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“On the plate was a tall, glistening slice of lemon meringue pie, vivid yellow and fluffy white. He pulled up a chair opposite me and straddled it backward, eagerly digging his fork into the tremulous tower of meringue. "You know I dream about this slice of pie all week long, right?" he said, taking a big bite. "And me. You also dream about me," I teased him. He raised an eyebrow. "Of course I dream about you... giving me this pie." I rolled my eyes at him, and he grinned, mouth full of pie. Every Saturday I made two lemon meringue pies and served them to the first lucky handful of customers through the doors of our flagship Tampa location. The last piece of pie I always saved for Rory. I'd modified my mom's now-not-so-secret recipe, adding an element all my own---a lemon drop melted into the lemon-sugar mixture. I wasn't convinced it changed the taste that much, but Rory said it was the best pie he'd ever had. He swore the lemon drop added a touch of kitchen magic, but I knew better. It wasn't magic at all. It was revelation.” — Rachel Linden