Apple Pie

As she trudged down the alley, Cenessa saw a small crate of the freshest, reddest apples shes ever seen. No longer with the means of a home or the privileged finances that came with it, a side from being a piano player all this young woman knows is that she hasn't eaten in weeks. Delicate cautious steps she ever so quietly shifts towards them. Being a law bidding citizen and a decent girl at heart it wasn't in her to steel, but her stomach said otherwise. As she reaches for the rose red flesh of a glistening fresh apple. Suddenly, a door opens, startling her causing her to lose breath. Slowly looking up at a tall, bear size man in an apron and lightly dusted in flour.

“Hey!” he said getting her attention. “You bringing those in or what?” he asks “Come on, come on sweetheart I ain't got all day, these apple pies ain't going to cook themselves.”

Her eyes roll, her lips smack with the mere mention of food which in an instant her and the crate were inside.

Her sense of smell in absolute euphoria, she finds herself surrounded by the decadent aromas of a bakery. Breathing in deep the sugar dusted air it was like being in a dream, scents from her childhood: cookies, cakes, pastries and home made apple pie. All this excitement and her stomach lets out a loud grumble, covering her stomach with embarrassment the giant man in the apron asks,

“When was the last time you ate?”

“two weeks, three days and going on eight hours.” she says rushing through the words for they were a sore reminder of the sadness and misfortune that had passed.

“Come over here, “ he says insistently as he walks her over to a small bistro table where he politely pulls out her chair.

“Thank you.” she says quietly.

Sitting down across from her he gives her half of his sandwich, “here eat something before that stomach of yours collapses my souffles.”

Without hesitation she attacks the sandwich,

“woa! chew your food, you ain't an animal, didn't your parents teach yous anything?” he says adjusting her behavior at the table.

“Piano.” she says with a mouth full of food.

“I'm sorry?” he says as if he didn't catch that.

Swallowing her food she takes a breath before her next bite and replies,

“Piano.”

“Could've fooled me.” he says jokingly.

“I ain't got no use for a pampered dame such as yourself, that and a piano isn't exactly something you find in a bakery.” he says cracking a smile easing her tension.

A thick New York accent with a touch of jive calls out from the front of the store, “ Hey, Kermit?”

“Yo!” he calls back, “excuse me.” he stands up and walks over to a skinny man in the apron. Their conversation is kept low.

“You taking in strays now?” the skinny man asks.

“Just a mouse looking for food, she's easy enough on the eyes, what's going?” he asks motioning down into the cellar.

Conversation on folds as Cennessa continues to eat her sandwich and steals a swig of beer from a bottle. Finishing she stands up and abruptly walks into Kermit, he looks at her curious as to where she's going. Not letting her by he ties an apron around her waist and without hesitation or a second thought he hands her a bowl full of eggs, “ dump those in the mixer will ya? And when you're done you can start peeling them apples.”

Uncertain of what just happened, but Cenessa is absolutely certain about one thing, this outcome is far better than being out on the streets. What could've been another day of hunger and sleeping on a bench, turned into learning how to bake. Entire day of flour, yeast, egg, fruits and a fresh batch of apple pies Cenessa blotched with flour hears Kermit from the front giving an order,

“Hey, get them pies out will ya, put'em on the cooling rack.”

“sure thing.” she calls out.

With a flat shovel like object on the end of a large handle she slowly pulls the pies out and places them on a near by wooden cooling rack. Kermit walks in wiping off his hands on his apron with a focused look on his face as he addressees a tall well built woman in a tailored three piece gray suit.

“V, what can I do for you?”

“ Rumor has it, that you're running something more than pies out of this place of yours.”

“we have breads, muffins, I'm still working on souffles, but I haven't gotten it down yet.” he says with a mild arrogance.

“You sure?” she asks.

Handing her an envelope and boxed pie, “for your grandfather.”

Pointing at him with a smile on her face, pleased with his charismatic means of conversation and she leaves out the back door where she hands the money off to a brute of a man and gets inside the back of a large white Royce handing the pie to a well groomed white haired man in a white suit who opens the box and falls in love with the smell of the pie.

“who?”

“no one that concerns you.” Kermit says before she could finish her sentence.

Overly curious, she looks around the kitchen wandering if he was actually running something else out of this bakery of his. Heading down into the cellar, she looks around, but much to her own disappointment she finds nothing but what's used in the kitchen. Heading back up she looks at Kermit with a concerned look on her face looking for some reassurance.

“ So there's nothing to worry about?” she asks with a quirky face.

Letting out a sigh he looks over at a worrisome little mouse face and gives a little insight,

“ Do me a favor, repeat after me, “There's no room for worrying in Apple Pie.”

“There's no room for worrying in Apple Pie..” she says not understanding.

“Just keep saying that, until it starts making sense, alright? Hey, um, you can stay with my sister's kid she's alright a little out of touch with the real world, but she's alright. You can stay with her, but be here at 5ish we got bread to make. Here,” he hands her a ten dollar bill “you've earned yourself a hot meal.”

That's how it started, a friendship that formed over years. Day in and Day out, she showed up to work and learned something new every day, never forgetting where she came from. Much of life's lessons she learned right in the kitchen, but the most important one was the quote that he taught her, “There's no room for worry in Apple Pie.”

One night after work, she sees two beautiful women in sparkling flapper dresses and head pieces to match, stumbling down in the same direction of the bakery.

“a little late for a stroll isn't it ladies?” she says curious as to what their destination was.

Following them down into an alley way where a hidden door behind a poster is then opened, watching as the two go down and inside. Looking at where she's at, it's right under the bakery.

“Well that can't be right, the cellar is right under the bakery and two objects cannot obtain the same space.” she says quietly to herself. Walking over to the door she knocks on it and it opens up, walking inside it was if the door was a gateway to a world of swinging jazz, gin martini's with champagne chasers, high fashion and high class. The further she stepped in she allowed herself to be taken away by this lively atmosphere, but it was the music, the music is what captured her, remembering the feel of piano keys at her finger tips and the overwhelming feeling she'd get from playing. Like a moth lead to a flame she was glued to the flow of key strokes from an old black box shaped piano losing all sense of time in the sound of the piano.

Leaving a dollar in the tip jar she slowly makes her way to the door when the piano player calls out.

“Hey sista, you play the keys?” the piano man calls out.

“I use to,” she humbly replies.

“Hey man, don't be square can you play or not?” he asks

“yes?” she says holding her talent in question.

“Well alright then.” he says with a smile on his face as he motions for her to take up the keys.

With the slightest touch of those ivory keys a song comes to mind, she begins to play a soulful jazz melody and begins to sing.

“ Love can and is anything but true, but baby I'm telling you. Life is better off without you. These streets of stone, these walls of brick hold me truer then you ever did, because baby Life is better off without you. Your shoulder is colder than Brooklyn in January, your welcoming embrace is like a cemetery, yes baby it's true Life is better off without you.”

When she finishes the sound of the applause brings her back from the music, she realizes that the entire waiting staff, the bartenders and Kermit were all watching her.

“Kitchen.” says Kermit with an absent expression face.

“Hey right on sista.” says one of the band members who low fives her.

Following Kermit through a hidden door behind located behind the bar, walking through it leads to the cellar of the bakery. In the kitchen Kermit stands there with a wad of cash in his hands.

“Go and get yourself something nice to wear, preferably something you can play in, have your done nice too. Give ya some class.”

With a smile on her face she's relieved that he's not mad at her, she gives him a big hug which catches him off guard and warms his heart. Looking up at him she asks,

“Can I still work in the bakery?”

This brought a warming smile of pride on his face, “Sure, kid. You can still work in the bakery. Now go home, we have bread deliveries in the morning.”

Watching as she leaves out the back, after she cuts the corner V steps in.

“Nice kid, seems to be doing well here, nice of you to bring her in and all that.”

“V, what brings you here at this time of night?” Kermit asks.

With a smirk on her face, a little man untouched walks in smelling of booze. Kermit knows that he was in his place.

“I've made a little discovery, this little stool pigeon decided to spill his beans about where he got the best show in town and got loaded for a reasonable price and do you know where he said he was? Someplace next to a bakery. How about that?”looking at the little man, “you may go.”

The little man scurries out the door, V takes off her jacket and stares the big man in the eyes.

Morning comes and as she's on her way to the bakery, fire trucks speed passed, a feeling hits her stomach, she begins to sprint towards the noise. Arriving at what use to be the bakery was now rubble and ash. Her heart sunk into her chest, reporters snap pictures, police start taking statements and as she's listening through all the commotion Kermit grabs her arm and pulls her off to the side.

“Kermit!?” she exclaims only to be hushed by his over sized hand covering her face.

“We have to leave.” he says

“What about the bakery? The piano?” she asks.

“Look I didn't have much of a choice in the matter, it was either leave the city and burn the bakery or be inside it.” he stresses to Cenessa whose finding herself to be more enraged than scared.

Not ready to give up the fight, she looks around and spots the white Rolls, eyes sharpen like a hawk spotting it's pray.

“Excuse me, I'll be right back.” she says as she with haste walks over to the car,

Kermit's eyes go wide and he winces in thought on what's going to happen, she gets inside and now he can't help but stare.

In the back of the white rolls Cenessa sits next to the older gentlemen in a white suit knowing all to well who he is.

“What makes you think, I'd be interested in a bakery or rebuilding one for that matter?” he asks with eloquence and pa-nosh.

“ two words, apple pie,” she says looking at him hinting to something else entirely. “ V, was nice enough to set the place on fire because of a poor business decision made by my friend, the baker. One too many hits in the head when he was a fighter, I suppose.”

“uh-huh, I see.” he says. “what a, did you have in mind?”

Looking him in the eyes, she sees a softness to him a hint of sympathy and makes her deal.

Still watching from the outside, the car then drives over to Kermit where Cenessa steps out and she pulls Kermit over to her. With sympathy in his eyes the old man reaches his hand out to Kermit.

“you have a heck of partner there, I'm sorry about V's actions she has an tendency of being a little over dramatic. I'm sure your insurance policy will have this place up and running again in a month or two. In the mean time, there's going to be some more business that needs to be done, here.” he hands him an envelope of money. “get yourself a new piano.” The window rolls up and the car drives off.

Without the words Kermit looks at Cenessa who is radiating with happiness,

“Why did you do it? Kid?” Kermit asks overwhelmed with joy, but doesn't know how to express it.

“You pulled me from the streets, now I get to return the favor.” she says with a heart warming smile on her face. “Only this time, we cut in the suppliers. What? Daughter of a business man.”

“a broke business man.” Kermit replies

Cenessa then corrects him,

“Not at all, my father was a very successful man, who unfortunately had too many bad habits, after he died my mother in absolute depression drank the family into bankruptcy, lost the house, the business, everything.”

Hearing the truth, Kermit is without words and looks at her with a hint of worry on his face which Cenessa corrects.

“uh-huh, none of that now, there's no room for worry in apple pie.”