Page 16 of Truck You

She winks before she scoops it up and hands it to me in exchange for three dollars. As soon as the sweet scent of baked apples hits my nostrils, I can’t get the first bite in my mouth fast enough.

“Oh, my God.” My eyes fall shut as a deep, and somewhat embarrassing, groan escapes me. “How much for an entire pie because this thing is heaven?”

I don’t know how it’s possible, but the woman’s smile grows. “That’s sweet dear. Why don’t you just take one? I don’t do this for the money.”

“Of course you just give it away,” a harsh, angry voice says from behind me. I turn around to see a woman who looks to be about the same age as my mother, glowering at the sweet grandma who just offered to give me pie. “Why would a thief need money?”

The older woman sighs, “Now, Johanna, you know I’m not a damn thief.”

“You’re a liar as well.” Johanna crosses her arms over her chest and narrows her eyes. “What’s it going to take to get you to admit your family stole my great grandmother’s pie recipe?”

“No one stole anything.” There’s a flicker of annoyance in the woman’s eyes, despite the fact that she’s still smiling. “This is my recipe. One thatIperfected based on my own baking secrets.”

I slowly take a few steps back, clearly having stepped into something I don’t want to be a part of. When I turn around, I run into a young woman about my age standing behind me. She’s got long, straight brown hair that hangs just past her shoulders and dark-rimmed glasses that sit low on her nose. She’s wearing jeans with a light blue cardigan over a white-collared blouse. Despite her glasses, I can see she has large dark blue eyes. She’s beautiful, although I suspect she does nothing to highlight her appearance. She looks like she should be standing behind the counter of the public library.

“Sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

She smiles and waves me off. “Don’t worry about it. I snuck up on you, coming to rescue you from the Great Pie War.”

“The Great Pie War?” I raise a brow, hoping that encourages her to elaborate.

“It’s so silly.” She points to the woman named Johanna. “Johanna Koch insists Grams,” she points to the older woman who offered me free pie, “stole her great grandmother’s apple pie recipe and that’s the only reason Grams wins every year. But I highly doubt it’s true. The Koch family will find any reason they can to hate the Mutter family, even if they’re wrong.”

“The Mutter family? As in … Mac Mutter?” I ask, hoping this doesn’t draw too many unwanted questions about how I know Mac.

She nods her head quickly. “Do you know Mac?”

“Not really. I love racing, and I’ve followed his career.”

She tilts her head from side-to-side like my answer makes perfect sense, then she holds her hand out. Her arm is stiff like she’s not used to introducing herself to others. “I’m Clara, by the way. I baked pies this year too, but I didn’t win anything. No one can beat Grams when it comes to pie. Although I keep trying.”

“I’m Sophia.” I accept her hand. “So, this is your grandmother?”

“Oh, heavens no. I grew up with her grandkids.” She adjusts the glasses on her face with a slightly awkward smile. “Everybody calls her Grams though.”

“Really?” I give her a quizzical glance. “Even though she’s not your grandmother?”

Clara rests her hands on her hips and looks at me like she’s confused about why I’d ask such a thing. “You’re not from a small town, are you?”

I chuckle with a shake of my head. “I grew up in Cincinnati.”

She lets out what I can only describe as a disappointed sigh. “That explains a lot.”

* * *

“Hey, Clara Bell!”A handsome man with dark blond hair comes up behind us and wraps his arm over Clara’s shoulder. “How did you do?”

Clara cuts him a sideways glare, but I don’t miss the way her hand trembles when she brushes her hair behind her ear. “How do you think I did? Your Grams was competition.”

“Well, it is hard to beat perfection.” He gives Clara a huge grin and a side hug before he releases her and steps around the table. “Hey, Grams. Got any of that award-winning pie for your favorite grandson?”

“Now, Ash.” Grams cups his cheek. Her smile is so wide and bright it makes me wish I had a grandma just like her. Unfortunately, all my grandparents passed long before I was born. “You know I don’t pick favorites.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell the others.” He winks. “Now, how about that pie? Clara won’t let me eat any of hers.”

“I never said that.” Clara huffs and points a scolding finger at him. “I said you had to wait until after the competition.”

Grams chuckles. “Did you run over to her house and try to eat her pie last night after I kicked your ass out of my kitchen?”

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