A Small Town Christmas Part 13

"What good is it to be the guy in charge when you can't get away when you want to?" she grumped.

He gave a snort. "Who says I want to?"

She sighed. "That's what I thought."

"Everything'll be fine," he a.s.sured her. "You going to save me some cookies or are they getting scattered to the winds?"

"As if you never get anything."

"The cobbler's children," he retorted. "And sometimes the baker's husband. For a guy whose wife runs a bakery I don't get much."

"Come by in about an hour and you can be sure you'll get something," Sarah suggested.

"Nice try, babe. Gotta go." And with that, he hung up, leaving her to her fate.

"It will be fine," she a.s.sured herself as she put the cordless phone back in its recharge cradle. She looked around her kitchen, checking out the stations she had set up. One end of the granite-topped island counter would be for rolling out the cookies after they made the dough. She'd station two girls there. The other end of the counter would be the filling station where two other girls could work on a.s.sembling their creations on cookie sheets. Everything was laid out and she had background music already going-Miley Cyrus to make the day girl-friendly. Let the games begin.

She poured herself a cup of coffee for energy and snagged the ringing phone. "Hi, Nana," piped Katie.

The good feelings that spread through Sarah were better than a sugar buzz. "Katie, my little cupcake with the cherry on top. How are you doing?"

"I'm good, Nana. We got a new puppy. Guess what we named it?"

"I can't imagine," said Sarah.

"We named it Nanacakes."

"Nanacakes?"

"Uh-huh. She's white and black. She's a girl."

"Well, that's great," said Sarah. Nanacakes. She smiled.

"Nana, I miss you so much."

Now she was going to cry. Phones were great. It was almost like having the other person in the same room. Almost, but not quite. You couldn't hug a child through the phone.

"Mommy's going to e-mail you a picture of Nanacakes," Katie said. Then, to a persistent voice behind her, "No, I'm talking to Nana."

The doorbell rang. Sarah walked to the door, saying, "Katie, put Addie on so I can say hi, okay?"

"Okay," Katie said grudgingly.

"Addie, my little sugar dumpling."

"Nana, we have a new puppy."

"So I hear," Sarah said, opening the front door.

There stood George Armstrong, Lissa and Mandy next to him. Lissa was beaming and Mandy was bouncing up and down as though the front porch had suddenly turned into a trampoline. "Are we too early?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Come on in." To Addie she said, "Nana has to go, sweetie. I love you. Be good for Mommy and tell her I'll call her later. Okay?"

"Okay."

And then the grandchildren were gone and she had new children to attend to.

"We're ready to make cookies," Lissa informed Sarah.

"Can we eat them?" asked Mandy.

"Of course," Sarah said, smiling down at her.

The two girls exchanged squeals and jumped up and down.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" George asked dubiously.

"Absolutely," Sarah replied firmly enough to convince both of them. She'd offered this cla.s.s, and, by gumb.a.l.l.s, it was going to happen.

George left, and Sarah ushered the girls into the kitchen to wash their hands and then had them don the little ap.r.o.ns that Emma had generously made as her contribution to the Sarah Goodwin Baking School for Girls.

They were drying their hands when the doorbell rang again.

Betty Bateman and two little girls stood on the front porch.

"Oh, and here's our heroine," said Betty, beaming at Sarah. "Beanie, you remember Mrs. Goodwin, don't you?"

The redheaded child next to her was dressed in a dirty parka, torn jeans, and tennis shoes that looked like she'd dragged them through a pasture in the rain. She held up a grimy hand in greeting. "Hi."

"We've just been so excited about this," said Betty. "Haven't we, Beanie?"

Beanie opened her mouth to speak.

"Oh, and I have some wonderful cookie recipes if you need any. The kids just love my sugar cookies. Don't you, Beanie?"

Beanie tried again, but she wasn't quick enough.

"And I have a lovely oatmeal cookie recipe. Of course, it can't compare to those cookies you make at the bakery. Are you going to teach the girls to make those?"

"I think we're going to concentrate on something a little more seasonal," Sarah said, smiling at the other girl. "And you must be . . ."

"Damaris," said the girl.

Sarah looked around. "Your mother?"

"She's at work. My dad dropped me off. He said to call when we're done. Are we gonna make Christmas cookies?" she asked, her voice powdered with disgust. "It isn't even December."

"Which is why we're going to make something else today," Sarah replied with a determined smile.

"Are we having snacks?" asked Damaris.

"I'm hungry," said Beanie.

Actually, Sarah hadn't thought of that. Of course, she'd figured they'd sample the cookies, but snacks-where had her brain been? Was she that far removed from motherhood? Or even grandmotherhood, for that matter. "We'll find something." she said, and hoped she sounded like a woman with a plan.

"Oh, snacks. I didn't even think of snacks," said Betty. "You know, I could have brought something," she added as Damaris slipped past Sarah and down the hall with Beanie following her lead.

"Go ahead and wash your hands," Sarah called after them. Now she had four little girls in her kitchen, unsupervised. That wasn't good.

"I could run home and grab some chips," Betty offered. "We always keep Doritos on hand. They're Beanie's favorite. Oh, and let's see, I might have some Chips Ahoy."

Store-bought cookies at a baking cla.s.s? That was just sick and wrong. "That's sweet of you, Betty, but we'll be fine." What did she have in the fridge? Milk to go with the cookies, of course, a couple of yogurts, salad makings, tofu to make up for her vanis.h.i.+ng estrogen-nothing that would get a group of grade-school girls excited. Come on, Sarah, think.

"Well, it's no problem," said Betty. "Except, let me see. Did Beanie eat the last of the Doritos? I wonder if we have any cookies left. Well, no problem. The store isn't far. And we have our little hybrid. Let me tell you, that gets the best gas mileage."

"Don't worry. We'll be fine," Sarah a.s.sured her and started to move the door toward shut.

Betty leaned around to keep her face in view. "If you're sure. I don't mind."

"No, not a problem, really. We'll see you at five. I'd better go get the girls started."

She shut the door while Betty was still babbling. New sounds were coming from the kitchen. Little girls squealing. What were they into?

Sarah hurried to the kitchen to find her baking cla.s.s chasing each other around the island counter. "Okay, ladies," she said, catching Beanie. "Let's settle down. Have we all washed our hands?"

"Yep," said Beanie.

Sarah lifted one of Beanie's hands for inspection. "Let's do it again."

"Do we have to wear these stupid ap.r.o.ns?" Damaris asked, holding up one made with red checked material.

"Actually, yes. That way you won't get your clothes dirty."

"My grandma doesn't care," said Beanie.

Damaris had tossed aside her ap.r.o.n and was now fingering Sarah's vintage miniature milk gla.s.s Hen on Nest figurine. "Let's not do that," Sarah said sweetly, removing it from the child's hands.

"I was just looking at it," said Damaris.

"Let's look with our eyes, shall we?"

"I like these," said Lissa, pointing to the wooden Dutch girl and boy with holes in their rounded bellies for shaking out salt and pepper.

"Those are older than you," Sarah told her. "Older than me, even. They were my mother's."

"This is boring," said Damaris.

"I'm starving," wailed Beanie.

Oh, yes. This had been a great idea, positively inspired.

THIRTEEN.

Pizza," Sarah decided. "We're going to send out for pizza."

"Yay!" said Beanie. "I love pizza."

"Me, too," said Lissa.

"Me, too," echoed Mandy.

"We have pizza all the time," said Damaris in a bored voice.

The other girls looked at her, at first like she was from Mars, then like maybe they were. "Pizza's okay," said Lissa with a shrug. She saved herself from becoming a Damaris clone by adding a polite, "Thank you."

"You're welcome. I'll call in the order," said Sarah, wis.h.i.+ng she could order a gag for Damaris.

"Pepperoni," Beanie requested.

"That's nasty," said Damaris. "Let's have Hawaiian. Hawaiian is better than stupid pepperoni."

"Yeah," said Lissa.

"Yeah," said Mandy.

"Pineapple. Gross," said Beanie, making a face. Beanie was obviously her own woman.

"We can do half pepperoni and half pineapple," Sarah said.

Damaris shrugged, but Beanie smiled gratefully at Sarah, and Lissa said, "Then we can have some of each."

"Have you ever seen a whole pepperoni?" Damaris asked the other girls as Sarah was looking up the phone number for Pizza Heaven.

All three shook their heads.

She lowered her voice. "It looks like a giant weenie." It wasn't hard to tell from the hand motions that accompanied her words that the girl wasn't talking about hot dogs.

Lissa and Beanie giggled and Mandy asked, "What's a weenie?"

"She doesn't know. She's a baby," explained Lissa.