by AlLee, Jennifer L. ; Breidenbach, Angela; Franklin, Darlene
Lorelei’s hopes and dreams dissolved like fairy floss in a cloudburst. That was it. The end. She had failed. They would lose the farm. Emmett would leave.
“And first place, and the title of Apple Pie Days Queen, goes to”—the emcee made a show of opening the final envelope, dragging out Lorelei’s misery by painful seconds—“Flora Harding, our new schoolteacher. Congratulations, Miss Harding.” The crowd began to applaud.
Lorelei glanced down the line of young women. Audrey yanked the crown from her head, passed it to the emcee, and stormed from the dais. Where was Flora?
A black-haired woman no larger than a half-grown child stepped forward, hand pressed to her heart. Ah, Lorelei thought, that must be Flora. She’d heard about the new teacher with the childlike features and ability to commandeer a classroom of unruly boys and girls. Apparently, she could also bake a winning apple pie.
Audrey’s cousin rose, his acne-scarred cheeks reddening, and kissed Flora Harding’s hand. Lorelei smiled in spite of her own trauma.
When she stepped off the dais, her parents were waiting. Lorelei burst into tears when she saw her mother. “I’m sorry, Momma. I tried.”
“Oh my girl, you amaze me.” Momma hugged her. “Don’t be afraid. We’ve started over before, and we can do it again if need be.”
“Lorelei!” Emmett’s voice rose over the rumble of the crowd. Lorelei swiped at her tears and turned around. A broad grin highlighted his dimples, and his hair was mussed.
She offered a weak smile and noticed he was pulling someone behind him. The slight, ginger-haired man in a well-tailored, cream-colored suit offered an apologetic smile when Emmett pushed him in front of her.
“Lorelei, this is Jimmy Clarke, one of my best friends.”
She mustered a halfhearted smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Clarke.”
He bobbed his head. “And you, Miss Boyd.”
“Where’s your pie?” Emmett asked.
“My pie? I lost. I came in second again,” she said, forlorn. He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes.
“I don’t care who won. Is any of your pie left?”
Momma stepped forward. “I set aside two pieces, one for the marshal and one for you, Mr. Dewey. Let me fetch them.” She disappeared, and Lorelei frowned at Emmett and Jimmy.
“I appreciate your enthusiasm,” she said, “but wouldn’t you rather taste the winning pie?”
Emmett shook his head. “I’ve had the winning pie. I sent Jimmy a telegram the morning after I met you.”
Momma reappeared, holding a plate with a piece of pie and a fork. She handed the plate to Jimmy.
Lorelei turned on Emmett. “You sent him a telegram about my pie? Why?”
Jimmy sliced a bite of pie with the fork and raised it to his lips.
“Because Jimmy buys recipes for a national chain of lunch counters.”
Lorelei clapped her hands to her mouth, eyes wide. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not. There’s no guarantee he’ll buy the recipe, but I thought it was worth a try.”
Jimmy made a rapturous sound beside them and cleared his throat.
“Is the recipe still for sale?” Jimmy asked, wiping his chin.
“Yes,” Lorelei said. “Yes, it is.”
“I’ll buy it. How much do you want?”
“We’ll have to negotiate a fair deal, Jimmy,” Emmett said. “And while we’re at it, you might ask Mrs. Boyd about her egg salad recipe.”
It was Momma’s turn to blush.
Lorelei turned to Emmett. “You said you would tell me why you chose recipe twenty-three.”
“Because the moment I tasted that first bite I fell in love with the baker.” Emmett dropped to one knee. “Lorelei Boyd, will you marry me?”
Lorelei’s heart swelled. “Are there terms and conditions? You are an opportunist, after all.”
“And this is the one opportunity I cannot pass up. Lorelei, I promise to love you and cherish you every day for the rest of our lives. And I’ll build you a house on Otto’s property and help you grow all the apples you want.”
Lorelei’s heart swelled. “I couldn’t ask for more.” She reached out and pressed the pad of her thumb against the cleft in his chin. “Yes, Emmett, I’ll marry you. And I’ll love you back, every day.”
Author’s Notes
The Apple Pie Days Festival in Rifle, Colorado, began in 1908 as a celebration of the completion of a bridge crossing the Colorado River. As the years passed, more contests and activities were added to the event, and Apple Pie Days eventually morphed into what is now the Garfield County Fair.
The Colorado Orange really is the name of an unusual heirloom variety of apples that were grown in Colorado for a short period of time.
Basic Apple Pie
This recipe is from the bottom of a ceramic pie dish I inherited from my grandmother. It’s a good place to start when you want to bake apple pie from scratch. Then, like Lorelei, you can begin to experiment with spices and flavorings in the crust and in the filling. Though you won’t find the Colorado Orange in your local grocery store, you can choose from different apple varieties to create the perfect blend. Jonathans are a perennial pie favorite. Pie experts say the best apple filling is made from a combination of sweet, soft apples; sweet, crunchy apples; and tart, crunchy apples.
Ingredients:
Pastry for two-crust pie (see page 351)
⅔ cup sugar
⅛ teaspoon salt
¾ teaspoon cinnamon
¼ teaspoon nutmeg
4 to 6 medium apples, peeled, cored, and thinly sliced
1 tablespoon butter
Instructions:
Use half of pastry for bottom crust. Roll ⅛-inch thick. Fit into 9-inch pie pan and trim edges. For top crust, roll remaining pastry ⅛-inch thick and cut several 2-inch slits or design near center.
Combine sugar, salt, and spices (depending on comfort level, play with adding ginger, cardamom, maple syrup, etc.). Sprinkle half the mixture into pie shell. Add apples and remaining sugar mixture. Dot with butter. (If apples are all of the sweet variety, add 2 tablespoons lemon juice and ¼ teaspoon grated lemon rind.)
Moisten edge of bottom crust. Fold top crust in half or roll loosely on rolling pin to lift and center over filling. Spread open to cover pan. Open slits to let steam escape during baking. Trim top crust ½-inch larger than pan. Fold this edge under bottom crust and press together with fork or fingers. Bake in hot oven (preheated to 425°) for 50 minutes, or until apples are tender.
Serve pie warm.
Pastry for Two-Crust Pie
(This recipe is from Mother Earth News and uses lard, just like Lorelei’s.)
Ingredients:
3 cups flour
1 teaspoon salt
1¼ cups lard, cold and coarsely chopped
1 egg
5½ tablespoons water
1 teaspoon vinegar
Instructions:
In large bowl, combine flour and salt. Using pastry blender or fork, cut in lard until the mixture is very fine. Set aside. In separate bowl, beat together egg, water, and vinegar.
Make small well in flour mixture and add liquid. Mix just until dough comes together in a ball. Divide dough into 4 equal pieces and flatten into disks. Wrap individually in plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes before rolling.
To make double-crust pie with a solid top crust, roll out 2 disks of dough about 1-inch larger than pie plate. Fit one crust into bottom of pie plate. Fill pie with desired filling. Slightly moisten edge of bottom crust. Take second crust, fold it in half, gently place it over pie filling and unfold, centering it on pie plate. Press the edges into bottom crust to seal (you may need to moisten bottom edge with a bit of water). Trim excess dough to leave an overhang of about ¾ inch. Crimp or flute edges (handle of wooden spoon is great tool for this). To allow steam to escape, gently prick top crust with fork several times or slash vents into crust with sharp knife.
For fancy look, us
e a cookie cutter to cut out two or three small shapes from the crust top before you place it on the pie. Leaves, hearts, stars, etc., are good. You can place the cutout pieces on the crust for a 3-D effect.
Makes 4 single or 2 9-inch double crusts (enough for two double-crust pies or four single-crust pies).
Niki Turner is a novelist, journalist, and blogger. Her first completed manuscript earned second place in the Touched By Love 2009 contemporary category romance contest. She writes for local newspapers and won second place for best agriculture story at the 2013 Colorado Press Association annual convention. She is a coblogger at www.inkwellinspirations.com. Niki is the president of the Western Slope chapter of the American Christian Fiction Writers. Connect with Niki on Facebook or Twitter and visit her website for information on her other books: www.nikiturner.net.
Dedication
To Angie Price Booher and Eddie Booher, for always talking and sharing about state and county fairs in such a favorable way, I just had to go and attend one, only to discover just how much fun they can be! I’m giving you both a nod with this story.
Acknowledgments
A great deal of gratitude goes to my husband, Stuart, for helping with our two energetic, creative, and inquisitive children and assisting with household tasks while I write on deadlines. It’s not easy keeping the kids away from my desk so I can focus on work.
Thank you to Chere Poole with Clear as Day Copyediting, for offering to review my story before it was submitted to make sure all my T’s were crossed and my I’s dotted in the right places. And thank you to Ellen Tarver, my amazing editor from Barbour, for all of her help with story ideas, plot development, and strengthening characters. This story wouldn’t be what it is without those two.
I’m extremely grateful to Gina Welborn and Cindy Hickey who assembled this project and invited me to be a part of it. It’s been a lot of fun working with them and the other six co-authors. What a great bunch of ladies!
Chapter 1
Please, tell me you’re fooling.”
Paige Callahan’s best friend clutched two corners of the red-and-white-checkered tablecloth as they readied it to cover one of the hand-hewn wooden tables inside the newly built Agriculture Hall on the outskirts of the fairgrounds.
“I wish I could say I was, but that would be a lie.” Paige grabbed the other two corners and smiled across the expanse of fabric at Millie as they laid it evenly across the table. “At least Charlie asked to speak to me privately first instead of assuming or announcing it to Mama and Papa.”
“Did he ask your father yet?”
“No.” And thank goodness for that. Mama and Papa would pressure her to accept and be relentless in providing all the reasons it would be a good match. “He said he wanted to be certain I was in agreement before he arranged to speak with Papa.”
“He just dropped it on you though? Like an idea for a business merger? No romantic words? No flowers? Nothing?”
“It was a very matter-of-fact conversation.” Paige smoothed her hands across the tablecloth to eliminate any wrinkles. Faint strains of a string quartet playing Gershwin’s “Lullaby” floated on the breeze from the orchestra stage across the way. “I must admit, I was a little surprised he managed to gather up enough courage to even broach the subject in the first place.” Charles wasn’t exactly known for his bold nature, or for taking any kind of risk, for that matter. Proposing marriage? That was a giant step.
“That is a good point,” Millie replied. “He sure has earned his ‘Conventional Charlie’ nickname. Always living life exactly as planned and never straying.” She stepped to the next table and reached for the folded tablecloth on top of it. “But are you really surprised? I mean, you two have been pushed together almost since you were born.”
Paige poked out her lower lip and released a puff of air, stirring the flyaway strands of her bangs across her forehead. She joined Millie again at the opposite end of the table and caught her end of the tablecloth as it came sailing toward her. “That certainly hasn’t been anything I’ve encouraged, but what other options have I had?”
They made quick work of covering that table and moved on to the next. “At present, there aren’t a lot.” Millie tugged on her end to even out the sides. “When we were finishing our studies in school, though, the selection was a lot more diverse.”
“And then so many of the good ones were sent off to serve in the Great War.” Paige’s eyes met Millie’s. “You lost Christopher, and I lost Grandpa Milton and Uncle Robert. Papa hasn’t been the same since.”
Millie pressed her lips into a thin line and inhaled then exhaled slowly. “Between the Great War and then the influenza, I don’t think any town was left untouched.”
Now, how had their conversation shifted to such dismal topics? Setting up for the annual state fair was always such an exciting time. “That’s true, but I think we did an admirable job of recovering and even going on to achieve greater things.” Paige swung her arm wide to encompass the Ag Hall where they stood. “Take this building, for example. When the fair was first brought here to Douglas, there was that little grandstand, and people camped in tents out there in the field. Now, we have a brand-new Ag Hall and shiny steel grandstands instead of that old, dilapidated wooden one.”
“No more splinters,” Millie chimed in with a big grin. She raised her forefinger. “But even with the simple things, we had the best racetrack in the state!”
“Ah, right.” Paige winked. “For all those roundup wagon races and horses running around in circles for what felt like an eternity.”
Giggles erupted from Millie, and she covered her mouth with her hand. Her eyes shone bright above her fingers. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I do believe I remember a certain young girl in those early years who was so fascinated by the excitement of the races, she sneaked away from her mama and daddy and hid under the grandstand to watch.”
“Can you blame me?” Paige protested. “The state fair and those races are the most exciting thing that happens here in Douglas.” She planted her fists on her hips and sent a mock glare toward her friend. As if Millie was completely innocent of any misbehavior or disobedience herself. “And I wasn’t exactly alone in my covert observation.” Paige wagged a finger. “You were right there with me.”
Millie placed her hand on her chest and sighed. “Guilty as charged.”
“No wonder we got along so well then … and still do.”
With her thumb holding her pinkie finger down, Millie pressed the other three fingers together and mimicked the Girl Scout hand signal. “Through thick and thin, best friends to the end,” she vowed.
Paige couldn’t help but smile at her friend’s antics. The Girl Scouts weren’t available for them when they were younger, but they knew of a lot of girls enrolled now. At least those girls could go on adventures and add a little excitement to their lives.
“All right, best friend,” Paige began as she moved from the now-covered tables to all the items left for them to set up and arrange. “You know Mrs. Waverly is going to be here any minute to check on our progress. We’d better get moving.”
Millie scrunched up her nose. “You mean Sergeant Waverly?” An appropriate name for the woman who demanded everything be in tip-top shape and wasn’t beyond using harsh tones and clipped words to see that happen.
“Exactly,” Paige replied. “She won’t be happy if this isn’t all done. Judging starts tomorrow with the opening of the fair. We don’t have any time to waste.” She perused everything left to be organized. “Could you make sure the canning table display is complete?” she called over her shoulder. “Showcase our regulars front and center, then fill in any empty spaces with the newcomers and work your magic.”
“I can do that!” Millie turned away and headed for that table.
Paige watched her friend’s chestnut hair sway with each step. She hadn’t been looking for a friend when Millie virtually blew into her life all those years ago. They began as classmates assigned to the same row in
the schoolroom. It didn’t take long for Millie’s unique eye and appreciation for the arrangement of things to earn her a place as the teacher’s favorite helper, right alongside Paige, and that had cemented their friendship. Millie’s infectious zest for life had wormed its way into Paige’s life and heart. Now, she couldn’t imagine life without her.
She gave the hall an experienced appraisal. Checkered tablecloths covered every wooden table, aligned to allow ease of access for the fair attendees and for those who had entered their prized items to be front and center during judging. Signs were hung from the rafters, designating each of those areas. Fresh pinecones and well-placed potpourri provided just the right amount of freshness to mask the potential mustiness of a place that remained sealed tight most of the year.
“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you!” Millie’s excited voice called to her from among the glass jars of both sweet and dill pickles she now arranged. “Sarah Cooper’s engaged!”
“Did Jonathan Brandt finally get around to asking her father for permission?” Paige smiled. Jonathan was one of those mischievous boys growing up who always seemed to be causing trouble and pulling harmless pranks on others. But when Sarah moved into town, all of that changed.
“Aww, don’t give him a hard time when you see him.” Millie looked up. “It’s not his fault Sarah’s father was an officer in the Great War and earned several medals. That would intimidate any man, let alone one trying to court his daughter.”
“You’re right. Jonathan changed a lot after he met Sarah. He deserves happiness as much as any of us, and I’m glad to see he’s getting it with Sarah.” At least he had found a sweet girl like Sarah and set the course of his life accordingly.
“Then why do I get the feeling you’re not as happy as you say you are?”
Paige glanced up and found Millie standing on the other side of the table. Her friendly smile and tender expression warmed Paige’s heart.