He Entered the Pie Contest for His Daughter—and Forgot to Worry About Winning

hand on the counter. “Leave a little evidence we were here,” she said. He looked at the uneven strip and, with visible effort, left it alone.

At the community hall, the other pies seemed impossibly polished. One had pastry leaves arranged around the edge. Another sat beneath a handwritten description of three generations of bakers. Mark put their pie down and immediately wished he had brought the other serving plate. Lucy wrote their names on the entry card.

While the judges tasted, they helped carry chairs to a side room. Mark found it easier to talk when his hands had something useful to do. Lucy told him she had missed spending time together since moving across town. He said he had thought she wanted more space. “I wanted fewer questions about my tires,” she replied.

Their pie did not win. It did not receive an honorable mention. A child at