How to Bake the Perfect Apple Pie

by Gina Henning

  I close the door and lean against it. I bang my head against the laminated wood. Great. So somehow people have seen the footage of Trent coming on to me. Except I don’t know what angle they saw or how they viewed it. It should be obvious I was in the corner and he was leaning down towards me. I roll my eyes.

  At my desk, I send out the last of my emails and close a few of my customer files that I have been working on. It’s Friday and I am ready to jet. Brianna and I are supposed to go out tonight. But I’m not sure if I’m up for it. I kind of want to watch a bunch of sappy movies and sit with my bowl of popcorn, a bottle of wine, and drift off into a sea of unaffected bliss with no worries and no regrets, no what-ifs, and why hasn’ts, or will-he-show-ups. No, I don’t want any of that.

  I lock my computer and grab my purse. I scurry down the hallway. It’s empty, which is normal as it’s almost five on Friday. Most people try and leave early to skip the traffic and begin their weekends. I hit the down arrow on the elevator and it immediately dings open.

  I step in and so does Trent. Great.

  “Hey Lauren, how was your week?” Trent stares down at me.

  “Good, the team’s numbers were much better.” I nod.

  He hits the close button on the door. I step forward. I’m not going to wait for him to press it. He doesn’t move out of my way and I reach for the button.

  “You look much happier.” Trent inspects my face.

  I crinkle my eyebrows and step back. The elevator is moving down and it will only be a few more moments in this small box and I will be off to begin my own weekend.

  “I guess having great numbers can do that to a person.” I shrug.

  “No, on Monday you seemed really sad, but now here in the elevator with me, you seem so much more…what’s the word?” Trent taps his finger over his lip.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Trent, but you do know there are cameras in the elevator, right?” I nod to the black circles on the top of the ceiling.

  Trent laughs. “Ah, you don’t want an audience. Gotcha.” Trent motions a hand gun at me and backs up.

  I roll my eyes. I do want an audience as far as he’s concerned. Being without a witness to these types of situations would not be a good thing. I shudder.

  The door opens and I stride to my car. The click of my heels is not the only sound in my wake. Trent’s footsteps are behind me. I stop and stare at him. “What are you doing?”

  “I thought you wanted me to follow you so we could be alone away from the cameras.” Trent motions to the cameras in the parking garage. I’m thankful they exist as well.

  “No, Trent, I don’t want you to follow me. I’ve got to go.” I charge forward to my car, hop in, and immediately lock the doors. I back out of the garage and am thrilled not to see Trent in my rearview mirror. How many times do I have to tell him I’m not interested? I roll my eyes. At the stoplight I pull out my phone. Zero messages from Jack. And one from Brianna.

  “Let’s meet at Pier 95. It’s a gorgeous night!”

  Brianna couldn’t be more right, the sky is a nice shade of blue, which reminds me of Jack’s eyes. I swallow. It’s just after five and the sun has not set. It is a gorgeous night. I scan my outfit. I’ve got on a coral blouse, grey pencil skirt, and my brown peep-hole heels. This can definitely be an after-five ensemble.

  I type back, “See you in ten.”

  Honk. Honk. I glare in my rearview mirror. “Okay, people…geez.” I let my foot off the brake pedal and move forward an inch. Five o’clock traffic. I can’t believe the impatience of the people behind me as if moving forward was so important they needed to honk at me.

  It’s stop and go until I hit a side street and make my way towards the water. Pier 95 is one of the top fusion places on the water. They have a mix of Indian and Thai food that is to die for. My stomach rumbles. I can’t wait to get my hands on one of their veggie samosas with chili sauce. Brianna is probably already sitting at the bar enjoying one of their ever-changing martinis.

  After I park my car in a pricey, but hopefully safe garage, I stride down the sidewalk until I step onto the dock and do my best not to get one of my heels stuck in between the slats on the pier. I did this once and fell face first into the wood. I’d had zero to drink and it was extremely embarrassing. I cut my knee open. I don’t know why I was embarrassed by the blood gushing out of my leg, but I was. It was as if I had done something wrong or was causing a problem for others around me, by burdening them with the gruesome sight of my injury.

  I shake my head and focus on each step. Not going to relive that one. I make my way across the wood until I cross the entrance of Pier 95. The lights are not as dim as a lounge; they haven’t tamed the lighting for nighttime just yet. I scan the crowd for Brianna. She is not hard to miss in any crowd. She has one of those non-girl-next-door faces and a body to match. I’m surprised she was never a model. She always scoffed at the idea when I mentioned it to her, as if the thought had never crossed her mind. I roll my eyes.

  The place is packed. I peek my head in between different groups in search of her jet-black locks. After I’ve circled the room, I reach for my phone and text her.

  “Are you here?”

  “Go out the side door and walk towards the back, the far balcony.”

  Okay, this is odd. She never wants to be far from the crowd. Whatever. I follow her instructions and make it to the back balcony, which has only one table. One table and one patron, and it’s not Brianna.

  “Jack?”

  Jack stands up and strides towards me. He wraps his arms around me and kisses my head. “I’ve never missed anyone this much in my entire adult life.” He leans down and our lips meet. And I’m falling. Falling into his arms and back into his heart. A wave of emotions is swirling around me. Happiness, lust, love, and fear. I pull back.

  “Did you set this up with Brianna?” I search his face as if I can read the answers from his eyes.

  Jack pulls my chin up. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure after Saturday if you would see me again, so I asked her if she could get you here.”

  “Why didn’t you just call or text?”

  “Lauren, you seemed unwavering on Saturday. You rushed off into your parents’ house. Then you didn’t show up to Vintage Estates on Sunday.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I didn’t know what to think. I was confused as to why you would want to throw everything away.” He shakes his head. “And then I talked to Corinne and she made some good points.”

  I tense. I somewhat appreciate if Corinne helped to bring Jack here, but I still am not excited about the idea of them chatting about me.

  “What points did she make?”

  Jack sighs. “I’m sorry. I should have clued into how much setting the date means to you.” He leads me to the table and we sit down. “I just thought I could take care of the business side of things first and then join you here.”

  I shake my head. “But don’t you think you should have communicated this with me?”

  “Lauren, like I said on the boat…I haven’t had to run anything by anyone, ever. This is new to me.”

  “It’s new to me too, but the difference between us is that I want to share details of my life with you and you don’t seem to feel the same way.” I swallow hard.

  “That’s not true. I do want to share with you. I just didn’t want to share things with you that I wasn’t sure would work out. I didn’t want to get your hopes up.” Jack presses his lips together. “There aren’t many things in life that I have ever failed at.”

  I roll my eyes. “That’s a bit arrogant.”

  “It might be, but it’s true and the problem is I don’t want you to witness me failing at anything.”

  I slump my shoulders. “Jack, I understand you have insecurities about failing, everyone does, but if we are to be in a relationship or even a marriage for that matter, you have to be willing to open yourself up completely to me.” I roll my lips together. “And I to you. Otherwise, this isn’t going to wo
rk.”

  “You’re right and I’ve done a lot of thinking this week. I should have let you in on all of my plans. Do you want to hear them now?”

  I smile and nod. It’s all I’ve been wanting since I said yes to his proposal—that extra level of closeness, knowing the answers to the questions.

  “Okay, so I’ve started the process of hiring another person who can take over the majority of my role at Vintage Estates. And I’m almost ready to open a branch of my architecture firm here in Baltimore.”

  I blink several times. “So you are really looking into moving here…permanently?” I can’t believe this. This seems so surreal. Jack is here and he’s telling me he’s about to move here to be with me. I swallow. I want to crash into his arms. And run my hands through his hair.

  “Yes, Lauren, we can’t live apart forever.” He squeezes my hand. “That was never the plan. It’s just taken longer than I thought to get us together.”

  I laugh.

  A waiter walks up to our table.

  Before he can speak, Jack does. “A bottle of Duval-Leroy, please.”

  The waiter nods and heads back inside.

  “I thought you didn’t want to leave Vintage Estates?”

  “I didn’t want to leave Vintage Estates in a bad place, but running the business was only supposed to be temporary for me. If you had wanted to run it with me, then I would have considered it.” Jack stops talking.

  The waiter returns, pops the cork, and offers the bottle to Jack to smell. He nods. The waiter pours me a glass of bubbly and then another for Jack. He exits our private moment.

  Jack clinks my glass. “Lauren, these bubbles are a promise of what is yet to come. Give me until the Fourth of July and then we’ll pick a wedding date together. Everything will be tied up on my end by then.”

  I laugh. “So the bubbles are supposed to be symbolic of the fireworks exploding?”

  “No, the bubbles are symbolic of my love for you… Every time I’m without you I feel like my heart is going to explode from how much I miss you.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek. “Jack, I love you but if we’re going to make this work you can’t shut me out in future. And I can’t shut you out either. I’m sorry, I should have told you how much setting a date meant to me and how much it bothered me that Corinne was getting to spend time with you when I wasn’t. Promise, if we are stressed or worried about something, we have to tell each other.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  “I don’t want our relationship or marriage to be like a business. I want to be your equal and privy to everything.”

  Jack eyes his glass. “Lauren, you are my equal, you are my everything, but you have to be willing to let me surprise you from time to time.”

  “Surprises are one thing…but you can’t keep big things from me. Like you were planning on moving here. We never talked about it. But it’s a big decision that involves me too. You have to talk to me. We have to talk about things.” I take a sip from my champagne.

  “Then let’s talk about it, Lauren. All of my Texas concerns will be settled by the Fourth of July, and when you get on the plane after the holiday weekend, I’ll be sitting beside you.”

  “So you’re going to move in with me then?”

  “Until we move into a house together.”

  “Wait, a house? Why can’t we just live in my house?” I squint my eyes together.

  Jack grabs my hand. “Lauren, you have a great house, but it’s not going to be big enough for all of us.”

  “Us?”

  Jack reaches for the back of my neck and leans in to kiss me. His lips are clearing any woes or worries and moving me farther from my current setting. I’m slipping into pure bliss.

  He pulls back. “Yes, us, Lauren. I want to marry you and I want to have a family with you.”

  My chest heaves up and the lump in my throat has returned, but it isn’t a lump filled with sadness, instead it’s a big circle of ecstasy. I can’t believe this man, this gorgeous man in front of me with his icy blue eyes and big strong arms, loves me this much. He’s moving his whole world to be with me. And wants to make a family with me. He wants more than just us; he wants to have children with me. I’m blown away, like a firework scattering across the night sky.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “What time do you turn the pie in?” Megan taps on her phone. Even though we are supposed to be on vacation, she has been in anything but vacation mode. Apparently a lot of work items need attention and can only be dealt with by her.

  I only have one work item that needs attention…Trent. I shake my head. I have to figure out how to deal with him and his unwanted advances. They are getting out of hand. Especially if the office is gossiping about it. Maybe Jack was right and I need to speak to Human Resources. But I’m not going to worry about that today. I have other things to think about, like this pie.

  “It’s not a turn-in type of contest. I have to bake it there, in front of everyone.” I run my pen over the recipe. After at least eleven different batches, I think I have fiddled with the ingredients enough to have found the perfect one for me. The last batch I made was by far the best one. Jack was with me, which is probably why it tasted so good. Anything shared with him seems to be amplified. There are butterflies in my stomach—the good kind. I flew in last night and fell right into his arms. I wanted to stay the night with him, but my mom mentioned how much it would mean to her if I spent the night at home. I’m not sure if it was really about the idea of me sleeping at her house or not, but I didn’t want to have an argument. I’m only home for a short break.

  I reach for my phone and press Jack’s number.

  “Hey, did you get the apples?”

  “Have I ever let you down?”

  I gaze at the paper. That’s a difficult question to answer. “Um…no.”

  “Okay, so you definitely hesitated on that one. But no worries, I’ve got the apples right here.”

  “Great, and they’re Granny Smith, right?” My grandmother was specific about this item. It’s the base of the pie and it has to be Granny Smith. “No other apple will do” were her exact words.

  “I’ve got the apples. I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Do we have time to swing by my place?”

  I laugh, catching the seductive suggestion in his tone. “No! Time is of the essence today.”

  “All right, I’m sure we can make it work in the car.”

  My cheeks warm. “I have been trying out some of Aurora’s yoga moves…”

  “Are any of them called squeezing in between the steering wheel and me?”

  My eyes bulge out. I grin. “Maybe.”

  “Scratch thirty, I’ll be there in twenty.”

  My stomach flip-flops. Today is the day. It’s the Fourth of July. Jack has promised me that we will choose the date for our wedding today. And on top of that I’m all set for the pie baking contest. Even if I am a little nervous… It is an actual contest after all. I swallow hard. I don’t want to let my grandmother down. Jack mentioned how much he didn’t want to fail in front of me. Well it’s no surprise that I don’t want to fail in front of my entire family and everyone at the Fourth of July festival. I can just imagine the judges getting sick from eating my pie. The pie scene from Stand by Me plays over in my mind. I shudder.

  I know my grandmother would be so proud of me if I were to win…but I’m not my grandmother and even though I have the base for her pie recipe…I just don’t know. I sigh. The last conversation we had on the phone was about how winning pie contests is in our family history and our blood and it was my time to take the rolling pin and roll my way to a trophy. No pressure then.

  Every year, my family gathers at my parents’ house and we go to the Fourth of July Fair, watch the parade, and enjoy all the fattening food like fried butter, cotton candy, corn dogs, hot dogs, and funnel cakes. It’s a big deal and part of the fair includes a pie contest. The contest that I’ve entered. This year, they have jazzed it up even more and made it like o
ne of those Food Network challenge shows with a live audience and a huge clock counting down every second, as if I wouldn’t have nerves about this without the big clock. I’m not one for showy performances or contests that involve food, but I can’t go back on my word, especially not to my grandmother.

  Megan slams her phone down on the counter. “If these nimrods I hired don’t get it together I’m going to have to fly back tonight and handle the Framer report myself. This is not looking good.” Megan snatches the pen that is holding her shiny golden locks together up in a bun and snaps it in two. I’ve never seen her this out of control.

  “Whoa, Megan…take a breather. It can’t be that bad!” I rub her arm.

  “Yes, it can and it is. I’ve been telling them to fix this account for weeks and now we are edging up on a midnight deadline.” She lets out a deep sigh.

  I go into the pantry and take out the flour and sugar and place them on the counter. I’ve got a box to put all my ingredients in.

  Brian bounces into the kitchen. “Babe, it’s ready! I did it.” He swings Megan around the kitchen and kisses her head.

  “Brian, put me down. What’s ready?” She shakes out of his embrace.

  “The air vacuum I’ve been working on. It’s finally ready.” Brian rushes over to the wall where a metal circle is poking out from the wall and flips a switch.

  My mom’s version of Betsy Ross sewing the first American flag—surrounded by glitter and sequins that resemble fireworks exploding—curtains snap from the rod and get sucked into the vacuum. Brian tries to tug them free but it doesn’t work. Whoosh, in they go. Sequins fly all over the room before they’re sucked through the hole. The forks from the table zoom through the air and plink up against the wall, vibrating against the hole until they move enough to be sucked in through the vent too.

  “Brian, shut it off.” Megan points at him. My mom’s “Let’s Dish It” dish towels—which have plates dancing the Charleston—soar through the air and follow behind the forks. Brian flips the switch and the suction doesn’t stop. The flour bag begins to move off the counter and before I can grasp it it’s made contact with the air hole.