I pulled the last pecan pie out of the oven. My kitchen looked like a disaster area. Pools of melted brown sugar covered the stove. Bits of pecan crunched underfoot. Who bakes nine pies the day before Thanksgiving?
It hadn’t been a choice, more a desperate plan. My hours at the bookstore had been cut. I needed to earn more money if only to keep my clunker car running. I’d sent out résumés, answered ads and put my prayers in overdrive. Zero results.
That Monday my friend Tanya had called to invite me to Thanksgiving dinner. I insisted on bringing a pecan pie, then bemoaned the state of my finances. There was a pause on the other end of the line. “That’s it!” she said. “Why don’t you sell pecan pies? Do something you enjoy.”
ENJOYING THIS STORY? SUBSRIBE TO GUIDEPOSTS MAGAZINE!
“But I’m awful at selling things,” I protested. “I only sold five boxes of Girl Scout cookies…to my mom.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll spread the word,” Tanya reassured me. “You’ll see. They’ll sell themselves.”
Now, as I thought back on it, selling had been the easy part. Tuesday morning Nicole, a colleague at the bookstore, ordered one before I could finish my pitch. Then she turned around and sold one to Ned, shelving books in the travel section. They hadn’t even blinked at the ten-dollar price.
When Sunny came in for her afternoon shift, I sold her one. She even offered to pay in advance, but I told her not to worry, I trusted her.
I called Tanya to tell her the news. She had made five sales! I couldn’t believe it. Then it hit me. It was less than 48 hours until Thanksgiving! I made a beeline to the grocery. At the checkout, fumbling in my purse to find another dollar to pay the bill, I explained the pie plan to the cashier.
“I’ll cover you,” she said with a wink. “Pay me later. And I’ll take a pie.”
I spent the night rolling out pie crusts, watched the sun rise as I poured the last of the thick caramel-colored filling into a tin. Now the last pie was cooling. It was almost 9:00 a.m. Time to make my deliveries. I was looking forward to that extra money.
At the bookstore I spied Ned. He smiled when he saw his pie. Then something popped in my head. He’d bought me a cupcake for my birthday, and there were the half dozen times he’d taken me home when my car broke down.
“I can’t possibly charge you,” I said. What am I saying? “Take it as a gift.” I thrust the pie toward him.
“That is so nice,” he said. “Are you sure? Your hours got cut too.”
“I’m sure.” I forced a smile. Nicole came up and he said, “Guess what? Linda’s not charging us for our pies! She’s giving them to us as a gift!” I didn’t mean BOTH of you! But what could I do? I wished them Happy Thanksgiving and headed for my next delivery.
I calculated furiously. Seven pies left. If I charged three dollars more I’d be okay.
But walking up to the friendly supermarket cashier I realized I already owed her a dollar. I couldn’t charge her more. “I have something for you,” I said.
Before I could ask her for the nine dollars she exclaimed, “That is so sweet. She lowered her voice. “I didn’t know if I was going to be able to afford dessert this year. I don’t know how to thank you for this.”
I handed her the pie…and the dollar I owed her.
You can guess what happened with the rest of my deliveries. By the time I got back to the bookstore that afternoon to deliver Sunny’s pie, I would have needed to charge her ninety dollars.
“Remember how I offered to pay you in advance?” Sunny said.
“Yes,” I said hesitantly.
“I wondered how I would find the cash,” she said, “but God provided.” She rummaged in her purse, took out a worn red wallet and began pulling crumpled dollar bills from it.
Suddenly, I saw the past year in an entirely different light. Financially it had been tough—my pie misadventure only the latest example. But I’d always had enough—even for free pies.
“Here,” I said, handing her the pie. “A gift…for being a friend.”
My friends had given me more than I’d stopped to appreciate. Time and again they had been there for me, whether I needed encouragement, an extra dollar for ingredients or a ride home. I even had a friend to share Thanksgiving dinner with—one who would be happy to see me, even empty-handed.
Try Linda’s Pecan Pie!
Did you enjoy this story? Subscribe to Guideposts magazine.
