Page 61 of One Chance to Stay
Harvey: The eagle has left the roost.
Jason: Is Harvey drunk?
Amanda: No, this is normal Harvey.
Jon: Who’s the eagle this time?
Harvey: Patrick. No. Seamus? I forget.
Jon: Aww, Seamus came back? So damned cute.
Walter: Sorry, Jon, they’re officially Firefly’s cutest couple.
Jon: Rude.
Audrey: Who added me to this chat?
Amanda: When in doubt, blame Walter.
Walter: Facts.
The moment I opened the door, I smelled blueberries mixed with sugar. Part of vacationing in Firefly meant bringing stretchy pants. I had never met a group of people who liked baked goods this much. The fridge had at least two half-eaten pies.
I debated heading upstairs and tucking myself in for the night. As I drifted off to sleep, I’d hear the music playing and imagine dancing with Seamus as if I didn’t step on his toes. Even the thought made me grin.
“Welcome home!” Evelyn’s head appeared in the doorway. There’d be no escaping tonight. The dreams would wait. For a few more minutes, I partook in reality.
“Are you baking again? Are you trying to fatten us up for the holidays?”
I walked into the kitchen and froze. Four pies? Four. Not one. Not two. Four. I raised an eyebrow. “Are you making one for each of us?”
“Har. Har.” She rolled her eyes. “These aren’t for the guests. I’m sending one to Nancy. Steve hurt his back, and she’s been taking care of him. Two are going to Phyllis. She has her grandsons this week for the bonfire. She needs more help than she’s willing to admit.”
“Pie four?”
“That’s for Laurel’s dad. Abraham would never admit it, but weddings make him sad. A blueberry pie with an extra crisp top always cheers him up.”
The people of Firefly traded gossip like currency. A good secret could net you a small fortune, or at least some street cred. Then there wasthisside of the town. They genuinely cared for one another. They’d argue, fight, and throw tantrums, but at the end of the day, there’d be a pie with a request for forgiveness.
“Can you get the pecan and pumpkin pies for me?” She stood at the counter, folding the corners of fancy boxes. “Careful, they’re hot.”
I took the oven mitts and a second later, had two hot pies in hand. Setting them on the counter, I watched as she carefully tied a piece of twine around the box.
“Pie is for the soul. Presentation is for the ego.”
I chuckled. “I think you’re winning on both accounts.”
She paused, staring at the mess left by her baking frenzy. “When Mimi passed, the whole town showed up for Jon and me.” Sometimes I couldn't believe she and Jon were siblings. “Somany damned casseroles. I gained fifteen pounds. My ass barely fit in my sexy jeans.” Then there were moments when I could spot the family resemblance.
“I grew up in Maine,” I started. “I’m a Mainer by geography. But… it’s different here.”
“More snow.”
“That too.”
“Kissing cousins.”
“You’re joking.”
