Pie

“Word of Polly Portman’s remarkable pie shop spread when a reporter from the Ipsy News wrote an article about it. The Associated Press picked up the story and pretty soon people from all over the country were flocking to the corner of Windham and Main to experience PIE for themselves. They came bearing raspberries from Oregon, sugar cane from Louisiana, pecans from Texas, and cherries from Michigan. Day after day, people flocked to the shop, and whatever they brought with them, Polly would turn into pies.”

This description of the PIE pilgrimages is one of several montage passages demonstrating the phenomenal growth and impact of Polly’s pie baking. The pie shop becomes a sort of pastry shrine, attracting attention first for the pies, then for the 13 consecutive awards for the nation’s best pie. So successful is the pie shop that it becomes the financial engine driving the economy of the tiny village of Ipswitch. Ironically, Polly charges nothing for her pies.

“‘Keep your voice down, dear,’ her father said. ‘You don’t want Alice to hear.’

‘I don’t care what she hears. She’s got stars in her eyes just like everyone else in this town. I’m tired of people acting like Polly Portman is some kind of a saint. If you ask me, she’s just plain selfish. Not to mention crazy. Who in their right mind turns down a chance to be a millionaire?’”

This question, from Polly’s sister Ruth, reveals the contrast between Polly and virtually every other character in the narrative. For Ruth and the other individuals in the novel, the primacy of wealth and fame is an indication of having the proper mental focus. For Polly, the sheer joy of sharing her gift with others and enjoying the people she loves is the preferred riches. In one exchange between Polly and Alice, Polly remarks that Ruth is as rich as Polly but does not realize it.

“Polly was delighted that the committee had enjoyed her pie, but the idea of winning a prize for it made her feel very uncomfortable, so much so that she tried to turn it down.

‘The Blueberry is the most coveted award in the field of pie baking, Miss Portman. You have no idea how many people would kill to be in your shoes,’ Harriet Melcher told her.

‘What an awful thought!’ Polly exclaimed.”

This conversation with the head of the Blueberry contest encapsulates Polly’s distinctive approach to life and, particularly, to making the best pie in the country. Harriet’s observation implies that the average baker would act much like Jane Quizenberry does in the novel: willing to commit a crime to secure a Blueberry Award. For Polly, the idea of such self-centeredness is reprehensible.

“Even though Polly Portman was the kind of person who would have given you the shirt off her own back, she wouldn't tell anyone the recipe for piecrust. […] Keeping the recipe a secret was part of what drew tourists to Ipswitch, and without their patronage, many of the small businesses would have trouble staying afloat. […] [S]he made arrangements for what would happen to the piecrust recipe when her time on earth came to an end.”

While she was not interested in the typical rewards of wealth and notoriety, as this passage demonstrates, Polly was not ignorant of the monetary potential of her piecrust recipe. Clearly, she also understood how important her pie shop was to the Ipswitch economy. Though she does not explain her intentions or her reasons to her family, Polly’s will and a legal agreement she made with the Lardo shortening company provide for her loved ones and prevent a mad scramble to acquire and hoard her recipe.

“‘She hated me, George,’ Alice’s mother wailed. ‘That’s the reason.’

‘Aunt Polly didn’t hate you, Mom,’ Alice said. ‘She didn’t hate anyone.’

‘How can you defend her after what she’s done?’ Her mother shouted through her tears. ‘Clearly your precious aunt didn’t care about any of us. Not even you, Alice.’”

Ruth’s rage arises from her assumption that Polly would have bequeathed her family something more tangible than the dismal cat Lardo if she really loved them. Ruth cannot conceive that, as Polly had a unique way of living, she also had different ways of caring for her family once she was gone. As the Epilogue reveals, Polly’s arrangement with the shortening company provides for her sister’s family throughout the remainder of their lives.

“Mayor Needleman was not the only one in town who’d been suffering from pie withdrawal. Dolores Evans, a cashier at the A&P, had been rushed to the emergency room that day with heart palpitations. The doctor sent her home with instructions to take two aspirins and try not to think about banana cream pie.”

For almost 15 years, everyone in Ipswitch who wanted a freshly baked pie had been able to go to Polly’s pie shop and simply pick one up. As Alice discovers when she encounters residents in the days following Polly’s death, citizens have a hard time coping with the sudden change of Polly’s death, compounded by the realization that she did not leave the recipe to any other person. Underlying the physical reality of no more pie is the recognition that the financial engine of the community has also disappeared.

“‘I called the pound this morning and they’re expecting us to drop him off at ten.’

‘Mom,’ said Alice, choosing her words carefully, since it was obvious her mother was in no mood to be crossed, ‘Aunt Polly gave Lardo to me. Shouldn’t it be up to me to decide what happens to him?’

Mr. Anderson lowered his paper and peered at his daughter over the tops of his glasses.

‘Don’t sass your mother,’ he warned.”

Alice has no love for Lardo, who hisses at and tries to scratch everyone except Polly. However, Alice intends to care for Lardo because she knows what the cat eats and because she wants to honor her beloved aunt’s bequest. Ruth, who knows how disagreeable Lardo is, partly wants to get rid of him because of his attitude but, to an extent, as a way of expressing disgust for her sister bequeathing Alice her cat. George, Alice’s father, stays out of Ruth’s path and disputes whenever possible. The exceptions occur when Alice attempts to assert herself or to disagree, resulting in him cautioning her not to sass her mother.

“Every cabinet and drawer had been yanked open and gone through. Even the cushions on the couch had been slit open and the stuffing pulled out. Charlie was right: whoever had done this was clearly looking for something—but what? Aunt Polly led a simple life and had very few possessions. The most valuable thing she owned was the piecrust recipe, and by now, everybody knew what had happened to that. The only thing she cared about were people and pie and Lardo.”

Weeks uses this passage to establish the mystery element of the narrative. Throughout most of the story, there are multiple unanswered questions: Why would someone break into Polly’s pie shop and apartment without stealing anything, including her valuable gold medals? Why would someone catnap Lardo and then release him? Who is driving the second large, green automobile that appears in Ipswitch? Who is the strange woman who appears in multiple places in multiple guises? The author offers several plausible possibilities that Alice pursues, only to discover that her deductions are incorrect.

“‘I deliver groceries to practically every house in town, and I can tell you that ever since your auntie passed, there’s been an awful lot of pie baking going on around here.’

Charlie wasn’t exaggerating. At that very moment, there were forty-seven pies baking in various ovens around Ipswitch.”

This passage reveals that Weeks writes from the viewpoint of the omniscient narrator. Otherwise, readers would not know that many people have decided to replicate Polly’s culinary talent. The author also implies that the village’s citizens are anxious about the loss of Polly whose pie shop indirectly sparked opportunity for dozens of small businesses.

“Alice got out the peanut butter and jelly, and she and Charlie made sandwiches for themselves. As they ate their lunches sitting across from each other at the kitchen table, Alice found herself thinking about how much she was going to miss having lunch with Aunt Polly at the pie shop. […] Alice wasn’t allowed to have dessert after lunch at home, but Aunt Polly had her own rules, one of which was that little pie never hurt anybody.”

Alice is emblematic of the entire village in that her aunt’s death forces her into a series of new experiences. Having come to depend on the pie shop as a financial engine, now Ipswitch must adjust to the uncertainty created by her absence. As for Alice, each time she encounters an experience she shared with Polly, she must adapt to living without her. Here, for the first time, she makes lunch for Charlie, and while thinking mostly of Polly, Alice sets the stage for a lifelong friendship.

“‘It was all a big mix up,’ her father explained. ‘The lock on the pie shop didn’t appear to have been tampered with, so the police were convinced that whoever broke in used the key to open the door.’

‘Until I explained to them why that was impossible,’ said Alice’s mother. ‘There was only one copy of the key, and Polly was wearing it on the chain around her neck when she was buried.’

‘No, she wasn’t,’ Alice said, suddenly realizing what it was that it seemed wrong about Polly when she looked at her at the funeral. She hadn’t been wearing the chain with the key on it!”

Alice differentiates herself from others in the narrative with her openness to new possibilities and awarenesses. As with most other family conversations, her parents immediately discount the possibility that Alice might be correct. When she asks her parents to consider a new possibility, her mother reacts by insulting her and her father automatically warns her against sassing her mother.

“Charlie frowned and threw one long leg over the crossbar of his bike. Before he left, he looked Alice straight in the eye.

‘I may not be the smartest guy in the world,’ he told her, ‘but I’ll tell you one thing I know: Your aunt Polly never would have talked to a person the way you just talked to me. And she wouldn’t have thought very highly of somebody who did, either.’”

This is one of the prophetic moments in the narrative when a character ventures to speak the truth. Charlie admits he is not particularly bright but points out to Alice that she is uncharacteristically hateful. Having just experienced such negativity from her mother, Alice finds herself a moment of choice. She must decide to be like her mother or her aunt. Her willingness to quickly mend ways with Charlie implies that she chooses to embody Polly’s attitude.

“Alice remembered a time years ago when her aunt had asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up. Alice had said that more than anything in the world, she wanted to be a squirrel. Most people would have laughed, but Polly didn’t. Instead, she told Alice that she would make sure to leave plenty of walnuts out on the porch during the winter months so Alice wouldn’t have to dig around in the snow when she got hungry.”

Polly’s life was one of complete differentiation. Those closest to her never grasp her motivations for her distinctive actions or her unusual attitude. When she promises her niece that she will leave food out for her in the winter when Alice becomes a squirrel, she is not patronizing Alice but rather encouraging the same drive toward being a non-conforming person. As the Epilogue indicates, Alice chose the life path of individuation.

“It’s hard to imagine many things more unsettling than seeing your principal without her clothes on. Not that Miss Gurke was naked—thank goodness—but the bright red, skintight outfit she was wearing that day was a far cry from the kind of clothing she normally wore. Even more shocking than the outfit itself was the fact that Alice now knew what Miss Gurke had been hiding under her loose clothes. Muscles. Great big ones. Standing there in her skimpy red suit, Miss Gurke didn’t look like a principal at all, she looked like Charles Atlas, the beefy muscle man Alice had seen pictures of in magazine ads.”

The amateur detective snooping on Alice and Charlie uncovers concealed truths about Ipswitch citizens. Here, when the two encounter their principal punching a weight bag in her backyard, they discover that Miss Gurke aspires to be a world-class bodybuilder, and she feels that disciplining tardy students is beneath her. The author implies that many residents of small communities conceal their dreams to conform. This encounter, like others, results in widened understanding and acceptance on the parts of Alice and Charlie, who commit to protecting Miss Gurke’s secret.

“‘That’s how it was with me and my grandma,’ said Charlie. ‘She died three years ago and I didn’t think I could stand it, I missed her so much. But then I came up with this little trick. […] I keep one of her old perfume bottles in my drawer. When I really miss her, I close my eyes and take a sniff and it feels like she’s right there in the room with me.’”

Charlie is alone in consistently offering solace to Alice as she grieves the death of her aunt. In this expression of empathy, he reveals why he understands her grief and suggests solid help in coping. Charlie’s guileless tenderness toward Alice stands in direct contrast to her mother’s attitude. As she admits, Ruth grows disgusted with the community’s perception of her sister as a saint.

“Alice kicked off her shoes and curled up on her bed. She tried not to think about all the awful things that had happened that day. […]

Alice felt a song coming on and as darkness fell she sang it softly to herself.

If I could make a wish right now

I know what I would do.

I wish to be some other girl

and hope it would all come true.”

Creating spontaneous, rhymed verses with corresponding melodies is Alice’s gift, one encouraged by her aunt and discounted by her mother. Several of these appear throughout the narrative, allowing Alice to express her joy, insight, and concerns. In this stanza, she places a moral on what has been a difficult, disappointing day filled with setbacks and conflicts.

“Alice’s mother went on. ‘Polly took everything from me. Even you. […] She had to make sure you loved her more than me, and clearly she succeeded.’

‘You’re wrong,’ Alice told her mother, fighting to hold back the tears that had sprung to her eyes. ‘I didn’t love Aunt Polly more than I love you. The difference is she loved me back.’”

This passage, the emotional heart of the narrative, is another prophetic confrontation, this time between Alice and her mother. After speaking the truth, Alice dashes out of the house and rides her bicycle away while her mother follows, calling for her to return. Symbolically, this captures the essence of the relationship between Alice, Ruth, and Polly. Never feeling that her mother accepts her or acknowledges her love, Alice flees to Polly for affection. Ruth blames her sister for stealing Alice’s love rather than admitting that her bitterness and jealousy push Alice away.

“Melanie Needleman had heard through the grapevine that a reporter from Look magazine had come to town sniffing around for information about Polly Portman’s piecrust recipe. Never one to turn down an opportunity for publicity, especially during an election year, she had called over to the Ipsy Inn and stretched the truth a little by suggesting that the mayor had somehow managed to find a copy of the recipe which he might be willing to share if Miss DeSota would be so kind as to interview him for the article she was writing.”

Sylvia DeSota’s visit to the Needleman’s house is a confluence of two characters with ulterior motives. Sylvia is not a Look reporter but a pastry chef in the process of turning Ipswitch inside out to find Polly’s piecrust recipe. Melanie, who has no idea who has the recipe, only seeks free publicity for her husband, the incumbent mayor, who actually does not want the job. Throughout the narrative, those with concealed ambitions tend to find themselves outed and their plans thwarted.

“Just want to make sure you heard me when I said that ALICE SURE HAS CHANGED SINCE SHE FOUND THAT RECIPE. ALL SHE TALKS ABOUT NOW IS HOW RICH SHE’S GOING TO BE WHEN SHE SELLS IT. SHE EVEN SLEEPS WITH IT UNDER HER PILLOW EVERY NIGHT. CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? RIGHT UNDER HER PILLOW.”

This passage, spoken at high volume by Charlie to a confused Nora Needleman on her front porch, is part of Alice’s plan to lure Sylvia to sneak back into her bedroom that night. As with their encounters with Miss Gurke, the police chief, Charlie’s parents, and other adults throughout, this exchange ultimately provides Alice and Charlie opportunities for deepened relationships. In this case, after his heavy-handed baiting of Sylvia, Charlie confesses to Nora that he finds her beautiful and would take her to the movies if he thought she would accept.

“‘Delores is turning 60 tomorrow. Polly always made her a banana cream pie on her birthday, so I thought I’d give it a whirl this year. Sure wish I knew how your aunt made that meringue of hers.’

‘Add a little cream of tartar to the egg whites,’ Alice told him. ‘And raise the oven rack a notch to brown it.’

‘For someone who says she doesn’t know how to bake a pie, you sure do know a lot about it,’ Charlie commented after they made their final delivery.”

Alice, who always assumed that she did not have her aunt’s baking talent, casually explains to Mr. Evans how he can make meringue for his wife’s pie. Charlie’s observation after a day of delivering groceries implies that Alice made several such suggestions. Alice’s growing recognition of what she gained from her years of shadowing her aunt is symbolic of the village’s growing awareness that Polly left them, but not without sharing important life examples.

“Alice closed her eyes and her mother began to sing. She really did have the voice of an angel. High and pure and as she sang, Alice’s heart unclenched, and something warm flowed into the spaces inside her that had been aching and empty since Aunt Polly passed. The next morning when Alice woke up. Her mother was still there, and curled up next to them on the bed, was Lardo—purring.”

The greatest conflict in the narrative is the estrangement between Alice and her mother. The author intends this passage to convey the reconnection of these characters through their tangible expressions of love. The presence of Lardo implies that Ruth has stopped threatening to send him to the pound. This is the only scene portraying Lardo as feeling at peace.

“Alice carefully slipped the pie into the oven. The lattice was uneven and she’d had trouble getting the edges of the crust to hold together properly when she crimped them, but it didn’t matter. She was proud of the pie she and Charlie Erdling had made, and she smiled, remembering something Aunt Polly had told her once—

The most important ingredient in a pie is the love that goes into making it.”

For the first time, Alice makes a pie herself to share with Charlie. Though she recognizes its imperfections, she feels content that it will suffice for them. The moral to this exchange, that love is the most important ingredient, is in part the author’s way of saying that all the free pies Polly distributed over the years were actually expressions of love. Alice has continued Polly’s process not only with this pie but through imparting the skills she learned from Polly.

“The church was having a rummage sale, and Alice was hunting for her mother’s old coffee percolator, which she thought she remembered having stashed up there. She didn’t find the percolator, but what she did come across was Lardo’s little blue china plate. In science fiction movies, time machines are always depicted as complicated metal contraptions with flashing lights and bundles of coiled wires coming out of the top, but that little blue plate transported Alice back in time to the summer of 1955 so fast it took her breath away.”

The Epilogue transports the reader 40 years into the future, giving the author the opportunity to update the storylines of the main characters. Alice is now 50. Finding Lardo’s plate transports her memories back to her childhood, specifically to the summer when her Aunt Polly died. Reflecting on all those present during those events, she finds herself filled with appreciation for what has transpired in the lives of her family and loved ones.