Turning Up the Heat

by Diane Muldrow

  “Hi, girls!” bellowed Dad over the music. The girls looked up, surprised.

  “Hi, Dad!” cried the twins. Amanda lowered the radio.

  “Something smells good in here,” said Dad. “Actually, lots of things smell good! Is everything going okay?” He set down a heavy bag of ice.

  “We’re fine, Dad,” said Amanda. “How’d it go with Mom? Is she shopping now?”

  “So far, so good. We had brunch and then I dropped her off at Leyla’s in Brooklyn Heights. I think she’ll be there for a while.” He smiled and his blue eyes twinkled behind his glasses. “She’ll hit the other nice stores around there, too,” he added. “Then she’ll take the subway home. We won’t see her for at least a few hours!”

  “Good,” said Amanda. “Because we still have to decorate the garden, make the salads, frost the cake—”

  “And put a kazillion candles in it!” joked Molly.

  Dad smiled again. “I think just a few candles will do,” he said. “Your mom will think so, too.”

  “Oh, no!” wailed Amanda a few hours later. “These beans are terrible!”

  Mom was due home any minute.

  “What’s the matter with them?” asked Molly, as she poured a bag of potato chips into a bowl.

  “They’re hard! And they don’t taste like anything,” replied Amanda. “What am I gonna do now?” Her stomach tightened.

  Dad came rushing into the kitchen. He and Matthew were busy running party supplies out to the garden. Natasha had just gone home without any warning, and Peichi and Shawn were outside helping decorate.

  “Where are those pickles? And the ketchup?” asked Dad, his head turning sharply in all directions.

  “Dad, my beans didn’t turn out,” whined Amanda.

  “What? Let me see.” Dad dipped a spoon into the pot for a taste. As he chewed, he looked away from Amanda and didn’t say anything.

  “Well?” asked Amanda.

  “They’re not done yet.” Dad told her. “Did you precook these?”

  Amanda’s face went blank. “Precook? What does that mean?”

  “Sweetheart, you have to precook beans. Or soak them overnight. Didn’t you do that?”

  “No,” replied Amanda defensively. “It didn’t say I had to do that. See?” She showed Dad the recipe.

  “You’re right,” said Dad, his eyes quickly scanning the recipe. “Well, your mom wrote this recipe for herself. She knows to precook beans, so she didn’t bother writing it here.”

  Tears welled up in Amanda’s eyes. “I worked so hard. And now I can’t say I made anything for Mom. I hate to cook!”

  “You know what?” said Dad, putting his hand on Amanda’s shoulder. “We’ll keep your beans, and cook them longer tomorrow. And for now, we’ll just grab some canned baked beans, doctor em up a little bit with dry mustard, brown sugar, and some chili sauce, and they’ll taste homemade! Okay? I’m sorry your beans didn’t turn out, but you learn from your mistakes, and not just in the kitchen!”

  “Okay, okay,” said Amanda quickly. She wasn’t in the mood for a life lecture.

  “Looks like we’ll be eating baked beans for weeks,” cracked Molly.

  Amanda fired Molly a dirty look. “I didn’t want to have this party anyway!” she snapped. “It’s stressing me out! You’re stressing me out!”

  “Hey, hey, calm down,” ordered Dad. “Everything’s going to work out fine.”

  “Sorry, Manda,” said Molly. “I’m just trying to cheer you up. I’ll help you with the new beans.”

  Amanda exhaled heavily as she watched Dad hurry back out to the garden with a tray full of onions, pickles, ketchup, and mustard. She opened the cupboard door and started moving cans aside, looking for baked beans.

  “SURPRISE!” cried everyone later that day as Mom came outside to the garden.

  “Oh!” she cried. She began to laugh. “Oh, I cant believe it!” She turned around and messed Dad’s hair. “No wonder you told me to go shopping all day,” she said. “You never tell me to do that!” Everyone laughed.

  Mom greeted everyone—Peichis parents, Mr. and Mrs. Cheng; Mr. Jordan; Matthew’s friend Ben and Ben’s parents; Shawn; and Peichi—and then gave Molly. Amanda, and Matthew a hug. “You kids!” she cried, shaking her head. “You’re good at keeping a secret!” Then her eyes fell on the picnic table heaped with the baked beans, the potato salad, a fruit salad, a green salad, the sheet cake...

  “Where did all this food come from? ” she asked. She turned to the twins and their friends. “You didn’t make this, did you girls?”

  “Yeah!”

  “Uh-huh!”

  “We sure did!”

  “And Natasha too, but then she left in a hurry.”

  “And Dad helped out, too.”

  “Hey! Don’t forget about me!” Matthew said.

  “Yeah,” Amanda said. “Matthew really came through for us today!”

  The girls cracked up.

  “Well, I—I’m just amazed!” exclaimed Mom as she looked at each dish. “It smells and looks delicious.” She beamed at the twins and their friends. “I’m so proud of you girls,” she said. “All of you.”

  “Well, we are the Fabulous Chef Girls!” said Molly. “I can’t wait for you to eat everything, Mom! I hope you didn’t eat too much at brunch today!”

  “Don’t worry, sweetie—all that shopping made me hungry. Oh, you’re the best girls a mom could have.”

  “I can’t wait to eat everything!” exclaimed Amanda. She reached for some pretzels. “I hope Dad starts grilling now. You know, we forgot to have lunch.”

  Dad turned on the stereo and began to put hot dogs, hamburgers, and veggie burgers on the grill, and then it began to feel like a party. As people laughed and talked around them, the twins’ eyes met Dad’s eyes for a moment. Whew—wedid it!

  The girls went over to the table and helped themselves to the food.

  “Matthew, you sure are piling it on,” Molly teased.

  “Here, put some more paper plates under the one you have,” suggested Amanda.

  “I can believe you’re not just filling up on hot dogs and hamburgers,” commented Molly.

  “Well, it’s not bad,” said Matthew. “You’re pretty good cooks.” He smiled.

  Molly and Amanda looked at each other in surprise. Their freckle-faced little brother wasn’t usually one for handing out compliments.

  “Oh, by the way, Amanda, I saw Justin today,” said Matthew as he reached for the potato chips. “Justin, your boyfriend. I told him that you’re in love with him. Ha-ha!”

  Amanda turned red. “What?” she said. “Where—where’d you see him?”

  Just then, Mrs. Moore appeared and said, “Matthew. I thought I told you to go upstairs and change your dirty shirt and wash your hands! Go right now, before you eat another thing.”

  After they had finished eating and cleaning everything up, the girls went upstairs to Molly and Amandas room to hang out.

  “You know, it’s so fun to watch people eat all the food that we made!” Peichi said. She flopped down on Molly’s bed.

  Shawn smiled. “I know!” she said. “It’s funny that we cooked for all these grown-ups. And they liked it!”

  “It was exciting today,” said Peichi. “We didn’t have much time—”

  Mom knocked on the door. “Sorry to barge in,” she said. “but I just want to thank you again. Also, I have a proposal for you.”

  “What’s that?” asked Peichi.

  “Well, it’s an offer. Something for all of you to consider.”

  “What is it, Mom?” asked Molly.

  “How would you like to do what you did today—and get paid for it?”

  “Get paid?” shrieked the girls.

  “Yes, get paid,” replied Mrs. Moore. “I need your help. I have to go on a business trip soon. It’s a conference in San Diego, and as long as I’m there, I’d like to stay a few days and visit Aunt Livia.”

  “Oh, you’re so lucky,” said Molly. “I
miss Aunt Livia. I wish we could go, too.”

  “I wish you could, too, sweetie,” said Mrs. Moore. “But not this time. Anyway, I’ll be gone about a week, and I don’t want to worry about what you guys are eating—or not eating—while I’m away. Would you like to cook next weekend for our family? Make sure there are enough dinners for about a week? I’ll pay each of you and also pay for the food, of course.”

  “Well,” said Molly as she looked at Amanda and her friends. “What do you say? I mean, do we really need to think about this?”

  “I’ll do it!” exclaimed Peichi. “I mean, I would have cooked for free! But if you want to pay me, I’ll do it for money, too!” Everyone laughed.

  “We were all just talking about how we wish we had more money,” Shawn told Mrs. Moore.

  “I don’t know, guys,” Amanda said. She wrapped her arms around her knees. “Do you think we can handle this?”

  “Well, it’s a lot of work,” Mom explained. “So I think you should get paid for it.”

  “We can handle it,” said Molly and Amanda at the same time. “The twin thing!” they said, laughing.

  “Right,” said Shawn. “It may take all of next weekend, but we can do it.”

  “I’ll be around next weekend, of course,” said Mom. “I’ll oversee what you’re doing.”

  “Good,” said Molly, relieved.

  “What should we make?” asked Amanda.

  Mom smiled. “For one thing, I’d like you to bake some cookies,” she said. “Matthew won’t miss me as much if you make peanut butter cookies—his favorite. And you have the whole week to think about what you’ll cook!” She saw the serious looks on the girls’ faces. “Don’t worry!” she said, chuckling. “I have lots of cookbooks you can look through. And I’ll help you think of things to make that aren’t too hard. Remember, we did this already for the McElroys.”

  “Yes!” shouted Molly once Mom had left the room.

  “I can’t believe it,” Amanda added. “Not only did the Chef Girls pull off the party, but we just landed ourselves our first gig. Forreal!”

  “So the big question is, will Natasha become the newest Chef Girl?” asked Shawn.

  “Why not?” asked Peichi.

  “Yeah, why not?” echoed Molly as she looked at Amanda.

  Amanda nodded slowly and said, “Right. Um, I guess so...she’s in...if she wants to be.”

  Chapter 5

  The day of the¡r cooking class, Molly and Amanda went to pick up Shawn at her apartment building before they headed over to Park Terrace Cookware, the store where the class was held.

  “Go on up,” said the doorman, waving them on.

  Shawn wasn’t ready. She was wearing sweatpants and looked as if she’d been crying.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Molly and Amanda as soon as Shawn opened the door.

  “Come on in,” said Shawn, trying to sound normal. “I’m not totally ready yet.”

  “Is your dad here?” asked Molly.

  “No, he just left to go teach. Hang on, I’m going to change.” Shawn disappeared into her room.

  Molly and Amanda sat down on the sofa and looked at each other. What should we do? Their eyes said to each other. Shawn didn’t seem to want to talk.

  A minute later, Shawn came into the living room. She was wearing denim capris and a pink-and-white striped T-shirt. She sat down to lace up her sneakers. No one said anything for a moment. Then Shawn stood up and asked, “Do I look really bad? Are my eyes really puffy?”

  “No,” said the twins quickly, even though Shawn’s eyes were a little puffy.

  “Come on, Shawn,” Molly said. “You can tell us—whats the matter? Is everything okay?”

  Shawn rubbed her eyes and sat down again.

  “Yeah, Shawn,” Amanda added. “You know you can tell us anything.”

  Shawn nodded. “I know. Thanks. Well, my dad just told me he has to go on a trip. A long one.”

  “Where?” asked Molly.

  “Australia and New Zealand! They’re a million miles away.”

  “For how long?” asked Amanda.

  “Like, two months or something. It’s for his job. He has to do research for something. I don’t even remember what.” Her eyes began to tear up again.

  “Oh,” said the twins. Two months was a long time.

  “When does he have to leave?” asked Molly.

  “Um, not for a few more months, at least. I think Grandma Ruthie’s going to come up to stay with me then. But I’m still gonna miss my dad.”

  “But it’ll be fun having your grandma here, right?” Amanda said. “Plus I’m sure your dad will call or e-mail you like everyday!”

  Shawn began to cry again. “I know. But that’s not the point. Wh-what if, if—what if something, you know, happens to him. He’ll be so far away. I just couldn’t bear it if...” Shawn sobbed even harder.

  Molly and Amanda put their arms around their friend. They didn’t know what else to say.

  After a while, Shawn cleared her throat, grabbed some tissues, put on her glasses, and said, “Okay, I feel better now. Thanks, guys.”

  As the friends took the elevator down, Amanda said, “Shawn, if you ever want to talk about anything, you can come to us.”

  “Thanks, I know,” said Shawn with a shy smile. “Now let’s go cook!”

  Molly. Amanda, and Shawn had to walk quickly to Park Terrace Cookware. They were late.

  They got to the door the same time that Natasha did. She was with her mother. Mrs. Ross looked a lot older than the twins mom. She almost looked like Natasha’s grandmother.

  I wonder if her mom ever letsher walk down here by herself, thought Molly.

  “Hi,” said Natasha to the girls. Her mother smiled at them.

  “Hi, Natasha,” said Molly, Amanda, and Shawn.

  “Um, this is my mom,” said Natasha. “Mom, these are my friends—Molly Amanda, Shawn—”

  “Hello, girls,” said Mrs. Ross. “I’m glad we ran into each other, because I’d like to invite you to our house. For a tea party.”

  Natasha turned quickly to her mother. She looked surprised. Then she turned bright red.

  “Hello, Mrs. Ross,” said Shawn. She was the quickest to recover. “I’m Shawn Jordan. I’d love to come to the tea party.”

  “It sounds like fun,” added Amanda. “I’m Amanda Moore.”

  “Yes,” said Molly, remembering not to say, ‘Yeah.’ “It does. Er, I’m Molly Moore.” She cleared her throat nervously, wishing she were as cool around adults as Shawn and Amanda.

  “Good!” said Mrs. Ross. “Natasha will phone you about the details later. I don’t want to make you late for class.”

  “Bye,” said Natasha suddenly. She turned away quickly from Mrs. Ross and walked through the door. Mrs. Ross’s smile faded, and her face suddenly turned hard.

  She’s mad at Natasha, thought Amanda.

  Natasha didn’t know about the lea party, thought Shawn. Now they’re mad at one another.

  Yipes. thought Molly.

  It was awkward to be standing with Mrs. Ross without Natasha.

  “Well,” began Mrs. Ross. She looked as if she felt awkward, too.

  The twins looked at Shawn with an expression that said, Help!

  “It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Ross,” said Shawn. “Good-bye.”

  “Bye, Mrs. Ross,” said the twins.

  “Oh, good-bye, girls. See you soon,” said Mrs. Ross, forcing a quick smile as the girls went into the store.

  The girls hurried through the large store, which was crammed with cookware, to the back room where the kitchen was. Two rows of long tables, each with wooden tops and long chrome legs, were in the center of the room. Each student had his or her own workstation set up at a table, with a cutting board, butter, one wet dish towel, one dry dish towel, and a container of kosher salt. And in the middle of each table were a few pepper mills and big bottles of greenish-gold olive oil for the students to share.

  “That was weird outs
ide,” Molly whispered to her sister.

  Amanda nodded and then shot a look at Natasha. She stood at her workstation, not looking very happy.

  Peichi was already settled in at a workstation. Hi, Molly!” Peichi said, as Molly picked a station next to her. “I was beginning to wonder if you were gonna show up!”

  “Hi,” Molly answered. “We just met Natasha’s mom outside,” she whispered. “She invited us to a lea party at their house. You’ll probably get invited, too.”

  Just then Carmen Piccolo, the cooking instructor, walked in. She waved at everyone and put on her chef’s apron.

  Freddie Gonzalez, Carmen’s assistant, came in with her. He seemed to be everywhere at once as he took food out of the refrigerator and measured spices that were stored in clear glass jars in the pantry. He set some pots and pans on one of the kitchen’s two large stoves and sharpened some knives.

  “Hello, everyone!” said Carmen as she took her place in front of the long tables. As usual, her reddish-blond hair was up in a ponytail.

  “Hi, Carmen,” said the class.

  “Hey, don’t I get a hello?” joked Freddie from the stove in the back of the room. “Here are your chefs aprons!” He walked quickly around to each student. “Omar, my man. You ready to rumble, Thomas? Here’s your chefs apron, Ms. Peichi! Good golly, Miss Molly!”

  Peichi and Molly giggled as they each took a chefs apron. Freddie was so funny. And cute, too, with his dark brown eyes, short dark hair, and goatee.

  Carmen smiled. Her warm brown eyes swept the room, making contact with each student. “Okay!” she said. “We have a special class today. We’re going to make an Italian dinner. Is anybody here Ifalian?”

  Several kids raised their hand.

  “My great-grandpa moved here from Italy when he was a baby,” said a boy named Daniel.

  “Where in Italy was he from?” asked Carmen.

  Daniel looked up, thinking. “Um, the south,” he replied. “A place called Naples.”

  Carmen nodded. “Naples is a port city in southern Italy,” she said.