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“I’m not sure we can do this,” said Tad. He checked the recipe again, but nothing had changed.
“We have to,” said West. “Aunt Sarah makes cookies for everyone in town. I bet no oneevermakes any for her.”
“But we’ve never made cookies, not once in our lives.”
“But, the recipe!” West grabbed it and read it aloud. “Cream sugar and butter till mixture is smooth and fluffy.”
“We don’thavecream,” said Tad. “It doesn’t say we need cream.”
“They must’ve forgotten,” said West. “You could run and get cream, and I’ll guard the chocolate chips.”
“Eat them, you mean.” He mussed up West’s hair. “Okay, I’ll be right back. Don’t eat the whole bag.”
Tad ran next door and grabbed a quart of cream. On impulse, he added some sprinkles as well, and some cinnamon hearts and silver balls. They’d bake those in as well—or did they go on top once the cookies had cooled? And how about cookie cutters? Would they need those? He tossed a few in his basket, all Christmas shapes. The cinnamon hearts would be perfect for Rudolph’s nose.
“I didn’t eat the chocolate,” said West, when Tad let himself back in. “But I tried to grease the cookie sheet, and I dropped it down the crack.” He pointed at the dark space between the oven and the counter.
“That’s okay,” said Tad. “Why don’t you do the cream thing, and I’ll get it out?”
The two of them high-fived and dove into their task, measuring and mixing and checking off steps. Ten minutes later, they stood scratching their heads.
“I thought it’d be more…doughy,” said West. “This is just soup.”
“Maybe we weren’t supposed to add all that cream.”
West cocked his head. “We could pour it on the cookie sheet and cut it up once it’s baked.”
“It says we’re supposed to pat it into balls.” Tad stirred the mix some more. “Let’s let it set. You know, like glue. It might firm up, and then we’ll get back on track.”
“Hold on. Let me check…” West had grabbed Tad’s phone, and was smearing cookie mix on the screen. He tapped and swiped, and his face fell. “We messed up big time,” he groaned. “Cream doesn’t meanadd cream.It means ‘mix sugar and butter.’”
“Then why didn’t they say that?” Tad threw up his hands. “Who seescreamand thinks anything besides, you know, cream?”
“Probably Aunt Sarah,” said West. He scowled at the box. “Does this mean we don’t get to wear our ugly sweaters?”
“This means we try again.” Tad took the cookie soup and poured it down the sink. “We clean up this mess, then we start fresh—and we don’t stop till we have one perfect batch of cookies.”
West’s eyes went round. “Really?”
“Really. But, you know what? First, we’re going to get us some help. Because Murphy men are smart enough to know when to call in reinforcements.” Tad smiled as West cheered his agreement. Time was, he might’ve let pride stand in his way, but this was too important. He had too much to lose. He needed his village…or, at the very least, a couple of eager villagers.
Another hour later, and Tad’s tiny kitchen was packed to the gills—West, Beth and Ann, plus Tim and Rose, who’d been at the big house when Tad stopped by for the twins. Will’s mom, Patty, who’d been minding them, had come along too, and was watching, amused, as Ann laid down the law.
“Not likethat,” she said, snatching the mixer from Tim.
“You’ve got to go slow,” said Beth. “Nice, even circles.”
“What do I do?” asked West, leaning over Beth’s shoulder.
“You mix the icing,” said Ann. “It has to cool in the fridge before you can spread it.”
Tad found himself superfluous, pushed out of the fray. He sat next to Patty, brushing sugar off his pants.
“Sarah made her first cookies from that very same mix,” said Patty. “She was about the size the twins are now.”
Tad smiled. “You taught her?”
