it's every man for himself."
"And woman," pointed out his wife, the mayor, who'd actually baked the pies.
I poured myself a glass of water. "What kind of pies?"
"I have two apple, a lemon meringue, and a chocolate cream," she said. "I didn't bother with pecan, since yours always turn out better than mine, anyway. You're making pies for the Swamp Cabbage Festival, right?"
"Sure. I never win anything, but it's fun."
Jack polished off his first steak, poured himself another glass of lemonade, and then looked at me. "Will you remind me what swamp cabbage is?"
"People everywhere else call it hearts of palm. The sabal palm, also known as the cabbage palm tree," I said. You can't grow up in Dead End and not know the particulars of swamp cabbage. "It looks like a bunch of logs when it's harvested and then you cook it up. One tree gives you about a quart, cooked."
"But isn't the sabal palm Florida's state tree? And when you take the heart, it kills the tree, right?"
I put down my fork and stared at him. "How do you know these things? Like Boron?"
He shrugged and held up his glass. "I know things. I drink lemonade, and I know things."
"Don’t we have any beer?" Uncle Mike started to get up.
"Not for Sunday lunch after church," Aunt Ruby told him sternly. He sighed but sat back down.
I pointed at Jack. "Quit misquoting Game of Thrones at me."
"So," he persisted. "Wouldn't it be illegal to cut down the trees?"
"Not here," Uncle Mike, Aunt Ruby, and I all said simultaneously.
"What do you mean, not here? Not here, the trees don't die, or it's not illegal here in Black Cypress County, with your—our—special charter?"
As Jack knew very well, either or both could be true in a magical, mystical town like Dead End. The special charter that founded the town and county predated the founding of the United States and meant that most state and federal laws didn't apply here.
"It's not illegal here. And the trees don't die. We had a garden witch put a spell on the grove," Aunt Ruby said matter-of-factly. "Also, we need somebody new to dress up as the swamp cabbage, since Marvin became a vampire and started taking the night shift as driver of the blood bank donations bus,"
I nodded. "Right. Even if he could take off work, that suit is too old to be sunlight-proof, and it would scare the kids if the festival mascot burst into flames in the middle of the pie tasting."
"Nobody wants to see that," Uncle Mike said, grimacing. "That would totally ruin the pies too."
Jack sat there and stared at the three of us, eyes wide and a stunned look on his face.
"Do you… is there… the pie tasting might be ruined, is the part you're worried about?"
Uncle Mike took another helping of fruit salad. "They're very good pies."
Aunt Ruby and I nodded.
"Is Mellie going to enter this year, after Mrs. Frost tried to get her disqualified last year because she's a 'professional' baker?" I pushed my plate back, unwilling to even look at another bite. "I don't want to miss her famous swamp cabbage pie. That may be the best pie I've ever eaten."
"And it tastes like chocolate and raspberries, which you wouldn't expect," Aunt Ruby said, putting her fork down.
"Not as good as your chocolate cream pie," Uncle Mike told Aunt Ruby, giving her such a tender smile that it almost made me tear up. Those two were such a good example of what a great relationship should look like. I'd sometimes been afraid I'd never find anyone who could live up to my ideal, after growing up with these two.
I snuck a glance at Jack, who was—shockingly—not eating. He was still staring at me.
"What?"
"A vampire drives the blood bank bus?"
"Sure." I shrugged. "He takes his salary in a percentage of what he collects."
Made perfect sense to me. Aunt Ruby and Uncle Mike were nodding too.
Jack shook his head. "Every time I think this town can't get weirder, you all prove me wrong. Next you'll tell me a leprechaun is in charge of the peanut butter."
I rolled my eyes. "Jack. Don't be silly. I only made those sandwiches for the leprechauns as a one-time special deal. Anyway. Pie?"
Aunt Ruby jumped up to help me get the pies and ice cream, and Jack cleared the lunch plates while Uncle Mike set out the dessert plates and grumbled about how much he'd appreciated the weeks when he didn't need to worry about who