The blueberry pie.

She had tried once. Tried twice. Even a third time. Always ending the same, with a burnt blueberry pie. "Was it too much dough? Or not enough?" She thought. Ava used to have the delicately printed recipe passed down from her grandmother in a safe spot up in the attic. Sadly, a fire had broken out from faulty wiring, causing the attic and her precious recipe to ash.

With the attic door sealed, it was contained well enough to leave the rest of Ava's childhood home intact. But what the bloody hell could she do about her pie problem? At just sixteen she felt hopeless. But then..."Eureka!" She thought excitedly, for she remembered her sweet older neighbor Mrs. Doughty did have one last copy that was stored away, presumed to never be used after the passing of Ava's grandmother.

Hurrying down the steps in front of her brick home, she rushed to Mrs. Doughty's aid.

To Avas relief, Mrs. Doughty was already outside sweeping the porch clean before preparing lunch.

"Oh hello dear Ava! What brings you to my neck of the woods today?" She asked with a smile as warm as the summer sun. Ava a bit out of breath returned a smile just as sweet before huffing out her intentions.

"I'm so sorry to bother you Mrs. Doughty but being I was never gifted the baking talent of my grandmother, I could really use that recipe copy she gave you for safe keeping."

"Oh my poor dear," Mrs. Doughty replied with a melancholy tone. "I'm sad to tell ya that the copy never actually existed. Your dear grandmother may she rest in peace, wanted in her heart for you to learn it in your own way. With, or without her recipe. You were, and still are her star baker."

Ava thanked the old woman, then set back to her empty home with no sweet smell of pie to loom in the air. Instead of becoming down full of gloom, Ava picked up all her failed pies, and slung them against the walls with a hearty laugh, feeling free of the guilt of not being as talented as her grandmother was. She was ordinary Ava, and that was just fine.

Years began to pass, and the young girl was now a fine woman. (Though she never tried to bake another pie of any kind ever again.) She did however find solace helping others in a local bakery called "Oh Pie! What a day!" Corny in her eyes yes, but it had it's charms.

She helped with the regular day to day chores such as sweeping, cleaning counter tops and the baking equipment. Some days she'd even be offered to help bake, but kindly declined out of embarrassment. Some of the older ladies were big fans of Ava's grandmother's work, and to them she was practically famous in the baking world, and Ava was content not living in her shadow.

A beautiful photo of her hung in the bakery's main room as a sweet reminder of the person that set off the bakery's charm and warmth. Smells wafting thru the neighborhood of that delicious blueberry that Ava never grew tired of.

One morning Ava was asked to grab fresh dough from the fridge towards the back, another normal day as always, until she saw something she hadn't noticed before. A slip of paper was wedged between one of the legs of the fridge and the floor with an old magnet near by. Staring back at her was an old photograph of Ava about nine years old with her grandmother. They were covered in flour and Ava's smile was so big and genuine it was as if they weren't baking at all, just having fun together.

Ava became overwhelmed with a sadness but also felt elated at something so personal that was all hers to keep. It inspired her. Taking the fresh dough, she asked the ladies if they'd politely leave for the night because she had something important to do. Even if she no longer had her recipe, she would perfect her own version with all the same love.

She kneaded the dough with care, flouring and placing it with preciseness into the pie mold, kissing the bottom with blueberries galore. When she was ready to layer the top, she stuck with a traditional lattice design, shimmering sugar on top like snow. A few more blueberries to garnish, then it was done.

And soon there it was, steaming with a golden crust, the smell so sweet and tart. Her own blueberry pie.

She took a slow bite, and gasped once more. It tasted heavenly, all the talent her grandmother honed she felt thru her fingertips. She took a slow breath, savoring all the flavors of her childhood, floating away to a temporary time. Her mom's hugs soft and as safe as the dough that nestled the pie together, the tartness from the blueberries similar to her dad's lemonade in the summer. It was as if being in a momentary dream she never wanted to wake from.

She was home all over again.

The next day the ladies opened the bakery, and to their happy, wide eyes was a sleeping Ava, still covered in flour on the floor. They all laughed as they got her stirring, whisking her back to her little brick home to clean up. And when Ava returned they had nothing but great things to say about the pie they decided to taste test while she was away.

"Your grandmother feels like she's here now." Exclaimed Matilda, not being able to resist another bite.

"I concur," Replied Agnes. "Cheers to you deary, she would have been so proud"

They continued to enjoy the pie while they swapped their favorite stories about the woman they admired the most. Matilda laughing hysterically about a cupcake that ended up thrown at the wall during a petty argument between the two of them.

"That chocolate stayed there for three days until we decided to stop being so childish. Though I did get a little revenge with a pie to the face later on. It was buttercream." She cackled, making Ava laugh so hard she thought her ribs would crack.

And all the while her grandmother really was there laughing and taking in every word and memory with joy.

Watching and admiring, her star baker.