Disclaimer: I don't own Pushing Daisies. Wish I did though, 'cause that would be amazing.
Author's Note: With winter break upon us, I find myself writing another Daisies fanfic. Thanks to ma friend April for bringing up the idea and letting me run with it. Enjoy!
Summary: There's a reason Ned doesn't touch Olive. When Olive became an employee at The Pie Hole, neither Ned nor Olive could predict how their lives would change. A prequel, of sorts, that looks at life at The Pie Hole before the series begins.
Before We Say Goodbye-
-Chapter One: Pi and Pie
Olive Snook, twenty seven years, three months, two weeks, and five days old, is, at this very moment lonely. A renowned jockey, Olive finds herself horseless. The recent loss of her beloved horse The Pi, so named for the great horse in National Velvet, has left Olive with a broken heart and a broken spirit. Though she could have easily become the world's greatest jockey, Olive has decided to hang her reigns up for good.
And so we find Olive, sniffling and shuffling down a busy street; not seeing nor caring about the people she ran into. For, she reasoned, what is a world without her beloved Pi?
"No world at all," Olive answered her own rhetorical question, as she stepped into the street, narrowly avoiding the cars that sped by. With no destination in mind Olive stepped onto the pavement and continued east.
She supposed that she really did have a destination, though at this moment she didn't know quite where that destination was. A saddened and heartbroken Olive often meant a hungry one, and hungry she was. Her appetite, however, had yet to be sated as the aromas she had already encountered from the restaurants she had passed left her nauseous.
As if the universe was keeping an eye on poor Olive, a sweet aroma of sweetness greeted Olive's nose; arriving perfectly on cue.
It was unlike anything she had ever smelled before. Sweet and savory. Perhaps a little bit tangy with a flaky undertone. Warm and comforting. It was homey and perfect. It was, Olive knew, pie.
Olive paused in her tracks, looking up to find herself standing before a quaint corner restaurant, with a golden pie crust roof. She backed away a few steps, ending in the street to read the restaurants' name. The Pie Hole.
"As in shut your," Olvie whispered with a smile. A great lover of all things pie, and feeling it would be a great tribute to her late Pi, Olive needed no further encouragement to walk inside.
If it was the remnant, wafting smells that caught Olive's attention; it was the succulent smell inside The Pie Hole that made her mouth water. It was the smell of perfection and Olive quickly felt her spirits rise. She hastily made way for the counter, knocking over another patron to grab a seat at the counter, one of the few remaining seats in the busy establishment.
"Be with you in a minute" a deep, flustered voice spoke behind her.
Olive turned to see a tall man rushing away from her, four plates of pie in his hand. He clumsily set the plates on four different tables. Olive had to stile a laugh as he nearly tripped on his way back to the counter, stopping when he was directly opposite Olive.
"What can I get you?" He asked, wiping his hands on a towel.
Olive opened her mouth to respond, but felt the words fail her. The world around her suddenly disappeared, fading into darkness as a single light settled on the man before her.
His dark hair was frazzled and his eyes were wide, clearly overwhelmed. Spots of flour covered his face and hair, but Olive was certain she had never seen anything more wonder in her entire life.
"Um, hello?"
His voice snapped Olive back to reality. His head was tilted; his face showing as much concern as someone who is barely even an acquaintance can hold.
"Hiya," Olive replied, dreamily, through a smile. "Pretty busy place you've got here."
"Yeah," replied the man, filling a coffee mug with the hot dink and sending it down the counter with a small push to a waiting customer.
"Where's the help?"
"Just me."
"Boss decide to leave you alone for the day to go play a game of golf?" Olive asked, running her fingers across the counter.
A crooked smile covered his face, making Olive's smile widen. "I am the boss, sadly abandoned by my only waitress who wanted to move on to bigger and better things."
"Bigger and better than this?"
"A diner that serves more than pie."
"Now, who would want to do that?" Olive asked.
The man let out a small laugh that cold hardly be classified as such. "Good question. Can I get you anything?"
The question reminded Olive of why she had entered the diner in the first place. "A piece of pie."
"Any kind in mind?"?
Olive paused, having not looked at a menu and knowing it would end the conversation she was very much enjoying. "Which do you recommend?" she asked, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
"I've got a peach about ready to come out of the oven," he replied, distracted as he picked up used dishes and a paid bill off the counter. The empty spot was quickly filled by another customer. Olive could tell that the seemingly normal sign of good business was, at this very moment, not good for The Pie Hole owner; as he let out a near undetectable sigh.
"Peach it is, then," Olive said.
The pie baker smiled, almost greatfully, and nodded. "Be right back." He said, before disappearing into the kitchen. Olive watched him walk away; keeping her eye on him through the window that opened the kitchen to the main room.
He was shy, that much Olive could tell. But not in a bad way; in a way that made him gentlemanly without being overly chivalrous. She supposed he had a sense of humor, in a quiet way. He was strong, she could see, from his broad shoulders and muscles that subtly flexed as her rolled out dough. He was manly, with a boyish charm and Olive knew she was in trouble by the way her heart seemed to stop when he scratched his shoulder, trying to find an ingredient and unknowing smearing flour on his shirt.
"Hey, how about some service out here?!" someone yelled from a booth. The pie baker jumped, dropping a measuring cup in surprise. Olive turned in her seat sending a glare to the irate customer before jumping off her seat and walking to the kitchen doorway.
"Want some help?" she asked, sticking her head into the kitchen.
The pie man jumped again and whirled around the face Olive.
"Wha?" he sputtered, obviously confused.
"You're far to busy for one person to handle, so I'm offering my help."
"I can't ask you to do that," he said, deferring the offer.
"Then it's a good thing you're not asking."
"I don't know." Pie man said, obviously becoming uncomfortable and torn between needing the help and letting a stranger do so.
Olive noted, however, that with his lack of comfort came a quirky charm. She felt her stomach flip.
"I promise I won't be of any trouble. You bake the pies while I handle the coffee and the people."
"I-well-do you, um, have any waitress experience?"
Olive paused, almost defeated, "Well, no, but really how hard can it be?"
As Olive spoke the bell above the door welcomed an influx of new customers, pushing the diner's fire hazard-safety limit to its max.
Before the last customer was seated Olive knew she had won by the look of defeat that crossed pie man's face.
"Okay," he said, nodding.
Olive flashed him a bright smile, receiving something of a mix between a smile and a nervous grimace. She grabbed a nearby apron from its hanger on the wall and tied it around her waist.
"There's a pad of paper and a pen under the front counter if you need it," Pie Maker said, returning to his pie making, more lax than he had been before. "Just-uh-let me know if you have any questions.
"Righto," Olive replied with a small salute before turning and all but bounding to the counter.
Yes, Olive Snook knew she was in trouble; for, it seemed that in the mere minutes she had known this man she was clearly taken with him. And Olive knew that the only way to become un-taken with him was to take him before anyone else did.
The question: "How hard can it be?" turned out to be harder than Olive Snook had thought.
Olive had raced horses for years, fed them and worked with them. She was used to the fast paced feel of flying down the race track. But nothing, not all the training in the world, could have prepared Olive Snook for the onslaught of hungry, pie craving customers she had encountered in her afternoon at The Pie Hole. From the minute she had tied the apron around her neck, until this very minute, Olive had been on her feet; taking orders, pouring coffee, slicing pie and serving it.
She groaned at the thought of what her day had consisted and felt her head drop forward, landing lightly on the counter she sat at. Behind her a click sounded and Olive new the owner of the fine establishment she had worked at all afternoon had closed the doors for the night.
The squeak of shoes sounded movement and Olive rolled her head to the side to see Pie Man walk by her, awkwardly shoving his hands in his pockets. Keeping her head on the table Olive let out a huff of air, trying to move a stray piece of hair out of her face.
A moment later Pie Man returned, setting a plate of the sweetest smelling pie Olive had ever smelt before her.
"I—um, figure I still owe you a piece of peach pie," Pie Man said, rocking back on his heels.
Olive sat up, feeling her stomach grumble at the thought of the slice of pie she had ordered hours before. "Thanks," she said, smiling.
The man before her nodded, "You're welcome. Just—uh, feel free to stay and I eat, I'm going to clean up."
"Want some help?" Olive asked.
He shook his head, "No," he said quickly, "You've helped enough already."
The words came out rushed and almost defensive making Olive feel her spirits deflate. But Pie Man must have realized how he sounded for he quickly became flustered and began to ramble.
"Not that that's a bad thing. It's just, you know, you didn't really—have to. And I, appreciate it. But I can, you know, um---clean up my own mess while you rest." His intonation at the end of the sentence turned the statement into an uncertain question. He let out a nervous laugh.
Olive giggled and smiled around a bite of pie. Her eyes widened and she nearly swallowed the piece of treat whole, gasping for breath when she was done. "This is delicious!" she exclaimed, probably louder than she should have.
Pie Man turned just in time to see Olive shovel another forkful into her mouth. "Thanks," he said, smiling.
"So tell me," Olive said, cutting the remnants of her pie piece into small pieces. "How does one come to own a pie diner?"
Pie Man, who had been setting chairs on the tables, froze, holding a chair in the air. "Um—family business," he finally said, clumsily letting the chair fall to the table.
"And a delicious family business at that," Olive replied, finishing off the last of her pie.
Pie Man smiled, albeit awkwardly, again and nodded; continuing to clean up his restaurant.
"Well," Olive said, breaking a silence that had engulfed them. "I guess that's that." She jumped down from the stool she sat on and untied the apron from around her waist. She threw it on the counter and turned to the man before her. He put the last chair on the last table and turned, facing Olive. "Thanks for the pie."
"You're welcome. Thanks for the help—um…?"
"Olive."
Pie Man smiled and nodded. "Thanks for the help Olive."
"You're welcome--."
"Ned."
The two stared at one another, Olive smiling brightly as she swayed slightly while Ned, once again, stuffed his hands in his pockets.
After a moment, Ned nodded and walked to the door, unlocking it and holding it open for Olive. "Right." Olive murmured under her breath. She walked to the door and paused. "Good night."
"Good night," Ned replied with yet another nod.
With a quiet sigh Olive walked through the door and paused, staring out into the dark street. "You know!" she said, suddenly turning back around. Ned paused, door to The Pie Hole half open.
"Yes?"
Olive quickly walked back to the door, leaning against the frame. It was the first time all day Olive had actually stood close to the man she now knew as Ned and she suddenly realized how tall he was. Her neck was craned back, almost having to stare straight up while he looked straight down. She cursed under her breath, wishing she had worn heels.
"Well, you said that you recently lost your waitress."
Ned nodded and Olive was certain it was a habit he had when he didn't know what else to do."
"And," Olive continued. "It just so happens that I'm recently unemployed. Maybe we can join forces, seemed to work pretty well together today."
There was silence and a pause and Olive watched as Ned became more uncomfortable by the minute. She waited, smiling. When she still didn't get a response she tilted her head to the side, trying to coax a response from him.
Ned finally opened his mouth and closed his mouth, reminding Olive of a fish out of water. "Um—well, I—I don't know if that is, um--."
Though he couldn't get a sentence out, Olive knew where his mind was going. "Darlin' you couldn't exactly handle the mob today by yourself. I think you need some help. I'm not the greatest baker, but I can serve the people while bake."
"It's—um, not that busy everyday," Ned finally stuttered. His eye twitched. "Really, thank you for the offer, but I'll be okay."
Olive felt the wind leave her, deflated. "You're sure?"
Ned nodded. "Yes. Thank you for your help today, Olive, good night."
Before Olive could open her mouth, the door was closed and she was left alone outside. "Goodnight Ned," she whispered to the empty air. With a sigh Olive turned and began her trek home.
A week later and Olive Snook was still horseless, and essentially, unemployed. Though she lived on the outskirts of the city, she had taken to driving into the heart of town during the day. Quite a few times she had almost entered The Pie Hole again, but had found herself stopping short, unable to make herself go in. And though she could not bring herself enter the quaint diner she found herself thinking of the diner's owner more and more.
Ned had seemed to make a permanent spot in her mind, clearing her of all other thought. He was like a plague, but a good plague. The one that you didn't want to go away. And so, attacked by such a good plague Olive found herself frustrated at not being able to walk into The Pie Hole once again.
She blamed it on the pie. Though it had been good pie, she just wasn't, at this moment, in a pie eating mood. That was her story and she was sticking to it.
Once again exploring the city for a job or anything she could muster, skillfully avoiding The Pie Hole (because she wasn't in the mood for pie) Olive now finds herself at the Worldly Famous World Market.
The tents of the market were large and white, spanning across two near parks and an empty parking lot. The booths were filled of all things, from clothes and jewelry to knick knacks and paddy whacks and to food and drink; all from around the world.
Always looking for new foods to try, Olive, at this very moment, stood in front of a booth filled with fruits of different shapes and sizes, most being ones she had never seen before. The woman behind the booth was robust and large, with a glare permanently creasing her brows. Olive smiled at her and the woman grunted in response. Aware of the watchful eye on her, Olive picked up the first fruit she saw, examining it.
It was purple and lumpy, with a single giant leaf sticking out of it. Olive shook it, but nothing happened. She sniffed at it, but smelled nothing. She frowned.
"What is this?" She asked the woman across from her.
The woman's eyes lit up at the sight of the fruit, though her frown stayed in place, and she quickly started rambling in a language that made Olive's head spin. She was certain it was a language the woman was making up, a cross between Spanish and French and German and maybe even a little Pig Latin thrown in. GerenchSpigLatin, Olive decided.
The woman stopped talking and waited for Olive to respond, her eyes wide. Olive smiled, not knowing what else to do. The woman grumped and looked away, turning her attention to another customer.
"Well fine," Olive said, weighing the fruit in her hands.
From behind her, someone laughed. "It's a sweetsop."
Olive yelped and jumped at the voice, surprised; the fruit flew from her hands, landing someone behind her. The person laughed again.
She turned, clutching at her speeding heart to see Ned standing behind her, holding the fruit she had just thrown. He smiled.
"Hi, Olive."
"Ned!" Olive gasped, "You scared me!"
He let out a small laugh and smiled. "Sorry, didn't mean to," he said. There was a bark from his side and Olive turned to see a dog sitting next to Ned. Olive was not very good when it came to dog breeds, but at the moment it didn't matter. The dog was beautiful, and that's all there was to it.
"Who's this?" Olive asked, bending slightly to scratch the dogs ears.
"This is Digby."
"He's beautiful."
"Thank you."
"How long have you had him?"
Ned paused and he shifted uncomfortably. "A while."
Olive nodded and a silence fell between them.
"So, what are you doing here?" Olive asked, trying to slow her beating heart, but at the sight of the man that had occupied her thoughts for a week, Olive was certain it had sped up even more.
Ned held up a bag he was holding. "When ever the market is in town I stock up on fruits you can't get at the grocery store."
Olive nodded. "Well that makes sense."
"What, um, about you?"
"Oh, I was--," Olive trailed. "You know, just exploring. I've never been to the market before and it looked interesting. And so did these fruits and now here we are."
"Oh, right," he said, holding out the fruit Olive had thrown.
"Thanks," she said, taking the fruit and blushing. "What did you say it was?"
Ned smiled. "Sweetsop. Some people call it Sugar Apple."
"Oh," Olive said, holding the fruit before her and examining it again.
"I've been trying to turn it into a pie for quite some time, now."
"You haven't been successful?"
Ned shrugged, "Just can't seem to get the right flavors."
Olive thought for a second. "Have you tried cinnamon?"
"Cinnamon?" Ned asked.
"Yes, cinnamon. You know that little brown stuff, you sprinkle on things. Kind of sweet and bitter?"
Ned laughed. "Why cinnamon though?"
Olive shrugged. "I don't know, because it's a key ingredient in most desserts?"
"I thought you said you don't bake."
Olive felt her heart flutter at the thought that Ned had remembered something she had said. "Well, I don't really. But," Olive said, drawing out the word, "It is cinnamon. You can't go wrong."
Ned smiled. "You make a point. But I, have to go."
Olive nodded, tossing the sugar apple between her hands. "Bye Ned."
"Bye, Olive. It was uh—nice seeing you again." With a nod and a smile, Ned walked away, Digby trotting along behind him, Olive noted, without a leash.
Olive watched him leave until he disappeared from sight. With a smile, she turned and bought three sugar apples.
Later that night, Ned the Pie Maker was busy at work. Like he did every time The Worldly Famous World Market was in town, he stayed up late trying to new recipes in hopes of finding a new pie to introduce to the world via is restaurant.
It was, like usual, going fine until he got to the sugar apple. He had bought three earlier that day, and the first two pies had turned out awful. He had gagged on the first and was certain the second was about to jump to life and concur the world.
He stood, staring down the last sweet apple, trying to pull the right recipe he needed out of it. "What do you think Digby?" He asked, turning to the dog who was lying nearby.
Digby lifted his head and barked once before resuming his relaxed position.
"Right," Ned replied, turning back to the sugar apple.
He sighed before leaning forward, resting his arms on the counter. He looked around his kitchen, trying to find inspiration somewhere else. His eyes roamed the room before he paused, his eyes landing on a single ingredient. Cinnamon.
Ned's mouth twitched and her brow furrowed. Not knowing what else to do, he retrieved the ingredient and began to bake.
An hour and a half later, Ned sat, taking the last bite of the latest Sugar Apple Pie. He hadn't meant to eat it all. Once slice led to another, then another and before Ned realized it he was on the last bite.
It was unbelievable, really. He had never tasted anything like it. Sweet and savory, but a little bit bitter. It was warm. It was perfect. Olive had been right; all it took was a little bit of cinnamon. That tiny brown stuff you sprinkle on things. Kind of sweet and kind of bitter.
Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed the first chapter! I don't know when I'll update again. But I hope it's soon!
Thanks for reading!
Until next time!