We had a pretty good idea when they'd show up. Knowing they didn't leave Old Faithful until nine o'clock at night, and the route they had to take, they'd be lucky to reach their night's motel by two in the morning.

No way they'd get out of that town much before checkout time. Another six to eight hours of driving, depending on which way they came... five o'clock at the soonest, more likely seven or eight.

It was around six-thirty when the honeymooners arrived.

The wife had already prepared her special pie crust (low fat, low calorie, flaky, light... those few who have received this family recipe have been sworn to secrecy. So far, they've kept their words, including the cooking instructor.), so all it needed was the fruit filling.

Fresh huckleberries from Montana.

But it wasn't a huckleberry pie for more than two hours. The time it took for the wife to prepare the groom's favorite dinner (beef stroganof over three-colored noodles) and for the bride's family to arrive with the whipped cream.

And then, in probably less than eight minutes, the eight slices of Montana huckleberry pie were gone...

Disappearing into a cascade of laughter, memories of wedding faux pas that have already transformed from pangs of panic and pain into comedic tales of family lore, and a pair of laptops spinning on the tabletop, sharing with both families, now one family, the wedding scenes, and scenes of mountain travels far away.

Ahhh, if only all pies could be so light.

And so rich.