How to Bake the Perfect Pecan Pie (19 page)

“Hey ho, that’s harsh Megan, Lauren’s not fat.” Luke shakes his finger at her.

“Gah…Luke, obviously I mean an additional seat for a guy, a boyfriend or maybe even a fiancé.” She raises her glass.

My grandmother raises hers as well. “I’ll cheers to that.”

“Cheers everyone, happy Thanksgiving.” Megan strides towards me and clinks my glass.

“Cheers, great toast.” I roll my eyes at her.

She gives me a little shove. “Hey, no rough housing you two,” my dad says as he clears his throat. The carving is about to begin. He’s got his special carving knife. Megan has tried multiple times to give him an electric one but he has never used it.
“Those things don’t do the same job,”
my dad would say and Megan would list out all the famous celebrity chefs who use the exact model she has given my dad.

My dad slices the crispy turkey and juice begins to run out of the sides. He nods his head. “Lea, you did it this year. Take in those aromas, the color.” He rubs his lips together and places the first slice of turkey onto a plate and offers it to my grandmother.

“Oh Martin, you know that’s too much for me, cut me a piece about half that size.” My grandmother pushes the plate back towards my father.

“You could use the extra meat on your bones.” My father gives the plate back.

My grandmother shakes her head at him. “Martin, don’t sass your mother.”

My father puts the plate back down in front of him and cuts the turkey in half as asked. He never defies my grandmother. No one does. He offers her the new thinner version on her plate and she nods her head at him. “Perfect, now where are those green beans I’ve been waiting to sink my teeth into?” My grandmother raises her eyebrows and scans the table filled with food. Megan as always has outdone herself. Our table is overflowing with creamed kale, corn bread stuffing with caramelized onions, fluffy tan biscuits which I know she made from scratch and with yeast, cranberry sauce, cheesy white potatoes topped with bread crumbs, sweet potato casserole with brown sugar, sautéed asparagus with soy sauce, cucumber onion and tomato salad, and a colorful veggie medley seasoned with rosemary and nutmeg. The aromas in here are enough to make me fall out of my chair. It’s almost like having our own personal Caesar’s Palace Buffet in Las Vegas. There are so many bright colors and flavors to choose from.

My dad finally is ready for my plate. I’m always served the turkey last, other than himself.

“Some bird for the bird.” My dad passes my plate back to me.

I laugh. “Thanks, Dad.” I take a huge helping of the sweet potato casserole. It’s the perfect melding of sweet and savory. I like sweet potatoes sliced open and filled with marshmallows and brown sugar, but this casserole takes sweet potatoes to an entirely different playing field. It’s like the marshmallows are junior varsity in high school and the casserole is Le Cordon Bleu Culinary School. Yum. I take another big bite.

Aurora stands up. “Excuse me.” And exits the dining room. Is she sick again? I thought morning sickness only lasted the first three months or something like that. I’ve never been pregnant, and thus never had a need to know this information, but I’m pretty sure this is the case. Luke wipes his mouth with this napkin. “I better go check on her.” He files into the kitchen as well. The kitchen and dining room are connected, which works out well for doing the dishes.

“Did Jack have any plans for Thanksgiving?” My mom asks as she shovels some green bean casserole in her mouth.

“I don’t know, he didn’t mention anything.” I take a sip of my water.

“Why don’t you invite him over for some pie?” My mom takes another bite of the casserole. “The one you made together, it would be nice to share it over here wouldn’t it?”

I flitter my eyes. “We already had some at the Vintage Estates and besides I leave on Sunday.”

“Lauren, that’s three days away. Your mother is giving you an opportunity to enjoy some pecan pie tonight.” My dad places his hand down on the tablecloth and smooths out a wrinkle.

Good grief with this family and Jack.
I get it I like him too. But I don’t want to end up in a bad situation. He must realize long-distance relationships are difficult. I’ve already gone down that road with Scott. Granted, Scott never tugged on my heart the way Jack has in such a short time frame. But what if it’s all just lust or something? Or the newness of meeting someone, what if after we spend actual time together we find out we don’t like each other? I shrug my shoulders. I can’t imagine not liking him. There are too many things on my pro-Jack list to even contemplate this idea.

“It’s just pie, Lauren you aren’t signing up for a time share.” Megan rolls her eyes at me.

Brian laughs. “Yes, well if you are interested in a time share, let me know. I’ve got one for you to consider.”

Megan pinches Brian’s biceps. “Not funny, it seemed like a good idea.”

Brian shakes his head. “It’s not a terrible one.” He grabs her hand.

My grandmother peers over at me. “Isn’t that nice, having a partner.”

“Yes it is, and I’ve partnering up with the dishwasher right now.” I stand up and take my plate and my father’s which is empty. I lumber into the kitchen and place the dishes in the sink. The dishwasher is actually not a bad partner to pair with. It’s reliable and does the majority of the work. I laugh. I can’t believe I’m actually considering a dishwasher as a partner. I shake my head and grab my mom’s dish scrubber. It has a beige handle and the bristles are bright yellow with a painted woman’s face and she looks like her finger might have recently been placed in an electrical socket. I scrub the food particles off of the plates and pull open the dishwasher. It’s empty. I methodically refill it with our dishes and the pile sitting next to the sink from Megan’s masterpieces. I don’t understand why she can’t fill up the dishwasher as she works? This would make more sense. The dishwasher is full and I haven’t even begun to clear the table. From under the sink, I grab a blue and green cube of soap and place it in the dispenser inside the dishwasher and shut the door. I press the start button and the sounds of hot water begin to fill up the kitchen.

I saunter back into the dining room. My grandmother and mother are collecting the empty plates. I really wish everyone would bring their own plate into the kitchen, would this be too much to ask? I get it Megan doesn’t help with the clearing of the table because she prepared the majority of the meal, but what about the rest of them? And my grandmother is old, she should be resting not cleaning.

“Here grandmother, let me help you with that.” I reach for the stack of plates in her hands.

“Now stop with that Lauren, you know I can manage carrying a few plates to the kitchen.” She slides past me and treks the dishes into the kitchen. I notice her elbows are shaking as she walks. I take in a deep breath.

“I’ll finish this mom, why don’t you see if you can get grandmother to rest?” I pick up several plates and nod in my grandmother’s direction.

“Thanks honey, I think you might be right.” She leans in to my ear. “Her hands were getting pretty shaky with the plates.” My mom grabs the green bean casserole and brings it into the kitchen.

I stack up as many plates as I think I can possibly carry and pretend to be Rachael Ray as she loads ingredients from her pantry to deliver to the counter. Successfully, I make it into the kitchen with no dropped dishes. I think I even managed to stack two extra bowls compared to last Thanksgiving. The dishwasher is still powering through the first load, I’ve got at least another hour before it’s ready for round two.

I peek my head into the living room, the majority of my family has roamed to the living room to settle in and watch some football. Megan is sitting on Brian’s lap on the couch, playing with his hair while holding her glass of Malbec with the other. If I were a stranger I’d assume they were newlyweds with the way they’re staring into each other’s eyes.

“Where are Winter and River?” I ask to no one in particular.

“There in the backyard with Aurora, they can’t be alone until the…” Megan bites her lip, “tree house is finished.”

No doubt they were told to stay away from the tree house. I think my mom finally intervened on a Brian contraption, fearing for her only grandchildren’s safety. Luke is sitting on the other end of the couch, watching the game with my dad. Their eyes are glued to the screen, and their jaws are clenched. Must be a close game.

“Baby, can you come outside and watch the kids? I need to go and lie down.” Aurora circles her belly.

Luke jumps up from the couch. “Anything for my little flower petal. Get some good rest.” He leans down and kisses her softly. I can’t believe they aren’t going full throttle PDA-palooza. I scan the room, of course, there is my father. I roll my eyes. My mom and grandmother are nowhere to be found. Maybe they’re having a Thanksgiving nap as well. I’m happy they aren’t bothering me anymore about Jack.

Jack.
He was so thoughtful today. Other than his deceased brother and cat-lady aunt, he hadn’t mentioned any other family. Could he be all alone on Thanksgiving? Maybe I should be assertive and ask him over for some pie. I climb the stairs to my old childhood room and pick up his note. I wave it in front of my nose. I’m a little disappointed. It’s fragrance free. I’d hoped to get a whiff of his cologne
again
.

I rummage through my purse and find my phone. I hesitate for a second before dialing the numbers from the note. The buzzing rings four times.
Aw
. I’d assumed he’d answer. I hadn’t planned out a message.
Do I want to leave one?

His voice mail picks up. “This is Jack Walker. Please leave me a message.”

I’m torn.
Should I leave one?
Or let this go? Whatever this is.
I sigh and press the end button.

I don’t live here and long-distance pie-making doesn’t seem plausible. I should go and be with my family. My phone vibrates back and forth in my palm. The number on the caller ID is the same one I dialed. “Hello?”

“Lauren, did you just dial and decline me a voice mail?”

My chest constricts. “Yes. I only leave voice mails on rare occasions… I was wondering if you wanted to come over and have some pecan pie.”

“Pecan pie? I think I might’ve had my fill of pecan pie. Is there anything special about this one that could change my mind?”

“Your fill? I seriously doubt one could ever have their fill of pecan pie, especially mine. It’s made with a secret recipe and the
best
pecans in Texas.”

“A secret recipe and the
best
pecans in Texas? I hope I don’t get any moving violations on the way over.”

“Don’t ruin Thanksgiving with a speeding ticket. Take it slow. I’ll save you a piece.”

“Lauren, my taste buds can only hope,” Jack says.

The phone shows the call is over. I take a deep breath and blow the air up against my hot face. The pink bag of brushes and colors are staring at me. I methodically apply a few more strokes of mascara. My eye shadow is still in place, artistically blended. I add a smear of gloss for my lips. The bottle of my favorite perfume is standing at full attention. I don’t want to overdo this. Besides, I’m sure Luke would say something about it. I don’t need to give him any opportunities to take a shot at me, especially not in front of Jack.

I pick up my phone and text Brianna “So how is your Thanksgiving?”

My phone vibrates in my hand. Brianna is calling me. I slide the green bar over to the right and pick up.

“Good, bad, or ugly?” I plop down on my bed and smooth out the comforter.

“Oh Lauren, it’s really bad.”

“What happened?” I scrunch up the fabric in between my fingers.

“My mom and grandmother got into a food fight.”

“Shut the front door, they did not!” I jerk my head back.

“They did. I’m currently covered in mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce.” She hiccups.

“Did you also partake in the food throwing?”

“No, I was in the line of,”
Hiccup.
“Fire.”

“I’m sorry Bri, why were they fighting?” I raise my eyebrows up. I can’t believe Brianna’s family had an actual food fight, they are the most reserved bunch.

“My grandmother made a comment about my mom’s friend, there were probably more jabs that took place prior to the final straw”
Hiccup.
“If you will, but my mom literally lost it. She shoveled up a pile of my grandmother’s cheesy mashed potatoes and flung them at her.”

“No way.” I shake my head.

“Yes, and the potatoes landed splat across my grandmother’s cheek.”

“Whoah.” I flitter my eyelashes.

“Yes, and with one swipe my grandmother lobbed a chunk of cranberry sauce at my mother.”

I shake my head. I cannot believe what I’m hearing.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, oh crap, I think they’re at it again, I’ve got to go.” A click goes off in my ear.

I’m thankful my family isn’t that dramatic.

My family. Hmm, should I tell them or let them be surprised by Jack’s arrival
?

I saunter down the stairs and find everyone is still in their same spots, completely frozen in time. No one even observes my arrival. I stand alone, like the cheese. I’m tempted to pretend to be a ghost and make “oooh” sounds and hold my hands out to the sides to see if it would get their attention. Maybe I should toss a random knick knack across the room. I could throw my mom’s stuffed turkey, it appears rather lonely as well on the side table. It’s holding a pie with one wing and a fork in the other.

This reminds me… I need to assess the pie situation in the kitchen. I pour myself another glass of wine and count the dessert plates on the counter. There’s an extra plate. Did my mother invite someone else over or did she assume Jack would also be coming?

The commotion from the living room calls my curiosity into a different direction. I stroll to investigate the noise. Perhaps my dad’s team is doing well, or maybe the opposite.

The scenery has changed. Jack is sitting on the couch next to Luke, talking sports with him and my dad.
What planet am I on?
Jack’s eyes meet mine. He gets up from the couch and strides over. We smile at each other. Little sparklers are going off, as though I’ve regressed back into a teenage moment.