“Huh? What’d you say?”
I pointed to his ears.
“Oh, yeah,” he mumbled. “Sorry.”
I repeated myself, completely forgetting to say the perfect sales pitch that had worked so well with Mrs. Hibbard.
“Nah, s’too hot for baked stuff,” Bryan said and put his ear-plugs back in.
“See,” I told Andie as we reached the sidewalk, “you’re much better at this.”
“I see what you mean.” But that isolated incident wasn’t enough to get me out of doing my share of the sales soliciting. Nope. Andie wasn’t one to give up so easily.
After an hour of taking orders, we were hungry and really thirsty. We ran back to my house for some lunch and a tall, cold glass of lemonade. Mom had just finished making a pitcherful when we showed up.
“Well, hi there, Andie. Nice to see you,” Mom said. Then she asked me, “Have you seen Carrie or Stephie lately?”
“Last I saw them was after breakfast. Why?”
“Well, they were just here a minute ago rummaging through the pantry,” she said, looking puzzled.
I looked at Andie, who was frowning like crazy. “Uh-oh,” I said. “You don’t think—”
“Let’s go,” Andie said quickly.
“We’ll be right back,” I called to Mom as I followed Andie through the living room and out the front door.
“What’s up?” I asked Andie, letting the door slam accidentally. “I have a funny feeling we’re being watched,” she said as we began to scour the neighborhood, “and possibly followed…if you know what I mean.” She sounded like a bona-fide detective.
We followed Downhill Court, with its bricked sidewalk and tall aspen trees. Turning at the end of the block, we hurried down another whole block before coming to Aspen Street, the main drag in our Colorado ski village.
The elementary school was located on the corner. I knew that my sister and stepsister often hid in the playground area behind the school. Mainly to discuss private things, they would say.
I stood in the shade of a clump of aspen trees, searching for signs of them. “See ’em anywhere?”
Andie groaned. “This is so bizarre. Haven’t you taught your sisters good manners?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I glared at her.
“You know. About snooping and stuff.”
“Of course I have. I threatened both of them with their life last time they snooped around my room.”
Suddenly I caught sight of Carrie’s long blond ponytail. “Look! There they are. Behind the swings.”
The long wooden play area with steps and levels, where kids played during recess, was like a fort. I could see Carrie’s hair peeking out from behind the wooden slats.
“Let’s scare ’em,” Andie whispered. “It’ll teach them a good lesson.”
Perfect!
So, like slithery lizards, we crept across the playground, not making a single sound. Quietly, we inched our way closer and closer.
I could see Stephie leaning over, looking at something with Carrie. Her chestnut hair hung around her pixie face as she read out loud. We were only a few feet away from them when Andie spoiled everything by hiccuping.
Carrie turned around, startled.
Andie and I ducked out of sight behind the fort.
“No one’s there,” Carrie’s tiny voice rang out, probably attempting to reassure Stephie.
But Stephie stood up and brushed the sand off her knees. “Something’s spooky. I’m getting outta here!”
Another one of Andie’s hiccups cut loose. I stood up just as Carrie came around the corner. “Hey! What’re you two doing spying on us?” she demanded.
“Well, well. How’s it feel?” I glared at the stolen recipe box in her hands.
“Uh…it was Stephie’s idea, honest,” she insisted.
“Stephie’s only eight,” I said, implying that she wasn’t smart enough to come up with something like that on her own.
“But I can read every word in that recipe box,” Stephie said, innocently defending herself.
“Mom’s gonna be ticked when she finds out you ripped off my stuff,” I said.
Slowly, dramatically, Andie twirled a curl around her finger and moved in for the kill. “Exactly what are you two doing with Holly’s recipe box in a school playground, two blocks from home?”
Stephie looked at Carrie and then back at Andie.
“You there…Carrie,” Andie said, turning on the not-so-charming side of herself. “Speak up.”
Carrie lowered her eyes, avoiding Andie’s gaze.
I thought she was going to cry.
“Wait a minute,” I intervened. “They can explain all this to Mom later. I’m starved.”
“Hold on a minute,” Andie bossed me. She moved closer to Carrie. “I want an answer, little girl, and I want it straight.”
Man, did she sound like John Wayne today. Not so much the way she said it, but her words sounded like something out of one of those Westerns my oldest stepbrother liked to watch. Except Stan could really turn on the old John Wayne charm when he talked.
Carrie’s bottom lip quivered. She was a pro at making it do that. Andie had met her match.
Finally, when Carrie had waited long enough to get the right amount of sympathy from Andie, she confessed, “We just wanted to do something like you big kids.”
“Aha!” Andie shouted. “So you were snooping!”
I was worried that our entire mission was in jeopardy now. “Hey, time out,” I said to Andie, giving her the eye.
“All right, you two,” Andie said, wagging her pointer finger in Carrie’s face. “Don’t move. Wait right there!” And we left them looking mighty worried.
Andie and I made our huddle several yards away from the girls. I figured we were far enough from the fort area where Carrie and Stephie stood waiting. No way could they hear us over here.
I spoke first. “Whatever you do, Andie, don’t tell them about our project being top secret.”
“Why not? We’ll just bribe ’em to keep their mouths shut or something.”
“No, it doesn’t work that way. We have to make sure they don’t tell Amy-Liz what we’re doing. They could spoil everything.”
“So don’t you at least wanna know how much of our plan they overheard?” Andie hiccuped again.
“Let’s just drop it,” I suggested. “The more we make of it, the more likely one of them, especially Carrie, might spill the beans at church.”
“Okay, have it your way,” Andie said, and we grinned at each other, ready to handle the situation in a very diplomatic manner. We turned around, ready to reason with the enemy.
But Carrie and Stephie were nowhere in sight!
“Why, those little…” I muttered.
“Look what you did!” Andie wailed at me.
“I did?”
“Whose idea was it to leave the scene of the crime and huddle up?”
I rolled my eyes. Andie was so good at turning the tables.
“Look, we need to work together on this problem,” I said. “Let’s try and stick up for each other for once.”
That did it. Andie spun around and stormed off for the fort. She climbed up the chain steps and sat up there sulking like a little kid.
“What’re you doing?” I called to her.
“Count me out of your benevolence project, Holly!”
I didn’t like the sound of this. “But, Andie—”
“You heard me,” she shot back. “You’re on your own.”
The last thing I wanted was to go door-to-door selling my baked wares alone. Andie was the expert spokesperson. I wasn’t! Besides, we didn’t have time for this crazy immaturity—summer camp was just six days away.
NO GUYS PACT
Chapter 5
“Fine, have it your way!” I called back to Andie.
Turning, I headed toward the street, trying to look confident. Inside, I was a total coward. In fact, if Andie didn’t hurry up and have a change of he
art and fall for my bluff and come running, like now, I was in big trouble. How could I possibly fill all those orders from this morning’s door-to-door work, let alone whatever I would get this afternoon?
The sun was bright. A gorgeous day. Perfect for going home, bawling out Carrie for taking my recipe box without asking, giving Stephie the evil eye in hopes that she’d start thinking for herself, and last but not least, heading down the street to peddle my cookies. Alone.
I couldn’t allow myself to worry about making Andie’s wedding cookies without her. At least not at the moment. For now, I’d just have to pitch my Super-Duper Snickerdoodle cookies and hope someone would buy them.
Over and over, under my breath, I chanted Andie’s winning phrases: This is for a worthy cause. A friend of mine can’t afford to go to church camp.
By the time I reached the front porch of my first prospective buyer, I’d worked up a sweat, not so much from the sun’s rays but from stress.
I rang the doorbell and waited.
Two preschoolers accosted their mother with begging and pleading after I told them what I was selling. Exactly the kind of assistance I needed!
The young woman literally had to pull one of the kids off her knee. “Can you wait for just a minute, miss?” she asked.
“No problem.” I watched as the kids tore off after her. When she came back with the money for her order, I thanked her and headed to the next house.
Not bad, I thought as I reached for the next doorbell. By explaining Amy-Liz’s dire situation first, I was saving myself time…and getting the customers’ attention.
When I had acquired twenty additional orders, I decided I’d better cool it. If I got too many orders, I wouldn’t be able to fill all of them by Monday. Andie and I had racked up seventeen sales earlier this morning. All totaled, I had thirty-seven orders. Nine of them for Andie’s polvorones!
I raced home and found Mom and the boys folding laundry downstairs in the family room. Carrie and Stephie were hustling piles of clean clothing off to the respective bedrooms.
Maybe I’ll get Mom to help me, I thought. But how to approach her…and when? Since becoming stepmom to four more kids, she was lucky to have even a couple of free minutes in her day. I really didn’t want to bother her with my problems.
And Andie? Well, I could hardly believe it. She’d actually given in to her madness and stayed angry this time. All afternoon!
I went to my room, straightened it up a bit, and then wrote in my journal.
Friday afternoon, June 17: I can’t figure Andie out anymore.
She’s really changing. I wonder sometimes if we aren’t growing in different directions. I guess it’s really no one’s fault, but things feel real lousy between us.
I still can’t understand why she didn’t want to follow through with my fund-raiser for Amy-Liz. And after all the work she did with me this morning. I know she likes Amy-Liz as much as I do. Maybe her heart just isn’t in it. Well, nothing’s going to stop me! Not now…not ever!
Closing my diary, I glanced at the list of orders.
I hadn’t taken a single order for Andie’s recipe this afternoon. Still, I had tons of work ahead of me. I nearly shook thinking about coming up with twenty-eight dozen snickerdoodles by Monday. Not to mention the nine dozen—that’s 108—polvorones, which I had no idea how to make!
“Lord, help,” I whispered. “This is for a very worthy cause.”
After supper the phone rang. I almost dropped the receiver when I heard Andie’s voice.
“So…how’d you do?” she asked.
“How’d I do what?”
“You know, the orders?” she said. “You went back out this afternoon, didn’t you?”
Not to be pushed into a corner, I said, “Hold just a minute, Andie,” and went to the kitchen to get a drink of water. A long, very slow one.
“What’s going on?” she asked when I came back to the phone.
“What do you mean?”
“C’mon, Holly, don’t play games with me. I’ve got something very cool to tell you.”
I tried to sound disinterested. “Like what?”
“You won’t believe it,” she went on like she was really excited. “After you left, I went around to a bunch of houses, and I just got done counting my orders.”
“Wait a minute, did you say—”
“Yep, you heard right,” she said. “I rounded up orders for twenty dozen more Mexican wedding cookies.”
I gasped. “You did what?”
She was laughing hysterically. “We’re really in business now!”
“No kidding.” Wow, what a bizarre turn of events. Maybe Andie wasn’t changing so much after all.
“So where do you wanna do the baking?” she asked. “My house or yours?”
“Sounds like a project bigger than both of us,” I said, suddenly feeling a little lightheaded and overwhelmed. I could just see us trying to get things done at her house with little Chris and Jon running around, snatching cookies off the table. And here? Well, it could only work if Uncle Jack took all the kids out of the house and left Mom home to help bake.
“I say we grab the Miller twins and some other girls in the youth group and bake at the church,” she suggested. “What do you think?”
It was nice hearing Andie ask me for my opinion for a change. Actually, I was still too stunned to comment. I mean, just five minutes ago I was convinced that Andie had dumped the entire project.
“Well?” she persisted. “Any ideas?”
“Short of hiring out some help, we don’t have much choice, do we?” I sighed. “The church kitchen is the perfect place. How many dozen did you say again?”
Andie giggled. “It’s okay, Holly, really. I think we’ll probably end up funding more than one needy kid with the proceeds from this project.”
“You’re right.” We said good-bye, and I hung up the phone.
Whew—what a day tomorrow was going to be!
Not only did Paula and Kayla Miller show up to help, their mother came along, too. So did Shauna and Joy. Even Mrs. Martinez, Andie’s mom, came to help supervise for a while.
When it came time to make Andie’s recipe, she acted as though none of us should even see the recipe card. “It’s been passed down for three generations,” she bragged, holding it close.
“Andrea, for goodness’ sake,” her mother said, frowning.
I sneaked over when Andie wasn’t looking and saw part of the ingredients. “Hmm, yummy,” I said, reciting the first three items on Andie’s index card.
“Holly!” She spun around. “Keep away!”
Her mom shook her head as she chopped away at a pile of pecans. “Share the recipe, will you?”
Andie stuck the recipe down her T-shirt, grinning.
“Aw, Andie, just one little peek?” I pleaded. “Ple-e-ase?”
The Miller twins, Shauna, and Joy inched closer, surrounding Andie.
“What shall we do to bribe her?” I asked.
“Girls, girls,” Mrs. Miller called to all of us. “We have lots of work to do. Better get started.”
“Call your daughters off me!” Andie hollered, now giggling.
“We’ll leave you alone if you let us see the recipe for thirty seconds,” Paula suggested.
“Ten,” Andie said, holding her hands against her chest.
“That’s not even long enough to focus,” I said.
“Okay, okay.” Andie finally gave in. “Twenty seconds.” She pulled the recipe file card out of her T-shirt, then held it in front of her while she counted out loud.
“Looks easy enough to me,” I said, playing it down in hopes of defusing the situation.
“Anybody can bake these,” Kayla said. “What’s the big deal?”
Andie’s face broke into a broad smile. “Wait’ll you bite into one. Just wait!”
We set to work sifting flour, mixing confectioners’ sugar, and mashing butter.
Stan stopped by at lunchtime with sandwiches for everyone
, made by Mom. Wow, what an angel. (Mom, not Stan, although sometimes he could qualify, I guess.)
Andie started talking about delivering the orders.
“We haven’t really worked out all the details yet,” she said, glancing at me for moral support.
I nodded. Andie was right. This thing had mushroomed into such a monstrous mission, we might need two days for the deliveries.
Then, out of the blue, Stan offered to help us haul the cookies around Dressel Hills on Monday and Tuesday. “I can use the bike trailer.”
“That’ll be perfect,” I said, giving Stan a playful hug before I went back to chopping pecans with Andie’s mom.
“Hey, what about Billy and Danny?” Stan suggested. “Betcha they’d help us.”
Paula smiled at her twin.
“Good idea,” Kayla said.
“Then it’s settled,” I said, explaining where we’d meet and who would do what.
Paula and Kayla chattered about Billy and Danny and what an asset to this project they’d be. “I’ll call Billy right now,” Paula said, reaching for the phone.
“Remember to tell him to keep things quiet,” I said in her ear. “This can’t get back to Amy-Liz.”
Paula nodded her head. “Oh, you don’t have to worry. Billy can keep a secret.”
It was interesting watching the relationships evolve between Paula and Billy and Kayla and Danny. Toward the end of school the foursome had been seen hanging out together around town. I’d seen them at our favorite hangout, the Soda Straw, several times.
I honestly felt good seeing the Miller twins, who were still rather new to Dressel Hills, spending time with some of the church guys around here. And, surprisingly enough, Danny seemed to be making his friendship with Kayla work. As far as I could tell, there’d been no evidence of Bible-thumping yet. Danny had a tendency to get preachy with his friends, something that became intolerable during the short time he and I were close.
It really didn’t bother me seeing him with someone new. Danny Myers and I were history, and I was sure he felt the same way.
The baking was finished by suppertime thanks to all our fabulous help—an assembly line of workers. We’d even made extra cookies for the fun of it and shared them all around before everyone left. And Andie wasn’t kidding. Those polvorones were out of this world.
Holly's Heart Collection Two Page 28