Apple pies

The kindness of Arrabella seemed to always surprise those not employed in their halls  Those that saw snippets of their kindness to performers and entertainers under their care often responded with shock. It was beyond normal care of employer and employee, it was more motherly and tender. Yet they seemed still distant and unable to fully commit emotion, instead the bun was eternally soft and smooth.

Even now, they were off on a quest to surprise the numerous staff. Everyone from dancers to maids would be getting a little treat. With fall already turning the leaves crisp and amber, it was the perfect time to find apples. Arra had many skills, and one of the least used and known was their baking. Each sunday fresh bread was hand kneaded in the kitchen of their establishment. Cupcakes were topped with colorful frostings, and cakes were iced to perfection. Rarely did anything make it past tuesday before someone gobbled it down. Cooking was rewarding, it fueled those Arrabella cared for and made them smile. But baked goods warmed people from the inside out. Every bite of a good cupcake could bring a smile to someones face.
All the joy their various treats earned transferred to the stage shows and day to day escort services their hall offered. After all, happy people were the best workers.

The surprise they had in mind was complicated to supply. Cakes and cookies were easier, msot of the ingredients were dry and easily stored. This though, had taken a considerable amount of planning. The kitchen staff were suspicious that the bun had a plan, but not enough to spoil their surprise. They knew Arra was a proficient baker, and were eager to take part in whatever was made.

While able to be stored easily in small numbers, a bushel of apples was hard to keep. More than four was near impossible to store in one kitchen. It had taken multiple options, but finally Arra had arranged for where to store all the apples, a spare broom closet that saw little use. A temporary apple cupboard.
All they needed now was the actual fruit.

A local orchard was close enough, and Arra knew the man running it fairly well. He visited regularly, and was sometimes lucky enough to leave with a sweet treat too. He had been the one to propose the idea in the first place. His apples would be going out of season soon anyway, so Arra had bought them all.

A truck had rolled up, apples in tow, and only then did the kitchen staff have an idea of the surprise. The sudden influx of flour and sugar now also made sense.

Taking the role of boss, Arra quickly arranged an assembly line. Peeling, slicing, coring each apple before preparing it for baking. In the meantime, the bun tied up their ears and took off their finery. They enjoyed making the flakey, buttery crust of a pie more than the filling. The care it took to fold each layer over itself and roll it thin, making sure they were consistent and even with each fold. It was an art.
Thankfully, one the bun was skilled in, as they had bought enough apples for hundreds of pies, each made by hand in the kitchen.

Morning turned to noon. Patrons came and went, smelling the sweet scent of baking apple and dough. Many asking if it were able to be bought.


It would take almost the entire day to finally pull the last pie, but it was done. The ones that had come out earlier already long eaten by hungry performers after their shifts. Each coming away with full bellies and warm smiles. This was Arra’s treat. They rarely ate their own product, instead they much preferred to bask in the warmth and love of their staff. A little family they baked and cared for.