Robert tried to make the dinner as home-like as possible, but of course nothing could compare to the feasts at Northwind Farm. Even the hands who usually had their dinners elsewhere came for the Thanksgiving feast, requiring that a separate table be set up for the children in another room, where their whoops and giggles vied with the laughter and clinking wine glasses of the grownups in the dining room. Sabine always made sure that any pictures, mirrors or breakable knick-knacks were removed from the children’s room, since their dinners seemed to inevitably include a dinner roll fight at some point, which was tolerated by the adults as long as the rolls in question remained unbuttered. And at the end of the meal, no matter how much anyone had eaten, there was always room for pie. Apple, pumpkin and mincemeat pies filled an entire table in the foyer, and anything left over became the next morning’s breakfast for anyone who could still get up early after such a feast.
Today’s meal was more like a poor version of the Thanksgivings of Robert’s childhood, which Sophie, of course, had no frame of reference for. But she seemed interested enough in the proceedings, scrubbing the sweet potatoes and helping make a pumpkin pie from the instructions in one of her grandmother’s old cookbooks. They didn’t have all the right spices for it, but there was plenty of sugar, so they had no reason to think the pie wouldn’t be a success. And the roasted chicken came out so juicy that Sophie complimented it. Robert had every reason to believe she was sincere.
After they had cleaned the dishes and put away the leftovers, Sophie went to the stable to feed the horses. Robert glanced at the darkening sky and felt a little guilty. He knew she would have liked to go riding today, but the sky didn’t begin clearing until the food was almost ready. Well, he would let her go for a long afternoon ride on Saturday, whatever the weather. She had settled down since trying to run away, and he didn’t want her to think he hadn’t noticed or didn’t appreciate that she was trying.
He had the pie sliced and waiting when Sophie finally came in. “I was beginning to think you wanted to eat your dessert in the stable with Bandera.”
“That would be a great idea,” Sophie said. She went to the sink to wash her hands, well aware that her father was only joking.
When she was finally sitting across from him, they each took a bite at the same time, studying each other’s faces for a reaction.
“It’s not like Sabine’s pumpkin pie,” Sophie said, “but it’s good.”
“It’s definitely different,” Robert admitted. He took another bite and mulled it over thoughtfully. “There’s nothing wrong with it except our expectations.”
Sophie gave him a quizzical look.
“What I mean is we expect pumpkin pie to have cinnamon and nutmeg, but we didn’t have any. This is actually a pretty good pie. It just doesn’t taste like we think it should.”
“So if we’d never had pumpkin pie before, we’d think it’s great?”
“Probably.”
She took another bite and nodded. “As long as you don’t expect anything in particular, yeah, it’s good.”
They finished their pie, liking it more with each bite. And when they were done, Robert got up to wash the plates.
“Let’s work on a puzzle,” Sophie suggested.
Robert turned around. “Are you sure? I thought you’d want to play Clue.”
She shook her head. “Not tonight. Let’s do that puzzle with the picture of the Navajo blankets.”
“You know that one’s going to be hard, right?”
Sophie shrugged. “We don’t have to finish it.”
“We should always finish what we start. But go on and get it.”
What a nice, homey scene. Too bad they couldn't have joined some of the locals, though.
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