continuing. “This patio has such a wonderful blend of blooms and herbs. I like how the purple basil is mixed with the black-eyed Susans, and the lavender and rosemary are in the same bed with the wild geraniums. Do you use all these herbs in your food?”
Ella Mae sat on the chair across from Mrs. Fisher. “I do. And what we don’t grow here comes from my mother’s herbgarden. She also has a large greenhouse, so we serve fresh greens throughout the year.”
Mrs. Fisher’s tears began flowing again. “It sounds like you and your mom are close. You’re so lucky.”
“We are now, but that wasn’t always the case,” Ella Mae said. “And I’m sure your mother loved you.”
Bea’s daughter let loose a dry, humorless laugh. “I was born Elizabeth Grace Burbank, the only child of Christopher and Beatrice Burbank. I was
supposed
to be tall, slim, blond, and accomplished. Above all else, I was s
upposed
to be a Camellia. Instead, I turned out to be short, plump, and great at only one thing: motherhood. I’m a good wife too, but I’m most proud of the mom I’ve become. I never aspired to be a Camellia. What I dreamed of was raising a big, loud, chaotic, happy family.” She laughed again, but this time, it was genuine. “And that’s exactly what I did.”
Smiling, Ella Mae extended her hand. “Well, Elizabeth of the big, happy family, I’m Ella Mae.”
“It’s just Liz.” The other woman managed a small smile. “I’m sorry to show up unannounced. I didn’t want to break down at the police station. Mama would have been pleased by my composure. I was able to identify her without crying. I even made it through the interview. But when they gave me her things . . .” Her voice wavered and she stopped.
“I can’t imagine how hard that must have been,” Ella Mae said gently. “I wish someone had come to Havenwood with you.”
“Brady is with the boys. All three of them are Scouts and they’re volunteering today. I didn’t want them to have to stay at home with a sitter because of this. I thought I could handle it. Brady warned me that it would be awful.” Liz pulled a wad of tissues from her handbag and a bunch of other detritus fellonto the ground, including gum, hand sanitizer, toy soldiers, a yo-yo, and a Tide bleach pen.
Liz scrambled to retrieve the items. “I buy these bleach pens by the dozen,” she said, showing Ella Mae the large coffee stain on her blouse.
It was hard to believe that this disheveled person with the wild hair, the mascara-streaked cheeks, and the stained shirt was Bea’s daughter, but Ella Mae liked her just as much as she’d liked Bea.
“Why don’t you come inside?” Ella Mae asked. “I have a great recipe for cheeseburger pie. I bet your sons would love it. When I’m upset, being in the kitchen helps. Talking things over with another woman helps too. What do you say?”
Liz nodded gratefully. “That sounds really nice.”
Ella Mae led Liz into the pie shop. She turned on the lights in the kitchen and tuned the radio to an easy listening station. After giving Liz a peach The Charmed Pie Shoppe apron, she set the ovens to the correct temperature and retrieved two balls of pie dough from the refrigerator. As she and Liz rolled out the dough on the flour-dusted worktable, Liz told her what it was like to grow up in Bea’s shadow.
“She was top of her class at Emory University. She spoke three languages, was a talented watercolor painter, and played competitive chess, tennis, and golf. She was a skilled pianist and could ride a horse like she was part centaur, but do you know what she
couldn’t
do?” Liz held up her rolling pin as though it were a question mark.
Ella Mae shrugged. She wanted Liz to get a few things off her chest, but she didn’t want to encourage an hour-long rant about how tough it was to be Beatrice Burbank’s daughter.
“She couldn’t swim,” Liz said sorrowfully. “Isn’t that crazy? She grew up in Georgia, for heaven’s