“Starting today, you’re going to bake this pie every morning.”
“Every morning?” I laughed. “Why?”
He didn’t laugh.
“Just make it. It’s important.”
The book contained an ordinary apple pie recipe. There was nothing unusual about it—flour, butter, eggs, apples, and
cinnamon. On the first day, I made it without asking any more questions. When I took the pie out of the oven, Victor asked
me to leave the kitchen for a few minutes.
“Why?”
It even seemed romantic at the time.
A few minutes later, he called me back. A single slice of pie was waiting on the table. Victor sat across from me and watched
until I had eaten every bite.
The same thing happened the next day. And the day after that. I baked the entire pie, but as soon as it came out of the oven,
Victor always sent me out of the kitchen. When I returned, he would place a slice in front of me and carefully watch me eat it.
