What started as a family baking day ends as a family clean-up day. By the time we find all the goop on the walls and cabinets and under the kitchen table, we’re covered in as much of the pies as was on the floor.
After lots of hugs and reassurance that it’s all going to be okay, Sam takes the kids back to bathe them and put them to bed, and I stand in the middle of my now-spotless kitchen and wonder what in the hell to do.
I have enough supplies for maybe two pies. I could probably do one cherry and one apple. I can make crust all day, but I don’t have the filling here.
It’s all in the garbage.
Or in the closed grocery store.
I’m supposed to bring five pies. There will be roughly twelve people there, including the kids.
Two pies aren’t enough.
I could bake a cake.
“Who eats cake for Thanksgiving?”
“I would.”
I whirl at Sam’s voice and cover my chest. “You startled me.”
“Sorry, you were deep in thought. I didn’t want to interrupt.”
I sigh and lean on the counter.
“Talk to me,” he says gently.
“I don’t know what to do. Nothing’s open, so I can’t just go buy pie. I can’t even buy the ingredients to make more. This is what happens when you live in a tiny town. No grocery stores are open twenty-four-seven.”
“What do you have?”
“I think I can make one cherry and an apple pie. Huckleberry is out altogether because I used the last of my frozen berries from the summer. That’ll teach me to not pick more than I need.”
“Yes, obviously, you’re a horrible person for not having more frozen berries on hand.”
I narrow my eyes at him, and he grins.
“What would you need to make more?”
I run down a list of ingredients that I’m missing.
“That’s it?”
“That’s a lot when nothing’s open, Sam.”
“You get started on those two pies. I’ll be back.”
“Where are you going?”
“Just trust me, okay?” He leans in, caging me against the kitchen counter, and kisses me hard, then pulls away and saunters out the front door.
I hear his truck start, see the beam of the headlights as he pulls out of the driveway, and then he’s gone.
“I have no idea what he’s up to,” I mutter and begin pulling out the baking supplies all over again.
I put one earbud in my ear so I can listen to my book on audio while I get to work on the pie crusts.
I’m freaking exhausted, and I’d hoped that I’d be curled up with Sam on the couch by this time, catching up on one of the several shows we’ve been watching whenever he isn’t off saving the world. It’s nearly nine in the evening.
At least, I’ll be able to sleep in. That’s one of the perks of not cooking a big holiday meal.
I’ve just put the first pie in the oven when Sam walks through the front door, loaded down with two paper bags.
“I pulled some strings,” he announces. “You know the new bakery downtown, La Fleur?”
I blink at him as he starts unpacking the bags.
“I haven’t been in there yet.”
“Really?” He frowns at me. “Oh, you have to. It’s awesome. When she first opened, she brought a bunch of stuff to the fire hall for all the guys. Anyway, her name is Beth Dansbury. Nice girl. I called her, and she had some pies and other things that people ordered but didn’t pick up today.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Nope.” He grins like the cat who ate the canary, opens a to-go container, and then bites into a lemon bar.
“So, what all are we taking tomorrow? Obviously, not that lemon bar.”
“This was just an extra.” He takes another bite, then offers me some. I’ll never pass up a lemon bar. “I have two more pies, one huckleberry, and one key-lime, some gluten-free cobbler, and a carrot cake. Yes, I know, cake is weird for Thanksgiving, but Beth tells me that it’s considered an autumnal cake, so it fits.”
“Autumnal.” I nod and press my lips together, willing myself not to cry.
“Whoa.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “What did I do wrong? I thought I was helping. This way, you don’t have to bake as much tonight. You’re exhausted. I can see the circles under your eyes. And you looked so defeated earlier, I thought this would be good.”
“It’s so good.” I wipe a tear off my cheek and laugh when Sam continues looking lost.
Tears make him nervous.
“Seriously, so good. Thank you. I can’t believe she let you in this late.”
“She was happy to do it.”
I narrow my eyes on him. “Hmm. I’m sure she was.”
“What does that mean?”
“Sam, she probably did it for you because she has a crush on you.”
“Whatever.” He scoffs and sets the bags of goodies in the pantry where they’re safe. “She was being neighborly.”