Page 79 of Meet Me on Greenwood

I caught two sisters in adorable pigtails, yellow and blue ribbons, maybe a year apart, arguing over who had the prettier doll, and something in my chest cracked open sideways, unrelated to Houston entirely. It brought up memories of my own sister—the two of us at that age, certain our small disagreements were the whole of the world. I wanted to kneel down and tell them that if that was all they had to fight about, I envied them more than they could understand. I wanted to tell them a sister is the one thing you don't know to hold on to until you're an ocean and a hundred years away from her, until you'd give anything for one more argument over a doll. But they were children, and it wasn't theirs to carry, so I said none of it. Instead, I offered them both large slices of pie, which they took gratefully, already forgetting the doll, already onto the next small thing.

The sweet potato pie had been Rita's idea and my execution. I had spent three days reconstructing it from memory, adjusting the recipe until it was right. It wasn't the same, but in my opinion, it was better. It had been fun to put my science skills to work, mixing and blending until I’d formed the perfect bite.

The woman who bought the first slice came back twenty minutes later with her husband, and before I could blink, I was pulling out my last pie.

"Is it your pie everyone is talking about?" a voice asked.

I turned to see a finely dressed woman draped in silk chiffon with an equally elaborate hat with fresh flowers. She handed the croquet mallet to the gentleman in a three-piece suit behind her as she inspected the pie crust with her laced glove. Then she lifted her spectacles off the bridge of her nose. "Are you mute ma’am?"

"Lulu!" The man I recognized as John Williams, said behind her.

"I don’t know," I said finally. "What are people saying?"

She lifted her fork and pierced the slightly browned top layer. "That it is better than mine. Do you think your pie is better than mine?"

Now I was highly aware of who this couple was. "I doubt it," I said finally. "I had your pie not long ago and it is possibly the best I’ve ever had. I am just honored that you would try it Mrs. Williams."

She shook her head. "You can call me Lulu. Everybody does. And this is my husband John." She took her first bite, first teasing it across her tongue before consuming the rest, cleaning the fork. Her mouth puckered in disgust before she took another bite.

"I am still tinkering with the recipe..."

Lulu dropped her fork loudly on the plate. "Applesauce," she said shaking her head before meeting my gaze. "That pie is better than mine, and I won’t stand here and listen to you pretend it is not."

I sucked in a breath. "That means a lot coming from you Lulu."

"Would you be willing to make them for my confectionary."

"She doesn’t want to make pies all day," John interjected. He had fine lines across his forehead and a kind smile." That is Dr. Cross, the one helping Perry at the hospital."

"I know who she is," Lulu said, rolling her eyes. "A woman can have more than one passion. You should know that by now after the boarding house and the confectionary..."

"And the theatre," He finished. "I know well, but not everyone wants to have ten different occupations dear."

"Don’t listen to him," she said leaning in. "I’ve made the family fortune, he is pretty eye candy."

He shrugged. "I don’t mind it," he said with a wink. "Come dear. Dr. Cross doesn’t want to spend her afternoon with the likes of us."

"On the contrary," I said finally feeling able to speak after Lulu’s praise. "I enjoy your company very much."

Lulu crooked her head. "You are not married are you? We will have to fix that. I am a very good match maker."

"Actually, I--"

"I will call on Camille. We should all have tea. Would you like that?"

"I...would," I said finally. "But not to be matched. I’d love to learn more about how you started your business."

Lulu ribbed her husband. "See. I know a lady entrepreneur when I see one. We look forward to it," she said exchanging the pie with John for her croquet mallet. John eagerly finished the rest of the pie as they turned to leave. He gave me a thumbs up before following her.

My hands fell on my hips as I watched them leave in dismay.

"Odd aren’t they?"

I looked up to see Lettie on the other side of the table in her Sunday best.

"Lettie! I didn't know you'd be here."

"Lord, I never miss a church picnic. Are you all out already?"