Chapter 26
Gordon poked his head out and called us back in. “Clarence says he’s ready for pie.”
“I love your pies,” Annie said to me.
“Not mine this time. Gordon made them. You’ll never guess who his mother is.”
And no one would ever believe it based on his baking ability. He felt bad at first, but then we had a good laugh. “I guess it’s a skill to burn something and still have it be raw.”
His apples were crunchy, and so was his crust—crunchy and black on the bottom. He’d baked on the lower rack, too close to the heat.