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“Ned?” Olive opened the door to Ned’s darkened apartment, calling warily, “Ned? Are you there?”
“Yes.” Ned’s voice came quietly out of the darkness.
Olive jumped, giving a little gasp. “Ned? What are you doing here in the dark?” She flipped the light switch, revealing Ned sitting on the couch, knees drawn up to his chest in a position that looked uncomfortable. “Never mind that. Come with me, we have plans with Emerson.”
“I can’t. I already have plans.”
“Really? What plans?” Olive had her hands on her hips, staring at him with determination.
“I was going to wallow in depression without Chuck and think about how she’s visiting her father who doesn’t like me and wants to break us up and maybe she’ll decide to stay with him and never come back and I’ll never see her again.”
“Ned!” Olive plopped down beside him on the couch and gave him a sideways hug. “You know Chuck wouldn’t do that. Now stop moping and come down to the Pie Hole and help me teach Emerson how to make gingerbread.” She hopped up, pulled him to his feet, and began pushing him out the apartment door, getting him through the door and halfway down the stairs before he thought to resist.
“I can’t,” Ned seized gratefully at the excuse just as he tried to seize the apartment bannister to brace himself against Olive’s relentless pushing . “I don’t know how to make gingerbread.”
Olive did not give up so easily. She stopped in shock for only a moment, then resumed pushing Ned towards the stairs, forcing him to let go of the bannister or else be toppled over. “How do you not know how to make gingerbread?”
“I make pie,” Ned said as Olive propelled him down the stairs. “This is the Pie Hole, where we sell pie. Gingerbread is not pie.”
“No, gingerbread is a warm, gently spiced, little piece of Christmassy goodness!” Now at the bottom of the stairs, Olive let go to grin at him, her blonde hair looking even fluffier than usual resting against her seasonal red dress with white trimming.
Ned gave up, knowing his efforts would be useless against Olive’s relentless optimism. Maybe spending a day making gingerbread with his friends would be better than a day spent alone, even if a day with Chuck would be better than either.
They entered into the empty Pie Hole, closed due to the heavy snow that had been falling all the previous night. Emerson was sitting at the counter waiting for them, looking at the tinsel liberally decorating the restaurant. Chuck had insisted on decorating for Christmas the previous week, claiming that Christmas season started as soon as Thanksgiving was over. Ned, unable to resist Chuck’s enthusiasm, had given his able assistance.
Emerson was less keen. “It looks like a Christmas tree threw up in here.”
“I like it,” Ned said with a quiet smile. It had made Chuck happy, and that alone was enough reason to like it. He shook his head slightly, returning to the subject at hand. “Why are we making gingerbread?”
“Emerson’s going to see Penny for Christmas, so I said he should learn how to make gingerbread so they can make it together. And I thought you’d be able to help, but you don’t know how to make gingerbread, so now I can teach you both!” Olive smiled widely. Emerson opened his mouth to argue, and Olive rolled her eyes. “I heard you earlier, Emerson, and yes, we’ll be done before the snowstorm hits.”
She led them both back into the kitchen.
Emerson looked around uncomfortably. “This doesn’t feel right, me being back here and doing the baking. You should be the ones doing this, while I eat what comes out the other side.”
“Come on, Emerson, won’t Penny enjoy some special homemade gingerbread?”
“This isn’t a home. This is a pie-themed restaurant.” Despite his snarky comments, when Olive showed him the ingredients and got him and Ned started on mixing them, he didn’t protest. Even a fleck of the butter-sugar mixture flying out of the bowl and landing on his tie only elicited a glare and a quiet grumble.
With hands busily occupied in mixing dough and adding ingredients, and mouths occupied talking about the Pie Hole, Emerson’s latest case, and their holiday plans, the time passed quickly. It wasn’t long until, after the appropriate chilling time, they were pulling their balls of dough out of the refrigerator, ready to roll them out and start cutting them into shapes.
Ned smoothly rolled his dough, soothed by the familiar motions. Baking was always a comfort to him, and although pies remained his favourite thing to bake, rolling out dough was a familiar enough exercise that he didn’t mind the difference. Besides, the soft smell of ginger floating in the air made the kitchen feel appropriately seasonal.
Across the kitchen, Emerson was having more trouble, pressing too hard on his rolling pin and thinning the dough so far the countertop was beginning to show through. After the fourth time he’d had to roll up his dough and start again, cursing under his breath the whole time, he asked in frustration, “Why is all this necessary? What’s wrong with just knitting something for Penny instead? That would be just as homemade.” He cast a disparaging glance around the kitchen. “More, because I could do it in my own home!”
“But baking with someone is like baking love, putting together a little tiny piece of your hearts and making it into something delicious! Right, Ned?” Olive’s very expressive eyebrows indicated that he had better back her up here.
“As a kid, I always made pies with my mother,” Ned agreed, the comfort of baking lulling him into sharing more than he usually would. “On my birthday, she always let me pick the flavour, and even when it turned out terribly she’d still eat it. Those are my favourite memories of her.”
Emerson still didn’t look convinced, so Ned left his dough and went over to show Emerson how to properly use his rolling pin to avoid stretching out the dough too far.
Olive had already finished rolling out her own dough, and was standing on her tiptoes, trying to reach a container on a high shelf.
“Olive, do you need help?” Ned asked her.
She shook her head, bouncing on her toes as she tried to jiggle the box off the edge of the shelf. “No, I–“ The box suddenly came down, almost hitting Olive in the nose before she got a grip on it. She smiled triumphantly at Ned. “I got it.”
Olive walked over to the counter and upended the container. A whole collection of cutters fell out onto the counter. Ned picked one up, examining it; it was a little horse, the legs delicately formed, and the mane flying back in a non-existent breeze.
“What’s this one supposed to be?”
Ned looked over at Emerson to see him holding an oddly shaped cutter, roughly triangular with a lumpy curved top.
“It’s a piece of pie,” Olive told him, distracted as she sorted through the many cutters. “I bought it after I started working here.”
“Seems like this one’s yours, Pie Boy.” Emerson tossed it across the kitchen to Ned, who fumbled and nearly dropped it before catching.
“Ah ha!” Olive, apparently finding what she’d been looking for, pulled out two cutters, one shaped like a tree, and another shaped like a traditional gingerbread man. “Now we’re ready!” She hurried over to the rolled out gingerbread and lined up her tree shape against the edge of the dough, pressing it down firmly but gently. She pulled the cutter up, and there was a perfect outline left in the soft dough.
She looked over at the other two. “Start working! We’ve got a lot of gingerbread left to do before that storm outside hits us!”
Ned and Emerson quickly followed her lead, cutting out shapes from the gingerbread and laying them carefully on the trays, ready for the oven. The first batch was in the oven within minutes, but Olive didn’t let up, already getting started on another tray. This time, she used the gingerbread man shape, while Ned had managed to find a star that made him think of Chuck. Emerson had somehow found a cutter shaped like a magnifying glass and started to use it, prompting Olive and Ned to exchange bemused looks behind his back.
The timer went off.
“That’s the first batch,” Ned said. He was done with his second tray, while Emerson and Olive were still working, so he pulled on a pair of kitchen gloves and went to check on the gingerbread.
Even under the light of the oven, he could see that it had baked beautifully, golden brown and still slightly soft. Ned pulled the gingerbread out of the oven, and the air filled with the warm smell of spices, bringing involuntary smiles to the faces of all three of them.
The gingerbread had expanded only slightly, leaving the shapes clearly recognisable. Ned quickly pulled out the other two trays, and laid all three of them on the counter before loading the new trays into the oven. Olive and Emerson had finished theirs by now, and once Ned reset the timer, the three of them gathered around the freshly baked gingerbread.
Ned grabbed a piece off the tray to taste, nearly burning his tongue with the heat but it was entirely worthwhile. The gingerbread was delicious.
“Now we can ice them,” began Olive.
Emerson cut her off. “The weather’s getting bad out there, and if I get stuck here during that snowstorm coming I will not be happy. I’ll pick up the other batch after the storm.”
“We should wait for them to cool down more anyway,” Ned offered. “Otherwise the icing won’t stay in shape and will melt everywhere, until they look less like gingerbread men and more like,” he grimaced, “gingerbread monsters.”
“Alright, “ Olive conceded, “but at least take yours with you! You can ice them at home, later. And then they will be home-made, so you can’t say anything against them.”
Emerson huffed disbelievingly, but accepted the container of warm gingerbread Olive handed him before he headed out into the steadily falling snow.
Once Emerson was gone, Olive turned to Ned. “We can still ice ours! What do you say, do you want to give them some time to cool then see if you’re as good at decorating gingerbread pie as you are regular pie?”
He smiled at her. “And we can see if you’re as good at decorating gingerbread trees as you are at…” He trailed off, not having actually seen Olive decorate a Christmas tree. Instead, he finished with, “dressing seasonally.”
She winked at him. “I know I am.”
Ned laughed.
After Chuck’s arrival, he’d become so caught up in her and spending time with her that he’d forgotten how much he enjoyed the simple moments of spending time with his friends. Today had been a good reminder, and a delicious one.
And when Chuck got home, they could eat his gingerbread together.