Holly's Heart Collection Two (39 page)

“What’s so funny?” I clutched the bulging folder.

“Just this,” Andie said, holding up a recipe card. “How do you make meat loaf?”

I felt humiliation setting in. “Why…what does it say?” Although I didn’t remember much of anything I’d written on those file cards, I did know one thing: Part of the home ec assignment had entailed creating recipes out of thin air. In other words, we were to simply make up whatever we thought would be delicious concoctions.

Andie waved the recipe in my face. “I can tell you one thing—nobody puts baking soda in meat loaf,” she announced through a stream of giggles.

Amy-Liz frowned and pursed her lips. “Hey, give her credit for something,” she said. “Maybe Holly likes her meat loaf light and fluffy.”

I couldn’t hold the laughter in. “Yeah, that’s it. Puffy meat loaf.” Reaching for the file box, I closed the lid. When it was resting safely in my hands, I smiled apologetically. “I think recipe analysis class is over now, girls.” I stared at Andie, who caught my meaning instantly. I knew she did because she watched in total silence as I handed Amy-Liz the folder of music.

“Thanks, Holly,” Amy said. “This’ll keep me busy.” She thumbed through the folder without mentioning her family’s financial problems or the fact that her voice lessons had been axed. “I’ll take good care of this, I promise.”

“Have fun.” I walked her to the back door. “And keep it as long as you want.”

“Thanks again…and oh, sorry about your meat loaf recipe.“

“No problem.”

She waved good-bye. The screen door slapped shut.

“Whew, was that close or what?” Andie muttered when Amy-Liz was gone. “Think she suspected anything?”

“How could she?” I opened my recipe box and flipped through the index cards until I found my Super-Duper Snickerdoodle recipe under the tab marked
Cookies and Pastries
. And not once did Andie comment about the ridiculous meat loaf recipe the rest of the day.

Aside from Carrie and Stephie showing up every five minutes to get something to eat, things went rather smoothly. We started work immediately on our money-making project by creating an order form on the computer, a kind of chart. Andie’s cookie orders were on the left side and mine on the right. When we’d finished creating the form, I returned my recipe box to the pantry.

I checked to see that Carrie and Stephie were safely out of earshot. Then I called Pastor Rob to tell him our idea. He was delighted but reminded me of the short time remaining. I assured him that we could pull this fund-raiser off.

That done, Andie and I pranced out the back door, eager to take on our first street. My street, Downhill Court.

Probably anyone who saw us standing in front of Mrs. Hibbardfs house next door would have thought we were just two girls out visiting the neighbor lady on a lovely summer day. But I felt nervous about this whole money-making thing. What if no one wanted to buy our stuff?

“Well, well, if it isn’t little Holly Meredith,” Mrs. Hibbard said, peering over her reading glasses. She glanced at Andie. “And who do we have here?” She lifted her head to get just the right angle, finding the bifocal line on her glasses as she reached out to touch Andie’s shoulder.

“Aren’t you Holly’s girl friend? I believe I do remember the first time the two of you came to visit this old woman. Yes sirree, you were just about this high.” She leaned on the screen door with one hand while she held out her other hand, trying to find the correct height in the air.

Andie grinned. “We’re taking orders for snickerdoodles and Mexican wedding cookies today, Mrs. Hibbard,” she said in her most pleasant voice. “You like delicious sweet and nutty treats, right? How many dozen would you like?”

Mrs. Hibbard gasped. “Dozen? Why, my dear, it’s only me all by my lonesome. What could I possibly do with a dozen of any thing?”

I sighed. Why had we come here first?

“Well, if you don’t mind, Mrs. Hibbard,” Andie continued, “maybe you’d like to purchase a dozen of each and give them away to the children in the neighborhood. Or freeze them ahead for the holidays.” Before Mrs. Hibbard could interrupt, Andie said, “After all, it is for a worthy cause. You see, Holly and I are helping one of our girl friends go to church camp this summer. Because her father—”

“Well, why didn’t you say that in the first place, little dear?”

And with that old Mrs. Hibbard disappeared and went to get her purse.

“Why didn’t you say that in the first place?” I whispered. “We can’t forget this fabulous approach, okay?”

Andie wrinkled up her nose at me playfully. “I think it’s time for
you
to get your feet wet with this door-to-door sales business. You may have the privilege of the next house.”

“Oh, Andie,” I moaned. “You’re doing so well. Can’t you keep—”

“Here we are, girlies,” Mrs. Hibbard said, flashing a ten-dollar bill as she came to the screen door. “I don’t care what it costs, just keep the change. It’s for a worthy cause.” She adjusted her glasses and looked at us both. “Now, when can I expect those snickerdoodles?”

My eyes darted to Andie’s. Whoops! We hadn’t discussed this important angle. “Uh, we’ll have them ready by Monday,” I said. “Is that all right?”

“Quite all right,” the woman said, nodding.

Yes, that’ll work
, I told myself.
Tomorrow’s Saturday
—
we’ll bake up all our orders then. Sunday isn’t a good day for deliveries because of church.
Monday was perfect.

“So…Monday it is,” Andie said, thanking my neighbor for her donation and the order. “Have a lovely weekend, Mrs. Hibbard.”

Together we scampered down the steps to the sidewalk like schoolgirls on a picnic. We’d made a sale—our very first!

The sun beat down hot on my head as we headed to the next house. I wished I’d worn a hat.

“Okay, it’s all yours,” Andie reminded me as we made our way to the next house.

“Please don’t make me do this,” I pleaded. “I’ll do everything else. The cleanup, the baking…”

“Not my polvorones, you won’t,” she said. “That recipe does not leave my house!” Her eyes twinkled mischievously as I reached for the doorbell.

The neighbor’s oldest son showed up at the door wearing his iPod. I waited for him to remove the plugs from his ears, but he didn’t. He just stood there in a half daze, caught up in whatever he was listening to.

“Hey, Bryan,” I said, a little too loudly. “Wanna order some—”

“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.”