I S-pie Ch. 10
Ned’s father flashed Chuck a brilliant smile, as if to say, Surely, you must be mistaken. “He hasn’t told you about me?”
She shook her head, still in shock.
“Hm. That’s strange. Ned used to be such a talkative little guy.”
Chuck choked back a laugh. Ned? Talkative? Even when she could remember him, which was at the same time that Ned’s father had also been around, he had been sweet and fun, but not exactly effusive.
Ned’s father shoved back his pie plate.
“Well, tell him I stopped by, would ya?”
Chuck nodded mutely.
“Thanks.” Ned’s father winked at her appreciatively. “I’ll see ya ‘round…” He looked for Chuck’s nametag. “…Kitty.”
He shook his head as he walked out, wondering why she looked familiar.
Chuck, too, shook her head, wondering how she would tell Ned that his father had come looking for him.
*
“Sorry I’m late, gang.”
“An apology?” Olive gasped with mock surprise. “Emerson Cod really does have a soul!”
The glare Emerson threw her way might have suggested otherwise.
“I was at a wedding till late last night,” he defended himself.
“Really?” Chuck had always been fascinated by weddings, ever since the young tomboy’s kiss with Ned had inspired daydreams of the same in her head. Or, it might have been all the erotica she read. “Whose?”
Emerson looked down into the cup of coffee Olive had slid towards him, avoiding the intent gazes of the eager women. “Mine.”
Ned scooted Olive over into the booth as he sat across from Chuck and looked at Emerson with wide eyes.
“You did what?” he demanded.
“So, who’s the unlucky lady?” Olive asked wickedly.
“Olive! You’re terrible,” Chuck chastised, though she was also grinning.
“Simone Hundin.”
Chuck and Olive gave each other a conspirital glance. The two had always believed that Simone and Emerson’s relationship had gone long beyond friendship.
“Why?” Chuck pushed, hoping to see more of Emerson’s emotional side via a loving confession.
“She’s pregnant.”
Ned’s eyes widened further, if this was possible.
“And you took it upon yourself to make this your responsibility?” Chuck asked kindly. “How sweet of you. Not quite ‘gangsta love’.”
Emerson clenched his teeth. “It’s mine.”
Ned’s mouth fell open into a circular shape. “Oh. Well. Erm. Ah, congratulations,” he said, weakly. “On both accounts.”
“Emerson Cod!” Olive hooted. “Knock her up and snatch her up. I never pegged you as the traditional type.”
Emerson glowered. Ned gave her a warning glance, but she wasn’t quite finished. Emerson had verbally abused her and laughed many times at her expense. She was going to milk this for all it was worth.
“Come to think of it, I never pegged you as the marrying type,” she continued. “I mean, who would want you?”
“I’m gonna turn you into a clickity-clackity keyboard so you can type all day long,” the private eye growled.
Olive was laughing so hard, tears had welled up in her eyes. Ned’s face was flushed, and Emerson looked thunderous.
“I’m glad y’all find it so funny,” he huffed. “Marriage is a sacred institution. Which you, Miss Olive Snook, certainly do not and probably will not know, despite your little fantasies about Pie Boy here.”
He slammed his fedora onto his head and stormed out the door.
“Jiminy Crispies,” Olive said, more quietly now that she herself had been humiliated. “I wonder what’s got his boxers in a knot?”
Ned shook his head.
“Olive, there are things about that man that nobody knows except for him. What I am about to tell you is to remain one of those things.”
Chuck leaned in excitedly.
“Ned! You little sneaky sneak!” Chuck said, half admonishing him and half encouraging him.
“That list of employees that Emerson gathered for the murder,” Ned reminded them, “had one name crossed out. I got a copy for myself, and found out who it was.” He pointed to a picture of a beautiful woman.
“‘Natasha Brown,’” Olive read. “‘Communications specialist’. What the heck is a communications specialist?”
“Like I know,” Ned replied in a fierce whisper. “But what I do know is that she used to be married to Emerson, and that she supposedly disappeared seven years ago with the daughter they had together.”
“Oh my God,” Chuck said. “That’s awful!”
“I couldn’t possibly imagine,” Ned continued, shooting a pointed glance at the now guilty-looking Olive, “why he wouldn’t want to tell us about it.”
“I should probably apologize,” Olive said meekly.
Ned nodded.
“But don’t let on that you know about Natasha, okay?”
Olive mimed zipping her lips and throwing the key away.
“But where’d he go?”
“I’m sure he’s just outside, smoking a cigar and simmering,” Chuck said.
It turned out she was right, and Olive slunk away to go apologize.
“Oh good, she’s gone,” Chuck whispered, as she left. “Look, Ned, I’m sorry about what Emerson said. That’s a real shocker, huh?”
“It’s all right,” Ned sighed. “I’ve always known she had feelings for me.”
“Hey! Don’t worry,” Chuck encouraged him. “There’s a new man in town.” She pointed across the room. “Alfredo Aldarissio. Oh, Ned, he’s so in love with her. It’s the sweetest thing. And I think she feels more than a little somethin’-somethin’, as Emerson would say, for him too.”
Ned focused in on the soft-looking man across the room. He appraised him. The man looked nice enough, Ned supposed. If he made Olive happy, that was good enough for him.
“Oh! I can’t believe I almost forgot.” Chuck slapped her forehead. “You will never, never, never guess who was in here earlier.”
The Pie Maker gave her a blank stare.
“Okay, guess,” she giggled.
Ned tried not to frown. “It wasn’t your dad, was it?”
“No. I’m afraid not,” Chuck said, disappointed. Though he felt bad about it, of course Ned was relieved. Just because Charles Charles had saved their life, he still hadn’t quite forgiven him for trying to steal Chuck, or for really stealing his car.
“Maurice and Ralston?” Ned guessed.
“Getting closer,” Chuck hinted, grinning.
Ned’s thick brows furrowed in concentration.
He looked so adorable, Chuck caved. “All right. I’ll tell you.”
Chuck realized that though she wanted to tell Ned that his father had come into the Pie Hole looking for him, she couldn’t. It would hurt him too much. He had stated many times that he hadn’t had a good relationship with his father, and Chuck doubted that the healing would start now. She inhaled deeply.
“It was Alexandria,” she lied finally. “The Great Herrmann’s assistant.”
“Oh yeah,” Ned said, looking slightly surprised that Chuck’s big excitement was over an obsolete magician. “I remember her.”
“She finally got her disappearing act up and running,” Chuck babbled.
“Chuck,” Ned said, a little louder. “What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry, Ned,” she mumbled guiltily. “I… I’m just worried about Dad.”
“We could go looking for him,” Ned offered, but Chuck looked away.
Charlotte Charles had lied, again. Though she did miss him, she was not worrying about her father - but the Pie Maker’s.
Eager, as Chuck had hoped, to change the subject, Ned said quickly, “I wonder why Olive was so upset this morning.”
Chuck shrugged. “Well, yesterday, this guy came in. He hasn’t been in since. Knowing Olive, I bet she expected him back right away.”
“So, Olive’s got a love interest?” Ned, too, was interested.
“Guess so,” Chuck said with a grin. “His name’s Alfredo. And you’re off the hook. Free to give all your love to me.”
Ned gave her a half-smile. As if there had been any doubt he would do otherwise.
“Who would have thought Emerson would be the first one out of all of us to go and get settled,” Chuck sighed nostalgically. “Remember the good old days? When we had all just met?”
“Chuck, it’s only been, like, two and a half years,” Ned pointed out, amused at her theatrics.
“Really?” The girl called Chuck shook her head. “It seems like it’s been so much longer.” She folded her hands and studied them. “I guess you appreciate your life a lot more, once you’ve had it taken away.”
*
Olive Snook had been grumpy all morning. It had begun when the Pie Hole had opened, and Alfredo Aldarissio was not there.
Of course, it wasn’t really logical to expect him to be prompt, but Olive had always seen him as the sort of man that was prompt (even for a meeting that had only been scheduled in her imagination, and would likely end with a kiss). But no one, particularly not Olive Snook, was logical when they were in love.
So, Olive Snook’s illogical anger grew as the Pie Maker and company announced that they were, once again, headed off to make an investigation into their most recent murder case.
“I can’t believe them,” she huffed, as Digby listened patiently and thumped his tail on the floor. “I mean, after all we’ve been through… After all I’ve done for them… Still I don’t get to know all their little secrets. That all-access pass was defective,” she finished in a disheartened mumble.
She shook her head to the rhythm of her swift broom strokes before pausing briefly to release some of her pent-up energy, in scream form.
“Aaaaahhhh!”
“Olive?”
That was when she noticed Alfredo hunched in the corner booth, looking like he was unsure whether to be frightened or amused.
Olive tucked a wisp of blond beneath her ear and smiled, widely, genuinely.
“Oh, Fredo,” she said, leaning the broom against the counter and crossing the room to join him. “You’re here… early.”
“Really?” Alfredo smiled shyly. “I was worried that I was late. I would have been earlier, but I-”
“That’s okay,” Olive reassured him. “You were actually right on time.”
Alfredo smiled again, more softly, a secret pleasure that he allowed to grow within himself like a warm spot in his heart. He met Olive’s gaze across the table.
For a moment, they were quiet. He did not ask for coffee, and she did not make a snarky remark. They just stared at each other companionably, or perhaps in a way slightly different from that. Finally, Olive broke the silence.
“I should probably get back to work,” she said slowly.
It had only been a moment since she had stopped working, but it had been a moment too long, for a couple and a small family had both entered the doorway and were waiting expectantly at the counter.
“That’s what they’re paying you for,” Alfredo agreed, his voice pleasant but somehow taught.
“Right,” Olive said, unmoving.
“Olive-”
“Fredo-”
They laughed, embarrassed, as they spoke simultaneously. Olive tried again.
“I… I mean… Do you want…”
Alfredo had leaned forward, his head inclined and his eyelids drooping dreamily. Just as she realized she was doing the same, Olive lurched away, breathing hard.
“…some coffee?” she finished abruptly, disoriented and dazed.
Alfredo, his eyes snapping open, nodded dumbly.
“Yes, please.”
He sounded guarded. Olive stood and smoothed down her dress, turning to go pour Alfredo his signature macchiato, when a strangled sound suddenly and surprisingly left his throat.
“Olive, there’s something you need to know.”
Though his tone was measured, there was a hidden edge to it. For behind the wall of self-control and shyness that Alfredo Aldarissio had so carefully built and hidden behind, there lay a burning passion. He had wild fantasies about Olive Snook, one of the more appropriate being walking into the pie Hole, gathering Olive into his arms, and kissing her and kissing her until they shared breaths. Unintentionally, at that moment, he had stopped breathing as he recalled this.
Olive looked strangely upon the consternation and determination evident in his face. And then she fled to the kitchen.
*
“Um, excuse me? Is this where Andrew Ferguson works?” Chuck politely asked the receptionist at the office where Sydney Lipman’s boyfriend worked.
The receptionist, who had curly red hair and sported a tight white suitdress that left little to the imagination, narrowed her eyes.
“Who’s askin’?”
“Emerson Cod, private investigator. And associates,” Emerson supplied sternly, his eyes also narrowing. He was not about to be bossed around by another snotty secretary.
“Awl right, Emerson Cawd,” the secretary snapped. Snottily. She had a Texas accent and her green eyes flashed like one would imagine a rattlesnake’s doing. Ned fretted that she would soon strike, but Emerson was growing impatient.
“Is the man here or ain’t he?”
“I’m sawrry. He’s owt,” came the prim reply.
Emerson snorted in disgust.
“Sorry about him,” Chuck whispered. “And yes, he’s that mean to everyone.”
As Chuck gave the woman a wink, Emerson rolled his eyes, but the secretary grinned.
“I’m Kitty, by the way,” Chuck added.
“Lila,” the secretary introduced herself with a twangy drawl.
“Nice to meet you, Lila,” Chuck said warmly. “Look, to get right down to it, someone has been murdered, and I would really, really appreciate your help. You’re the only one who knows where Mr. Ferguson is, so I guess the fate of this murderer lies on your shoulders.”
“Well, if it’s up to little ole me…”
Once again, Charlotte Charles had worked her magic on an unwilling questionee. She nodded encouragingly to Lila.
“Andy!” the woman screeched. “Get your tush out here!”
Emerson glared at her, while Ned only grimaced silently, hoping his eardrums were still intact.
A moment later, the man of the hour came hopping out of his office, struggling to straighten one pressed pant leg.
“Did you two just…?” Ned gaped at Andy as he emerged.
“Why, of course not, sugar!” Lila gasped, looking absolutely scandalized. “He’s got a girlfriend. And he’s only five years older than mah daughter! Besides,” she added in a purr as she looked Ned up and down, “you’re much more mah type.”
Chuck’s eyes widened, while Emerson barely bit back a laugh and Ned choked.
“Thanks for all your help,” Chuck said tightly.
“But we’d better git,” Emerson guffawed as he mimed whipping a pony into action. “Happy trails, y’all.”
Lila looked on indignantly as they passed. Emerson chortled the whole way down the hall to the office in front of which Andy Ferguson stood.
“Andrew Ferguson?” he questioned more formally, swallowing his last chuckle.
“That’s me,” the man said, sticking his hand out in greeting.
“We have a few questions to ask you,” Emerson said, ignoring the hand.
Ferguson covered a yawn with his hand.
“Sorry,” he said quickly. “I had a late night last night.”
Chuck glanced at Ned pointedly.
“Were you out with a Miss Sydney Lipman, by any chance?” Emerson continued bluntly.
“That I was,” Andrew Ferguson confirmed. “Till two in the morning.”
“You do know,” Emerson said, “that if I find out you’re lying, you will go to jail, not only for lying to me but also for being involved with a murder.”
“I swear,” Andy promised.
“We believe you,” Chuck reassured him gently. “We just had to make sure. Thank you for your time, Mr. Ferguson.”
“You’re welcome,” said the man, somewhat nervously, before disappearing back into his office.
On the way out of the building, Chuck paused briefly to glare at Lila the Texan receptionist when she caught the woman checking Ned out from behind. With an undignified “hmph,” she followed her associates out the door, glad to be done with this part of the case.
*
It was quiet in the Pie Hole. The crowd had drained away after going unserved for an hour while Olive cowered in the kitchen.
Why she had run, she was not quite sure. Something in Fredo’s face had both fascinated and frightened her. But after she had curled up in the corner and thought for a while, she realized how terribly she had treated Alfredo.
It was not his fault she had always been unlucky in love. He was not to blame when she fell so hard for someone, it was like being dropped onto concrete from a five story building. He was not to blame when she had to peel herself from the sidewalk in the aftermath. But he most definitely was to blame for the fact that she was in love with him.
Admittedly, Olive may have strange fantasies about men every once in a while. She was lonely, and to be quite honest, her biological clock was ticking away. But the one she’d had about Alfredo before he’d left had been unlike any she’d had before. And then he had left, and the smallest hope she’d held of maybe, maybe being able to move on from the Pie Maker onto someone else had shattered. It had probably been her fault - she had been less than welcoming to him, and seemingly distant, wrapped up in her thoughts about Ned. So why did the fact that maybe Alfredo did love her, after all, frighten her so much? …Because she would most likely screw that up, too.
She didn’t want to hurt him. He was so sweet, and he expected nothing from her other than an occasional macchiato or a short conversation. But she had a way of messing things up, particularly relationships, and if she got in any deeper, things would, indeed, get very messed up. She had tried to get over him after he had been gone for so long, with the thinking that it wouldn’t possibly work out, and trying to be mad at him for leaving her. But now that he was back… it just wasn’t possible.
For the second time that day, Olive Snook realized that she had been very, very wrong.
Guiltily, she snuck back out to the main dining room, half of her hoping that Alfredo had gone to escape facing him again, and the other half of her fiercely hoping that he was still there.
Her second half won out, for the man was still seated in his booth, unmoved. Quietly, or as quietly as one can on heels, she made her way to him. She seated herself in the booth seat across from him.
“I am so, so sorry,” Olive said, dropping her head to avoid meeting Alfredo’s steady gaze. “I-I don’t know what came over me…”
Alfredo Aldarissio was unnervingly silent. Was he angry? Was he sad? Was he just thinking? Olive ran a hand through her hair tensely. Why was this so hard? Why was she so upset?
“Please say something,” she whispered desperately.
“Olive, I love you.”
Olive raised her head slowly. Her eyes shone.
She’s crying, Alfredo thought despairingly. Oh, why did I have to say that? Why did I wait to leave until she came out? Why did I come back, at all? She’s going to say she hates me.
“I know,” Olive said, softly. “And I think… I love you, too.”
Taken aback, Alfredo stood suddenly, as if going on the defensive. “You… you do?”
Olive nodded helplessly, also standing, less confidently.
“You know how people say that there’s one person that you’re meant to spend the rest of your life with?” Olive asked, softly.
Alfredo also nodded, not daring to hope.
“Oh, Alfredo,” Olive almost-whispered, her voice breaking at the love it overflowed with, “I knew it was you.”
And then she was in his arms, and her lips were pressed against his, and oh-sweet-Lord-it-felt-so-right, and somewhere someone was singing, and fireworks were going off behind her eyelids when they shut, and it was just them, and it was themandthemandthem, alone, kissing, like they could kiss forever. They spun gently, their fantasies coming true, though it was not like they had expected. It was better.
After what seemed like an eternity, Alfredo set her down gently, and he was about to say something with Olive put her fingers against his lips.
“There were bells, on the hill, but I never heard them ringing, no I never heard them at all, till there was you,” Olive sang, softly.
Alfredo gazed at her silently, his eyebrows raising for half of an instant. He swallowed, his lips parting briefly before meeting again, as she continued.
“There were birds, in the air, but I never saw them winging, no, I never saw them at all, till there was you.”
He watched her, almost nervously, as she turned away briefly, overcome by her emotions.
“And there was music, and wonderful roses. They tell me, in sweet, fragrant meadows of dawn, and dew…”
She moved forward, dreamlike, to him. “There was love, all around, but I never heard it singing, no I never heard it at all, till there was you.”
Her hand moved to his chest, tentatively. Their eyes fluttered over each other’s unsure faces, not quite knowing what was going to come next but also knowing somehow, deep in their hearts. Olive’s hand roamed to Alfredo’s back as he moved forward to hold her, their lips meeting in a symphony. As they parted, they both broke into song.
“There was love, all around, but I never heard it singing…! No, I never, heard it all - till there was you!”
She caressed his cheek, pulling him in for another kiss that he welcomed gladly; this time, deeper, more passionate. They fell away from each other, open-mouthed, wanting more, yet forever content.
Alfredo’s eyes met Olive’s, widened, and then glanced away.
“I-I should go,” he stammered weakly.
Olive, shocked into silence, watched him as he almost ran out of the building. She sighed, smiling to herself, and settled into the booth. This night had gone nothing like she had thought it might. Her day had gone from bad to, quite possibly, the very best ever. She slumped over onto the table, wearied by the tide of emotions that flooded repeatedly over her. “Jiminy Crispies.”
Olive Snook realized that, after all these years, the love she’d had for the Pie Maker might not have been a real love. She hadn’t wanted Ned. She hadn’t wanted to take him away from Chuck. She had just wanted someone to love her back. And now, she had found that someone - Alfredo Aldarissio.
*
It was late at the Pie Hole when Ned went downstairs to lock up. He slipped inside, surprised that the lights were still on. He hummed disapprovingly, automatically blaming Olive. Then he glanced furtively about him, and, fishing around in his coat pocket, retrieved a single pink button and placed it on top of the cash register.
“Ned.”
A feminine voice rang out from the kitchen. He started, fearing that he had been caught, before he realized that it was only Olive and he breathed a sigh of relief.
“You can’t keep doing this to her, you know,” Olive said softly.
“Yes I can. I have to.”
“Don’t plant seeds of false hope,” she cautioned. “They never grow.”
“Olive, I asked you to do me a favor. You did it, I said thank you, and now this is no longer any of your business.”
“Darn right it’s my business! You and Chuck are two of my best friends. And this won’t end well, trust me. You’re lucky you got away with it once. And the whole Timbuktu thing? Puh-lease.” She sighed. “This won’t stay a secret for long. And when she finds out, she’ll just be more hurt.”
“It will if I can help it,” Ned mumbled. “She doesn’t have to find out.” He eyed Olive suspiciously. “She’s not going to find out, right?”
“I’m not helping you, remember?” Olive reminded him mockingly, then rolled her eyes. “Of course I’m not going to tell her. But really, Ned, when are you going to learn that pushing your problems away doesn’t solve them?”
“My dad pushed me away, when he got a new family and didn’t want me anymore,” Ned said, his voice tainted with bitterness. “Problem solved.”
Olive paused. “Don’t be like that,” she scolded gently. “And don’t be like your dad.”
“Fine. Then this will be the last button,” Ned vowed, looking at the hot pink lie. “Then I will let Chuck sort out her own dad issues, on her own.”
Olive nodded her approval.
“And Olive?”
The Pie Maker had turned away to leave when he paused in the doorway.
“Thanks for everything,” he said haltingly. “And… I’m sorry.”
Olive gave him a small smile. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”
This phrase no longer just held Olive’s forgiveness of Ned for lying to and potentially hurting Chuck, but also encompassed her acceptance of Ned’s love for Chuck, and even Olive’s love for someone else.
And for one of the first times that day, what was spoken was the truth.
AN: New secrets! Yay! Hope everybody enjoyed this chapter. Just for your information, the song lyrics Olive sang are from "Till There Was You" of The Music Man. (If you didn't know that Kristin Chenoweth and Raul Esparza were both stars on Broadway... you've been living under a rock.)