Part 14 (1/2)
”I am not a baby!” Mandy cried hotly.
Sarah's junior bakers needed to refocus. ”Okay, girls, let's check to make sure we have all the ingredients while I'm ordering pizza.”
The squabbling was instantly forgotten and the girls cl.u.s.tered around the counter, each one randomly grabbing for salt, baking soda, measuring spoons, and cups.
”I'll get you started,” Sarah said, pus.h.i.+ng between them. She pointed to the recipe sheet. ”Here's the recipe we're using. Lissa and Damaris, you can measure the dry ingredients.” She showed them how to tap on a filled measuring cup, then cut across it with the flat side of a knife to get the exact amount of flour.
”That's easy,” said Damaris, grabbing the cup.
Fine, go for it. Sarah turned her attention to the other girls. ”Mandy, you can put the sugar into the mixing bowl, and Beanie, use this knife to put the shortening into the measuring cup. Like this.” She demonstrated and Beanie nodded eagerly. ”As soon as I'm off the phone I'll show you how to do the raisin filling.”
Okay, that should keep them busy while she ordered pizza. She moved to the counter where the phone sat and picked it up, giving one final admonition. ”Remember, it's important, when you're baking, to follow the recipe exactly so your cookies turn out well.”
”I already knew that,” bragged Damaris, dipping her cup into the flour canister.
Maybe she was too advanced for this cla.s.s. Maybe Sarah could suggest she go learn how to hang glide or something.
”I knew that, too,” said Lissa, not to be outdone. She smiled at Sarah. ”I want to be a baker like you when I grow up. Then I can eat all the cookies I want.”
”My mom says eating too many cookies gives you a big b.u.t.t,” Damaris said as Sarah punched in the number for Pizza Heaven.
Sarah was suddenly conscious of four pairs of eyes checking out her own big b.u.t.t. She turned and leaned against the counter, hiding it behind her.
”I don't want a big b.u.t.t like Mrs. Goodwin's,” said Damaris. ”I'm going to go on America's Next Top Model and become a supermodel.” She struck a s.e.x-laced pose that sat oddly with her nine-year-old body.
”Pizza Heaven,” said a bored teenage-girl voice. ”Heaven's what we deliver in every sliver.”
Sarah needed a little heaven right now, and pizza alone wasn't going to do it.
After the girls got busy baking, moods improved. Even Damaris forgot she was a pill and began to have fun.
But once the pizza arrived and Sarah insisted they eat at the table she reverted to pillhood. ”We always eat on the couch and watch TV,” she informed Sarah. ”High School Hitters is on right now,” she explained to the other junior bakers. ”I looove Seth.”
”I'm going to marry Bo,” Beanie announced.
”You can't marry Bo,” Damaris said. ”You have to be totally hot. Anyway, him and Kirsten are breaking up today. Can we watch it?” she asked Sarah.
Sarah didn't watch much TV, but even she knew about the new teen soap that was luring kids to the small screen after school on a daily basis. ”Not today,” she said, sweetly but firmly. ”Today we're too busy living real life to watch pretend life.”
”I hate real life. Real life is boring,” said Damaris.
”Only if you're a boring person,” Sarah retorted.
Damaris shut up and took another bite of her pizza.
”I was a fairy for Halloween,” Mandy announced.
”I'll bet you were a very pretty fairy,” Sarah told her.
”I was a pirate,” said Beanie, her voice full of swagger.
”Girls can't be pirates,” scoffed Damaris.
”Yeah, they can. Didn't you see Pirates of the Caribbean?”
”She wasn't a pirate. She was just a pirate's girlfriend.”
”Well, I was a real pirate. I get to take fencing when I'm older. My grandma said,” Beanie bragged.
”I'm going to take acting lessons,” countered Damaris. She dove to beat Beanie to the last piece of pizza and tipped what was left of the c.o.ke that had come with it.
And I'm going to take an Excedrin, thought Sarah, reaching for a sponge.
”Sorry,” said Damaris, and stuffed the pizza in her mouth.
”That's okay. Accidents happen,” said Sarah. It's only pop, nice, sticky pop. ”Okay, girls, time to get back to our cookies.”
By five o'clock a miracle had occurred. Everyone was smiling and each girl was loading up a paper plate with cookies to take home.
Damaris p.r.o.nounced the cookies good and the other girls agreed. ”That was fun,” she said to Sarah.
”I'm glad you enjoyed yourself,” Sarah said. Maybe ”relieved” would have been a better word. One cooking lesson down, three to go. ”Do you need to call your dad to come get you?” How soon can he get here?
Damaris shrugged. ”There's no hurry. He doesn't live far.”
”Well, let's call him now,” said Sarah. The sooner the better.
Damaris was dialing when the doorbell rang. George Armstrong stood on the doorstep, holding a bottle of white wine. ”I thought maybe you could use this.”
Sarah smiled. ”You have no idea. Come on in. The girls are getting their cookie plates ready to take home.”
George stepped inside. ”My hat's off to you. I sure couldn't do this. You women must have some extra gene that makes it so you can cope.”
”As a matter of fact, we do,” said Sarah, leading the way to the kitchen. ”It's called the insanity gene.”
”Grandpa!” squealed both girls at the sight of him. ”Try our cookies,” said Lissa, holding up her plate.
The phone rang. Sarah answered it to find Sam on the other end of the line. ”I'm just checking to see if you survived.”
”I did,” she said.
”Did you save me a cookie?”
”Ah, now we're getting to the real reason you called,” she teased.
”No, I really wanted to know how it went,” he insisted.
”It went great. George is here right now, so I'll call you later.”