Free Pecan Pies and Homicides by Ellery Adams

snow.”
    The song tugged at Ella Mae’s heart. She leaned over the beautiful frozen woman, wishing she could touch her hand just once in farewell. Her breath plumed over Eira’s pale hair—a curlicue of regret and sorrow. And then, Ella Mae stood and pressed both palms against the boulder.
    As usual, she felt instantly dizzy and nauseated. Her skin felt stretched taut and her blood surged like a rushing river. The intense physical discomfort was over almost as soon as it had begun, and before she knew it, Ella Mae was on the other side of the rock wall.
    She sucked in a deep breath and steadied herself. Entering the grove always made her feel as if she’d been turned inside out. But the discomfort was always worth it. No place on earth was as lovely and tranquil as the grove. The air was always warm, a playful breeze rustled the tree branches, and glorious flowers bloomed all year long.
    Seasons were different here too. Outside, it was blustery and gray. Here, the sky was a soft blue tinged with streaks of silver and lilac. The tree leaves turned brilliant colors in the autumn, their crimsons, oranges, and golds as bright as bonfires, but in the winter, all the color leaked out of them. The entire grove turned a pure and gleaming white, from the tree trunks to the leaves to every blade of grass. It was a glittering white, holding all the magic of the first snowfall or the sparkles inside a snow globe. And because Adelaide LeFaye was the Lady of the Ash, there were roses everywhere.
    Ella Mae stepped under an arch covered with a tangle of wild roses. The blooms smelled of sugared marzipan and opened wide as she passed by. Any other time, Ella Mae would have stopped to drink in the amazing variety of scents her mother’s flowers produced. In December, she’d walked from bush to bush, inhaling hints of candy canes, fir trees, cinnamon, roasted chestnuts, and wood smoke. Now she was too upset to pay attention to the ethereal beauty of her surroundings. She hurried through the apple orchard, barely noticing that the apples had turned from gold to silver and raced up a low hill to where her mother stood, tall and magnificent, on its crest.
    I’m here, Mom!
Ella Mae shouted wordlessly. She never needed to speak when she and her mother were together. Their thoughts and feelings were exchanged in silence—a knot of complex emotions flowing between them like air currents.
    Ella Mae fell to the ground and wrapped her arms around the ash tree’s trunk. The rough bark scratched her skin, and for the hundredth time, she wished her mother were herself. Someone made of flesh and blood. Someone who could return an embrace. Who could smooth Ella Mae’s hair with long, graceful fingers.
    Why are you crying?
The voice whispered inside Ella Mae. Absently, she raised a hand and touched her wet cheek. Closing her eyes, she formed a picture of Eira in her mind so her mother could see what she’d seen.
    She then called forth images and memories of the Gaynors’ party, sharing the news about the burned Tennessee grove and Eira’s plea to help her friends and neighbors.
    â€œI’m going to let them stay at Partridge Hill,” she said. Speaking the words out loud gave them more strength.
    Invite them and you invite danger in as well,
her mother replied.
    â€œMaybe so.” Ella Mae pressed her face against the bark. She smelled roses and crushed herbs and moonlight—her mother’s unique perfume. “But I’ve been in danger since I came back to Havenwood. And while I might be putting myself at risk, I can’t sit by and let these people suffer. Even if the arsonist ends up under our roof, I’m going through with this.”
    I wouldn’t expect any less of you.
    Ella Mae switched subjects and began to talk about the winter carnival. She described the pies she planned to make, and how she intended to increase the pie shop’s business, but her mind kept returning