Bryony turned her attention back to Mr. Parker. “Showing up for trivia night will be worth a second pie.”

“I said I’d be there.” He looked back down at his puzzles.

Abby resumed hooking and pulling her yarn, but Etta continued to watch Bryony, her laptop abandoned for the time being. Bryony approached Etta’s table.

“Sit down for a minute,” Etta said.

Bryony sat, the damp cloth clutched in her right hand.

“I’m not a busybody,” Etta said. “But I can’t help but hear what goes on back there”—she pointed to the work area—“because I sit right here every day. I would sit farther from the counter, but the opening and closing of the door makes me cold!” She smiled, and little lines crinkled at the corners of her eyes. “I keep hearing tidbits of information about you wanting to start a pie business, and you don’t know me, but I think I can help you.”

“How?” Bryony asked.

“I help small, independent food producers,” Etta said. “I’m not saying you need my services at this point, but if you want to pick my brain, I’d be happy to give you information about how to sell your pies online, how to price them, and how to advertise them.”

“Sell pies online?” Bryony asked.

“You can sell almost anything online,” Etta said. “Here. Take a look.” She tapped her keyboard and turned her screen toward Bryony. “Look at this. These prices range from twenty-three to forty-five dollars a pie.”

“So much?” Bryony’s eyes widened.

“Lots of money out there,” Etta said. “Don’t sell yourself short. I don’t have time to talk right now, but like I said, if you want to talk some afternoon, I’m happy to help.”

“Yes! I need all the help I can get.” Forty-five dollars a pie? Unbelievable.

Etta smiled. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to the office.” She pointed to the computer screen.

Bryony eased out of the chair. “Thank you, Etta.” A giddy giggle tickled Bryony’s belly. She squelched it. Way too soon to start celebrating.

The rest of the day breezed by, all worries about Cal and the Hendersons submerged by the prospect of selling the one product Bryony loved producing.

At four o’clock Cal arrived and ordered a latte.

Still afloat from knowing pies could be marketable and profitable, Bryony greeted him with less concern about where they would end up. For Heaven’s sake, they had only been seeing each other a brief time. And he had said from the beginning he would leave at the end of the school year. Silly to allow her feelings to become so dramatic.

“Did you have a nice dinner?” she asked as she assembled the latte.

“Stimulating,” Cal answered. “I am more confident the funding for the program might come through. Charity’s friend, Susie Quatman, was there. Do you know her?”

“From school. She moved away after graduation.” Hearing that Susie had been there barely hurt. Knowing she had a future with or without him insulated Bryony from the harsh winds of days gone by. She had a life of her own. She glanced at Etta’s usual seat. What a difference a day can make.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Cal said. “I ran the idea of a pie business past them last night. I think if you wanted to reach out, Charity and Susie might have ideas about how to promote your business.”

Armor up, Bryony’s jaw set. Her shoulders tensed. “I’d appreciate you not talking about my idea with anyone. It’s too soon. I need time.” She needed trustworthy allies.

“Sure,” Cal said. “I didn’t tell them you were the pie maker, but they were excited. Chuck, too. I think discussing the idea revived him a bit. He said he’s a big pie lover.”

Bryony bit her lip.

“Make my latte to go,” Cal said. “Bailey’s in the car. We’re on our way to Cleveland.”

Bryony poured the drink into an insulated paper cup and snapped on a lid.

Cal handed over a credit card. “I look forward to seeing you Sunday night.”

Bryony slid his card through the reader.

“I’ll call later tonight,” he said.

“Okay.” The reply sprang automatic, like, “please,” and “thank you.”

He offered his usual wave from the door, and Bryony moved on to the next customer in line. If Lillian hadn’t been called away to provide care for a sick grandchild, Bryony would have taken a break. As it was, she would have to manage her feelings and the line of thirsty, hungry people all by herself.

Two lattes and two bagels followed by a dozen plain bagels and copious amounts of distraction wrapped up the next two customers. She accomplished far more excellence in service for customers three, four, and five. By the sixth customer after Cal’s departure, Bryony was able to bring herself back to the moment, far removed from the not-so-buried memories of Susie and Charity when they were young.

The regular customers, seeing the enormous task of managing the afternoon rush alone, helped as much as they could. They brought their mugs and plates to the counter and threw away their trash. Their kindness reminded Bryony she had not merely survived her youth, she was in a better place, surrounded by people who didn’t insult or taunt her.

Her calmer mood lasted into the evening, but when she pulled the peanut pie out of the oven, number seventy-five on the list, she thought about the comic strip and Charlie Brown’s gullibility. She was done being the gullible one. The next time the Lucy factor in her life pulled the ball away, Bryony would not end up on her back.

When Cal called at eight o’clock, she didn’t answer her phone.

CAL’S CLASH

Raindrops left black dots on Cal’s dark gray canvas sleeve. He jogged to the coffee shop door from his car. Once inside, he unbuttoned the front of his coat and wiped his shoes before stepping off the flowered welcome mat.

The coffee shop buzzed with activity. Todd, Lillian, and Bryony flew around each other, three birds angling and swooping, their wings flapping with precision. He’d hoped he might catch Bryony for a minute. Not much chance of that happening too soon in this much hubbub.

Between his father, the munchkins, the Halloween party, and several heart-to-heart discussions with Heidi about how to help their father, Cal had only been able to call Bryony at odd hours the entire weekend. He hadn’t been surprised when she did not answer.

On the trip back to Fieldstone, he’d called from the road to cancel their Sunday night plans because he left Cleveland later than originally planned. That call, too, went to voicemail.

He only had a few minutes before he needed to leave for school.

Chuck, Charity, and Susie occupied a table halfway between the service counter and the door. Susie saw him first and waved him over.

He walked to their table, his eyes on Bryony. Hers were on the people directly in front of her, on the opposite side of the counter.

“I’m so glad we didn’t give up our extra chair,” Charity said. She removed her leather bag and patted the chair seat. “Come and sit, Cal.”

He sat on the brown chair, across from Chuck, without removing his coat. “You’re out early this morning.”

Chuck sported a fresh haircut. A navy blue sweater brought out the lighter blue of his eyes. “Doc gave me a good report yesterday,” he said. “He says if I keep this up, I could maybe start working again in the spring.” He did look better, but he still needed more bulk and tone in his muscles.

“Whoa there, champ,” Cal said. “I’m not ready to give up my post.”

“No worries. I’m taking the rest of the year off, as planned,” Chuck said.