mantel in the living room. Luis would die of a heart attack on the spot if I brought home something like that in sterling.”
“It certainly wouldn’t be in my budget.”
Liza leaned toward me. “Don’t you think orange and pink are bizarre Christmas colors? To think that I was worried about using brown kraft boxes!”
She had tied the kraft paper boxes with plaid red and green ribbons and added a candy cane to the top of each one.
“What do you think?” she whispered. “Will I get away with it?”
“They’re adorable.”
“Get away with what?”
I looked up. Sugar observed us from the kitchen doorway. Her black leggings were as tight as Gwen’s. A long red sweater almost covered her derriere. A thick swath of fuzzy black trim ran around the bottom and up the zippered center of the sweater, which hadn’t been zipped quite as far as most women might have closed it.
Liza’s eyes went wide, and she shifted uncomfortably. “Um, I’m not much of a domestic type. Everyone else is so talented in crafting. Look at these tins with pinecone reindeer. That must have taken someone hours!”
“Those are mine.” Twiggy joined us, bashfully running a hand over her pixie haircut. “I’m so glad that you like them. I was up late last night gluing on the pipe cleaner antlers.”
“You should have followed my example.” Sugar grinned at us. “When you show up before you’re expected, you get to eat the cookies without any of the work.”
Nina charged into the dining room. “I’m making note of that and doing it next year!”
“I hear you’re a ballerina,” said Twiggy to Sugar. “I dreamed of being a ballerina when I was a little girl. It sounds so glamorous.”
“Keeps me in shape so I can eat all the cookies I want.” Sugar tossed her hair and eyed the table. “Are those Whoopie Pies? I haven’t had one since I was a kid.”
I didn’t think that was very long ago. She appeared to be about thirty. Not a single wrinkle creased her face yet.
“That was quite a scene with Mrs. Scroggins in your store, Twiggy. Why did you give her a discount? I would have thrown her out.” Nina reached for two Whoopie Pies, handed one to Sugar, and bit into the other one.
“Her husband is one of our biggest customers.”
“Horace?” I asked. “I didn’t know they had children, or grandchildren.”
“He—I guess I should say
they
—bought a couple thousand dollars’ worth of toys and had us deliver them to the Christmas toy drive for underprivileged children,” said Twiggy. “We can’t afford to lose that kind of business! We gave them a discount for that. I mean, who wouldn’t when they were buying so much and for such a wonderful cause? Maybe she thought she would always get a discount?”
“No Whoopie Pies yet!” Gwen sashayed in with Natasha. “As soon as Natasha’s cookies are on the table, I have to photograph them all! What a gorgeous display.”
Nina stuffed the rest of her Whoopie Pie into her mouth like a little kid caught at the cookie jar.
Gwen paused and stared at Liza’s contribution. “Goodness, Liza! You’re putting us all to shame with those cookies. It must have taken you hours to pipe snowflakes on the icing.”
Liza froze.
Since she was at a loss, I jumped in. “I love sugar cookies iced with blue frosting and decorated with white snowflakes. I try to make them every year because they’re so beautiful. Thanks for bringing them, Liza.”
Natasha’s nostrils flared. I suspected she was irritated that she wasn’t the one getting attention. She placed deep pink boxes on the table. Wrapped with lacy golden orange ribbon, they matched Gwen’s odd Christmas décor perfectly.
Gwen opened one box and organized them on a platter. “These are fabulous, Natasha!” She tilted her head to read the ornate label affixed to the box. “
Balsamic Jalapeno Crisps Enrobed with Salted Dark Chocolate
. Are these sweet or savory?” Gwen arranged the light brown cookies, half-dipped
“It certainly wouldn’t be in my budget.”
Liza leaned toward me. “Don’t you think orange and pink are bizarre Christmas colors? To think that I was worried about using brown kraft boxes!”
She had tied the kraft paper boxes with plaid red and green ribbons and added a candy cane to the top of each one.
“What do you think?” she whispered. “Will I get away with it?”
“They’re adorable.”
“Get away with what?”
I looked up. Sugar observed us from the kitchen doorway. Her black leggings were as tight as Gwen’s. A long red sweater almost covered her derriere. A thick swath of fuzzy black trim ran around the bottom and up the zippered center of the sweater, which hadn’t been zipped quite as far as most women might have closed it.
Liza’s eyes went wide, and she shifted uncomfortably. “Um, I’m not much of a domestic type. Everyone else is so talented in crafting. Look at these tins with pinecone reindeer. That must have taken someone hours!”
“Those are mine.” Twiggy joined us, bashfully running a hand over her pixie haircut. “I’m so glad that you like them. I was up late last night gluing on the pipe cleaner antlers.”
“You should have followed my example.” Sugar grinned at us. “When you show up before you’re expected, you get to eat the cookies without any of the work.”
Nina charged into the dining room. “I’m making note of that and doing it next year!”
“I hear you’re a ballerina,” said Twiggy to Sugar. “I dreamed of being a ballerina when I was a little girl. It sounds so glamorous.”
“Keeps me in shape so I can eat all the cookies I want.” Sugar tossed her hair and eyed the table. “Are those Whoopie Pies? I haven’t had one since I was a kid.”
I didn’t think that was very long ago. She appeared to be about thirty. Not a single wrinkle creased her face yet.
“That was quite a scene with Mrs. Scroggins in your store, Twiggy. Why did you give her a discount? I would have thrown her out.” Nina reached for two Whoopie Pies, handed one to Sugar, and bit into the other one.
“Her husband is one of our biggest customers.”
“Horace?” I asked. “I didn’t know they had children, or grandchildren.”
“He—I guess I should say
they
—bought a couple thousand dollars’ worth of toys and had us deliver them to the Christmas toy drive for underprivileged children,” said Twiggy. “We can’t afford to lose that kind of business! We gave them a discount for that. I mean, who wouldn’t when they were buying so much and for such a wonderful cause? Maybe she thought she would always get a discount?”
“No Whoopie Pies yet!” Gwen sashayed in with Natasha. “As soon as Natasha’s cookies are on the table, I have to photograph them all! What a gorgeous display.”
Nina stuffed the rest of her Whoopie Pie into her mouth like a little kid caught at the cookie jar.
Gwen paused and stared at Liza’s contribution. “Goodness, Liza! You’re putting us all to shame with those cookies. It must have taken you hours to pipe snowflakes on the icing.”
Liza froze.
Since she was at a loss, I jumped in. “I love sugar cookies iced with blue frosting and decorated with white snowflakes. I try to make them every year because they’re so beautiful. Thanks for bringing them, Liza.”
Natasha’s nostrils flared. I suspected she was irritated that she wasn’t the one getting attention. She placed deep pink boxes on the table. Wrapped with lacy golden orange ribbon, they matched Gwen’s odd Christmas décor perfectly.
Gwen opened one box and organized them on a platter. “These are fabulous, Natasha!” She tilted her head to read the ornate label affixed to the box. “
Balsamic Jalapeno Crisps Enrobed with Salted Dark Chocolate
. Are these sweet or savory?” Gwen arranged the light brown cookies, half-dipped
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