Chapter 21
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
“I’m going to label all of these,” Adam said as his ten-minute-until-pickup alarm sounded.
“Okay,” Joey said, sounding a bit harried and breathless.
He’d spent a couple of hours with her last night, both of them pushing a cart through the grocery store as she loaded it with all of the ingredients she needed to bake sixty-one pies today and tomorrow.
It was 2:51 p.m., and the first wave of pickups were slated to begin at three.
She’d allowed eight people to pick up pies every hour, between three and eight p.m. tonight, or ten and four p.m. tomorrow.
It was more than enough slots, and it allowed her to work on pies in the order of which they would be picked up.
“I printed the three o’clock orders right there,” she said.
“I know,” Adam replied. “I have them all taped on the counter—three, four, five, six, and seven.” He nodded to the sheets she’d printed and he’d taped down.
Five hours of pickup tonight, but only twenty-one pies would leave the kitchen of Pork and Beans. Instructions had been emailed to everyone, as Adam had typed them up himself and sat with Joey as she’d sent them out this morning.
That done, she’d been baking all day, and he looked at the three pies that needed to be ready by three, the four by four, and the two by five. The other twelve pies needed to be ready by six p.m., by which time Joey said she would be working on the ten a.m. pies for the following day.
Her aunt Faith had printed the stickers for her and called in an emergency order to get the pie boxes here on time. Adam loved that Joey had so many people around her supporting her, but he could admit he wanted to be the loudest and biggest cheerleader of all.
So he picked up the apple pie, carefully placed it in the box, and closed it.
The buyer’s name had been printed on a sticker that he put on the back top of the box, and then he peeled off a large, four-inch round sticker that indicated this was an apple pie by Rooelle Pies.
He smiled at the logo of a kangaroo with a joey poking out of the pouch and holding a pie.
Both cartoon animals grinned for all they were worth, and Adam hoped that through all the chaos and craziness that this pie-baking adventure made Joey happy.
He wanted nothing more than for her to be happy, and he’d almost gone onto her website yesterday afternoon and bought all of the remaining pies himself. He could put a note in the comment section that said, You don’t need to really bake these. I just want you to have your own place.
He didn’t mind going to her grandparents’ place, as Cecily and Jerry were exceedingly kind to him, but Adam knew Joey wanted her own apartment, and therefore he wanted that for her as well.
He labeled the second apple pie, and then the pumpkin, and continued to box and sticker all the pies that were ready.
Joey worked on chocolate custard, and when a timer went off, she moved like flowing water over to the industrial ovens and pulled out three trays of two pie crusts each.
She slid them effortlessly into the cooling racks and moved down to the fridge, where she loaded three more trays with weighted pie crusts.
She put those in the oven and went back to her custard.
“Can you come help me with the Oreos?” she asked, and Adam abandoned his labeling station to do that. “Two whole packages, baby,” she said. “And a whole stick of butter. It should do four crusts, and that’s all we need for the chocolate.”
“Okay,” he said, and he looked at the food processor that she had already taught him how to use. He felt like a walrus with flippers instead of hands as he opened the packages of cookies and poured them into the food processor.
“Pulse,” he muttered to himself, and he pushed the pulse button a couple of times to get the cookies to break up before he simply jammed his thumb down on the button and let the processor whir.
He’d tried to multitask before, and that had ended badly for him, with dark cookie crumbs everywhere and Joey blinking at him like she’d just happened onto a horrible baking crime scene.
So this time, he stayed with the food processor until the cookies were finely ground, then he moved to the fridge to get the cube of butter.
He unwrapped it, dropped it in a bowl, and stuck it in the microwave.
“I’m here to pick up a pie,” someone said, and Adam spun, his heart in the back of his throat.
“Yes,” Joey said pleasantly. “How are you, Miss Myers?” She moved over and hugged the woman lightly around the shoulders. “I think you have the pumpkin.”
“Yes,” she said, glancing down the table of boxed and labeled pies. “And I’m getting my sister’s, but she’s not supposed to pick up until five. Is that okay?”
“Yes,” Joey said. “We’ve got the five o’clock orders right here.” She handed her the two pies and checked her off on the clipboard. When they were alone again in the kitchen, Adam met her eye and grinned at her.
“Two pies,” he said.
She ducked her head, but her smile was the absolute biggest Adam had ever seen. Abandoning his cookie crumbs for now, he moved over to Joey and wrapped her up in a hug from behind.
“You’re incredible,” he said. “You have this dream, this vision, and and you’re doing it.”
“A lot of people do that,” she said.
“No,” he said. “They actually don’t. You’ve got to give yourself credit for this.”
She stood stiffly in his arms, gently moving the cream around in the pan as she waited for it to bubble. She had ingredients lined up on the counter beside her, including the eggs that she would temper, the chopped chocolate, and the finishing butter and vanilla.
“Hey,” he said. “Take ten seconds with me.” He turned her in his arms, and she sighed in a way that told him she didn’t want to take ten seconds with him.
“Why can’t you admit that you’ve done a great thing and take pride and joy in it?”
“I am,” she said. “Did you see me smile?”
“Yeah. But then you’re right back to work.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “You’re going to lecture me about going right back to work?”
“No,” he said. “That’s not….” He exhaled heavily, tamping down the annoyance rising through him. “I just think you’re incredible, and you don’t believe me.”
“Yes, I do,” she whispered.
“Then say it,” he said.
She glared at him, her eyes filled with blazing blue fire now. “Adam, I don’t have time for this.”
“It’ll take five seconds,” he said, taming his smile. “Just say it. I’m incredible. I made delicious pies that people are going to be so happy to eat because I am a fantastic chef.”
He nodded to her. “Your turn. Say it.”
“I can’t even remember what you said,” she griped. “It was too long.”
“Then just say two words.” His fight-reflex hovered at an all-time high, and he didn’t want to walk away from this. “It’s okay to admit you’re good at something. It doesn’t make you proud or sinful.”
“I’ve never said that,” she said.
Adam shook his head, because now was not the time to talk to her about her faith or beliefs. “I think you’re incredible,” he said, his eyebrows going up with the corners of his mouth. He waited, and Joey exhaled impatiently.
“Fine,” she said. “I’m a good pie baker.”
“You’re an incredible pie baker.”
She met his eye. “I’m an incredible pie baker.” A smile curved her lips, and Adam’s jumped to his face and crinkled his eyes all the way.
“You’re an incredible person.”
“I’m an incredible person,” she said, and she seemed to draw life and strength into her shoulders.
Adam nodded and leaned down and touched his lips to her cheek. “All right,” he said, stepping back. “You can go back to work now.”
“Gee, thanks.” Joey turned back to the stove and said, “Oh, this is boiling.”
That meant she had to get to work to finish the chocolate pudding, and she went through several utensils to do that, including a ladle as she tempered the eggs, a whisk as she violently stirred them into the boiling cream, a rubber spatula to get all the way down into the corners as she melted all the chocolate in, and then finally, that vanilla and the very cold butter for added taste and shine.
While she did all that, Adam managed to mix together the melted butter and cookie crumbs and section it into four pie pans.
“I need those crusts that just came out of the oven,” Joey said, and Adam moved down to the cooling rack to get them for her.
She poured the chocolate custard into the four chocolate cookie crumb crusts he’d already done, and he followed behind her with a roll of plastic wrap, so he could press it over the hot pudding before it formed a skin.
Industrial plastic wrap was like wrestling with a sticky feather, and he managed to get the first two pies done while Joey took the pot over to the sink and filled it with water.
But when he tried to rip the third piece, somehow a corner of it got stuck to his elbow and then seemed to suction to his whole forearm.
He shook his arm as he tried to get it off, and it wouldn’t go.
He finally peeled it off in a long strip of stuck-together plastic wrap, which he flung away from him with disgust. He tried again, and this time he ripped a too-long piece, and it folded on itself before he could float it over the top of the pie.
He growled as the fold touched the pudding before he could pull it back. Joey giggled at the same time he said, “I need help here.”
She stepped to his side. “It’s just plastic wrap, cowboy.”
Yes, Adam wore his hat in the kitchen that day, and he glowered at her from underneath the brim of it. “This stuff is like super sticky paper that’s attracted to itself,” he said. “I don’t know how anyone uses this.”
Joey ripped off a piece effortlessly and floated it over the pie the way she’d shown him, easily pressing it down onto the pudding all the way around to the edge of the cookie crumb.
She repeated the task as easy as breathing for her, while Adam stood there, still holding the folded piece of plastic wrap with the line of chocolate pudding on it and wondering what to do with it.
The timer went off, and Joey went to get the pie crusts out. “I need those cookie ones,” she said. “Can you handle it?”
“Yes,” he barked at her. “I’ve already done eight.”
He pressed the cookie crumbs into the tins while she put the baked crusts on the cooling rack and went to get a couple of more regular pie crusts. She helped him finish up the last two, and then she slid those into the oven.
“These chocolate pies go in the fridge.”
“Why is your smile so big?” he asked, picking up one of the pies. He didn’t dare carry two, in case he suddenly couldn’t walk and hold something in his hand, and he dropped them both.
“I just think it’s funny how inept you are in the kitchen,” she said.
“We all can’t be baking superheroes,” he grumbled. He opened the fridge and slid his pie in and then turned to take the ones she brought over to him. That done, he closed the fridge and looked at her, still grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
“Thank you for being here to help me,” Joey said, her smile morphing from teasing and playful to beautiful and genuine. “It really means a lot to me, Adam.”
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” he said, and he meant every word.
Joey nodded, and Adam thought he saw the slightest wobble of her chin. Then someone said, “Howdy-hey, I’ve got a pie pickup.”
He automatically stepped in front of her to shield her from whoever had arrived. “Yes,” he said. “Welcome to Rooelle Pies. I’m Adam. What did you have?”
He went to take care of the customer, who left smiling with his apple streusel pie.
By the time Adam turned back to the kitchen, Joey was bent over her list, consulting it to see what she needed to make next.
He watched her for a moment, and when she looked up at him, beautiful, unspoken things were said—so many that Adam ducked his cowboy hat to break their connection.
Joey giggled. “That’s what you use a cowboy hat for, all right.”
He grinned, feeling happier with himself than he had in a while. This new version of Adam Harmon was part country boy, part band manager, and falling all the way in love with Joey Young.
He wasn’t sure who he’d be on the other side of everything, but he knew the Young family and Joey were changing him in the best ways possible.