Read How to Bake the Perfect Apple Pie Online
Authors: Gina Henning
How to Bake the Perfect Apple Pie
A scrumptious pie. A long-distance guy. Fourth of July fireworks guaranteed.
Lauren Hauser has it all…nearly. With a shiny new job and sparkly new engagement ring on her finger, the only thing she’s missing is her gorgeous new fiancé by her side. Should she be worried? Jack’s kisses are as sizzling as always and, sure, long distance is hard, but she and Jack are solid, right?
Of course the stress of planning a wedding—or not—is nothing compared to the stress of baking an apple pie. Because it’s not just any apple pie that Lauren must bake for the Fourth of July contest; it’s her grandmother’s famous, award-winning apple pie! Yet Lauren is determined to make this pie her own and a little apple pie should be no problem for the Hauser clan dessert queen!
But with her new job taking up so much time, a prize pie to perfect and the growing distance between her and Jack, Lauren begins to wonder if she can really have it all… Only one thing’s for sure, there’ll be fireworks this Fourth of July!
How to Bake the Perfect Pecan Pie
How to Bake the Perfect Christmas Cake
How to Bake
the Perfect Apple Pie
Gina Henning
GINA HENNING
currently resides where bluebonnets line the highways in the spring, but she prefers the rock flower anemone from under the sea. Above the ocean’s surface Gina likes to dance with her three boys and travel to exotic places like the grocery store with her husband. Her pooch Schatzi is a mix between German shepherd and possibly pig. One of Gina’s favorite pastimes is running. She recently completed her one-and-done marathon. At the end of the day her glass of wine is always half full.
You can find Gina online at
www.ginahenning.com
Twitter:
twitter.com/henningland
Facebook:
facebook.com/ginahenningauthor
To Franz, Ethan, Beck, and Jude, you are the essence of apple pie, you warm my heart and make my life sweet beyond compare.
To my mom, thank you for always being there to prevent a crust from burning, you save me from so many moments…I truly appreciate each and every one.
To my Gems, thank you for being supportive of me, my books, my posts, and for discussing endless Craigslist ads with me.
To Tracie Banister my author consigliere, thank you for your wise words and continuing support.
Thank you to Karan Heitschmidt, it’s been pure bliss discussing books, ideas, and life with you.
To Engy Albasel Neville, making the leap from Facebook chit chat to phone conversations have truly made my world a better place, thank you my friend.
Thank you to my editor Victoria, who always provides the best editorial feedback and makes my stories so much better than I could even have imagined. I am truly blessed to have your expertise to guide my way.
Thank you to Laurie Johnson and Helena Newton, I very much appreciated your work on this book.
Thank you to the incredibly amazing team at Carina UK (Harlequin), your endless support and our daily chats mean so much to me.
And finally thank you to my pooch Schatzi, who with one raise of her ears, brings a smile to my face.
For Franz
Writing this book made me think of all the things we’ve had to cross in order to get to where we are today, having you at my side has made the journey of life that much sweeter.
Contents
The room is warm. Too warm. I blow a puff air up over my face and blink several times. I need to focus. I know it’s not the thermostat setting in the office. The room temperature is fine. Javier always keeps a steady seventy-four degrees throughout the year, regardless of the season. Apparently, our CEO read some sort of Business News report about productivity being at the ultimate level of achievability at seventy-four degrees, which is why we never go over or under it. There’s even a sign underneath the thermostat in the hallway, typed in caps using Arial Black font that reads: “IF YOU HAVE BODY-REGULATING ISSUES YOU CAN HAVE A FLOOR HEATER AT YOUR DESK IN THE WINTER OR A DESK FAN IN THE SUMMER. THE MAIN TEMPERATURE WILL NOT CHANGE.”
Always seventy-four. Yet today it feels so much hotter. It’s January. Shouldn’t it be cold? I fan my hand in front of my face. My hairline is moist. I’m uncomfortably hot. How am I supposed to be able to think in this furnace?
The temperature will not change.
Change.
So much has changed since I left Baltimore, Maryland, before Christmas and headed home to Texas for the holidays. Back then my fingers were empty. Ringless. Now there is a sparkling diamond staring at me from my left hand, which is shaking slightly. I try to steady it. The ring is trying to break the “inanimate objects can’t talk to people” rule and remind me that I’m now engaged.
I roll my eyes. As if I could forget about it? It’s not like I’m not happy about it.
I am.
My heart squeezes tight anytime Jack crosses my mind.
Which is all the time.
When I kissed him goodbye at the airport on Sunday, I hesitated for a second and debated internally about getting on the plane. Leaving him and his arms stung. I’ve never been so sad to leave Texas.
When I left for college, I was excited about all the opportunities ahead of me. I’ve spent each moment working towards a career, not just a job. My hard work paid off, literally, as I landed a huge promotion, right before I left for my Christmas holiday. But, there is a problem. Now I’m in the frying pan of life. The kitchen has gotten too hot and I don’t know what to do. Which direction to take. I love the reason I’m wearing this ring. It’s not a why reason, but rather a who.
Jack.
Everything happened so fast… I can’t catch my breath. When, we’re together it’s as if we are on our own planet with no gravity. And when I’m without him it’s like I’ve lost my oxygen tank and I can’t breathe. I’m floating into outer space without my ship.
I take in a deep breath. I’m not going to cry at work.
It catches in my chest… I force myself to exhale. How am I supposed to sit here and focus on these résumés and not on him? It’s so weird to have known someone for such a short period of time and then for them to become your whole world.
Except, he isn’t exactly my
whole
world. I have my own life here in Baltimore and he has his life in Texas. A life that was uprooted about a year ago when his brother Lewis died. Jack put his architecture business on hold to help Lewis’s widow, Sherry, handle things at Vintage Estates, a retirement home that has been in their family for years. My grandmother has an apartment there. It’s how we met…or how she set us up over Thanksgiving.
The day I was going nuts for a simple two ounces of pecans.
I’m nuts about Jack and the idea of being married to him. Little scatters of excitement jolt across my insides. I can’t wait until we can finally be together. But I don’t even know what it means. We haven’t discussed this to a level of an actual plan…yet. Jack is a good planner and even though, when we first met, he accused me of being a poor planner, I’m not. We just need to get some arrangements figured out.
Something.
We haven’t even set a date for our wedding… Well, he wants to run off and elope, but my family would be extremely upset for decades if we didn’t have a huge wedding. And honestly I would be a bit bothered too… I don’t have a wedding scrapbook comprised of dresses, decorations, designs, themes, etc., like Brianna—my best friend
who is not engaged.
But I would like some sort of
wedding
, with a celebration. A party. Something to commemorate the day besides a Vegas picture and maybe a loss at the blackjack tables.
Jack.
I bite my lip.
It has been less than twenty-four hours since I’ve seen Jack and I already miss him. My throat is dry. I swallow. I’m parched. I take a sip from my coffee mug. I need to focus! The promotion I was given before Christmas break means I am no longer on a team, but I am running one. Or I am
about
to run one. I shuffle the papers in front of me. There are names across the top of each paper followed by call times, sales rankings, conflict resolution percentages, etc. I’m supposed to figure out which of these candidates I want on my team.
I blow air up over my face again and wipe away the sweat beads along my hairline. I have never really had an issue with the temperature at work, but I am now considering opting into the desk fan program. I can’t be a hot mess, especially not as the boss.
Shiat.
I’m the boss. My chest tightens and I jump at the sound coming from my desk.
My office phone is ringing. I jerk my head back and lift the handle off the receiver.
“Lauren Hauser, how may I help you?”
“Lauren, darling! My you sound so professional.”
“Grandmother, hi—how did you get this number?” I don’t even know my new office number yet.
“Oh darling, you know if I want something, I get it.”
“Yes, Grandmother.”
“Speaking of, there is something I want you to do.”
My insides clutch tight.
“What’s that?”
“Darling, you know every year at the Fourth of July festival there is an apple pie baking contest?”
“Yes.” I swallow but the lump in the back of my throat doesn’t clear.
“I want you to enter it. It’s time Lauren. You are ready to be the next pie baking award winner of the family.”
My eyes practically fall from my head. I am by far the least culinary-savvy person in our family. I do not understand why my grandmother keeps putting me up to these baking challenges. Over Thanksgiving she insisted that I make our family pecan pie, which actually went well…because I was with Jack.
Jack.
My shoulders slump.
“I don’t know, Grandmother, I’m pretty busy what with my new promotion and everything…perhaps it would be better to ask Megan?” My sister Megan is a foodnetworkaholic. She could probably win the competition blindfolded.
“Darling, if I had wanted to ask Megan, then I would be speaking with her right now, wouldn’t I?”
“Yes, Grandmother.”
“Now listen, darling, I’m going to mail you my special apple pie recipe. I’ve made notes about which ingredients you can alter to make it your own. It would be a good idea to start practicing right away.”
“Yes, Grandmother.”
“The Fourth of July is only six months away, dear!”
“Yes, Grandmother, I’ll start practicing ASAP, but right now I’ve got to get back to work.”
“Sure, darling, talk to you later.” I hang up the phone.
Knock. Knock. Someone is at my office door. Part of the promotion includes an office. A real office. Not a cubicle, like the one I had pre-promotion. I have four actual walls—well one of the walls is made of glass, but it has blinds. Of course the rule is the blinds must remain open at all times, unless you are a nursing mother, then your blinds can be closed temporarily.
I scoot out my leather chair and tap the cherrywood desk with my nails. I bite my lip as I make my way to the door. I pull open the door to see Javier, my boss, standing outside it. He is wearing his dress-for-success grey suit accompanied by a navy pinstriped tie. I bet he is happy to be back in his conservative ties. He won’t have to wear one of his holiday ties from his kids until Valentine’s Day.