Read an Excerpt
Another Slice
One fine morning, Simon was polishing the new limestone-
and-granite baking table that he had just purchased for the shop. It was a fine, sturdy table with ample workspace—and a daily reminder of the growing business and the rewards of trust.
There was a knock at the door.
"Qui est la? Who is there?"
"Hello, Simon." It was Colette, the milkmaid. She stood at the window, looking down nervously.
"Colette, ma cherie! What are you doing here?" Then he added,
"I heard that you have been working for Igor."
"Yes," she said sheepishly. "I wish to work for you."
Simon went to the window and looked about. No one else was around.
He looked directly at Colette and listened expectantly.
Colette's bottom lip trembled as she struggled to hold back tears. At last she spoke.
"I no longer wish to work for Igor," she confided. "He watches every little move his workers make. He does not trust. He has people who double check all the work, so it takes us twice as long as it should."
Simon just listened and nodded.
"One never knows whether Igor is happy with them. The other workers, they betray one another just so they can impress Igor. But they have lost their passion for the work.
People quit all the time.
"And . . . and . . . " Colette paused to compose herself, but a tear streamed down her cheek.
"And . . . " she continued at last, "his ingredients for his pie are not good. He uses filler ingredients to save money but does not tell his customers."
"Zut alors!" Simon said.
She leaned forward and whispered, "He uses blackbirds."
"Excusez-moi?"
"Yes, blackbirds. He bakes them into his pie."
Simon's eyes were wide with horror. "How many?"
"A lot. Four and twenty."
"Four and twenty blackbirds!?"
"Four and twenty blackbirds. Baked in a pie."
Simon could hardly comprehend this breach of public trust.
"Everyone knows it is different here at your shop," Colette said, wiping her tears. "I wish to be a part of something greater. I do not know a lot about how you bake your pies,
but I work hard, and I can learn."
Simon looked at Colette with compassion. He liked her spirit.
He opened the door and motioned for her to come in. "Have a seat, mon amie," he said, as he pulled up a padded stool.
Then he smiled and said,
"May I offer you a slice of pie?"
