Gemotions

The aroma of cinnamon and nutmeg hung thick in the air, a familiar comfort that always put a smile on Eleanor’s face. She hummed a jaunty tune, stirring the pot of apple butter with a wooden spoon. Sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. A reporter from the local paper had called that morning, asking for an interview. Something about the “newest sensation” in the town's farmer's market.

She poured a generous dollop of the apple butter over a warm scone, savoring the taste. The reporter had mentioned a recipe, “Granny Eleanor’s Apple Delight.” It sounded oddly familiar. Eleanor, her cheeks flushed with contentment, couldn’t quite place it. But her apple butter was, after all, simply the best.

Later that day, she saw it in print. The article, complete with a photograph of the market stall and a glowing review, made her lightheaded. Granny Eleanor’s Apple Delight, it declared, was the must-have treat. It was her recipe, she realized with a start, though she'd always just called it "apple butter."