“You want to do this first bit?” She pointed at the pan. “We need to get the dough made so we can chill it.” She paused.
“Baking and chill is not the same as Netflix and chill, right?”
Morgan raised an eyebrow. “It would be a bit awks with my parents in the next room. Besides, I thought that was out of bounds?”
Ali sucked on her top lip. That wasn’t the question of a woman who wanted boundaries. She pulled back her shoulders and fixed Morgan with a stare. “I know I’m giving mixed signals.” She put her hands on her hips to create a boundary. “What I said earlier still stands. We can’t work because I’m moving countries. Nothing’s changed.”
Something in the side of Morgan’s jaw clicked as she gave Ali the faintest of nods. “You’ve made yourself very clear. This is just about gingerbread. Nothing more.”
A thick silence settled on the space. Ali didn’t dare take a breath, in case it lodged in her throat and choked her.
Perhaps this wasn’t the best idea, after all. Because she knew just as well as Morgan that this wasneverjust about gingerbread.
Morgan, however, was on a mission. She put the butter, sugar, and syrup in a small pan. “Stir this until it’s melted, then take it off the heat.”
Ali blinked, then nodded. “I think I can do that.”
Morgan then mixed bicarb, ginger, cinnamon and flour in a bowl. She tested the butter mixture for heat, then added it to her bowl. “Okay, now I just want you to bring it all together. Don’t be shy. Get your hands in there.”
A landslide of wrong responses formed on Ali’s lips, but she chewed them up and swallowed them down before any escaped. She didn’t want to leave any room for doubt with them.
Namely, that there wasn’t a ‘them’.
Once the dough was mixed, Morgan put it in the freezer to chill. “And now, we get the piping bags to do the roof of our family house. You want to help?”
Ali shook her head. “I don’t really think that’s appropriate. It’s a family thing and, well, I’m not part of the family, am I?”
Morgan stared, then took a deep breath. “Strictly speaking, no. But I feel like you should have a go. After everything we’ve gone through this week. Plus, you didn’t expect to be here tonight. Decorating the roof will be an excellent distraction from any tension. It’s art, and art is therapy.”
Ali laughed. “You’re offering me therapy on Christmas Eve?”
“It’s normally when it’s needed most.”
Ali couldn’t argue. “Okay. I’ll play.”
Morgan beamed. “The golden rule to remember is, if you bugger it up, you can always smudge it and pass it off as snow.” She filled a few small china bowls with Jelly Tots, Smarties, mini marshmallows and Midget Gems. The sound of them hitting the bowls made Ali’s mouth water and her stomach rumble. She hadn’t eaten since she arrived home, and it was only now she remembered she was hungry.
“Don’t be shy with the sweets or glitter either. When it comes to gingerbread house roofs, the gaudier, the better. Make it so my sister’s paving looks tame.”
Morgan got some pre-made icing from a deep drawer in the island, then cut the bag around the nozzle. Then she stepped up to the roof, squeezed the bag, and expertly coaxed the icing out until she’d piped a row along the apex of the roof like it was an everyday occurrence.
It wasn’t in Ali’s world.
“That’s impressive.”
Morgan hadn’t been lying about her baking skills.
Neither had Ali.
Morgan held up the bag. “You want to give it a go?”
Ali’s response was instinctive and immediate. She shook her head. “That’s a big fat no. I’ll just mush some sweets on the side of the roof. I feel that’s where I could shine.”
“You need some icing to stick them to.” Morgan fixed her with a warm smile.
Ali wobbled under its glare.
“Wouldn’t it be good to learn a new skill this Christmas Eve?”
