Chapter 7: The Pie

"Leo, dear," Carolyn said on the front step. "I made you an apple pie."

Hammer didn't move out of the way.

"Let them in," I said.

Seven pairs of eyes turned to me.

"It's my kitchen tonight," I said. "I want to hear what they came to say."

Roland Price walked in first, filling the hall with golf-tan and aftershave.

Carolyn followed with the pie held in front of her.

Amanda came last, in a gray coat, and stayed in the hall with her arms wrapped around herself.

Vivian had given my sisters one order in the entry, and I watched them obey it.

Nobody said a word.

Seven women sat around that table in total silence, each one with a different look on her face.

Doc looked like she was counting the pulse in Carolyn's neck.

Mic looked like she was composing a headline.

Hammer held the pie knife and examined it with great interest.

Carolyn set the pie on the table. It was golden and it smelled like cinnamon.

"You always loved my apple pie," she said.

"I ate it because you made it."

"Leo."

"I was being polite. I'm done."

Roland cleared his throat and put both hands flat on the table.

"Son," he said. "We got off on the wrong foot."

"You gave me a garbage bag."

"A misunderstanding. Emotions were high."

He leaned forward.

"Here's what I'm prepared to do. Head of logistics at Price Supply, three hundred thousand a year."

"Your own office, and a title with your name on the door."

I looked at him.

"And the guest wing," he added. "Back to normal."

"The guest wing had a view of your dumpsters."

"I'm offering you a seat at the table!"

"You're offering me back the chair I was thrown out of."

Doc made a small noise that might have been a laugh.

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