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The first thing Dean did after putting down his phone was dig into one of the pies.
“How was I supposed to possibly meet someone I’d like to friend or date if the man couldn’t bake,” Dean thought as he stabbed a spoon into the mini blueberry pie he had purchased.
The crust was flaky, tender, and a perfect golden brown. And oh, so buttery. It put up a little resistance when Dean pushed the spoon through. The small blueberries were sweet and juicy, and best of all they held their consistency: he didn’t end up with a runny mess on his hands. All in all, it was luscious. Layers of crust, overfilled with blueberry sweetness that would encourage even the angels to stop singing just to have a bite of this perfection.
“Damn, the man does know how to bake,” Dean moaned around his huge spoonful of pie that made his cheeks buldge like he was a squirrel having just eaten a black walnut.
“Thank God because I didn’t want to cancel the pizza shop because he was a crappy baker.” He said to his empty kitchen. It wasn’t uncommon for Dean to speak to himself when he was in the kitchen. He just liked to narrate while he cooked or tasted recipes and new foods.
“What would we have to talk about if all I had to tell him was all the things he did wrong with this pie?” Dean voiced as he took another huge bite. “He probably used Tapioca flour to get this filling right.”
He thought a few minutes more, “That’s what I would have done. And use small berries like he did.”
The angels continued to sing their devotion as Dean devoured the mini pie. He looked longingly at the cherry and wanted to eat every bit of it, but stopped himself only because the Cherry Pie was the designated dessert for family dinner on Friday night. His parents would be very disappointed if he showed up empty-handed. It had happened before and he was gutted like a deer by cutting comments all night. He never forgot dessert again, even if he had to buy it.
~~~~~~~~~~
It was Friday night before Dean knew it. The traditional family dinner. It always snuck up on him and he was annoyed by that fact. He loved the evening as a whole once he got over grousing that he had somewhere to be after work. He was able to put other thoughts aside for at least a few hours and be in the presence of those who loved him and knew him the best. His Dad, Mom, Sam and Jess, and their young ones, twins, Henry James and Abigail Rose. They’ve had their disagreements, major ones in the past, but in the end, family is what mattered most.
“Henry, get your sister and come to the table for dinner,” Sam called after he stepped into the backyard where his preschool-aged twins were playing on the wooden playset with a clubhouse, climbing wall, swings, and slides.
“When we were kids we just had a metal A-frame swing set that if you swung too high the legs popped up out of the ground. When were these huge, mostly plastic monstrosities created?” Dean joined him and asked. “Did they evolve, or just land in the box stores this size?”
Sam laughed, “I know, I loved that old swing set. I was able to climb on the top bar and just sit and play with the leaves from the old oak tree.”
Henry and Abby, both three, chased each other across the yard then came squealing into the house.
“Go wash your hands and faces, you heathens,” Jess told them. “Go get the dirt off. But here, let me brush off your clothes. You can’t sit at the table looking like a dog that has been rolling around in the dirt.” She said as her hands swiped down the shirts and pants the kids had on.
Jess turned to both brothers and blew out her breath in a rush, showing her frustration at the state of the kids' appearance. “How do they get this way every Friday? We go through the same routine before dinner every evening, but on Friday it seems they make a point to get extra dirty right before it’s time to eat.”
Sam saw his twins come out of the bathroom and told them, “Go to your place at the table and wait for the rest of the family.”
The kids sat down, then the food was brought to the table. They had to make sure no little bodies got in the way, as dishes were placed in the middle for the family-style way dinner went.
“I still don’t see how you manage, Jess,” Dean shook his head and looked down at the beer in his hand. “I can only barely manage myself and my business. Not be married to this loser, work a full-time job, and raise these munchkins all at the same time. You are a goddess on earth.”
Jess laughed, kissed Sam’s cheek, wrapped her arms around his waist, and answered, “It’s not as hard as it looks when you have a good partner. Working together and communication mean everything.”
~~~~~~~~~~~
Marriage had been good for Sam. He’d met Jess while they were at Stanford. He was finishing his law degree and she was a nurse at Stanford Memorial. After Sam passed the bar, he asked Jess to marry him. They had a beautiful wedding in Palo Alto. Dean was sure they were going to settle down in California where they had a life already established. He’d been proven wrong when they moved back to Kansas just about a year later.
When Dean asked Sam why he moved back, he just said he missed his family. A year after that conversation with beers under the stars, Henry and Abby were born. Dean knew that the couple had already been thinking about starting a family when they moved home. Sam and Jess had been married for about two years when the twins were born. Now having celebrated their 5th wedding anniversary, both were settled into good jobs about a 15 minute drive from Dean’s house.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Mary loudly called, “Dean, Sam, come on in the kitchen and help Jess and me get these serving dishes on the table.” It tore Dean from his thoughts as he answered, “Yes Ma, coming!” The moment he set his beer on the counter he was handed the lasagna.
“I’m just glad you didn’t give me the salad,” Dean told his mother. “Rabbit food is Sam’s territory,” Dean said just to be sarcastic. It had always been a thing between the brothers that Sam preferred salad to cheeseburgers, protein shakes to eggs and bacon. It had been that way since Sam was old enough to start making his own food.
“Not tonight boys,” Mary pointedly looked at Dean, then Sam. “We’re going to have a quiet dinner tonight. Your father had a long day and I don’t want to have to listen to any bickering from him on the way home about how you both are still 10.”
“Yes, Mom,” Sam agreed as *he* took a salad to the table, carefully setting it away from the reach of grabby little hands. “It was a long day at the office as well,” he said conversationally as the rest of dinner was set in the middle of the homestyle table. There was a bench on one side, chairs on the ends, and the other side that made it easy to seat 8 for a meal. Plenty of room right now for the four Moore-Winchesters on the bench side and easily just seating the other three Winchesters on the other sides.
“Dinner’s on!” Mary happily announced after one more look over the table making sure everything was where it should be. In her years heading the household, it didn’t matter whether she was at her own home, or one of her boy’s, she was always in charge. Jess was good-natured about it because it gave her more time to wrangle the twins with the extra people in the house.
One by one everyone sat at their appointed places: John and Mary at the head and end of the table, respectively; Dean in a chair on the open side; and Sam and Jess bookending Henry and Abby on the bench. A full spread was on the table. Lasagna with steam curling from it in the middle, surrounded by two different kinds of salad, plus garlic bread to finish off the main course. The kids liked coleslaw and Caesar was preferred by the adults for the salads. Dean had baked the bread used for the evening earlier in the day. It seemed such a waste to buy bread when french loaves were easy to make.
After everyone had their plates, the conversation began in earnest.
“Dad, Mom said you had a long day at the office, what’s going on?” Sam asked around a bite of salad.
John was a senior detective with the local police department. He’d started with the department right after completing the academy. He was now in his late 50s, looking towards retirement. He’d enlisted with the Marines after high school. Applied immediately with the academy when he was honorably discharged and started with the department right after. With 30-plus years under his belt, he was looking toward retirement.
“Just following up on a couple of homicides. I really dislike murder/suicide cases. They seem cut and dry, but you still have to process them and dot all your I’s and cross your T’s. It never gets any easier.” He wearily told the family while cutting his lasagna.
“So Dean, how’s the shop?” John deftly swerved the conversation away from himself.
“Doing amazingly well. The automotive side is seeing an increase in business because more people are purchasing used cars again. Same as in the pandemic. The restoration side continues to do plenty of business, between auctions and private business. I had a ‘67 Mustang come in the other day. I can't wait to get my hands on it.” Dean answered relaxing into the familiarity of dinner.
“Dean, this bread is amazing. It’s a wonder you didn’t become a chef.” Sam gushed to his brother. “But you’ve always had a love for cars, so I get it.”
“I’m so proud of your accomplishments Dean,” Mary added. She was an excellent cook herself. Dean learned how to bake and cook at her knee. There were several meals for which she was known: the “Winchester Surprise,” which no one knew the recipe for; Tomato Rice soup, Dean learned that one as soon as he could because it was an ultimate comfort food for them; and her lasagna, the very one they were having tonight.
~~~~~~~~~~
When Dean went away for his undergraduate degree he learned to cook more meals, as well as frugal meals, since he was on his own for the first time. Bread that didn’t rise, burnt rice in the soup, overcooked vegetables, and the list went on as his skill improved. As much as he loved to eat out and try new foods, he honestly preferred to eat in. He enjoyed working with ingredients and spices. It was for that reason he puffed up at his Mom’s compliment on his bread.
He turned back to listen to the table conversation, he heard the last of Jess’ updates from the hospital. She was a pediatric nurse at the metropolitan children’s hospital. They had been discussing the new research wing that had been opened on the main campus. It was putting the hospital at the forefront of children’s medicine. It made Dean proud of his sister-in-law. He felt that she was more his sister though. None of that in-law crap for him.
Dean cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention, “I thought maybe it was time to tell you that I didn’t make the pie tonight.”
A collective gasp went up from everyone, including an adorable one from the kids. “I went to the spice store the other day and ended up parking in front of a new bakery. I had to try it and it’s damn good. You don’t know how hard it was for me not to eat that thing of beauty I brought here tonight.”
“If it’s that good, does that mean you have competition?” Sam asked.
“Bitch,” Dean snarked, “No way, he may be a good baker, but I am still the reigning king.”
"Jerk," Sam replied.
“That sounded like fightin’ words, Dean.” Their dad replied. “Do you have anything else to tell us?”
Dean’s ears turned red, a sure sign that he was embarrassed. “I’ve got a meet-up with him tomorrow afternoon after I finish up at the shop.” He quietly answered the question the whole family was asking. “I haven’t seen anyone in months. This man, the owner, was efficient, had a nice shop, clearly had good pastry, and he put his number on the coffee I ordered. I just took him up on the offer.”
“Right, Dean took him up on his offer when he just wrote a number on the coffee cup. That doesn’t sound like an offer to meet, just to talk. Methinks there might be more to this story.” Sam said in his lawyer voice.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Dean left Sam’s house without taking any of that marvelous cherry pie home. It was completely devoured by the family. He hoped that his goading younger brother was right, that there would be more to the story. He would have to wait until tomorrow to actually find out.