The Great Cookie War by Caroline Stellings

Author:Caroline Stellings
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Second Story Press
Published: 2021-02-26T19:22:39+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

Just as I was about to take that fateful bite—fateful because if they weren’t crispy and chewy, it was going to cost Paula’s client fifty million dollars—there was a knock at the door. One of those big, loud, single knocks that usually herald the arrival of someone significant, like the preacher, who knows he is important. The people who feel a bit sheepish because they are coming with no good reason other than to chat or borrow a piece of equipment usually go with a series of small tap-tap-taps.

I put my cookie down, and so did my mother. She and I, together with Topper, went through the hall to answer the door. Because whomever it was didn’t come to the side entrance, we knew right away that he or she was not a frequent visitor. “I wonder who that could be?” said Mama.

I shrugged as I pulled open the heavy oak door.

I was surprised to see my friend Ann Weber standing there. And not with her grandfather but with her mother, whom I knew, and a tall man who I had never seen before in my life. The three of them were covered in snow. Not the nice, soft, flaky kind, but the hard pellet type that doesn’t look threatening but can be as penetrating as a fire hose. I glanced over their shoulders and out to the lane to see if they had come in Ann’s family cutter, but they had not. There was a huge, long car parked out there, the kind a wealthy person would drive.

“Come in, come in, that wind is freezing,” said my mother. “Down Topper,” she scolded, when he jumped up onto the man’s coat. Then he sniffed at a bag that Ann’s mother was carrying. I wondered what was inside.

“Hello, Livvy,” said Mrs. Weber.

“Hello, Malinda,” returned my mother. As in most cases where you don’t know what to say, weather is always the best bet. “I believe we are in for a treacherous storm. If it gets even a few degrees milder, that snow will turn to ice rain.”

“We’re sorry to come unannounced,” said the man, “but—well, uh—you people don’t have phones.”

When he called us “you people,” it made me feel like I was from Mars. At least my mother didn’t start talking about squirrel’s tails and pine cones when she discussed the weather.

By that time, Edna, Paula, and my grandmother had joined us by the door to see who had come to call.

Edna recognized the man right away.

“Sid Ross…I didn’t expect to see you again. Not so soon, anyway.” She smiled at Mrs. Weber and brushed snow from Ann’s collar. “So, it looks like you found someone to bake the rigglevake cookies for you.”

I wonder why this man wants to bake rigglevakes? I asked myself.

Edna must have read my mind—and my mother’s too, by the puzzled look she had—because she quickly explained. “Mr. Ross is the attorney for the Baker’s Pride company.”

Paula’s face turned to stone. She began to take shorter breaths and frowned just like when the chicken had perched on her shoulder.

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