P repared with love for him at dinner’s end, an
U nannounced surprise with sweet potatoes from another supper, chilled, mashed,
M ade carefully into a luscious circle of fresh crimped crust, new cream, the last of the cinnamon:
P astry rolled and flaked, fit for a
K ing, the golden finale to our chicken-breast-and-cheese-potato-wedges-topped-with-bacon
I ncredible feast
N early ready. Finishing touches all around, the barbecue sauce just warmed, ice water poured.
P redictably, as I step to call him Come and enjoy, an
I nsistent alarm comes over his line, someone’s house afire in the city, and he is gone.
E mergencies cannot wait. Pie can.