Melissa Bennett had married Walter’s son Daniel twenty-nine years earlier.
She was fifty-eight now, elegant, attractive, and always slightly more formal than whatever situation required.
That afternoon she wore a pale green dress and low heels, with her hair pinned neatly behind her head.
She had spent months planning the engagement party.
Walter respected the effort.
He simply wished she did not treat every family gathering like a public examination.
Melissa’s eyes moved immediately to the box in his hands.
Her smile disappeared.
“Walter.”
“Afternoon, Melissa.”
“What is that?”
Walter looked down.
“A pie.”
“I can see that.”
“Then we’ve solved one mystery already.”
Normally, Melissa would have ignored the joke.
Today she looked horrified.
“Please tell me you didn’t bring that into the party.”
Walter’s smile faded.
“I made it for Lily.”
Melissa glanced toward the dessert display.
Then back at the cardboard box.
“Walter.”
She lowered her voice.
“We have a professional dessert table.”
“I saw it.”
“The caterer made everything specifically for today.”
“That’s nice.”
“And you brought a homemade pie.”
Walter looked down at it again.
“Yes.”
Melissa pressed two fingers against her temple.
“You should have asked.”
“Asked what?”
“Whether we needed anything.”
“I wasn’t trying to fill a catering order.”
“I made Lily something.”
Melissa looked around.
Two catering employees passed behind them.
She waited until they were gone.
“This isn’t a church potluck.”
Walter said nothing.
The words landed harder than she probably intended.
Or perhaps exactly as hard.
He looked toward the garden.
“I know where I am.”
“Then you understand.”
Melissa replied.
“Everything has been coordinated.”
“The presentation matters.”
“The colors matter.”
“The desserts match.”
Walter glanced at the elegant white cake.
Then at his brown cardboard box.
“I don’t think Lily will care what color the pie is.”
“That’s not the point.”
“What is?”
Melissa exhaled sharply.
“The point is that people are arriving soon.”
“There are going to be clients from Ethan’s firm.”
“His parents.”
“Friends.”
“People Lily works with.”
“And?”
“And I don’t want random homemade dishes sitting beside a professionally designed dessert table.”
Walter stared at her.
“Random.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You called it random.”
“I mean visually.”
Walter almost smiled.
“That helps.”
Melissa’s expression hardened.
“Please don’t make this difficult.”
“I’m not.”
He lifted the box slightly.
“I brought Lily a pie.”
“That’s all.”
Melissa stepped closer.
“Then give it to her later.”
“Keep it somewhere out of sight during the party.”
Walter looked toward the house.
“Where?”
Melissa pointed toward a service table near the side entrance.
“Under there is fine.”
Walter followed her finger.
A long table covered with a white cloth held extra plates, boxes of bottled water, and folded catering linens.
Underneath sat cardboard cartons and two trash bags waiting to be removed.
He looked at Melissa.
“Under the table?”
“For now.”
“She was expecting it.”
Melissa’s face changed.
“What?”
“Lily asked me last month if I still had Evelyn’s recipe.”
“That doesn’t mean she expects you to bring it here.”
Walter remembered the conversation clearly.
Lily had visited him one Sunday.
They were sitting in the kitchen.
She found Evelyn’s recipe box while looking for a bottle opener.
She pulled out the apple-cranberry card and held it against her chest.
“Oh my God.”
She said.
“Grandma’s engagement pie.”
Walter laughed.
“That wasn’t an engagement pie.”
“It was every important-event pie.”
“Birthdays.”
“Christmas.”
“Thanksgiving.”