Chapter 1

Ella Mae cut a wedge of black bottom peanut butter pie and slid it onto a plate. Wiping away an errant crumb with the edge of a paper towel, she garnished the surface of the peanut butter mousse filling with a drizzle of melted chocolate and then piped three neat polka dots of chocolate directly onto the white plate. Setting the pastry bag of chocolate aside, she reached for a bag filled with whipped cream and piped two peaks in between the chocolate dots. She’d just put the plate on a server tray when Reba pushed through the swing doors leading from The Charmed Pie Shoppe’s dining room into its kitchen.

“You won’t believe this,” she said, pulling a red licorice twist from her apron pocket and dropping on the stool next to the worktable.

Ella Mae shot her a wry grin. “We live in a world where people have magical powers. My aunt Verena knows when people are lying. Aunt Dee can infuse her metal animal sculptures with sparks of life. Aunt Sissy can influence people with her music. My mother can make plants grow by humming to them. And what about you? How many fiftysomething women could win a mixed martial arts championship with one arm tied behind their back? I can believe in all sorts of things.”

Reba’s expression turned wistful. “I’ve always wanted to try cage fightin’. It looks like so much fun.”

“You know it wouldn’t be a fair fight,” Ella Mae scolded the woman she’d known all her life, the woman who’d been a second mother to her. “It’d be like watching a cat toy with a bird that has a broken wing.”

“I guess so. But what about among our kind? It could be a whole new source of entertainment. Just imagine! Saturday night fights in groves across the world. You could watch me . . .” She trailed off, looking horrified. “I’m sorry, hon. I don’t know why I keep forgettin’ that you can’t enter a grove anymore. I still can’t wrap my head around that.”

Ella Mae pointed at the wedge of pie. “Why don’t you tell me what you came in here to tell me so you can deliver this to our customer? It’s almost closing time.”

Reba searched Ella Mae’s face as though expecting to find signs of regret or pain etched into her smooth skin, but Ella Mae had learned to accept what had happened to her earlier that spring. She only wished her friends and family would make their peace with the fact that Ella Mae was no longer magical. Their constant scrutiny and deliberate avoidance of certain subjects were driving her crazy.

Brandishing the pastry bag of whipped cream, Ella Mae narrowed her eyes and said, “Spit it out, Reba, or I’m going to pipe a Santa Claus beard on your face.”

“Whipped cream and red licorice do not mix.” Reba held up her hands in surrender. “Well, here’s somethin’ you don’t often hear, but the lady who ordered this piece of pie will only taste one bite of it. After that, she’ll put her fork down and push her plate away.”

Ella Mae, who was headed to the sink with a mixing bowl and several utensils, abruptly froze. “How do you know?”

“Because I’ve watched her do the same thing for the past hour and a half. She orders a piece of pie, takes a bite, lays down her fork, and then has a few sips of water. She dabs her lips with her napkin, as prim as the Queen of England, and raises her index finger to signal me—like I’m supposed to come runnin’. When I get to her table, she orders another slice.” Reba looked thoroughly put out. “Ella Mae, after I deliver this pie, she’ll have ordered every pie on today’s menu.”

“She’s probably a food critic.” Ella Mae shifted the bowl to one hand and used her free hand to push a strand of whiskey-colored hair from her brow. “I hope you’ve been patient with her, Reba.”

Reba made a dismissive sound. “She could trash us on the front page of The Atlanta Journal and it wouldn’t matter. The Charmed Pie Shoppe will have a loyal customer base for as long as you live and breathe, Ella Mae. Not only did you save the people of Havenwood, Georgia, but you saved plenty of other folks as well. Why do you think we have lines out the door every day? And our catering side has taken off, too. Every bride within a hundred miles wants a pie bar at her wedding.”

“Our popularity isn’t what defines us,” Ella Mae said, depositing the bowl in the sink basin. “We must treat every customer as though they were our very first. Bring that lady her pie with service and a smile. If she only eats one bite, that’s her choice.”

Scowling, Reba grabbed the serving tray. “It’s a damned waste. Just because you don’t enchant your food anymore doesn’t mean that it isn’t incredible. No one should be samplin’ the whole menu like this without even takin’ notes. My inner alarm is goin’ off.”

Ella Mae had learned to pay close attention to Reba’s instincts. “Is she the last customer in the dining room?”

Reba nodded.

“Send the rest of the waitstaff home,” Ella Mae said. “If this lady has an ulterior motive, she can make it clear to us privately.”

Reba’s eyes gleamed, and Ella Mae knew her friend was probably envisioning smashing chairs over the customer’s head or body slamming her into a café table.

“Just let her enjoy her pie first!” Ella Mae called after Reba, but the only reply she received was the swinging doors flapping in Reba’s wake.

Shaking her head in resignation, Ella Mae loaded mixing bowls, pots, pans, and plates into the dishwasher. After cleaning the cooktop and prep area, she took a moment to stand and gaze out the window above the sink. It had been a frenzied week, and she was looking forward to having both Sunday and Monday, which was also Memorial Day, off.

Tomorrow, she and Hugh Dylan planned to take their dogs on a hike in the mountains. They were also going to swim in one of rivers that fed into Lake Havenwood. It was only May, but the Georgia summer heat was in full swing and Ella Mae couldn’t wait to submerge in the cool water. After spending a day in the wilderness, she and Hugh would attend the Memorial Day cookout and concert at Lake Havenwood Resort. There would be food, fireworks, and live music. And maybe, just maybe, Ella Mae and Hugh could stretch out on a blanket under the stars and hold hands like they used to. Back before they’d been forced to keep secrets from each other. Before another woman had come between them.

That’s in the past now, Ella Mae thought firmly. We’re starting over. He and I are a fresh piece of dough rolled out on the worktable. We’re not the lovers we once were. Nor can we settle for being the friends we’ve been since childhood. We have to create something new.

Ella Mae ran the dishrag over the spot on her palm where there was once a burn scar shaped like a clover. The scar was gone now. It had disappeared at the same time Ella Mae had poured out all of her magic to defeat a powerful enemy and save her town. She had lost the symbol that marked her as the Clover Queen, but she’d never wanted to rule over anyone. All she’d ever wanted was to prepare delicious food for people. To bake pies in a brightly lit kitchen, filling the warm space with the aroma of melted butter, cinnamon, roasted nuts, sugared berries, and so much more.

“Are you reading your own palm, Ms. LeFaye?” asked one of the college students Ella Mae had hired for the summer.

Ella Mae smiled at the pretty blonde and the two other servers standing behind her. “You caught me gathering wool, Maddie. Enjoy your time off, everyone. You all worked really hard this week and you deserve a break.”

“So do you, ma’am,” said Royce, the young man in charge of deliveries. “I hope you have good weather for your picnic tomorrow.”

“Me too,” Ella Mae said and bade good-bye to her employees.

Reba reentered the kitchen with her serving tray and the remains of the black bottom peanut butter pie. One bite had been taken from the slice. Two at the most.

“The lady customer would like to speak with you,” Reba said. “Here’s her card.”

Ella Mae read the white lettering on a field of black, “‘Beatrice Burbank, Camellia Club president.’” The card was thick, elegant, and expensive. Other than the design of a camellia flower in one corner, it was unadorned. “What’s the Camellia Club?”

“No clue,” Reba said. “But this woman is a cool cucumber. When I told her we were closin’ and asked her to settle up, she said she’d make it worth our while to stay open a few more minutes. When I told her we weren’t interested, she got up, walked up to the counter, and put a hundred-dollar bill in the tip jar.”

Ella Mae sighed. “I’ve had my fill of pushy women, Reba. I don’t care if her wallet is stuffed with hundred-dollar bills. I’m ready to call it a day, and I’m going to march into the dining room and tell President Beatrice Burbank as much.”

When Beatrice saw Ella Mae, she got up, smiled graciously, and extended her hand, as though she were welcoming Ella Mae to her establishment and not the other way around. “Ms. LeFaye, it is a pleasure to meet you. I haven’t tasted such a wonderfully fresh tomato tart since my grandmother was alive. I had to pay my compliments to the chef in person.”

Despite her determination to dislike the stranger, Ella Mae felt herself softening toward Beatrice Burbank. “That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Burbank, but—”

“Please call me Bea. I know I’m old enough to be your mother, but ‘Mrs. Burbank’ is so terribly formal, and I’m hoping that by the end of our conversation, you and I will be on our way toward becoming friends.” She indicated the chair opposite hers. “Would you sit with me for a moment? I have a proposition for you.”

Ella Mae knew she should be wary. Beatrice was much like her business card: rich, elegant, and understated. She wore a blush-colored skirt suit with a gold camellia stickpin on the coat lapel over an ivory silk camisole. Her silvery blond hair was gathered into a low chignon and her nails were polished a subtle pinkish-beige hue. Her voluminous handbag, in contrast, was a vibrant turquoise, as though she wanted to convey that she had a playful side to her as well.

“I’d be glad to sit for a spell,” Ella Mae said politely. She’d been raised in the South and it wouldn’t do to be discourteous.

Bea seemed unsurprised by her response. “I tried every pie on your menu. The tomato bacon tartlets in the cheddar cheese crust, the ham and grilled corn, and the chicken potpie. I particularly liked the herb crust on that savory delight.” She put her hand over her heart. “But your desserts. Oh my, Ms. LeFaye. You have a gift. I promised myself one bite of each pie. One bite of strawberry rhubarb crisp. One bite of lemon mascarpone icebox tart, brown butter raspberry pie, and black bottom peanut butter pie. But I took two of the last one. I just couldn’t stop myself.”

Ella Mae was about to thank the older woman again when Bea held up a finger to forestall her. “I’m not here merely to praise you. In fact, I’d like to hire you. I came to Havenwood to finalize the details of the Camellia Club’s annual retreat. This year, we’ll be renting a block of rooms at Lake Havenwood Resort. But we’ll also be renting kitchen space there.”

This caught Ella Mae’s attention. “Oh?”

Bea nodded enthusiastically. “Every decade, the Camellia Club publishes a cookbook of dessert recipes. This year, because we’re celebrating our centennial, we’ve decided to go all out. We’re hiring three of the best chefs in the South. Actually, ‘best’ isn’t the right word. We’ve sought out the most innovative, creative, and hip pastry chefs to teach us what makes an unforgettable dessert.” She paused for effect. “Maxine Jordan, the founder of From Scratch, an organic bakery in Charlottesville, Virginia, came aboard in March, and we secured Caroline James from Carolina’s Cakes of Raleigh last month. All that remained was to find a champion pie baker. I’ve traveled from Texas to Maryland tasting pies, tarts, crisps, and cobblers. I had no idea that I’d find a pie virtuoso practically in my own backyard!” She laughed merrily. “I’m from Sweet Briar, as are all of the members of the Camellia Club.”

Ella Mae had heard of the town. Not far from Savannah, the scenic riverfront community was filled with historic homes, gorgeous gardens, and quaint shops. Sweet Briar was larger than Havenwood and had more restaurants, movie theaters, and nightclubs. It also boasted a thriving art scene and real estate prices that would intimidate anyone without a trust fund.

“And you’d like me to give you and your club members a crash course in pie making during your annual retreat?” Ella Mae asked. “When is it?”

“The first week in August,” Bea said, pulling an envelope out of her handbag. “I realize that I’m asking you to step away from your business for several days in order to instruct a group of women you’ve never met before, but I can assure you that every penny of profit that the Camellia Club makes from our cookbook sales goes toward a worthy cause. Not only do we contribute to several scholarship funds, but this year, we’re also raising money for a young lady who was badly burned at the Georgia State Fair. The dear girl was making funnel cakes when a vat of hot oil overturned, splattering her arms, chest, and face. Her family can’t afford her medical care, and we’ve offered to help.”

Ella Mae’s hand flew to her mouth as she tried to stifle a gasp. Her aunt Dee had suffered terrible burns that spring, and the memories of the fire came rushing back to her now. During that horrible night, her aunt was admitted to Atlanta’s Grady Burn Center, where she’d undergone multiple surgeries, and many weeks later she’d returned home to her animals and sculptures. Had it not been for the intervention of several brave and selfless people, she could have died in her burning barn, but she would never again be the same person.

Bea touched Ella Mae lightly on the arm. “Are you all right, my dear?”

“My aunt was the victim of a terrible fire not too long ago. She survived, but she will always bear the scars.” Ella Mae pointed at the envelope. “Is that a contract?”

“Yes. I thought I’d leave it with you,” Bea said. “If it’s to your liking, you can sign it and drop it off at the resort. I’m staying through Monday.” She gathered her handbag and stood to leave. “I think you’ll find the remuneration acceptable, and I know all of the Camellias would be thrilled to have you as a mentor. You, Maxine, and Caroline would truly be our Dessert Dream Team.”

After promising to examine the contract and respond to Bea’s proposal before she left town, Ella Mae walked her guest to the door.

“I don’t know what it is about this place,” Bea said as she stepped out onto the front porch. “Every detail of this pie shop—from the fragrance of the flowers in the garden to the fresh herbs in the garnishes and the ripeness of the fruits in the dessert tarts—is magical. No wonder it’s called The Charmed Pie Shoppe.”

With a smile and a wave, Bea walked down the flagstone path, crossed the street, and got into a gleaming white Cadillac. As the sedan eased away from the curb, Ella Mae noticed a glittery camellia decal affixed to the rear windshield.

“All she needs is a wand to complete the fairy godmother look,” Reba said from behind Ella Mae. As usual, she’d appeared without a sound. “I heard what she said about the cookbook profits, but is her bibbidi-bobbidi-boo act genuine?”

“I’m not going into this blindly.” Ella Mae held out the contract. “I’ll review this very carefully.”

“Why bother?” Reba asked, putting her hand on her hip. “I can see she’s already won you over.”

Ella Mae shrugged. “What if she has? I love the idea of working with Maxine and Caroline. They’re serious up-and-comers, and both of them have been experimenting with dessert recipes for people with food allergies. That’s something I’ve wanted to explore as well. Also, Caroline just started shipping her cupcakes nationally. I’d love to talk to her about how she handled that kind of expansion. Her shop isn’t any bigger than ours.”

Together, the two women reentered the café. Reba closed and locked the front door and then turned to Ella Mae. “What about these Camellia Club gals? Do you really think it’ll be a barrel of laughs teachin’ a bunch of debutantes and their mamas? What if one of them breaks a nail? You’ll have to call the National Guard.”

Ella Mae gave her friend an imploring look. “I need this, Reba. I need to grow as a chef. Without magic, I have to keep honing my skills. There are no shortcuts for me anymore.” She glanced at the framed four-leaf clover hanging over the cash register. “I don’t want people to come here because of what I used to be. I want them to come because of what I am. A top-notch pastry chef. The best pie maker in the South.”

Reba nodded in understanding. “Okay, then. But I’m comin’ with you. Someone will have to keep these high-society sugar queens in line.”

She hit a switch on the wall, killing the lights and inviting the late afternoon shadows to crawl across the dining room.

*   *   *

Ella Mae watched Hugh Dylan leap from a rock into the middle of the river with a jubilant holler. His dog, a Harlequin Great Dane named Dante, jumped in after him. Chewy, Ella Mae’s Jack Russell terrier, raced along the bank, barking wildly.

“You can go in, boy.” Ella Mae made shooing motions with her hands.

“Why don’t you both join us?” Hugh asked, floating on his back and staring up at the cloudless blue sky. “After that long hike, the water feels amazing.”

Ella Mae couldn’t help wondering if Hugh missed being able to hold his breath for twenty minutes. Like her, he’d once possessed special abilities. He could see underwater and swim like a dolphin. And like her, he’d lost his magic and didn’t seem to regret the loss.

Pulling off her sweat-soaked Dr Pepper T-shirt and cutoffs, Ella Mae tossed her socks and tennis shoes aside and waded into the water. Hugh was right. The river, fed by the mountain’s underground spring, was refreshingly chilly. Ella Mae’s skin immediately broke out in gooseflesh.

“You can’t stand there like that!” Hugh chided her playfully. “Take the plunge!”

Smiling, Ella Mae dove into the water. She surfaced, momentarily shuddering over the cold, and then swam over to where Hugh was treading water. “Chewy! Come on!” Ella Mae called to her dog.

When her terrier continued to bark in agitation, Hugh paddled to the nearest rock and slapped it with his palm. “Here, Charleston Chew! Here, boy!”

With a joyous yip, Chewy bounded over the rocks until he reached Hugh. After licking him on the cheek, Chewy barked once at Dante and hopped into the water.

“I guess he needed a formal invitation,” Ella Mae said and laughed.

She and Hugh rested on the largest rock while their dogs splashed about in the shallows. When she wasn’t watching them, Ella Mae followed the path of water droplets trailing from Hugh’s dark hair to his cheek and jawline. When one gathered at the base of his chin, she raised her finger and caught it. At her touch, he looked at her, a question in his lagoon-blue eyes.

In answer, she moved closer to him and slid her arms around his wide, muscular back. His kiss was both familiar and strange.

“I feel like I’m cheating on my longtime girlfriend with an exciting and exotic creature,” Hugh said when they broke apart.

“That woman is gone,” Ella Mae said. “You’re left with the girl next door.”

Hugh arched his brows. “No one would call you that.” He took hold of the hand that had once been marked by the clover-shaped burn scar and ran his fingertips across her water-puckered skin. “You might not bear the mark of a queen, but you’re still undeniably regal, Ella Mae. When you enter a room, everyone turns and stares. It’s impossible not to. It would be like shutting your eyes just as a shooting star blazes across the sky.”

Embarrassed by the compliment, Ella Mae flicked water at him. “They’re really looking at you. The big, tall fireman with the beautiful blue eyes.”

“Right,” Hugh scoffed. “I smell like a kennel and have a farmer’s tan because I’ve been spending too much time doing paperwork at Canine to Five.” He twisted one of Ella Mae’s damp curls around his finger. “Let’s escape whenever we can—try hard to be alone together—just like this. Tonight will be fun, but it won’t be the same. When we’re with other people, I feel them watching us. I can sense them wondering about us.”

Ella Mae nodded. She’d experienced the same sensation. “That’s because we don’t belong among the magical and we’ll never fit in among regular people. Not after what we’ve seen and done. We still have scars, Hugh. They’re just on the inside now.”

Hugh kissed her palm. “I don’t care about being outsiders. As long as we have each other. I don’t need anything but you.”

“And some sunscreen,” Ella Mae said with a smile. “Your nose is turning red.”

*   *   *

That night, Ella Mae left Chewy with her mother, who promised to take the little terrier inside the main house before the fireworks began. Chewy wasn’t afraid of much, but he didn’t care for the loud bangs and explosions that accompanied pyrotechnics displays.

“Until the show starts, I’m going to let him have the run of the garden,” Adelaide LeFaye said. “The first of the lightning bugs have arrived, and Chewy loves to chase them. It’s my hope that he’ll be so tired by the time the first rocket whistles into the sky that he won’t even notice.”

“I might be half-asleep myself,” Ella Mae said. “After a crazy week at the pie shop and a day of hiking and swimming, I’m beat. Still, I wouldn’t miss this evening with Hugh for anything. I also have a contract to deliver to a special guest at the resort.”

Her mother listened as Ella Mae told her about Beatrice Burbank’s proposal. “It sounds fun,” she said when Ella Mae was done. “But maybe you should have Reba research this Camellia Club before you sign anything.”

Ella Mae held up the sealed envelope. “I did the research myself. The Camellias are a philanthropic organization—a group of mothers and daughters who get together to discuss books and attend garden parties, cooking classes, and art exhibits. They raise money for college scholarships and other charities. They’re good people. Besides, I don’t have to be on the lookout for enemies anymore. That part of my life is over.”

Ella Mae’s mother shook her head. “Your childhood nemesis is still at large, and Loralyn Gaynor is bound to seek revenge against you. You were instrumental in her father’s arrest, and because of your influence, her mother made peace with our family. Loralyn is undoubtedly holed up in some luxurious locale, plotting. She’s dangerous, Ella Mae, and you have no idea how, or when, she’ll come after you.” Cupping a clematis bud in her hand, Ella Mae’s mother said, “Things are not always as they appear on the outside. What color do you think this flower will be?”

Peering more closely at the bud, Ella Mae answered, “Pink.”

Closing her hand gently around the bud, her mother hummed very softly. She then withdrew her hand and Ella Mae watched as the bud slowly unfolded, revealing purple petals edged with pink. The purple hue was so dark that it was nearly black.

“People are not always what they seem at first glance,” Adelaide said softly. “You should know that by now.”

“Point taken,” Ella Mae said and gave her mother a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be careful. But not tonight. Tonight, I just want to eat, dance, and watch the sky fill with rainbows of light.”

After asking the front desk clerk at Lake Havenwood Resort to deliver the envelope to Beatrice Burbank by the end of the evening, Ella Mae walked through the lobby and out into the carnival atmosphere on the back lawn. She spotted Hugh speaking with another volunteer fireman at the cotton candy booth and waved. Hugh said good-bye to his friend, grabbed Ella Mae by the hand, and pulled her toward the food tent.

“I was worried that I might not have enough energy to be the man you deserve tonight, but then I saw you and all the cells in my body came alive,” he said, smiling at her. “I plan to dance to every song the band plays tonight, so you’d better fuel up.”

Ella Mae did. She and Hugh loaded their plates with pulled pork, smoked brisket, cheese biscuits, grilled corn, and pickled tomato salad. After a dessert of banana pudding and s’more cheesecake bars, they danced on the terrace overlooking the lake.

During one of the band’s short breaks, Ella Mae glanced around in search of Bea but she didn’t see her anywhere. As the sky darkened and the master of ceremonies announced that it was almost time for the fireworks show to begin, Ella Mae gave up on finding her.

“I can’t believe we never ran into Bea,” she told Hugh.

“Maybe bouncy houses and barbecues aren’t her style. You described her as being elegant and polished, so she probably ate in the dining room and will watch the fireworks display from her balcony while sipping a glass of sparkling wine.”

Ella Mae laughed. “I bet you’re right. And where’s our special spot?”

“It’s a bit apart from everyone else,” Hugh said with an impish glimmer in his eye.

Sliding her arm around his waist, Ella Mae grinned up at him. “It sounds like the perfect place.”

*   *   *

It was very late when Ella Mae returned to her little guest cottage behind her mother’s house. She hadn’t felt so happy or optimistic in months, and though she was physically exhausted, she was too wired to sleep.

Chewy must have been woken up by the sound of Ella Mae’s car, for she could hear his muted barking coming from Partridge Hill’s kitchen the moment she turned off the ignition. Ella Mae rushed to let him out before he could wake her mother. Together, Ella Mae and her terrier wandered through the fragrant garden, across the dew-covered lawn and down to the dock stretching like a finger into the lake.

When they reached the end of the dock, Ella Mae sat cross-legged on the rough planks and listened to the water lap quietly against the wood. Chewy nestled beside her and put his head in her lap. Ella Mae stroked the soft fur on the top of his head and gazed across the lake at the resort.

She smiled, recalling how Hugh’s face had lit up with wonder during the fireworks show. And of how he’d kissed her during the finale. At that moment, she’d sensed the brilliance of the lights in the sky overhead, but it was nothing compared to the sparks of heat she felt between herself and Hugh. They were forging their new beginning. Tonight marked the first of many memories they would make together.

After a time, Ella Mae whispered to Chewy, “All right, boy. Time to go.”

As she stood, she saw something floating in the water. It was hard to see clearly because the moon had ducked behind a cloud, but when it shone unobstructed again, Ella Mae cried out in fear.

The thing floating in the water was a body.

A woman’s body.

Ella Mae reacted quickly. She pushed the small rowboat kept on the dock into the water and leapt into the craft. Using the oar to push herself away from the dock, she paddled toward the body.

It only took a second for Ella Mae to know that the woman was beyond saving. Her upturned face was just below the surface, and her pale hair looked like a tangle of watergrass. Her dress, the shade of a water hyacinth, billowed around her legs and bare feet.

She wore a single piece of jewelry. A gold camellia stickpin was fastened to the upper-left breast of her dress, just above her heart.