Free First and Again by Jana Richards

never had anything written down. I went by feel.”
    “By feel? What do you mean?” Don asked.
    “By the way the pastry felt in my hand.” She made a kneading motion with her gnarled fingers. “I played with it until it was just right, not too sticky, not too dry. When the feel was right I knew I had a good piecrust.”
    Bridget smiled. A woman after her own heart. The best chefs developed a sixth sense when it came to knowing when a dish was just right. “Do you remember some of the basic ingredients of your pastry?”
    Martha nodded. “I always started with good quality lard, and flour of course. A little salt, and some ice water. Works every time.”
    She wrote down the ingredients. It was a little different from the pastry recipe she used, but there were innumerable variations on the same theme.
    “What about the apple filling? Mine seems to be missing something.”
    Martha frowned. “I can’t imagine what could be missing. What did you use?”
    She listed her ingredients. “Apples, of course. Sugar, cinnamon, a few pats of butter and some cornstarch to thicken.”
    “Aside from the cornstarch, that sounds much like my filling.”
    “So why did everyone think your pie was so much better than mine?”
    The old woman let out a sudden laugh, which quickly turned into a wheeze. “Memory is a funny thing, my dear. When you get old you’ll be surprised at how good things look in hindsight.”
    Bridget laughed, amused by her sense of humor. “That may be, but in the here and now I want to bake an apple pie that will knock the socks off Jack Davison’s German guests.” She explained how he was helping Rebecca and the bargain they’d made.
    “I think my daughter has my old recipe book,” Martha said. “It was my mother’s. I’ll ask her to take a look for me. We’ll figure it out.”
    She took her hand. “I really appreciate your help.”
    “I used to love to cook. I’d give anything to be back in a kitchen, but I’m a little long in the tooth for that,” Martha said with a wistful smile.
    “I’d love to cook with you,” Bridget said. She realized she meant it. She’d lost much of her confidence. At one time she’d preferred working on her own, at least in the creation and design of the menus and dishes. But now the old adage ‘safety in numbers’ sounded good.
    She recognized a kindred spirit in Martha, someone who loved cooking as much as she did. As much as she once had.
    “You could certainly give me some pointers.”
    “But your mother’s kitchen is up the stairs,” Don said. “Martha wouldn’t be able to make it up there.”
    “No, she wouldn’t.”
    An image of the bright, sunny kitchen in Jack’s house with its spacious floor plan and wheelchair ramp to the back door, popped suddenly into her mind. Would Jack and Mrs. Clark allow her to bring Martha to the ranch for a little experimentation?
    “Don’t worry, Martha. I have a feeling everything will work out just fine.”

Chapter Six
    The next day Bridget pulled into Jack’s yard armed with two different menu choices and cost estimates for each one. She’d phoned every local food supplier, every grocery store in the area and haggled mightily to ensure she could prepare a wonderful lunch for Jack’s guests within the budget he’d given her. Though she’d done her homework this time, her heart raced frantically as she left her car.
    She knew Jack would likely be in the barns but she wanted to speak to Gladys Clark first. How would the housekeeper react to her request to ask Martha to help her bake the ultimate apple pie? She might be offended to have other cooks horning in on her turf. If Gladys gave her a flat no, that would be that. She wouldn’t even bother Jack with her request.
    It occurred to her that she’d been asking for a lot of help lately, first from her mother, her daughter’s teachers and now from Jack. She was even asking advice from Martha Kowalchuk and the old boys on coffee row. And here she was back to