“Hmmmm.” Sadie paused. Then she shrugged. “With Ms. M around, that makes perfect sense.”
“Let’s check and make sure the sleepover didn’t leave any evidence for your mom to find.” Maya got down on all fours and scrutinized the carpet. “Like a hairball.”
Sadie examined the cushions.
Jess reached deep into the couch. “Look at this!” She held up what she’d found. “A dragon’s tooth from Ms. M’s black bag!”
“That’s a tortilla chip,” Maya said. “From the Pleistocene era.”
Jess dropped the fossil into the wastebasket next to the desk.
Sadie shook out the blanket. Held it to her nose. “It smells like her a little.”
“What does she smell like?” Maya asked.
“It’s kind of hard to describe.” Sadie was quiet for a moment. “She smells nice. Like . . . dusty gingerbread, maybe?”
“Or sweaty gingerbread.” Jess grinned. “Especially after a close game of HORSE.”
“I hope I get to meet her soon,” Maya said, perching on the edge of the desk. “Maybe Friday.”
“Don’t count on it,” said Jess glumly. “The only reason Mom let you guys come over is to keep me out of her way while she bakes. Friday I’m back to being grounded.”
“But you ate tofu,” Maya argued. “Your sentence should be reduced for good behavior.”
“But it wasn’t Mom’s tofu. So apparently it doesn’t count.”
From the kitchen came the sound of pans clanging, and then a loud “Drat!”
The door to the family room flew open, and there was Jess’s mother, waving her cell phone at them. “What is wrong with this thing?”
“Did you get cut off?” said Jess.
“No. I was talking to Chef Paul. One of his line cooks is out sick, and he needs me at the restaurant for an hour or so. Then I tried calling Cindy to come over and watch the cakes, but this silly thing won’t work. Listen!”
The girls leaned in. “Schnriwisvheirecnkwilbel.”
“Gibberish,” said Jess’s mother. “It’s on the kitchen phone, too.”
“Ms. M speaks gibberish!” Jess exclaimed.
“I’m sure she does, but that doesn’t help me at the moment. I need Cindy or Becca to take the last two cakes out of the oven while I’m at Chef Paul’s.”
“We could do that,” said Jess.
Her mother actually wagged her finger. “No, no, no, no.”
“Why don’t you call Ms. M? Her best friend, Ethel, used to be a baker.”
“Except Ethel is a bird now,” blurted Sadie.
“Abroad now,” Maya said quickly. “Traveling. In Europe. Or . . . someplace.”
Jess’s mother sagged against the nearest wall. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to disappoint Chef Paul, but this catering job is important.”
“Who are all those cakes for?” Sadie asked.
“A group called AAAA. For their annual meeting. They promote animal rights. I think.” Jess’s mother sighed and stared forlornly at her phone. “I need to deliver the cakes to the Fairmount Hotel ballroom by two thirty, and I’m barely on schedule as it is.”
“Call Ms. M,” Jess urged.
“Anything’s worth a try.” Her mother checked her contact list. Pressed the number. “It’s ringing!”
And ringing. And ringing. And ringing . . .
Wait, was that the doorbell?
Jess had a good feeling as she ran to open the front door. “Ms. M!”
“Ms. M!” Sadie shrieked, and she leaped into the witch’s already open arms.
“Ms. M,” Maya said, her eyes wide. “Wow.”
“Oh, Ms. M, thank heavens, you’re here,” said Jess’s mother as she joined them in the entryway. “If you could help me out this afternoon, I’d be eternally grateful. The cakes only have fifteen minutes left in the oven, but Chef Paul needs me right away.”
From her pocket, Ms. M pulled a red-and-white-checked apron and tied it over her dress. “Not to worry. Ethel and I have baked dozens of sheet cakes.”
“Terrific. Let me take you in the kitchen and show you what to do.” The girls started to follow, but Jess’s mother stopped them. “I want you to stay out of Ms. M’s way. Far, far out of her way.” She turned toward the witch. “Can you be firm with them?”
The witch assembled a serious expression. “I will be firm. Unyielding. Even obdurate.”
“Obdurate,” Maya repeated. “O-b-d-u-r-a-t-e.”
Jess’s mother managed a small smile. “I think firm will be enough.” She and the witch disappeared into the kitchen.
“Ms. M looks different than I thought she would,” Maya mused. “Taller. And it’s not just the hat.”
“She makes a big impression,” Sadie agreed.
A few minutes later, Jess’s mother appeared, buttoning her chef’s coat and giving Jess a hurried kiss on her way out the door.
The car had barely turned out of the driveway when Ms. M emerged from the kitchen. She clapped her hands. “All right! Who’s ready to help?”
Chapter 15
Animal Advocates
“No way.” Jess shook her head vigorously. “We can’t. You heard what Mom said.”
“I did, indeed,” said Ms. M. “She said you girls should stay out of my way.” The witch spread her arms and spun in a circle, apron strings flying out behind her. “See, you’re not obstructing me at all!”
“You know what she meant.”
“No great chef works alone.” Ms. M wobbled a little as she came to a stop. “Chef Paul must have at least a half dozen assistants in his kitchen right now. Including your mother.”
“She has a point,” said Maya.
“It would be really fun,” said Sadie.
“Yeah, but—”
Ms. M stood in front of Jess. She covered Jess’s smooth hands with her own slightly gnarled ones. She looked Jess straight in the eyes.
Hey, Ms. M’s eyes are hazel, Jess thought. Just like mine.
“Pretty please,” said the witch. “I could use the help.”
Jess took a deep, steadying breath. “Maybe.”
The kitchen was warm and smelled amazing. Metal baking racks spread across the counter beside the stove.
When the timer dinged, Ms. M reached into the pocket of her apron. Out came two spotless white oven mitts. “They’re woven with genuine ice from Iceland,” she said as she pulled them on. “That’s what the catalogue says.”
“Won’t they melt?” asked Maya.
“I reorder frequently. Now stand back, everyone!” She opened the oven door. A wave of cocoa- and vanilla-scented air rolled into the room. One at a time, she set the last two cakes on racks beside the others.
She leaned across the row of cakes, five in all, and inhaled. “The merest hint of citrus and, unless I miss my guess, a touch of sour cream. Your mother has a real gift, Jess.”
Jess shrugged. “It’s just cake. She makes cake all the time.”
“Nonetheless.” Taking off her oven mitts, Ms. M pointed to the rather lopsided chocolate cake on the center rack. “We can’t use that one. Let’s test it to make sure the rest are sweet enough. And no forks! You don’t know where those forks have been. Fingers only.”
They all tasted, licked their lips, tasted again. “Scrumptious,” declared Maya.
Just then the phone rang. As Jess reached for it with a chocolate-smeared hand, Ms. M said, “Tell your mother not to worry.”
“Hi, Mom. Ms. M says not to worry. Everything’s fine.” Jess listened. Held out the phone to Ms. M. “She wants to talk to you.”
The witch listened. Nodded. Listened some more and finally said, “Leave it to me.” She put down the phone and adjusted her hat, making sure it stood straight up. “So. Someone else failed to show up for work and Chef Paul is overwhelmed. Your mother needs us to do the frosting.”
“Us?” Jess raised her eyebrows.
“She suggested chocolate frosting on the white cakes and white frosting on t
he chocolate cakes, but that sounds so conventional, don’t you agree?”
“What do you mean?” said Sadie.
“She means boring,” Maya translated. “Should we do something different?”
Jess began to pace. “Wait a minute. What if we screw up? I’ll be grounded forever. Maybe longer.”
“I remember the time I helped Ethel make chocolate mousse for a fancy dinner party,” said the witch in a faraway voice. “Only we accidentally made chocolate mouse instead. People are still talking about it.”
“I bet.” Jess laughed. Then she said, “It would be cool to make an animal cake, since this group likes animals.”
“This chocolate frosting is pretty dark,” said Maya, staring into one of the big stainless steel bowls. “We could make a panda. Or a zebra.”
“Eurasian magpies are black and white,” offered Sadie. “And they’re smart. The only bird species that can recognize itself in a mirror.”
“So we’d put all the cakes side by side and carve out wings—” Maya began, but Jess interrupted.
“That will look like a kindergarten art project.”
All four of them were silent. Waiting for inspiration.
Ms. M said, “Ethel and I once made an Alp for a witch from Switzerland. Chocolate cake on the bottom and vanilla on top. We even made mountain climbers out of mini-marshmallows.”
“That gives me an idea,” said Jess. “I’ve still got my old Safari Game. It has all kinds of little plastic animals.”
Sadie clapped her hands. “We could make a habitat! And find places for the animals. Caves and ledges and stuff. Like a diorama. I bet animal advocates would love that!”
“Nobody move,” said Jess. She dashed toward the stairs.
In her room, Jess found the box right where she’d remembered it—top shelf of her closet, under Chutes and Ladders and her collector’s album of baseball cards. Dad had helped her put away the game last time they’d played. Now, standing on tiptoe, she could reach it all by herself. She slid the box from the pile, headed for the door, and . . .
Stopped.
She could almost hear her mother. Read the recipe. Measure carefully. Sift twice.
Maybe they should do what Mom wanted, after all. Maybe she and Sadie and Maya should go outside and play basketball and stay out of Ms. M’s way.
On tiptoe again, about to put the game back, she remembered something Dad always said: Every trip to the batter’s box is a fresh start.
So they’d struck out with the lasagna. So what?
Safari animals stared up at her from the cover of the box. Jess addressed them directly. “All right, guys. Ready to hit a home run?”
The giraffe seemed to stand up taller.
The lion roared.
The gorilla pounded his chest.
The elephant raised her trunk in an enthusiastic salute.
Down the stairs Jess went, through the living room, and toward the kitchen, where her friends were waiting to decorate the best cake ever!
Chapter 16
Time to Move a Mountain
After the cakes cooled, the girls washed their hands and went to work. Sadie divided the white icing with a spatula. Maya added green food coloring to half. “That should be enough for vegetation. We’ll use the white at the top for snow.”
Jess surveyed the line of animals on the counter. “I don’t have anything that lives in the snow.”
“We’ll put the mountain gorilla up there,” Maya said. “He’ll be visiting his yeti friend.”
With a look of intense concentration, the witch placed the last layer of cake on the stack. She braced the mountain with one hand and plopped chocolate frosting onto it with the other.
Sadie grabbed a butter knife and started spreading. “This already looks so much better than some boring checkerboard.”
“It seems kind of unsteady,” Jess said, frowning.
“The icing will hold it together,” Ms. M said. “You’ll see.”
Jess pressed her thumb against the impala’s horn, watched the tiny dent it made slowly disappear. “I sure hope so,” she murmured.
“You need to stop worrying,” said Maya. “And hand me a mammal.”
Fifteen minutes later, they all stepped back. An elephant and a giraffe roamed the foothills. A small herd of zebra grazed. A hippo lay on its side in a chocolate mud bath.
“How about a cave for the leopard?” Sadie suggested.
Maya picked up a big spoon and carved out a hole. “Except, turn him around,” she said. “Nobody wants to eat dessert looking at a leopard’s butt.”
Jess wandered over to the pantry. “If we had some blue food coloring, we could make a river for the crocodile to swim in and drag unsuspecting swimmers into the depths.”
While they hunted for the food coloring, the kitchen phone rang. Ms. M picked it up, listened for a bit, and said, “Not a problem. Of course I can drive a van. I have a commercial driver’s license.” She hung up and said brightly, “Change of plans! Your mother still can’t get away from the restaurant, so we’re going to meet her at the fundraiser. Time to move a mountain, girls.”
Carefully—very carefully—Maya and Sadie carried the cake to the J. B. Catering van while Jess stacked cookbooks on the driver’s seat. Ms. M climbed in and settled on top of The Joy of Cooking.
“Can you see?” asked Jess. “Do your feet reach the pedals?”
The witch squirmed a bit, gripped the wheel, and leaned forward. “Almost. One more cookbook should do the trick. How about Lo-Cal Treats? It’s thin.”
Once Ms. M was situated, Jess joined her friends in the backseat of the van. “How’s the cake?”
Sadie answered, “The giraffe fell over, but he’s not hurt.”
Maya added, “The lion was going to eat him, but we got there just in time.”
Up front Ms. M wiggled and sat up tall. “Perfect.” Then she slipped to one side.
Jess leaned over the seat. “Maybe we should call a cab.”
“Don’t be silly. Just center me, dear. And turn the key, please—I can’t quite reach it. Wonderful. Off we go!”
Ms. M checked the rearview mirror before backing slowly down the driveway. She turned right on Belmont, left on Oxley.
The honking started immediately.
“You might want to speed up a little,” said Jess, staring out the back window in dismay at the growing line of cars.
“I get the Mature Driver’s Discount from my insurance company. I’m not putting that in jeopardy just because someone’s pants are on fire.”
Jess looked at her watch. “But we only have ten minutes!”
That’s when they heard the siren. A police car, lights flashing, cruised up behind the van.
Jess buried her face in her hands. Strike one.
The witch glided to the curb and turned off the engine. A police officer in sunglasses appeared at the window. “Do you know why I pulled you over?” he asked.
“I was being a bit too careful, wasn’t I?” said the witch.
“You were going six miles an hour.”
“I will go faster, I promise.”
“Your driver’s license, please.”
When the witch opened her black bag to get her wallet, a bat flew out and escaped through the open window. The officer waved his arms around and slapped at his helmet. “What the heck was that?”
“What was what, officer?” asked the witch innocently. She handed him a laminated card.
He studied it. Studied her. Studied the card again. “This is a Transylvania driver’s license. How in the world did you get that?”
“Look again, young man.”
“Oh, yeah. Pennsylvania. I could have sworn . . . in any case, I’m going to have to write you up. Driving too slow is as much of a hazard as speeding.”
“There’s not one chance in a hundred that you will give me that ticket,” said the witch.
The officer chuckled. “I didn’t say go a hundred. But twenty-five miles per hour would be n
ice.”
He began to write. Stopped. Shook his pen. “Doggone it. I’m out of ink. Don’t go anywhere.”
The witch started the van.
Jess’s heart flip-flopped into her socks. “Didn’t you hear what he said?”
“Aren’t you the one who’s in a hurry?”
Strike two.
All four of them turned around to watch as the policeman tugged at the driver’s side door of his black-and-white Ford. Next he tried the door on the passenger’s side. He tried the rear door. He tried all the doors again. None of them budged.
The officer stomped back to the van. “Something’s haywire with my cruiser. Just get on out of here. But consider yourself warned.”
“Thank you,” said the witch, shifting into DRIVE and oozing back into traffic.
She handed Jess her driver’s license to put away.
“Did you make his pen not write and lock his car doors?” Jess asked.
“How could I do that? I was sitting right here with you. Now put that license in my wallet before I lose it.”
“It does say Transylvania!” Jess exclaimed. She showed it to Maya and Sadie.
“Of course it does,” said the witch. “My Pennsylvania license expired ages ago.”
Chapter 17
Dessert!
With minutes to spare, Ms. M circled the hotel parking lot, searching for a space close to the service entrance.
Sadie pointed. “Look! Someone’s pulling out.”
Ms. M waited, then deftly maneuvered the van between the white lines. She turned off the engine and sat back with a satisfied sigh.
“Okay, let’s go,” said Jess, unbuckling her seat belt.
“Wait a moment.” Ms. M rolled down the driver’s side window halfway. She cocked her head to the side, as if listening. “Can you sense it? The troposphere is positively alive with information this afternoon.”
“Please, Ms. M,” Jess urged. “We have to be inside, like, now.”
All of a sudden a bright yellow bird perched on top of the half-open window. Ms. M exhaled loudly. “Aha!”
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