Read Online When Sparks Fly by Kristine Raymond, Andrea Michelle, Grace Augustine, Maryann Jordan, B. Maddox, J. M. Nash, Anne L. Parks - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kristine Raymond, Andrea Michelle, Grace Augustine, Maryann Jordan, B. Maddox, J. M. Nash, Anne L. Parks
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time for baking with her current schedule; there was barely enough time to throw together a sandwich at the end of a long day.
Unable to choose between pie and cake, she ended up baking both. After discovering a cache of frozen blueberries in the freezer, she boiled a concoction of sugar, berries, and vanilla. Mixing up an oil crust and pressing it into a ten inch pie plate, she heaped spoonsful of the glistening berries into the dish and covered it with strips of pastry in a pretty lattice design.
While the pie was baking, she blended together flour, sugar, cocoa, and eggs for a simple chocolate cake, pouring the batter into a floured baking dish. Stirring in some chocolate chips, her secret ingredient, she popped it into the oven the second the pie was finished. At the last minute, she opted to whip up a batch of brownies too, thinking that Joe might like to take some for his lunch. By the time she was done, the kitchen smelled like a bakery and there were stacks of mixing bowls and utensils in the sink to be washed.
Starting in on the dirty dishes, Monica inhaled deeply, the scent of freshly baked goods making her mouth water. She’d forgotten how much she enjoyed being in the kitchen, and vowed to make time for it once she and Kimber were settled in their new home. A soft breeze blew through the window over the sink, ruffling the wisps of hair that hung down from her hastily pinned-up bun. It hadn’t taken long for her to grow warm between the heat of the stove and oven and her physical labor. Whoever said that domestic work was easy had surely never done any.
By the time the kitchen was tidy again, the cake and brownies had cooled enough to be frosted. Piling thick globs of chocolate icing on each, she swirled and smoothed it with a knife, setting both on the counter with the pie. Bringing the bowl to the sink, ready to dunk it in the soapy water, she had an idea and set it on the table instead. Tiptoeing down the hall, she crept into the guest room, smiling at her sleeping daughter, one sock kicked off, her bare toes peeking out from under the blanket. Leroy raised his head when she sat on the edge of the bed, clearly ready to guard his young friend if the need arose.
“Kimber sweetie, wake up,” Monica said, shaking her shoulder gently. “I have a treat for you.”
Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, the little girl sat up slowly, clearly still half-asleep. Her ponytail was askance, and her right cheek was red and had creases in it from where she had lain on the pillow. “Is it morning?” she asked, stretching her arms over her head and yawning loudly.
“No baby, it’s still Thursday. It’s time for you to get up from your nap. Be quiet, though. Grandma Fran and Grandpa Bill are still sleeping.”
“Okay.” She slid off the bed, retrieving her sock from the floor and pulling it on her foot. “Come on, Leroy.” The dog jumped to the floor at her command, ready for any adventure his new friend had in mind.
Returning to the kitchen, Monica taught Kimber how to scrape frosting out of the bowl, enjoying the ritual as much as her daughter. Spoons clinked as they battled for the last glob of chocolate, laughing uncontrollably. She vowed to do things like this more often; children grew up so fast. If she wasn’t careful, she would miss the little girl’s entire childhood.
She had just finished washing the frosting off of Kimber’s face when Fran walked into the kitchen. “My, what smells so delicious?”
“I made supper. I hope you don’t mind. You’ve had such a long day; I thought it would be one thing you wouldn’t have to deal with.” She watched Fran look from the pot of soup bubbling on the stove to the desserts lined up on the counter. Tears welled in the woman’s eyes and Monica was afraid she’d overstepped. She started to apologize when Fran rushed over and hugged her tightly.
“Thank you, dear. You are so thoughtful. I’m so glad you’re here.”
It’s been so long; too long .
Unable to choose between pie and cake, she ended up baking both. After discovering a cache of frozen blueberries in the freezer, she boiled a concoction of sugar, berries, and vanilla. Mixing up an oil crust and pressing it into a ten inch pie plate, she heaped spoonsful of the glistening berries into the dish and covered it with strips of pastry in a pretty lattice design.
While the pie was baking, she blended together flour, sugar, cocoa, and eggs for a simple chocolate cake, pouring the batter into a floured baking dish. Stirring in some chocolate chips, her secret ingredient, she popped it into the oven the second the pie was finished. At the last minute, she opted to whip up a batch of brownies too, thinking that Joe might like to take some for his lunch. By the time she was done, the kitchen smelled like a bakery and there were stacks of mixing bowls and utensils in the sink to be washed.
Starting in on the dirty dishes, Monica inhaled deeply, the scent of freshly baked goods making her mouth water. She’d forgotten how much she enjoyed being in the kitchen, and vowed to make time for it once she and Kimber were settled in their new home. A soft breeze blew through the window over the sink, ruffling the wisps of hair that hung down from her hastily pinned-up bun. It hadn’t taken long for her to grow warm between the heat of the stove and oven and her physical labor. Whoever said that domestic work was easy had surely never done any.
By the time the kitchen was tidy again, the cake and brownies had cooled enough to be frosted. Piling thick globs of chocolate icing on each, she swirled and smoothed it with a knife, setting both on the counter with the pie. Bringing the bowl to the sink, ready to dunk it in the soapy water, she had an idea and set it on the table instead. Tiptoeing down the hall, she crept into the guest room, smiling at her sleeping daughter, one sock kicked off, her bare toes peeking out from under the blanket. Leroy raised his head when she sat on the edge of the bed, clearly ready to guard his young friend if the need arose.
“Kimber sweetie, wake up,” Monica said, shaking her shoulder gently. “I have a treat for you.”
Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, the little girl sat up slowly, clearly still half-asleep. Her ponytail was askance, and her right cheek was red and had creases in it from where she had lain on the pillow. “Is it morning?” she asked, stretching her arms over her head and yawning loudly.
“No baby, it’s still Thursday. It’s time for you to get up from your nap. Be quiet, though. Grandma Fran and Grandpa Bill are still sleeping.”
“Okay.” She slid off the bed, retrieving her sock from the floor and pulling it on her foot. “Come on, Leroy.” The dog jumped to the floor at her command, ready for any adventure his new friend had in mind.
Returning to the kitchen, Monica taught Kimber how to scrape frosting out of the bowl, enjoying the ritual as much as her daughter. Spoons clinked as they battled for the last glob of chocolate, laughing uncontrollably. She vowed to do things like this more often; children grew up so fast. If she wasn’t careful, she would miss the little girl’s entire childhood.
She had just finished washing the frosting off of Kimber’s face when Fran walked into the kitchen. “My, what smells so delicious?”
“I made supper. I hope you don’t mind. You’ve had such a long day; I thought it would be one thing you wouldn’t have to deal with.” She watched Fran look from the pot of soup bubbling on the stove to the desserts lined up on the counter. Tears welled in the woman’s eyes and Monica was afraid she’d overstepped. She started to apologize when Fran rushed over and hugged her tightly.
“Thank you, dear. You are so thoughtful. I’m so glad you’re here.”
It’s been so long; too long .
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