Page 40

I WASN’T EXPECTING PIE

“I’m telling you, Firefly Valley belongs on a postcard. Tessa, they have white picket fences and rocking chairs on every porch.”

My car crept up the driveway, leaning forward to examine my home for the next few weeks. A classic two-story farmhouse. I marveled at the wraparound porch and screen door. The photos in the ad didn’t do it justice.

“Tessa, it has rocking chairs. Rocking chairs!”

The city girl in my ear let out a long sigh. “It sounds quaint.” My agent couldn’t survive without her boutique coffee shops. Would the people of Firefly even know how to make her venti white mocha with sugar in the raw? No, I bet the locals liked it black.

“When I said to get away, I didn’t mean drive to the ends of the Earth.”

“I know.” I shifted the car into park. “Oh, it has a barn.”

“That’s not the selling point you think it is.”

Tessa, the most loyal agent in the business, wouldn’t be caught dead in a place without grocery delivery. “I think this is going to be good for me. I need to mix it up. Who knows, maybe I’ll have some life-altering epiphany while I’m here?”

“Christopher.” She only used my full name when she wanted to drop a truth bomb. “This will blow over. Every actor has a project tank. Once the media finds an actor’s scandal, they’ll forget Soft Spoken ever happened. I promise you’ll have another deal in no time.”

I didn’t question Tessa’s ability to find me another role.

There weren’t many in the business who worked magic like her.

In a month, she’d find me another role playing some musclebound idiot jumping from exploding buildings.

I signed one superhero movie deal, and since then, it has been the same role over and over again.

“You’re right.”

“I know I am. In the meantime, I’m telling the media you’re on a romantic getaway. Let them go crazy trying to figure out who your new beau is.”

“Seriously? That’s what you’re going with?”

“Are you questioning me?” Tessa liked to come off as a hard-ass, but she had a soft, squishy center. “Now, have fun raising cows or throwing hay bales while I do my job.”

“You have no idea what happens in the country, do you?”

She laughed. “No, and let’s keep it that way.”

The phone went silent, and I pulled out my headphones.

Getting out of the car, I breathed in the mountain air, still chilly from a lingering winter.

I’m sure my mind played tricks on me, but everything smelled fresh.

I swore I could smell the lilac bush nestled against the house’s corner.

For the next month, I’d enjoy a slower pace.

After the sun set, I imagined myself sitting in one of those rocking chairs enjoying a bourbon.

“It’s a blessing in disguise,” I whispered.

I popped the trunk and pulled out my duffle bag.

I hadn’t been to Firefly since their comic con.

Everybody wanted Chris Wilde, the actor who brought Valiant to the silver screen.

When Soft Spoken opened, I hoped it’d start a new chapter of playing characters with emotional depth.

Bombing at the box office, I had become the talk of the town.

One more article titled, “Has the Curtain Closed on Hollywood’s Leading Man? ” and I might have a breakdown.

“Leave it all behind,” I mumbled.

I walked on the gravel path, noting an uncanny number of gnomes stationed in the flowerbeds.

The little man in a blue jacket and pointy red hat bent over, baring his bottom, made me chuckle.

When Jason sent me the listing, he promised the quintessential Firefly, and he delivered.

At any moment, I expected to see a buck in the distance. Though, I think they eat those up here.

The screen door opened, and an older woman waved. I’d have a little small talk, grab the keys from them, and then I’d begin my month of isolation. If I was lucky, none of the tabloids reached this far, and they wouldn’t ask me about??—

“A Hollywood star! Dorris will never believe this.”

So much for anonymity.

“You must be Rose.”

She wore a headband to keep her curls in check, but those white locks refused to be tamed. Even her fluffy gray sweater screamed, “New England!” I walked up the three steps to the porch and held out my hand. Pushing it aside, she threw her arms around me in a hug, her head barely reaching my chest.

“She’s always bragging about that time she ate at the table next to Patrick Dempsey.”

“Rose, leave the poor man alone.” A man stood behind Rose, removing his glasses and cleaning them with a small handkerchief. “He’s had a long drive. Last thing he needs is you fawning over him.”

He reached around his wife and offered his hand.

“I’m Edward. We’re excited to have you.” He had a firm handshake, but one where he added the second hand for good measure.

I’m pretty sure it meant we were going to be hunting buddies.

“Don’t let Rose scare you. When you meet Dorris, you’ll understand. ”

“It wasn’t even him!” She threw her hands up in the air. Jason warned me. Firefly might not have newsworthy drama, but the town had its own variation. “Ed, we’re not cavemen. Get the man’s bag. Is it just you? No special someone?” Rose peered over my shoulder at the car.

"Just me," I said.

"Don't worry, we can fix that later," she said.

If this were New York, there’d have been a lock box, a key, and a binder with instructions.

If I was lucky, my host would text a quick, “You good?” Then I’d cross my fingers they gave me a five-star review.

I was beginning to doubt that Rose and Edward cared about their online reviews.

They were simply happy to have somebody to talk with.

“Come with me.” Rose took me by the hand and pulled me past Edward.

The moment we entered the house, my nose picked up the scent of burnt wood and freshly baked bread.

He pulled my bag out of my hand as she led me into the hallway.

An arch to the left led to a sizable living room, and to the right, stairs.

When she believed I had gained enough momentum to follow her into the kitchen, I stopped to see a wall of mismatched photographs.

At least fifty photos of various sizes radiated out from a photograph of Edward in his Marine Corps dress blues and Rose in a simple yet elegant white dress. It could have been a formal wedding photo, but he was bent at the waist, planting a kiss on her cheek while she feigned surprise.

“The happiest day of my life,” Edward said.

Others contained kids, graduations, soccer games, and moms holding babies.

With each new photograph, their story unfolded.

In every photo of Edward and Rose together, his eyes followed her.

His expression was the epitome of admiration.

If I were worried about them being axe murderers, this put me at ease.

“She’s beautiful,” I said.

“She still is.”

I hardly knew Edward, but as I followed his eyes to the kitchen, Rose wielded oven mitts like a knight donning armor. “Stop getting lost on memory lane. This pie isn’t going to eat itself.”

Oh. Rose made a pie? Look no further; she’s already received a five-star rating.

Edward rushed into the kitchen, and I followed. Like Firefly, it belonged in the next issue of Farm Kitchen Monthly. The light blue cabinets and oversized farmhouse sink stood out against the wide plank floorboards. I don't think it had been planned. This was just... the norm.

Edward dropped my bag next to a round table, pushed it against the far wall, and sat down at the speed of a man who needed his dessert. Edward shoved a cloth napkin in his lap. I knew a fellow pie-lover when I spotted one.

“If you don’t grab a seat, I’ll eat yours, too.”

Something felt… off. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but the exchange unfolding before me had reached unusual.

They might not be axe murderers, but never had I had hosts pull up a chair and exchange stories over pie.

Teasing Tessa might have been premature.

Perhaps I didn’t understand country house rental customs?

“You won’t find a better blueberry pie in Maine.”

“And don’t let Dorris tell you otherwise,” she added.

She put a trivet shaped like an owl on the table and set the pie on top. “Wow.”

“Right?” Edward licked his lips.

If I didn’t know better, I’d think Rose had a baking show on the Food Channel.

The browned lattice work bordered on perfection.

I didn’t have time to admire the dark filling as the smell of blueberries filled my nostrils.

Even the light sprinkling of sugar looked as if each granule had been carefully placed.

“You may have had blueberry pie before, but not like Rosie’s. She’s about to ruin you for all other pies.”

She used her pie knife to carefully cut a slice. Edward handed her a plate, and I could feel my stomach rumble as the filling oozed out. I realized I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and I was willing to substitute a proper meal with pie.

“You know why mine’s the best?”

The plate hovered just underneath my nose, but she refused to put it down. If I answered wrong, would she march over to the waste bin and throw it away? I’d cry while going through my duffle bag for loose cookies.

“It’s made with love?”

“Don’t give me any of that nonsense.” She gave me a light slap on the shoulder. “I pick the blueberries myself. If you’re feeling peckish, there are some bushes out by the barn.”

Edward didn’t attempt subtlety as he slid his plate closer to the pie. When it clanked against the pie plate, Rose slapped his hand. “You’d think I starved him. Ed, one look at you, and they’ll know you’re well-fed.”

He glanced down and gave his pot belly a shake. “And here I thought you loved my fluff.”