Saturday morning dawned bright and clear. Violet finished ironing Richard’s shirt and held it up for inspection. All the spots had come out, thank goodness, and he’d be crisp and tidy for the fair. Her pie was ready to go, placed in a basket with a towel thrown over the top. Oh, she hoped the judges liked it, but even more than that, she hoped Richard would know which one was hers. She didn’t know why that mattered to her—maybe it would signify that they were meant to be together or some other such silly thing. At any rate, whether he guessed hers correctly or not, she knew she’d done her best, and Miss Hazel’s advice on how to make a flakier crust seemed to have paid off.
Richard took the shirt from her outstretched hand. “Hey, it’s still warm,” he said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “That’s a nice treat.”
“Better hurry and change,” she told him. “We need to leave in a few minutes.”
“Yes, dear.” He flashed a saucy grin, then disappeared into the other room. She smiled, shaking her head. He hadn’t repeated the kiss he’d given her the other night, and she didn’t know why. Wasn’t she a good kisser? She didn’t know—she’d never done it before. It wasn’t the kind of thing she could ask for advice about, though—she didn’t imagine Miss Hazel was in the business of kissing lessons anyway.
She brushed invisible lint from the front of her yellow dress and was ready to go when Richard reappeared, looking nice and crisp. He picked up her basket with a mischievous look on his face.
“I wonder what would happen if I took a little peek inside here,” he said, reaching for the towel as if he planned to do just that.
“No!” She lunged for his arm, but he turned away, laughing.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Murray. Your secret is safe. On my honor as a Mountie, I will not lift this towel.”
“On your honor?”
“As a Mountie.”
She frowned for a moment, then relaxed. “All right, but I’m holding you to that. If you break your promise, I’ll report you to Commander Jacobs.”
Richard gave her a salute. “Yes, ma’am!”
The weather really couldn’t have been more perfect for an outdoor event. As they moved through the crowd, Violet overheard comments about the long winter, and how glad everyone was that summer had come. The town’s population seemed to have doubled, and Richard explained that people came from miles around for the chance to see each other and catch up on news.
The churchyard was the center of activity for the day, with the pie contest being one of the main attractions. Violet took the basket from Richard and dodged people in her path as she made her way to the tables where the competing pies were being displayed. She set hers down and rotated it a bit, looking for its best side so it would be shown off properly. She knew she was being fussy, but she couldn’t help it. She noticed Caitlyn come up and put her pie on the table as well, but she didn’t obsess over it.
“Do you think any of us stand a chance against Miss Hazel?” Caitlyn asked once Violet had finally stopped repositioning her pie tin.
“I honestly don’t know. Her pie is something else.” Violet looked up and down the table. “These all look really good.” There were pies of every kind on display, and she wondered how her own humble offering could possibly stack up.
“Oh, look. Here’s Adele,” Caitlyn said.
Adele waved at them, then hurried over to join them with her own pie. “I don’t remember the last time I was this nervous,” she said, looking up and down the table like Violet had done. “I paid close attention to everything Miss Hazel said, but what if I forgot something?”
“Your pie looks delicious, and I’m sure it will taste that way too,” Violet told her.
“I hope so. The last thing I want is to give anyone a tummy ache.” Adele laughed and nodded toward the spot where she’d left Liam. “The judges are taking a moment to confer before the contest has even begun.”
Sure enough, Liam had been joined by Richard and Curtis, and they seemed to be discussing something quite serious.
“We did put a lot of pressure on them, expecting them to know whose pie is whose,” Violet pointed out.
“True, but it was fun.” Adele looped her arms through Violet’s and Caitlyn’s. “This whole day is going to be fun. Let’s make the most of it.”
Just then, the Mounties jogged past the pie tables on their way toward a grassy meadow. “We’re going to play baseball with the boys!” Richard called out to Violet.
Adele cheered. “I’ll come watch, Liam!”
The three brides made their way to the meadow where the game was going to take place. Richard was rolling up his sleeves and getting ready to play, and Violet thought he looked just as young as the children they’d be joining. He looked carefree and relaxed—happy. She wondered if she had anything to do with that happiness.
Adele nudged her. “Do you see that little girl over there? The one Liam’s talking to?”
Violet glanced over. The child looked upset. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m going to find out.” Adele went and joined her husband in talking to the girl. After a few minutes, the child brightened, and Adele dashed back over to the brides.
“Either of you up for a game?” she asked. “I’m going to play, and Emily’s going to be on my team. Those boys had the nerve to tell her girls can’t play baseball!”
“I would, but I’d miss the ball every time,” Violet replied.
“Me too,” Caitlyn added. “But we’ll cheer you on.”
Adele grinned. “Okay, but you’re missing out.” She jogged back out to the field, and within just a few minutes, more girls had come forward, wanting to play.
Violet couldn’t help but smile as she watched the teams assemble. The boys didn’t seem to know what to do with girls in their midst, but she had no doubt that those particular females could hold their own in any fight.
She and Caitlyn found good spots and began watching just as Adele made her first home run. Violet and Caitlyn screamed so loudly, Violet was sure she’d have no speaking voice for a week. She’d had no idea her spunky friend could also play sports so well, but there she was, running around the bases while holding her skirt out of the way. She’d done it all so effortlessly that Violet was almost tempted, but she talked herself out of it. She remembered the last time she’d tried . . . Failure. Utter failure. Adele’s hit was a complete success, however, and the look on her face said she was having the time of her life.
After the game, everyone freshened up, and the Mounties put on their uniform jackets to look more official as they took their positions as judges of the pie contest. The three brides were nervous as they watched their husbands gather at the table.
“I’ve heard that Ethel Wilkinson is the favorite to win,” Caitlyn said. “She’s won three years in a row.”
“Ethel from the restaurant?” Violet asked.
“The same.”
Violet wouldn’t be surprised if Ethel won—the pie they’d had at the restaurant the other day was fantastic.
“Oh, and the leftover pie will be served at the dinner later,” Caitlyn went on. “I’m so glad—it looks delicious.”
Mr. Dandy stood up front and announced the rules for the contest, explaining that each pie had been cut and that the judges were receiving one slice so it would be harder for them to identify which pie was which.
“All that effort I put into hiding my pie,” Violet mumbled.
“Don’t feel bad—we all did,” Adele replied. “Oh, look—they’re starting.”
Each of the Mounties picked up their forks and took a bite of pie, then focused on their wives, probably hoping for some kind of hint. The wives had thought such a thing might happen, so they did their best to look indifferent. It was hard, especially when Richard waggled his eyebrows, but Violet wasn’t about to make this any easier on him. She wanted him to get it right through some sort of magical married-person connection.
After they’d tasted several, Violet leaned over and said to her friends, “They’re starting to look uncomfortable.”
“Is it because they don’t know, or because they’re getting full?” Caitlyn asked with a chuckle. “I know I couldn’t eat that much pie.”
A few minutes later, the Mounties conferred once again, and the brides squeezed each other’s hands. This was the moment of truth—had they pleased their husbands?
Mr. Dandy stood up front and announced, “Our loyal Mounties have made their decisions. It might not come as a surprise to anyone, but they’ve each chosen their wives’ pies as their personal favorites.”
A groan went up in the crowd, but Mr. Dandy held up his hands. “Now, hold on there a moment. They didn’t know which pies their wives made—I only connected the dots just now as we identified their winners. They’ve promised on their honor that they didn’t peek. And Commander Jacobs has chosen the pie made by Hazel Hughes as his favorite.”
Miss Hazel’s cheeks were pink as she accepted her round of applause.
“We did it,” Adele said, squeezing her friends’ hands again. “We did it!”
Violet grinned at Richard, who had made eye contact with her over the crowd. She didn’t know how he’d managed it, but she was proud of him.
“And the overall winner of today’s event is Ethel Wilkinson,” Mr. Dandy announced, and the crowd cheered. It didn’t bother Violet at all that she hadn’t won—she’d done this for the fun of it, not because she wanted a ribbon. The other contestants seemed to feel the same as they gathered around and congratulated Ethel, who had tears streaming down her cheeks and a giant smile on her face.
With the contest officially over, Richard came out from behind the table and found Violet. “How did I do?” he asked.
“You were amazing,” she replied. “How did you figure it out?”
“No idea. Your pie just tasted like you,” he replied. “If you know what I mean . . . that came out badly.”
“But you’ve only kissed me once,” Violet said, choosing to flirt with him a little bit. A few days ago, she never would have dreamed of it, but now . . . well, now she felt like flirting.
A long, slow grin moved across his face. “Well, we’re going to have to do something about that, aren’t we?”
“In a little while. I think we’re supposed to be helping set up for the dinner now,” she said, stepping out of his grasp. Flirting was even more fun than she’d imagined it would be. She should have tried it sooner.
The men got to work laying pieces of wood out on the ground to create a dance floor while the women arranged tables for the food. Violet kept wondering if Richard would ask her to dance. She wasn’t very good at it, but at least she was somewhat acceptable, unlike her skills at almost every sport. If he asked her, at least she wouldn’t trip all over herself or break any of his toes. She wondered what it would be like to be held in his arms. Warm and comforting, she was sure—that’s how he always made her feel even when they were just standing side by side.
As soon as the tables were ready, everyone brought their contributions, arranging everything according to food type with all the desserts at the end, including the leftover pie from the contest. The sight of it all made Violet’s mouth water, and she realized she hadn’t eaten that day. She’d been so busy getting ready that it hadn’t crossed her mind. She’d served a plate to Richard, told herself she’d grab something in a minute, and then never had. She’d likely make a spectacle of herself at dinner by eating everything in sight, but then, she supposed that’s what you were supposed to do at picnics.
Now finished with the task she’d been assigned, she looked around to see what else she could do to help and saw Mrs. Tremblay walking across the grass toward the party. With her was a tall man and a boy who must be her husband and son. They looked unsure about approaching, their eyes darting back and forth, and Violet noticed several of the townspeople stiffening as they looked their way. Well, that wasn’t all right—not at all.
She crossed the grass and greeted them with her arms held wide. “Hello! I’m so glad you came. You must be Mr. Tremblay, and I never heard your name,” she said, turning to the boy.
“Adam,” he mumbled. He must have been around thirteen—an excellent age for mumbling.
“Adam, are you hungry? There’s so much food over there, I don’t know how we’ll manage to eat everything.”
Mr. Tremblay held up a sack. “I brought some jerky. Smoked it myself. Thought it might do for an offering.”
Violet wasn’t sure what jerky even was, but she smiled brightly. “Of course! I’d love to try some.”
He reached into the sack and pulled out a withered piece of meat, handing to her wordlessly.
She didn’t know what to think. She’d always thought that if meat was dried out, it should be thrown away, but he was looking at her expectantly, as though her approval would make the difference for him. Mrs. Tremblay bit her bottom lip, and that decided it for Violet. If she wanted to show this family that she was sincere about her friendship, she would accept the gift.
She opened her mouth and took a big bite.
“Oh, my,” she said after she’d chewed and swallowed. Smoky wood flavor had exploded in her mouth, along with the flavor of the meat and spices. It was different, but it was delicious. “You say you smoked this? How?”
“I have an old metal barrel out back of our place. I fill it with wood, get the fire good and hot, and then I hang the meat from the top,” he said, his features coming alive as he spoke. “The smoke dries out the meat, like you see. It stays good for a long time this way, and you can take it hunting or traveling.”
“It’s delicious. Thank you so much for sharing it.” She was so glad that it really was delicious and that she didn’t have to pretend to enjoy it.
Caitlyn and Adele walked up just then, each with their husbands. The two Mounties stepped forward and shook Mr. Tremblay’s hand.
“Adele, you’ve got to try this,” Violet said, handing her the part of the jerky she hadn’t tried yet. She knew better than to offer any to Caitlyn, the vegetarian.
She could see the same questions she’d had flit across Adele’s face, but then her friend took a bite and smiled. “Oh, this is good,” she said. “I’d love to learn how you do this—maybe the fact that I sometimes overcook meat would come in handy here.”
The Tremblays laughed and visibly relaxed, and Violet laughed along with them. She couldn’t help the reactions of the people in town, but she could offer a hand of fellowship herself, and she was so glad her friends and their husbands had come over.
But where was Richard?
She turned and started scanning the crowd for him. Oh, there he was, coming around the corner of one of the buildings across the way. But what was he doing clear over there?
He spotted her too and weaved through the gathering people, holding something in his hand. When he reached her, he held up a small bouquet of wildflowers. “I realized a minute ago that I hadn’t brought you any flowers today, so I went and got some. No vase, but I figured you wouldn’t mind.”
Her heart was touched. “You left a party to go pick flowers for me?”
He shrugged. “Parties are much more fun if I know my wife is happy.”
She took the flowers and looked down at them, overcome with emotion. Had anyone ever done anything so sweet for her? She didn’t think they had, and she had to swallow a few times before she could speak. “They’re beautiful,” she said at last. “Thank you.”
“Are you hungry?” he asked. “It looks like they’re almost ready to open the food line.”
“I’m absolutely starving, but wait just one moment.” She took the stems of the flowers she held and twisted them into a stick shape, then pushed that through the bun at the back of her head. “What do you think?” she asked, turning to the side so he could see.
“I think it’s perfect.” He held out his arm. “Shall we go?”
“We shall.”
They stepped into line, and Violet only took the smallest spoonfuls of each dish, wanting to taste as many different things as she could. Even at that, her plate was full before they got to the end, and they went and found a place to sit on the grass beneath a sprawling shade tree.
“I’ve always wanted to take my wife on a picnic,” Richard said after he swallowed his first bite.
“Oh? Why haven’t you?”
“Because I only just got married, and I haven’t had the time.”
“That does complicate things. I’m sure your wife would be more than glad to go with you once you have that time.”
He looked hopeful. “Do you think so?”
“I have it on good authority.”
“I’m very glad to hear that.”
Violet couldn’t decide where on her plate to start eating—it all looked so good. So she started at the left and worked her way around clockwise. So many different and unique flavors interspersed with some dishes she was already familiar with. She felt as though her plate represented Flying Squirrel itself—the old and the new, the common and the exotic, cultures and traditions and beliefs all blending into one community. She looked over and saw the Tremblays sharing a table with the Dandys and smiled. They might not be popular anytime soon, but perhaps with some encouragement, hearts would soften, and the less tolerant people in town would realize that they had no reason for their unkind reactions.
“Only one thing could make this day better, and that’s if my wife would consent to dance with me later,” Richard said, pulling her attention back to him.
“I think she’d like that,” Violet replied even as her heart skipped a beat. She couldn’t explain how very much she’d like that—there weren’t words.