“Happiness,” he said simply.
I stared down at the slice of apple before moving on with the process. I couldn’t help but look over at him as we ended up placing both pieces of that apple in our pie together while the rest were coated in a thick goo of cinnamon and sugar, breaking down the apples.
Since when had my life turned into a witchy Hallmark card?
I refocused back on what I was doing. Otherwise, it was seriously getting a little too touchy-feely in here. Not acceptable for any holiday in my books, let alone Mabon, where things were literally supposed to be coming to die.
“Does Celeste do a lot of these sorts of in-person cooking shows?” Ryan leaned over my shoulder to whisper.
I shook my head. “Occasionally. We all were rooting for her pie.”
“Why?”
I stared down at his bowl of crystallized apples. “It’s areallygood pie. Plus, it fits well with the holiday. Both physical apples and the metaphysical are in season.”
“Now I really can’t wait to eat this.”
“It’s so freaking good, Ryan,” said Faith, overhearing. She leaned over her bowl she was adding more nutmeg into to see down the line. “Unless you count her chamomile buns or raspberry strudel in the spring. Those are life changing.”
Celeste peeked over each shoulder while she directed. “Once you start to have enough apples in your bowl, add your spices. We want cinnamon and nutmeg for prosperity. Ground clove for protection and kinship. And a pinch of salt along with our brown sugar. Fold it in gently. Remember to start thinking now of what this pie brings for us. The time we spend together making it and future positive feelings we hope to gain from those we share our energy with.”
I nodded for Ryan to begin mixing while I finished the final few apples, letting them all have time to meld together before going into the oven.
Sprinkling the spices over the top of the apples, Ryan stared down at the fruit, rather serious for a moment before he grabbed the wooden spoon. Carefully, he stirred, making sure the slices were evenly coated.
“Like this?”
“Perfect,” praised Celeste.
Ryan grinned as he folded more. He looked like such a dork. I couldn’t help but shake my head and turn away, so he couldn’t see my own smile begin to overtake my lips.
“See, Lu, I’m cooking.”
“Baking,” I corrected him, reaching over to sprinkle some leftover sugar over his head.
He wrinkled his nose, shaking out his head to send the sugar right back at me. “Semantics.”
I squealed at the pellets hitting the side of my cheek.
He reached back for the last apple I wasn’t already on, taking it in his hand to add to the bowl.
Unable to help himself, Ryan swept his fingers alongside the bowl, tasting.
I swatted his hand. “Stop that.”
“In my belief, it’s basically bad luck not to taste the batter.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help but continue one direction at a time as we began the arduous process of trying to complete Celeste’s legendary prosperity apple pie, which usually took her two days, in a matter of a few hours with a few minor adjustments, such as pie crust dough already laid out from the fridge.
I fit myself in line for the next bit, tightly squeezed next to Ryan as he rolled out the dough. Using both of our hands, we carefully lined the pie dish and dumped our apples inside. Then, all that was left were the extra dough pieces we had trimmed.
“Get creative. Decorate the top of your pie by weaving in your intentions further or displaying what you are working toward,” said Celeste. “Feel free to add crumble if you prefer.”
“Oh,” Ryan said, hushed, as if the word brought him pleasure. “Crumble.”
I snorted, shaking my head. This pie was going to look like a mess.
“You do your side, and I’ll do mine,” I insisted.
