on extra clovers.
I blinked. Nonna Albertini and Nana O’Shea didn’t like each other. Ever. Nobody knew why, or at least, nobody in the know would tell. They’d created a détente when my parents got married, but they couldn’t be more different. Yet here Nonna was, defending Nana.
Nana’s rosy mouth dropped open and then snapped shut again.
Nonna Albertini crossed her arms. “Listen, I think pie contests are stupid, as you all know.” Her Italian accent thickened with every syllable. “I do not have an Irish pie in this, but I tell you now, Fiona would never cheat.”
My eyes flew to my sister Tessa. Her brows nearly touched her hairline. She gave me the smallest shake of her head. I shrugged. None of this made sense.
Tessa stood a few feet away, her reddish-blond hair glowing under the weak March sunlight, those unmistakable Irish-green eyes wide with disbelief. She wore jeans and a soft green sweater that matched her eyes perfectly. If anyone could blend casual comfort with quiet beauty, it was Tessa. She looked like she’d stepped out of a Celtic postcard, minus the harp.
“I don’t care what you say, Elda,” Gloria snapped. “The only person who could have sabotaged this pie is Fiona. No one else had the chance, unless you use lotion to cook, of course.”
Nana’s green eyes flared. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. You think I’d waste good lotion on you?”
My breath caught. Nana was going to battle for herself, and soon she’d start spitting curses. I edged back as Tessa did the same. No way did I want to get caught in a thrown curse.
Even the sheriff hesitated. His hand hovered near his belt buckle, and he shifted his weight as if preparing to dive for cover. In his black-checked flannel and faded jeans, he looked like he could move fast. “Now, listen. Everyone just take a deep breath.” His badge gleamed at his belt.