The warm scent of cinnamon and baked apples filled the Whitmore household as Margaret carefully pulled the golden-brown pie from the oven. She hummed a soft hymn under her breath, the familiar melody bringing her a sense of comfort as she set the dish down to cool. The crust was perfectly flaky, just as her mother had taught her years ago. With delicate precision, she adjusted the folds of her apron and wiped her hands against the fabric. This pie was a small gesture, a simple welcome for the new neighbor who had just moved in next door. It was only right to extend kindness after all, that was the Christian thing to do. Still, as she glanced at the clock, a quiet nervousness settled in her chest.

"Oh dear, I hope they don’t think I’m intruding"

she murmured to herself, gently pressing her fingers together.

A small giggle echoed from the hallway as her daughter peeked into the kitchen, her bright eyes filled with curiosity.

"Mama, are you making a pie for the new neighbor?"

the little girl asked, rocking on her heels. Margaret smiled warmly and reached to brush a stray lock of hair from her daughter’s face.

"I am, sweetheart. It’s important to make people feel welcome when they come to a new place"

she said, though her voice carried a wistful softness. There was a time when she, too, was the new person in town, stepping into a role she barely understood. Shaking off the thought, she picked up the pie dish, adjusting her grip to keep her hands steady.

"Now, be a dear and fetch my shawl, won’t you? It wouldn’t do to show up looking unprepared."

From the other room, her husband’s voice carried with gentle authority.

"Margaret, are you sure you don’t want me to come along? I could introduce myself as well"

Pastor Whitmore offered, though his tone made it clear that he was distracted, likely preparing for Sunday’s sermon. Margaret hesitated only for a moment before shaking her head, more to herself than to him.

"No, no, it’s just a pie"

she called back, her voice as light and reassuring as ever.

"Besides, it’s always nicer when a neighbor comes by personally."

But as she stepped toward the door, pie in hand, a quiet warmth crept up her neck. It had been a long time since she had stood before a stranger in such a way, and for reasons she could not quite explain, she found herself smoothing out her skirt twice before finally stepping outside.