Investment, and besides, she sensed the conversation had reached its limit.
“You gonna talk ’em up, or shall I?” Wanda asked.
“I blow your horn better than you do.” Dana pushed the door open. She smiled at the receptionist and gave the speech that was now refined to perfection.
“Pies?” The woman’s eyes lit up. “For anybody here who wants them?”
“We hope you’ll spread them around, so more people can sample.” Wanda held up the two she carried. “We have peach and luscious lemon, and Dana there has an Elvis Surprise.”
“Elvis?” The woman leaned over her desk as Wanda explained the story and listed some of the ingredients. “Just a minute. I’m going to find Mrs. Statler.”
Now Wanda remembered why Creative Investment and Development sounded familiar. Edward Statler was the director or president or something, and he was the man Tracy’s ex-husband was staying with.
“Mrs. Statler?” she asked, as if she couldn’t figure out the connection.
“Mr. Statler is our CEO, and Mrs. Statler just stopped by a little while ago.” She lowered her voice. “She is a huge Elvis fan. You have no idea. She actually has one of his stage costumes on display in her house in a climate controlled case.”
“Bingo,” Dana said softly, as the woman headed down the interior hallway.
“If I could sing worth a darn, you’d be hearing all about fools rushing in, about now,” Wanda said under her breath.
Apparently Mrs. Statler wasn’t hard to find. The two women returned in less than a minute. Mrs. Statler was perfectly bronzed, and blonder than she had a right to be. Wanda guessed the woman was somewhere near her own age, although she could have been surgically altered to look that way and be several decades older. Her hands were nearly smothered in diamonds; her shoes had cost more than the renovations at Wanda’s Wonderful Pies.
“Did I hear this right? You have an Elvis Surprise pie?”
Wanda gave the spiel again, then held it out. “We’re sharing our pies as part of our opening day promotion,” she said. “This one’s got your name on it, Mrs. Statler. I hope you enjoy.”
The woman beamed, although nothing wrinkled in response. “And what else do I see there?”
“Luscious lemon, which is the best lemon pie you’ll ever taste. And peach, which makes use of some of Georgia’s finest, plus a hint of Florida oranges to go along with them.”
“I am so intrigued. And if these pies are anywhere near as good as they look, I’ll be calling tomorrow. I’m having a reception at my house, and I’m not at all satisfied with the desserts my caterer suggested. Elvis Surprise would be absolutely perfect. If I like it, can you deliver twenty, a week from this Wednesday?”
Wanda didn’t even blink. “Not a problem.”
“And twenty more, a mixture of flavors, I think. Will forty pies feed two hundred people, maybe a few more? It’s quite a large reception. You’ll send me a list to choose from?”
“I will, and if there’s something you’d like that’s not on it, I’ll make it for you anyway. I have a hundred tried-and-true recipes.”
“I like the way you do business.”
All the worries of the day evaporated. Wanda smiled at Dana, who looked enormously proud of herself.
Wanda thought maybe she liked the way she did business, too.
chapter twelve
The Henrietta Claiborne banquet couldn’t have been scheduled for a more inopportune time. For the past week, in addition to planning summer youth camp, Tracy had been forced to work nonstop on banquet plans, too.
At least she’d had no personal life to interfere. In fact, she had welcomed falling into bed after long days and getting up early to repeat the process. That way she hadn’t had time to brood too long over CJ’s new love life or the absence of messages from Marsh. She had worked herself into a stupor, medicated with fast food and Wanda’s pies, and geared herself for the next round.
Now banquet day had arrived. Normally she had Saturdays off, but there was nothing normal about the rush to put together an event worthy of the rec center’s benefactress. Tracy was dressed for work by seven and on the road fifteen minutes later. She picked up orange juice and two chocolate-covered doughnuts at Randall’s, but by the time she arrived at the center her fingers were sticky and she was empty-handed.
Gladys was already in place at the reception desk.
“You could just live here,” Tracy said. “We could put a cot in my office. Or you could sleep on the sofa.”