CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE MORNING AFTER
The next morning, sunlight entered Ethan’s kitchen through a window still streaked with rain from the previous week.
His trophy sat on the table beside a stack of thank-you notes.
Nina had gone home after helping him clean up, and the house was quiet again.
Ethan carried a mug of coffee into the backyard.
The repaired water line stood beside the foundation, clean and solid.
The ground was still muddy where Carol had hacked through the old connection.
He crouched to inspect the new valve and noticed a small patch of disturbed soil near the lavender.
For a moment, the memory of the hidden cylinder made him uneasy.
Then he saw the plumber’s orange marker beside the plant and remembered that the decorative fountain branch still needed to be removed.
He stood and listened to birds calling along the fence.
A car slowed in the street, but it was only the newspaper delivery driver.
Ethan returned to the kitchen and opened his phone.
The first message was from Priya, thanking him for his participation.
The second was from Pilar, who had sent a photograph of Inez and Rosa in the old bakery.
The third was from Carol.
It contained a picture of her own breakfast: a badly shaped pancake with burnt edges.
She had written, I tried your trick with the black pepper and ruined everything.
Ethan laughed and typed back that black pepper belonged in peach filling, not pancakes.
A moment later, Carol replied that she would leave the baking to professionals.
He set the phone down and unfolded his mother’s old recipe notebook.
Between two pages he found a grocery list in her handwriting.
It ended with a reminder to buy enough flour for an extra batch.
He ran one finger over the words and thought about the people who had helped him make the winning pie.
The contest had given him a trophy, but the week had also given him a different kind of responsibility.
He wanted to make sure nobody else’s name disappeared just because one story was easier to tell.
At noon, Nina arrived with a small paper bag containing fresh peaches.
“Are you ready to make the workshop recipe?” she asked.
Ethan looked at the fruit and smiled.
“Only if you help with the crust.”
“I was going to anyway.”
They washed their hands and cleared the counter.
Outside, the repaired pipe remained quiet, and the muddy garden began to dry in the afternoon sun.
Ethan rolled the first sheet of dough while Nina sliced the peaches into neat wedges.
For the first time all week, the only sound from the side of his house was the ordinary whisper of water moving safely through a pipe.
The End.
