Grandma's Apple Pie

"Olivia, we're hosting the annual holiday party this year," my older sister Ashley tells me as she passes my bedroom. Every year at Christmastime, one family in the neighborhood hosts a big holiday party. I guess it's our turn now.

Last year, the Smithsons hosted, and Mrs. Smithson went all out. She hired a DJ and had a buffet of delicious food. Kayla Smithson bragged about her party for weeks afterward.

I run downstairs to tell my other sister, Megan. Ashley and Megan are twins, but they hate each other, and rarely say a word to each other.

"Hey, Megan," I greet her. Megan is the smarter of the two. She spends her time doing math and calculus and other stuff that smart people do. Ashley is too busy fussing with her hair to worry about that stuff.

"Hey, Livi," Megan responds. Megan is the only one in the family that calls me by my nickname, Livi.

"So, Ashley told me we were going to host the holiday party this year. I thought you might want to know," I explain. Megan doesn't seem too happy I interrupted her math.

"Cool," Megan replies. Knowing her, Megan will probably appear at the beginning and disappear until the end. She's not very social.

As I'm walking to leave, I start to think about my grandma. When Grandma hosted the holiday party, she used to make a wonderful apple pie. Nobody could ever top Grandma's apple pie. Nobody dared try for fear of getting embarrassed.

Actually, Grandma gave me her recipe but I must've lost it. Then I remember our recipe binder! It's where we keep all our recipes. I can't believe I forgot about it! The binder is really thick. My mom likes to cook, so she keeps every recipe she sees for future dinners.

As I flip through the recipes, I notice that many of the foods are things you might eat for a holiday dinner. An idea starts to grow in my brain.

"Mom! Mom!" I yell. She comes rushing from her office.

"Are you dying?" Mom asks, then sees that I'm fine. "Olivia, no screaming in the house. Your father is on a conference call," she says sternly.

"I have a great idea! What if we have a buffet? I could plan it all out, and you and Ashley could cook. Whaddya think?" I ask. Mom considers this.

"People might think we're trying to copy the Smithsons. I do not want to be compared to that family," Mom says.

"Our buffet will be different, though, because we won't have a random assortment of things. We'll have holiday-type stuff," I explain.

"Hmm. I like your thinking. Well, come up with a plan tomorrow, and then Ashley and I will cook the day before so that everything is fresh," Mom says. Then she turns on her heel and goes back to her office. I squeal with joy, which seems like something Ashley would do.

I pick up the heavy binder and go back to my room. There, I set it on my desk with a satisfying plunk! Time to plan the perfect holiday menu.

The next day, I presented my choices to Mom and Ashley. I couldn't find Grandma's apple pie recipe, but that's okay, because I've almost memorized it anyway, and I can make it just fine. Ashley made a few more tweaks to my list, and then it was final.

Then, it was baking day. Mom had taken a break from editing pictures on her computer to mixing, stirring, boiling, whisking, chopping, and cutting. Megan took inventory for us, and she gave Dad a list of things he needed to buy for us. Ashley helped in the kitchen too. I could tell she was excited.

"Our party will be so much better than the Smithsons," she was boasting while making chocolate mousse for dessert. "We're going to be the talk of the town after this party, in a good way."

I was pretty sure if Mrs. Smithson heard Ashley bragging about our amazing party, she'd flip out.

Mom saw me watching her and Ashley working, and beckoned me over.

"Hey, Olivia. Would you like to help? We need all hands on deck for this," Mom said, smiling. She was making cranberry salad, one of her favorites.

"I was thinking, could I make Grandma's apple pie? I've almost memorized the recipe, and besides, if we have Grandma's pie, we'll definitely be better than the Smithsons," I asked. Mom nodded. "Go ahead, honey."

I gathered the ingredients (I knew all of those by heart) and a bowl. Then, racking my brain for the instructions, I mixed and measured. Finally, I stuck the pie into our oven. A warm, homey smell drifted over the room. Dad, who'd gotten back from the grocery an hour ago, poked his head into the kitchen.

"What is that deliciousness I smell?" he asked.

"Grandma's apple pie," I replied.

"Mmm. I always loved my mom's pies. I hope you made it correctly!" he called over his shoulder as he walked back to his office. That made me wonder. Did I make the pie right? I think I did...

I didn't have any more time for consideration, because the oven dinged! and Ashley put on oven mitts and pulled the pie out. It looked okay, and smelled lovely. It wasn't burnt, but just barely browned, cooked to perfection. Mom smiled.

"I missed her apple pie. Guess I don't have to miss it any longer, huh?" Mom asked. I nodded. Ashley leaned a bit closer to the pie to sniff it.

"I think you baked it just right," she complimented, going back to making mashed potatoes.

Finally, the day of the holiday party arrived. It's a formal event, so of course Ashley took the lead and planned all our outfits effortlessly. I was to wear my velvet red dress that went to the knees with gold heels and a chunky gold necklace that Ashley lent me.

We arranged the food perfectly on the dining table, and placed golden-rimmed plates in the center with pearly white utensils and napkins. Mom decided we should put the pie on the table at the end, like a finale.

Around five o'clock the guests started to arrive. Mr. and Mrs. Walton complimented us about everything.

"Oh, Olivia, your dress is magnificent!" "Oh, Ashley, aren't you the perfect hostess!" "Now Megan, you're the prettiest I ever saw you!" "Juliana, I just love that wallpaper! Where did you get it?"

After the Waltons got finished with their complimenting, the other guests started to trickle in. My best friend, Maya JoHanson came in after the Waltons, and we shared a hug by the food.

"Maya! I'm so glad you're here! I made Grandma's apple pie for the party, but I'm worried I did something wrong!" I told her quietly. I didn't want the other guests knowing I completely winged it on the grand finale.

"I'm sure it'll be great, Livi. Besides, everyone will be so stuffed with other food they'll hardly notice any differences from the original, if there are any," Maya assured me. I felt better knowing she believed in my baking.

When the Smithsons arrived, Mrs. Smithson seemed determined to find fault in our party. She went around declaring things like, "We had a buffet too" and "Our dishes were so much more refined than these".

The other Smithsons helped Mrs. Smithson spread the nasty comments. Soon, people were whispering behind curtains, and subtly passing notes with cruel things about us on them.

"Ugh! Kayla Smithson just passed me a note that said, 'Olivia's dress is so last year. How could anyone clothe their children like that?'. I cannot believe her nerve!" Maya exclaimed angrily, ripping up a slip of paper in her hand.

"Why did we even invite the Smithsons?" I wondered aloud. "Last year at their party, Mrs. Smithson didn't invite the Creams because Mrs. Cream was talking about her behind her back."

"That would be mean, and then they'd just spread more nasty rumors," Maya pointed out. I sighed in agreement.

Then, it was time for the apple pie. I was a nervous wreck. What if it tasted bad? Did I use expired apples without knowing it? I hope everyone likes my cooking! Of course, Mrs. Smithson was the first to bite into it, like the critic she is.

"Hmm. Who made this? I think the crust isn't baked well," she said, after chewing gingerly. The guests all bit into their slices as well.

"I think we're tasting different pies," said Mr. Karlyle. "This is perfect. Well done!" Mrs. Smithson huffed and grabbed her family. They all retreated to the corner and started whispering.

"Oh my gosh! This is delicious! Give my regards to the cook," Harley Davis told me. I just smiled thankfully.

All around, people were smiling and chatting about the pie. I was so relieved! It didn't turn out terrible like I thought it would! I gave a grateful smile to the sky.

Thanks, Grandma. You're the best ever, I said in my head.