Read Online Talk Nerdy to Me by Vicki Lewis Thompson - Free Book Online
Authors: Vicki Lewis Thompson
Ads: Link
Rick had loaned his car to Manny and Kyle,
who had driven to Hartford on an emergency run for the bakery.
For
two days Charlie had tried not to think about the bakery. He'd gone out of his
way to avoid driving past it. So long as he didn't talk to his mother or his
aunt, so long as he didn't drive by the bakery and see some titillating sign
out front, he could believe that the booby bun craze was over.
Apparently
Charlie's mother and Aunt Myrtle were treating Manny and Kyle like family,
which meant they got to run errands for the bakery. Rick would have been sent
to get them if he hadn't mentioned that he and Charlie were going over to
Eve's at six. The evening had been billed as nothing more than a social
occasion. Charlie trusted his mother and his aunt, but the fewer people who
knew about Eve's project, the better.
Consequently
he'd asked Rick to listen for the motorcycle and be ready to leave immediately
to forestall any discussion. But when Charlie arrived, his mother's red
Volkswagen Beetle was sitting in the drive of Aunt Myrtle's two-story
clapboard house. Nobody came to the door when he rang the bell, so he just went
in, because his aunt never locked the door.
That's
when he heard the kind of laughter and chatter in the kitchen that indicated
that Aunt Myrtle and his mother were in old-fashioned mode. Charlie wasn't an
old-fashioned fan. The sugar, the cherry, and the orange wedge seemed like a
fine way to eliminate the taste of good whiskey. But his mother and Aunt Myrtle
thought it was the height of sophistication.
Rather than get sucked into
that program, Charlie stayed in the entryway. "Rick?" he called out.
"Time to get moving!"
"Come
on back here, Charlie!" Rick sounded in no mood to rush off. "You
have to get a look at this cookie cutter!"
Knowing
it was probably a mistake, Charlie walked into the kitchen and found his
mother, Aunt Myrtle, and Rick at the old oak table at the end of the kitchen
with the familiar squatty glasses in their hands and the smell of oranges in
the air. Judging from the flushed faces, Charlie estimated Aunt Myrtle had
served a couple of rounds already.
Neither
of the two sisters had been born with red hair, but they went to the same
hairdresser so they both had red hair now. Aunt Myrtle was the tallest and
thinnest, and Charlie's mother was the oldest and plumpest. She was forever
trying to diet, but she loved to cook, which was her downfall.
Nobody
would have guessed Aunt Myrtle was the younger of the two widows. Twenty-seven
years of marriage to Jasper Bannister combined with the cigarettes she'd
finally given up had taken its toll on poor Aunt Myrtle. Charlie didn't think
she'd been all that sorry to see her husband leave this world at the age of
forty-eight, but he was absolutely positive she missed the cigarettes.
Rick
had a catalog in front of him. "You have to see this stuff," he said.
"Who knew?"
Charlie didn't want to
know. One quick glance at the catalog was more than enough for him. "It's
quarter to six," he said. "We need to go."
"Hold
on a minute." Rick held up the open catalog and turned it so Charlie could
see. "Check this out."
Charlie
could either come off as a prude in front of his much cooler cousin or look at
the catalog. The cookie cutter was, as he'd feared, X-rated. The picture
wasn't only of the cookie cutter, of course. Included was a decorated vanilla
sugar cookie. The frosting filled in every last detail, leaving no doubt what
the cookie couple was doing.
"Innovative."
Charlie could feel the heat rising from the collar of his flannel shirt.
"We're
embarrassing Charlie," Aunt Myrtle said. "He's turning red."
"He'll
get over it." Rick flipped the catalog page. "And look at this. In
case your couple isn't Caucasian, we have the chocolate version and the
gingerbread version. I'm not sure how it works if you have a multicultural
couple, though."
"You
have to go with dual dough," Charlie's mother said. "But vanilla will
work for this couple, which
who had driven to Hartford on an emergency run for the bakery.
For
two days Charlie had tried not to think about the bakery. He'd gone out of his
way to avoid driving past it. So long as he didn't talk to his mother or his
aunt, so long as he didn't drive by the bakery and see some titillating sign
out front, he could believe that the booby bun craze was over.
Apparently
Charlie's mother and Aunt Myrtle were treating Manny and Kyle like family,
which meant they got to run errands for the bakery. Rick would have been sent
to get them if he hadn't mentioned that he and Charlie were going over to
Eve's at six. The evening had been billed as nothing more than a social
occasion. Charlie trusted his mother and his aunt, but the fewer people who
knew about Eve's project, the better.
Consequently
he'd asked Rick to listen for the motorcycle and be ready to leave immediately
to forestall any discussion. But when Charlie arrived, his mother's red
Volkswagen Beetle was sitting in the drive of Aunt Myrtle's two-story
clapboard house. Nobody came to the door when he rang the bell, so he just went
in, because his aunt never locked the door.
That's
when he heard the kind of laughter and chatter in the kitchen that indicated
that Aunt Myrtle and his mother were in old-fashioned mode. Charlie wasn't an
old-fashioned fan. The sugar, the cherry, and the orange wedge seemed like a
fine way to eliminate the taste of good whiskey. But his mother and Aunt Myrtle
thought it was the height of sophistication.
Rather than get sucked into
that program, Charlie stayed in the entryway. "Rick?" he called out.
"Time to get moving!"
"Come
on back here, Charlie!" Rick sounded in no mood to rush off. "You
have to get a look at this cookie cutter!"
Knowing
it was probably a mistake, Charlie walked into the kitchen and found his
mother, Aunt Myrtle, and Rick at the old oak table at the end of the kitchen
with the familiar squatty glasses in their hands and the smell of oranges in
the air. Judging from the flushed faces, Charlie estimated Aunt Myrtle had
served a couple of rounds already.
Neither
of the two sisters had been born with red hair, but they went to the same
hairdresser so they both had red hair now. Aunt Myrtle was the tallest and
thinnest, and Charlie's mother was the oldest and plumpest. She was forever
trying to diet, but she loved to cook, which was her downfall.
Nobody
would have guessed Aunt Myrtle was the younger of the two widows. Twenty-seven
years of marriage to Jasper Bannister combined with the cigarettes she'd
finally given up had taken its toll on poor Aunt Myrtle. Charlie didn't think
she'd been all that sorry to see her husband leave this world at the age of
forty-eight, but he was absolutely positive she missed the cigarettes.
Rick
had a catalog in front of him. "You have to see this stuff," he said.
"Who knew?"
Charlie didn't want to
know. One quick glance at the catalog was more than enough for him. "It's
quarter to six," he said. "We need to go."
"Hold
on a minute." Rick held up the open catalog and turned it so Charlie could
see. "Check this out."
Charlie
could either come off as a prude in front of his much cooler cousin or look at
the catalog. The cookie cutter was, as he'd feared, X-rated. The picture
wasn't only of the cookie cutter, of course. Included was a decorated vanilla
sugar cookie. The frosting filled in every last detail, leaving no doubt what
the cookie couple was doing.
"Innovative."
Charlie could feel the heat rising from the collar of his flannel shirt.
"We're
embarrassing Charlie," Aunt Myrtle said. "He's turning red."
"He'll
get over it." Rick flipped the catalog page. "And look at this. In
case your couple isn't Caucasian, we have the chocolate version and the
gingerbread version. I'm not sure how it works if you have a multicultural
couple, though."
"You
have to go with dual dough," Charlie's mother said. "But vanilla will
work for this couple, which
Similar Books
