My head whips around, and I spot my brother. He raises his hand.
I grin and turn back to the pie contest table, where the judges have moved on from Ruth’s pie. They get through a few more, and another older lady in the crowd comes to talk to Ruth.
When the judges get to my pie, I can’t read their expressions. But it’s absolutely my best work. After so many attempts, I think I finally got the iconic Maine loon design right. It definitely looks like a loon, not a duck. Fuck Ruth.
One judge—mayor of another lake town near Lake Savage—steps forward and clears his throat. He announces the third-place winner, who is a pretty middle-aged mom with a group of teens and tweens cheering for her.
There were two dozen entries, but I’d be shocked if Ruth and I aren’t in the top two. What I would do to beat Ruth thisyear! She’s paused her conversation with the other lady and is waiting with a big smile on her face.
“Second place goes to… Wesley Winters. Judges’ comments included the impressive loon top crust design and the perfect consistency of the apples. Congrats, Mr. Winters.”
The group claps quietly, and Noah whoops from behind me. I toss a look over my shoulder and grin. It’s not first place, but at least I’m holding my position from last year.
“First place, Mrs. Ruth Roy! The perfect streusel topping and flawless filling earn her the record-setting five-year repeat title of best apple pie in Portland. Congratulations!”
Yep. Sounds about right.
Ruth Roy tosses me a sweet smile and touches me on the arm in a grandmotherly way—all for fucking show—on the way up to receive her blue ribbon, but I know her secret.
She’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
As I accept the red ribbon, I scan the crowd again and find Noah. I’m glad my brother is here, but I was really hoping I’d see Callie.
I know I’m supposed to have let her go.
As of a few hours ago, she was still at her apartment. So she hasn’t left Maine yet, but I’m sure it’s coming soon. The pie competition was a good distraction, but now my fingers are itching to click on the tracking app.
I miss her.
I love her.
“I didn’t beat Ruth,” I say when I get to Noah.
“Maybe next year, and if you reconsider feeding her your mince pie, you’ll definitely win” He hands me a ridiculously ornate donut. Thick chocolate icing and bits of bacon.
“Murder an old lady? Nah.” But I crack up anyway. Noah’s my original ride or die, the only family I have left. “That would be a step too far.”
“Just one, though.”
We wander through the festival, held inside a high school gymnasium, as end-of-March weather is never predictable in Maine.
“Have you heard from Callie?” Noah asks.
I jolt to a stop and turn to him. “Why?”
“I dunno, just asking.” He shrugs and points to a drinks table. “Let’s get hot chocolate.”
I nod and take another huge bite of donut to experience the taste explosion in my mouth.
“I was perfectly happy before I met her,” I say, my mouth still half full. “And I’ll be perfectly happy now.”
“No, you weren’t, and no, you won’t.” Noah hands money to the girl at the table. She pours steaming hot chocolate into two paper cups. “You think you were happy, but really all you did was follow me around and bake sad pies in your sad cabin all alone.”
I’m speechless for a minute. “My pies aren’t sad,” is all I can think of to respond.
“Listen.” Noah takes a hot chocolate from the girl and hands it to me, then accepts the other one. He puts a five-dollar bill into the tip jar before nodding toward the doors that lead to the parking lot, where there are a few food trucks, tables, and a bonfire with hay bales as seating.
It’s freaking freezing outside. I shove the rest of my donut into my mouth and hand Noah my hot chocolate so I can slip my jacket on. My brother’s been trying to talk to me about this. He’s probably not going to let it go, so I might as well hear what he has to say.
