hasn’t gotten into trouble in years.”
“Yes, he swore the same thing to me,” I said. “It makes me wonder if someone didn’t wait to frame him. Take my friend Todd. He waited years to get back at a bully. Not that Tim would ever bully anyone. But people carry resentment for a long time.”
Grandma pursed her mouth. “That could be. But that takes a lot of patience. Men don’t usually have that kind of self-discipline.”
“That’s true,” I agreed, raised my eyebrows, and nodded. “In my experience patience is not a male virtue.”
“Not much of a female virtue, either, if you ask me.”
That made me smile. I pushed my chair away from the table and stood. “I’ve got cookies to make. Do you need a ride home?”
“No, I have my scooter,” Grandma said.
“It’s dark and”—I glanced out the window as I put my cup in the sink—“snowing.” I opened the door and let Aubrey in. The puppy shook the snow off, flinging it all over the small mudroom. I grabbed a towel near the door and dried him off. “Really, Grandma, you can’t drive your scooter down the street in the dark and snow. It is December.”
The puppy got free and snagged the towel out of my hands, shook it hard, and ran off, towel dragging on the ground beside him. I straightened and washed my hands.
“When I was young, people walked in the dark and the cold all the time. Besides, I’m meeting Mindy for breakfast,” Grandma said. “She’s going to take me out. So she can take me home if the scooter can’t. By the way, she’s afraid to cook in your kitchen. She said you were weird about her using your toaster.”
“She brought real bread and made toast.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “You know that any exposure to gluten can make me sick. I can’t afford another attack. I’ve got to meet my orders this month to stay in business for another year.”
“Are things that tight?” Grandma’s blue eyes filled with concern.
“They’ll be fine, if I work,” I reassured her.
“You don’t have to work alone.” Grandma crossed her arms to match me. “You have family who can help.”
“I know,” I said and shook my head. “But Baker’s Treat is my dream, Grandma, not Lucy’s or Tim’s or Richard’s or Rosa’s or Joan’s or Eleanor’s.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Grandma insisted with a wave of her hand. “We have family to help us out in a pinch. Don’t get all proud and stuck-up, thinking you don’t need our help.”
“I’m not stuck-up or proud.” I straightened and dropped my hands, taken aback by her comment.
“Yes, kiddo, you are.” Grandma gave me a look. “You think you don’t need your family. You do.”
I swallowed a lump that formed in my throat. “Of course I need my family. Everyone needs family.”
“Promise me if you need us, you’ll ask. Don’t let your business go under without asking for our help. Remember how furious you were with Tasha for not telling you about her troubles with the Welcome Inn?”
“Yes.” I nodded.
“We feel the same about you.”
Well, that was certainly something to think about. Here I was embarrassed by my big family. I thought it was such trouble that they always were asking me to host this party. Cater that holiday. Investigate random crimes. It never occurred to me that they expected me to do the same to them.
A wave of guilt flooded me. I pushed it aside. “Why is Mindy here, Grandma? She keeps telling me about her perfect life in New York. If things were so perfect, why is she staying here? And another thing, her boyfriend that you told me about is nonexistent.”
“She’s here to visit her Grandma before I die,” Grandma Ruth said as she went back to her coffee. “Besides, she’s your cousin and you have room to house her.”
I grabbed my coat from the hooks by the back door and sat on the bench to put on my winter boots. The forecast was for four inches of snow today. “She thinks Brad’s cute,” I mentioned as I tied
“Yes, he swore the same thing to me,” I said. “It makes me wonder if someone didn’t wait to frame him. Take my friend Todd. He waited years to get back at a bully. Not that Tim would ever bully anyone. But people carry resentment for a long time.”
Grandma pursed her mouth. “That could be. But that takes a lot of patience. Men don’t usually have that kind of self-discipline.”
“That’s true,” I agreed, raised my eyebrows, and nodded. “In my experience patience is not a male virtue.”
“Not much of a female virtue, either, if you ask me.”
That made me smile. I pushed my chair away from the table and stood. “I’ve got cookies to make. Do you need a ride home?”
“No, I have my scooter,” Grandma said.
“It’s dark and”—I glanced out the window as I put my cup in the sink—“snowing.” I opened the door and let Aubrey in. The puppy shook the snow off, flinging it all over the small mudroom. I grabbed a towel near the door and dried him off. “Really, Grandma, you can’t drive your scooter down the street in the dark and snow. It is December.”
The puppy got free and snagged the towel out of my hands, shook it hard, and ran off, towel dragging on the ground beside him. I straightened and washed my hands.
“When I was young, people walked in the dark and the cold all the time. Besides, I’m meeting Mindy for breakfast,” Grandma said. “She’s going to take me out. So she can take me home if the scooter can’t. By the way, she’s afraid to cook in your kitchen. She said you were weird about her using your toaster.”
“She brought real bread and made toast.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “You know that any exposure to gluten can make me sick. I can’t afford another attack. I’ve got to meet my orders this month to stay in business for another year.”
“Are things that tight?” Grandma’s blue eyes filled with concern.
“They’ll be fine, if I work,” I reassured her.
“You don’t have to work alone.” Grandma crossed her arms to match me. “You have family who can help.”
“I know,” I said and shook my head. “But Baker’s Treat is my dream, Grandma, not Lucy’s or Tim’s or Richard’s or Rosa’s or Joan’s or Eleanor’s.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Grandma insisted with a wave of her hand. “We have family to help us out in a pinch. Don’t get all proud and stuck-up, thinking you don’t need our help.”
“I’m not stuck-up or proud.” I straightened and dropped my hands, taken aback by her comment.
“Yes, kiddo, you are.” Grandma gave me a look. “You think you don’t need your family. You do.”
I swallowed a lump that formed in my throat. “Of course I need my family. Everyone needs family.”
“Promise me if you need us, you’ll ask. Don’t let your business go under without asking for our help. Remember how furious you were with Tasha for not telling you about her troubles with the Welcome Inn?”
“Yes.” I nodded.
“We feel the same about you.”
Well, that was certainly something to think about. Here I was embarrassed by my big family. I thought it was such trouble that they always were asking me to host this party. Cater that holiday. Investigate random crimes. It never occurred to me that they expected me to do the same to them.
A wave of guilt flooded me. I pushed it aside. “Why is Mindy here, Grandma? She keeps telling me about her perfect life in New York. If things were so perfect, why is she staying here? And another thing, her boyfriend that you told me about is nonexistent.”
“She’s here to visit her Grandma before I die,” Grandma Ruth said as she went back to her coffee. “Besides, she’s your cousin and you have room to house her.”
I grabbed my coat from the hooks by the back door and sat on the bench to put on my winter boots. The forecast was for four inches of snow today. “She thinks Brad’s cute,” I mentioned as I tied
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