A Pie, A Promise, and a New Beginning
Saturday arrived wrapped in soft sunlight, streaming through the curtains with the promise of a peaceful evening. After a hectic workweek filled with noise and endless tasks, I was ready for a quiet night. I had plans for dinner with Mark, whose kind humor had slowly begun to ease the heaviness that lingered in my heart.
I made a cup of chamomile tea and curled up in my favorite chair, letting the comforting aroma and warm cushions carry me into the pages of a new book. But just as I was settling in, the doorbell rang, sharp and unexpected.
Standing on the porch was Eleanor, her silver hair in soft waves and a smile that carried a flicker of confusion. In her hands, she held a warm, freshly baked apple pie. “Jess! Hello, dear,” she said cheerfully. “I brought Daniel’s favorite pie. Where is he?”
My heart sank. Eleanor had always been kind, and though some time had passed since Daniel and I separated, it was clear that she still held onto old memories. Gently, I took her arm and invited her in. “Daniel’s not here right now, but come in and rest,” I said softly.
In the kitchen, we sat at the table while Eleanor lovingly described her pie recipe—a story I’d heard many times. “Just a pinch of cinnamon,” she smiled. “Too much can throw everything off.” I nodded politely, though my thoughts were beginning to drift to the evening ahead.
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