Apple Pie Book Novels & Stories

“Would you like to take a look?” I blinked, realizing I hadn’t heard a word she’d said in the last few minutes. “Hm?” She glanced at me, her smile faltering. “The tart. It’s done.” “Oh. Right.” I stepped closer, nodded absently. “Looks perfect.” It was perfect. Light, flaky. The kind of thing my mother used to call deceptively humble—just flour, butter, apples, sugar. But in Colette’s hands, it came alive.

“Fine, I have a date with my books. But I will go to one after your Grand Ceremony.” He nods just as Miss Alman told us all to start cooking. I had Clint wash and chop the fruit, while I made the dough. We are making a pie. Cooking has always been second nature to me. It is one of the things that I know I excel at. As the dough was resting, I preheated the oven and put a large stewpot onto the burner. Clint dumped the fruit in and I asked, “Did you bring it?”