Late Edition by Fern Michaels

shower and change. I’m going to make dinner tonight.” With that, Toots turned on her heel and walked through the kitchen, into the dining area, and up the stairs into her own room. Had she made a mistake? Was she just another old lady with too much money who didn’t know what to do with it? No, she didn’t think so.
    She truly believed Jamie and her bakery could be very successful. Yes, she had invested in a few things here and there, but only because of her desire to help others less fortunate, and so what if she lost a few thousand dollars along the way? It was her money to lose. Though she had to agree with Sophie, the flying-car deal had been a bit out there.
    She quickly showered and changed into a pair of black slacks and a bright red top. She loosened the topknot and let her hair cascade around her shoulders. She went over to her dresser and looked in the mirror. Not bad for sixty-five. She dabbled a little blush on her cheeks, a little gloss on her lips, then slipped into a pair of comfortable sandals and was back downstairs within twenty minutes.
    Bernice and Sophie were sitting in the kitchen, drinking coffee.
    â€œWhy did you dress up just to cook dinner?” Sophie asked.
    â€œBecause I felt like it,” Toots shot back.
    â€œI cannot believe you’re actually cooking. The only thing I’ve ever seen you make is a bowl of Froot Loops and coffee, and I think, though I am not positive about it, that you’re good at toast,” Bernice said dryly.
    â€œThere’s a first time for everything. If I’m going to be operating a bakery, I need to learn my way around the kitchen. So tonight I’m making grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner.”
    â€œGrilled cheese sandwiches! Hot damn! You’ll have your own show on the Food Network before it’s all over with. Emeril Lagasse, look out.” Sophie slurped her coffee.
    â€œI have to start somewhere. I remember making grilled cheese sandwiches for Abby when she was little. She loved them. If you don’t like them, you don’t have to eat them.”
    Toots made quick work of putting together a stack of sandwiches. She removed the bread from the bread box, placing the slices assembly-line style along the counter. She topped each slice of bread with a big slice of cheddar cheese and topped that off with another slice of bread. She placed them all on a baking sheet, threw the baking sheet in the oven, and poured herself a cup of coffee before joining Sophie and Bernice at the kitchen table.
    Again, Bernice’s and Sophie’s mouths hung open. “You don’t bake grilled cheese sandwiches, you dummy,” Sophie said.
    â€œSays who?” Toots asked.
    â€œAnyone over the age of six,” Sophie added. “You grill them, in a skillet, on top of the stove. That’s why they’re called grilled cheese sandwiches.”
    â€œShe is right, Toots,” Bernice stated. “And I’ll eat one, if they’re not burnt.”
    â€œI appreciate your support. Both of you. I’m trying, okay? I have other talents besides cooking, just so you know.”
    The words were no more out of Toots’s mouth when the scent of burnt cheese wafted toward them. Smoke billowed from the sides of the oven like a thick fog. She raced over to the stove, grabbed a kitchen towel, and yanked the bubbling cheese from the oven. She looked over her shoulder to see Sophie and Bernice laughing so hard, tears were rolling down their faces.
    With her one free hand, Toots gave them the finger.
    Between laughing and spitting, Sophie spoke up. “Looks to me like those other talents might be something you want to pull out of your apron,” Sophie cackled. “Get it? Apron?”
    â€œYes, yes, yes, I do, Sophie. I can’t cook, but I’m trying, okay? And whatever you do, don’t you dare tell Mavis and Ida about this incident. Bernice, you neither, or I will fire