Page 43 of The Holiday Fakers
“Absolutely. There’s no cooking that compares to Mrs Locke’s.”
“Erica,” Mom says, leaning across me again to squeeze his arm. “Call me Erica.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I start eating and follow the happy hum of conversation. Brody seems more relaxed now, laughing at Harper’s terrible jokes, and the tension inside me melts away.
“Blueberry pie!” Mia exclaims as my mother places it on the table. “I have to take a picture.”
The lattice design on top is so precise I think Mom must have measured each line. It looks better than anything store-bought,and I know it tastes better too, with a perfect buttery pastry that crumbles and melts in the mouth.
Mia gets to her feet to snap a couple of photos, then sits back down. “By the way, I’m having Hudson’s portion. He told me earlier that he’d prefer a small, low-fat yogurt instead.”
“As if,” Hudson rumbles, and we all laugh.
Dad cuts the pie and hands it out. It’s still warm, and when a scoop of Mom’s homemade vanilla ice cream melts on top of my slice, my mouth waters even more.
My hand inches toward my spoon, but I force myself to wait until everyone is served.
“Eat! Don’t wait!” Mom says to me and Brody.
“I don’t need to be told twice,” Brody says with a smile and we dig in as if we’re starving.
As the cool creaminess of the ice cream and the slight tartness of the soft blueberries hit my tongue, I moan with appreciation before I can stop myself.
Brody’s spoon makes a clanking noise as it crashes into his bowl.
“Yummy, yummy, in my tummy!” Martha shouts, breaking the silence.
Mia stares at me from across the table, a knowing smirk on her lips.
I glare at her and give a tiny shake of my head.
She gets the message and turns to Mom. “Are these the blueberries we picked on Labor Day weekend?”
“Sure are, honey. And we’ve still got nearly a hundred pounds left in the freezer in the basement.”
As Mia and my mom chat blueberry recipes, I sense Ethan’s eyes on me and Brody. It’s the kind of scrutiny I’d rather avoid. He’s a search and rescue pilot, but if he wasn’t being a hero on a daily basis, I bet he would have joined the FBI.
“What are your plans now you’re back?” he asks Brody.
“Just hanging out,” I reply as Brody finishes his mouthful. “See what’s going on in town.”
“There’s the Santa Fun Run tomorrow,” Harper says. “Lots of guys from Hudson’s station are doing it, so I’m going to cheer them on.”
“Then there’s caroling in the town square late afternoon,” Dad adds. “Another live music event at The Shore Thing, and the ice carving competition up at the estate.”
“Are you doing the fun run?” Mia asks Hudson.
His mouth is full of pie, so he shakes his head.
“Oh, I forgot, you don’t do fun.”
He finishes his mouthful and rolls his eyes. “I’m saving myself for the woolen sock running championships on Sunday.”
“That’s still going on?” Brody asks.
“Yep,” Hudson replies. “I came in second last year.” He shoots a look at Mia, and she lowers her gaze to her pie. “So this year I’m going to win it.”
