Gina Calanni - How To Bake The Perfect Pecan Pie

I pull out my phone and type “Caldwell” into the map program. Two hours and five minutes. It’s almost eleven o’clock. I do need to get a move on.

Aurora saunters into the kitchen. “Namaste, Lauren.” She does some sort of yoga/bowing movement. Her auburn braided bun wobbles a bit when she stands still. Has she ever even attended a yoga class? Her ankle bracelets jingle as she walks over to the stove. She puts several blueberry muffins on her plate and a large helping of my mom’s scrambled eggs. At least somebody likes them. They have always been a little too dry for my taste, but hey to each their own.

“Hi, Aurora. Where are my niece and nephew?” I ask, noticing a movement from her tummy. The movement was clear and not anything to be confused with stomach flexing. No, this motion that occurred underneath Aurora’s shirt was most likely from a baby. Is Aurora pregnant?

“Winter and River are in the back, playing. Brian made them a tree house.” Aurora rubs her stomach and sets her plate down on the table across from my mom.

“Ahem.” Aurora closes her jade green eyes and raises up her open palms to the ceiling, takes in a deep breath, and then wiggles her fingers through the air as she lowers them to the table. She opens up her eyes as if she just experienced something amazing and nods.

Besides the wiggling of Aurora’s fingers, I know I saw something move in her stomach, but I’m not going there. No way. If Luke and Aurora have some baby news, I’ll wait for them to share. I snag another muffin from the yellow plastic basket and take a bite. Delicious. My mom makes the fluffiest muffins. I normally don’t like eating past the top, because that’s the best part of most muffins, but with my mom’s, I always go all in and finish the entire thing.

“Hey oh, look who it is, my favorite running buddy…I mean walking pal.” Luke darts towards me. He is soaking wet from sweat no less. His race bib is still pinned to his shirt and he’s wearing a tank top which means if he tries to hug me, I’m going to encounter his sticky, stinky, armpits. Yuck. I raise my right hand to him as if he would be willing to high five instead of a full on hug. He bypasses my hand and reaches for me. I am immediately soaked in his sweat and body odor. My face is directly parallel to his pits. I gag. I scrunch my nose and squeeze him back quickly hoping he will make it a short embrace. We don’t need to continue on with this wetness and I have already had a shower.

He releases me. “I missed you out there today, Lauren. I think the timers did too.” He laughs and grabs a mug down from the cupboard.

“Hey babe, make sure you get enough to eat.” He turns and faces Aurora. “You know what I’m talking about.” He walks over and kisses her. Not a peck or even a smooch. But a full on French kiss. An open mouth, lots of tongue and smacking sounds. My mom crinkles her eyebrows and focuses on her puzzle. I do not understand why they feel the need to do this in front of us. And yet, it seems as if they only do this when my dad isn’t present. I would seriously pay money for them to do this PDA ridiculousness in front of my father. I can’t even imagine how he would react. Which is why I would pay good money to see it and also, hopefully however he would react would be enough for the PDA-palooza to stop.

Aurora moans. “Oh Luke.”

My eyes cannot be pushed out of my head farther without falling out. I’m not even watching but the noises. Good grief, get a room!

“Seriously Luke, nobody wants to see that.” Megan steps into the room with her Thanksgiving binder. She has each year’s previous menu sectioned off. I bet she has all of her current recipes color-coded and exact times listed in the margins of when to do what.

“Hey now, just cause me and my little flower petal still have the love after all these years, doesn’t mean you have to be jealous.” Luke kisses Aurora once more on the lips but it’s actually a peck.

“Yea, that’s it Luke… I’m jealous .” Megan air quotes.

“Hey, all I’m saying is we’ve still got the love, still got the love we made,” he sings.

I laugh. “Luke, I never took you for a Reba McEntire fan.”

Luke takes the carafe from the holder. “Lauren, you would be surprised what you might like if you open your mind…maybe even find yourself a guy.” He twirls the liquid into his cup as if he is a barista at Starbucks. “Isn’t that right, babe?” He glances back at Aurora.

Aurora nods her head. “That’s right baby, you just have to open your mind to see all the things your mind was meant to see.” She rubs her lips together. I’m not sure if this is a cue for another make-out session either way, I need to exit this room.

I take a swig of my coffee and head for the door. “I should go say hi to Winter and River, before I leave.” I turn the knob, hoping for a quick exit.

“Where are you going?” Aurora stuffs the rest of the second muffin into her mouth.

Darn…almost made it. “I have some Thanksgiving errands to run—a few things to pick up at the store. That’s all,” I say, trying to be vague. I’d normally ask if anyone else needs or wants me to pick something up for them. But Aurora never needs anything simple. It’s always some rare health food find, and I already have to make two stops before the stores close.

“Would you mind picking up some loose decaffeinated oolong tea for me?” Aurora rubs her tummy and picks up her fork to plow more food into her mouth. Luke eyes her stomach as if he wants to rub it as well.

“Mom, where’s the bacon, my little flower petal needs to fill up.” Luke raises his cup in the air.

“Oh honey, it’s all gone. We’ll make sure to have extra for tomorrow’s breakfast.” My mom picks up her pencil and crosses off a note on the side of her game.

“Um, let me look at my list as well.” Megan checks her binder. “Oh I see here on my grocery list, I’ve already bought everything. I guess that’s what happens when you plan things properly.” She shrugs her shoulders and flashes her teeth at me in her quasi-business-to-customer-speak-smile.

“Well, I just found out last night I was making the pie.” I cock my head at Megan.

“Oh, poor Worwen just found out about the peecahn piiie,” Megan says in her fakest baby-talk voice.

“Megs, you know green is not a good color on you.” I wink at her.

Megan laughs. “You’re right and I’m actually glad that you are taking part in the meal this year.” She pulls me in for a side hug and kisses my head. Jasmine, cucumber, and roses invade my nose. Poppy, her favorite perfume. I squeeze her back. Having her acceptance and support means a lot.

I glance back at Aurora. Obviously, I can’t say no to a possibly pregnant woman. “Could you just write down what you need? I don’t want to forget.”

My dad walks into the kitchen wearing a big smile, a navy polo shirt and khaki shorts. “Hey, it’s the bird, come give me kiss.” He motions me toward him. I smooch his cheek and we hug, the kind of hug I really like. My favorite kind of hug, one from my dad. He has just the right amount of embrace, its firm but not too crushing.

“So, Grandmother wants me to make the pecan pie this year.” My mouth opens into a wide grin. I am quite proud that she has requested this task of me. Pecan pie is a big deal for Thanksgiving in most American houses, but for mine it is the crème de le crème of Thanksgiving. If the pecan pie didn’t happen it would be like Thanksgiving was a trial run and we would have to redo the entire dinner again. Which wouldn’t be the worst thing, I’m sure everyone would appreciate eating the rest of the meal a second time. But regardless, if I mess up the pie, it will not go over well. I can’t say I’m not nervous about it. I’ve never made a pie in my life. The last time I baked something, or rather the last time I tried to bake something, was in Home Economics and it turned out awful. My teacher said she could smell the incorrect substitution of baking powder for baking soda. She went into great detail about her trained nose. I’m not sure if this is even conceivable, but I have not forgotten the hard muffins I pulled out of the oven and had to toss in the trash. “No birds would eat those Lauren, you could kill them.” I shake my head. Is it possible for a baking soda/powder change to actually kill something?