Fortunate Harbor by Emilie Richards Page A

in. To be considerate she’d let Alice teach her to crochet, but how many granny square afghans could she foist off on her kids and grandkids? Sure, she couldn’t survive without All My Children , but that was why God had invented TiVo, and Ken had surprised her with one for their anniversary.
    No, baking was the thing, though she could foresee a serious problem if she didn’t find a way to sell all the pies she was planning. Ken could only take so many to work, even when he was home. Her neighbors were game, but not enough todouble their weight—although Tracy was trying. No, selling the pies was the answer, and Sunshine was the place to start.
    She settled on a traditional double-crusted apple pie, since that was the favorite of people with no imagination. Of course, she added her secret touches. A pastry recipe she had perfected. A careful mixture of spices. A generous sprinkle of whiskey, her own secret ingredient that made all the difference. She was proud enough of the pie, even if it wasn’t her favorite.
    She baked her famous Key lime, as well, the one they’d served instead of cake at her son’s wedding. And to show that she was an innovator and not just somebody who perfected the ordinary, she made a green tomato pie, with green tomatoes from a farm stand in Palmetto Grove. Her mama had made green tomato pies every fall and spring, a woman who used what she had and never complained. But Wanda knew that most people had never had one, and certainly not one as good as her very own version.
    At noon she put the pies in two carriers, one double, one single, that she used for church suppers, and set them carefully in her car. There was nothing she could do to make herself look as wholesome as Betty Crocker, but she wore her simplest dress and flats, and played down her jewelry. Then she made the trip into town.
    Sunshine Bakery was on State Street, in an ideal location near restaurants and a small grocery store in the central shopping district. The place had changed hands in the fall, and she hadn’t heard much about it one way or the other since.
    There was a park on the next block, where parents gathered to watch children’s soccer matches or Little League games, and couples played tennis on half a dozen courts. Wanda imagined children and parents alike stopped by for brownies or cookies, or something to bring home for dessert.
    State Street itself needed sprucing up. She noted a couple of empty storefronts, although one looked as if it were in the midst of renovation. The city had torn up the sidewalks across the road from Sunshine, but new sidewalks would be an advantage. It looked as if they might be putting in some landscaping, too. All in all, the spot was good.
    She found a parking space at the end of the block, and gathered her pies and the sheet she’d printed with her information and what she expected to charge per pie. The last had been the hardest. She had no idea what people might really pay. She’d made a run to Publix that morning to see what their pies went for, then figured how much hers would be worth per slice. By the time she subtracted the cost of ingredients, there hadn’t been that much left over to pay for her time. But pies were a labor of love. And if she started making them in bulk, she could buy in bulk, too, and that would save her some money.
    From the outside, Sunshine Bakery was no great shakes. The plate glass window needed cleaning, and the displays of fake wedding cakes looked as if they’d been bought at a garage sale. Wanda knew that most people in town bought their wedding cakes from a woman one town over who specialized in nothing but and was more or less famous in South Florida. Apparently the Sunshine Bakery wasn’t trying hard to compete.
    Inside, the bakery was narrow, with a counter on the right over a glass display case. While the room should have smelled like something baking in the oven, the smell was more like a house that had been closed up too long. The woman