Disclaimer: I don't own Pushing Daisies…
Author's Note: So I totally just realized I was spelling Emerson's last name wrong…feels stupid…on with the story…
Let Me Fall-
-Chapter Six: Tomorrow and The Hobbit
Olive Snook awkwardly pulled down the last of the chairs from the last table, setting it down on the floor with an 'oomph,' before pushing it in. Having decided that on this particular day she would wear flat shoes, instead of her usual heals, Olive found it slightly difficult to pull the chairs off the tables; as the bottoms of the legs leveled with her eyes. She sighed, frustrated in her small lapse of judgment and walked behind the counter, beginning to wipe it down to make sure it was at its shiny best before any customers arrived for the day.
The bell above the door rang and Olive looked up.
"How do I look?" Pim asked, waltzing through the door and spinning.
"Like a dog discovered a box of taffy's, ate all of it, then decided to spit it back up," Olive replied without missing a beat, taking in her cousin's appearance.
Pim frowned then adjusted the hat atop her head. "That's disgusting," she replied, tartly.
Olive half-smiled, half-smirked as she took in the Bittersweets uniform her cousin was wearing. She wore a black skirt, a bright orange blouse with an equally bright green tie, and the same striped jacket that Billy Balsam once wore. To top it off, sitting atop her head was the awkward hat with a box of fake candy attached to it.
"You know," Pim said, sitting at the counter, "This hat is really awkward."
Olive snorted. "I still can't believe you are working at Bittersweets."
"Why Olive, do I sense a bit of bitterness in your tone?"
"Hardly, my tone was sweet."
"And that was a lame come back," Pim retorted smiling.Olive rolled her eyes and threw the small towel she had been using, to wipe down the counter, at Pim. Pim giggled and threw the item back. "So, how was your dinner?" Pim asked, leaning forward on the counter and whispering conspiratorially.
Olive pulled the towel away from her face and blushed; lowering her head she started to vigorously wipe at the counter. "It was good," she said shyly.
Pim laughed. "By that reaction I would say it was more than good," she said. "Come on indulge me in all of the girly details."
Olive rolled her eyes and threw the towel at Pim once more. "Don't you have a job to get to?"
Pim smiled smugly, "No, I have another—oh I have to go!" She nearly yelled after looking at her watch and realizing there were exactly fifty-eight seconds until she had to be at work. "Bye Olive!" She called as she ran out the door and across the street.
Olive laughed quietly, shaking her head
"What was that?" Ned asked, sticking his head around the kitchen door way, having just heard what seemed to be yelling.
"What was what?" Olive asked, putting a confused look on her face.
"It sounded like someone yelled," Ned replied.
Olive furrowed her brow. "Ned, I don't know what you're talking about," she said. "I'm the only one here."
"Really?" Ned asked, confused. Olive nodded. "I could have sworn."
"Oh, Ned," Olive said sadly, "I think those fruit fumes have finally gotten to you. Try not to inhale too deeply, 'kdokey?"
"I—yeah," Ned replied, more confused than before. "…Right."
Olive sniggered quietly as The Pie Maker disappeared into the kitchen once more.
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Olive felt like she had finally lost it.
Every time a new customer walked into The Pie Hole she would look up and see Alfredo. A bright smile would cover her face and she would step forward to greet him, only to realize just before she reached him (and to save herself from embarrassment), it was not Alfredo who had walked in. There were no boundaries when it came to who she imagined as Alfredo: men, woman, children, old, young, groups upon groups. All would walk in and her first thought was that Alfredo had entered.
By twelve o'clock Olive had seen a total of twenty-nine Alfredos
"I've finally lost it," she muttered after realizing that number thirty was once again not the Alfredo Aldarisio, but instead an old woman who hobbled and looked like she would fall over by the simple gust of wind created by a child on a bike.
It was twelve-thirty and the real Alfredo Aldarisio had yet to walk through the door. Olive began to feel her nerves rise. He was always at The Pie Hole before twelve. Olive knew Alfredo was free to come and go as he pleased. And he didn't have to go anywhere if he didn't want to. For all Olive knew he was busy. Perhaps there had been a family emergency.
Perhaps…there were a lot of those.
And yet, Olive couldn't help but feel agitated. If he knew he wouldn't be arriving at The Pie Hole on that day, the tomorrow after their dinner, why wouldn't he have told her? Especially when he had see her merely hours before.
Why, why, why, why, why?
"Could you tell me what the pie of the day is?" Fake-Alfredo number thirty-one asked.
"Why?" Olive asked, before she could realize what she was saying.
"Excuse me?"
"Sorry?"
"You said 'Why' after I asked you about the pie of the day."
Olive blushed. "Triple Berry Fudge," Olive replied, pointing behind her at the sign. "It's new."
"I'll try it," the customer said, handing back is menu.
Olive nodded and walked away.
Why…was she losing her mind?
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Emerson Cod, private eye, having decided that he had had enough pie to last him for a while, felt like ice cream would be particularly enticing on this particularly cold day. The irony of that fact seemed to be lost on him, or he just didn't care.
He waved Olive down and pointed to the ice cream bar. Olive nodded and trudged over, mumbling incoherent thoughts that Emerson couldn't decipher, nor did he care if he did.
"Mint Chocolate," Emerson said, leaning against the counter.
"Yeah, yeah," Olive waved her hand distractedly and turned her back, scooping the ice cream and placing it in a cup; her mind miles away and working at miles an hour.
"Here," she said, turning back around and approaching the counter. She seemed to be thinking something over in her head, but Emerson didn't care. Slowly, far to slow for an impatient Emerson, Olive placed the counter. However, instead of letting for of the glass, she kept her hand wrapped around it, staring at the cold treat.
Emerson was about to comment about how she needed to let go of his ice cream before he pried her hands from it when Olive spoke:
"Am I a bad person?"
"No," Emerson replied, the very tone of his voice hinting that he didn't care. He kept his eyes trained on his ice cream.
"I mean, because, you come in here all the time, right?" Olive asked, taking a step back, taking Emerson's ice cream with her.
"Yes," Emerson said, through gritted teeth.
"So hypothetically speaking if you and I were to go to dinner one night, you would tell me if you weren't going to come here today, right." Olive asked, motioning with her hands. Emerson reached forward, about to grab the ice cream, when Olive's hand moved and it was out of his each.
Being that the private detective was a foot taller than the waitress made the scene quite ironic, though the irony of it was once again lost on Emerson Cod. He just wanted his ice cream.
"Especially," Olive continued on, "If the dinner had been really good and we both enjoyed ourselves, right?"
"Wrong," Emerson said, "Because you and I wouldn't have gone to dinner in the first place."
"Hypothetically speaking," Olive replied.
"Hypothetically speaking we wouldn't have gone to dinner in the first place," Emerson said through gritted teeth. Olive scowled. "Would you just give me the damn ice cream?"
"What?" Olive asked. Emerson's eyes narrowed and he pointed to the glass in her hand. Olive followed his gaze and looked at the glass as if seeing it for the first time. "Oh yeah, here," she said, before placing it on the counter.
Emerson grabbed it before Olive could do anything else. "You're crazy," he said, before spooning some of the treat into his mouth. Olive gave a quiet 'humph' and walked away.
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By four o'clock Olive had seen a total of forty-three Fake Alfredo's.
"All the customers leave?" Chuck asked, walking out of the kitchen then sitting at the counter.
Olive looked up from the sugar containers she had been refilling and surveyed the room. "For now," she replied with a lopsided smile.
"At least we can take a break before the dinner rush," Ned replied, placing a cup of water on the counter for Chuck and taking a sip of his own cup.
"None for me thanks," Olive replied, dryly.
Ned smiled sheepishly, "I'll be right back," he said walking back to the kitchen.
"And it's a dessert rush!" Chuck called after him, making Olive giggle.
"Give me a piece of Rhubarb," Emerson said, walking up and sitting two seats away from Chuck.
"You could say, 'Please' you know," Olive said, before turning her back, grabbing the rhubarb pie of the pie rack and slicing a piece.
"Or you could just give me my pie," Emerson said, as Olive placed the plate on the counter. He grabbed it before a repeat of the ice cream incident happened again.
"You're in a bad mood," Chuck said.
"He's always in a bad mood," Olive replied, walking back so she was once again standing in front of Chuck.
"And I'm sitting right here," replied Emerson. "So keep the talk about me to a minimum."
"Here you go," Ned said before anyone else could talk, walking out of the kitchen. He handed Olive a glass of water.
Olive's eyes widened in surprise, not having expected the Pie Maker to actually get her a glass of water. "Thank you," she said.
Ned smiled shyly again and Olive and Chuck, before picking up his water and walking over to Emerson.
Upon making sure that Emerson and The Pie Maker were in a conversation of their own, Chuck leaned across the counter and spoke to Olive in a whisper. "So have you gone to dinner with Alfredo yet?"
Olive's eyes widened and she blushed, "Yes," she murmured.
"You did?" Chuck asked, surprised.
"Well, yes…?"
"And you didn't tell me!" Chuck exclaimed quietly, with mock offense.
"Chuck I had dinner with Alfredo last night," Olive replied dryly.
Chuck laughed. "So how was it?"
"It was---good," Olive said, her voice trailing.
"Was it?"
"Of course it was!" Olive replied, indignantly.
"Olive?" Chuck asked, after Olive had gone quiet.
Olive looked down at her hands, "He hasn't come in yet, today," she whispered.
"Is that a problem?" Chuck cautiously asked.
"Of course it is," Olive said looking up. "It's like saying you'll call but then you never call."
"Did he say he was going to come here today?"
Olive blushed and looked down again. "Well, no," she said quietly. "But he's been here all week. And then the day after we have dinner, he's not," Olive quickly defended. Indeed, she was beginning to fear for her own sanity. "Seems a little suspicious, don't you think?"
Chuck smiled a wide bright smile a knowing look forming in her eyes.
"What?" Olive asked.
Chuck's smile widened. "Nothing," she said with wave of the hand, taking a long drink of her water.
Olive narrowed her eyes at the look Chuck was giving her. It was far too innocent. Chuck shrugged and continued to drink her water, emptying the entire glass of its contents. Before Olive could say anything else, the door opened and the bell chimed. Instinctively, Olive and Chuck both turned to see who walked in.
It was Alfredo number forty-four. The man smiled and waved, walking towards the counter. Olive groaned, shaking her head, having decided she was no longer going to fall for the tricks her mind was playing on her.
Chuck gave her a confused look as Fake-Alfredo Number Forty-Four placed his pharmecuetical box on the counter and sat down.
"Well that's not exactly the reaction I was hoping for after a first date," the man said.
Olive's head snapped up. "Fredo?"
The man looked confused, he glanced at Chuck—who shrugged--then turned back to Olive. "Yes," he replied, slowly.
Olive's eyes widened; faster than lightening she darted around the counter and up to the traveling salesmen. She looked at Alfredo steadily, making Alfredo shrink back in confusion. Olive glance to the counter where a rag sat, grabbed it then hit Alfredo's shoulder.
Since the hit did not hurt Alfredo Aldarisio in the slightest of ways he simply stared at Olive.
"Olive, did you just hit a customer?" Ned asked. Olive, Chuck, and Alfredo turned to see that Olive's actions had earned them all the attention of the Pie Maker and Emerson Cod.
"He's not just any customer, is he?" Olive asked, heatedly, crossing her arms.
"Olive, are you alright?" Alfredo asked.
"Where have you been?" Olive demanded, ignoring Alfredo's question.
Alfredo looked at Chuck, quizzically, who was doing her best to keep her smile at bay. She shrugged again. "Working," the traveling salesman explained, turning back to Olive.
Olive's defensive stance immediately softened and she paled. "I—oh—heh," she said, for lack of anything better. "Sorry," she said, reaching out and patting Alfredo's shoulder.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Alfredo asked, leaning forward, locking eyes with Olive.
"Mhm," Olive replied, trying to keep her blush at bay.
"She's finally gone off her rocker," Emerson said, his way of an explanation.
"Oh shut up," Olive retorted. Alfredo smiled and turned, blocking Olive from Emerson's view and vice versa. Olive smiled appreciatively.
"I can't really stay," Alfredo said, "But I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner tomorrow night?"
Olive nodded, "That would be nice," she said, blushing when she realized that Ned, Chuck, and Emerson were all watching and listening in on their conversation.
"Same place?" Alfredo asked, standing back up.
"Seven o'clock," Olive replied, fighting to keep her smile from widening.
"I'll see you then," Alfredo said with a smile. There was a slight beat in the air, before Alfredo bent forward and placed a light kiss on Olive's cheek; making the blonde blush and bight her lip to keep from smiling.
Chuck giggled.
"Bye, Fredo," Olive said.
"Bye."
"Hold on a second," Emerson spoke, holing up his hand and making everyone look at him.
"What?" Ned asked, confused as he tried not to stare at Alfredo and Olive.
"You're name is Fredo?" Emerson asked.
"Alfredo," The traveling salesman corrected.
"But she just called you Fredo."
"So what if I did?" Olive asked, turning her back to the private detective and facing Alfredo. "I'll see you tomorrow," she said.
Alfredo smiled. "Good bye." With a nod to everyone else, Alfredo Aldarisio walked from The Pie Hole.
"Bye," Olive called after him, watching until the door swung shut and Alfredo disappeared from sight.
As soon as Olive turned back around, Emerson broke out in loud bouts of laughter.
"What's so funny?" Olive asked.
Emerson continued to laugh. Chuck looked beyond amused and rolled her eyes. Ned shrugged and took a drink of water.
"What!" Olive demanded, placing her hand on her hips and tapping her foot.
"'Fredo' is going to dinner with…" Emerson paused and chuckled some more. "Frodo."
Ned chocked on his water and began to hit his chest to make sure he didn't completely choke. Chuck bit her lip to keep from laughing as she averted her gaze from Olive's. Emerson continued to laugh. All three earning themselves a glare from a very red Olive Snook.
Olive marched into the kitchen, with as much dignity as she could muster in her flushed state, muttering something about how she was a woman, not a man; which further meant that she was not a gay hobbit;�the latter comment made�The Pie Maker choke once more.
Author's Note: There you have it!� Chapter Six!� I hope you liked it!
Thanks to all who've reviewed!� Really appreciate it!
I�don't know when I'll be updating again..school stars up tomorrow...so we'll have to see.
Until next time,
Kate�