“He’s a kid, Carl. You try to hear ‘blessings’ when someone’s whispering it at you,” Davy said, and then, with his Billy voice, ‘and we thank thee for this food. Bless this food, and help us be happy, and….’ Now, here’s where I think he decided to improvise. ‘…and don’t let anyone get in a fight like they did last year. Amen.’”
Carl asked, “There was a fight last year?”
“Oh, yeah. Ralph and Bobby got into it about something stupid, like football stadiums and moving teams. It’s not like they actually got to the point of trading punches, because Marie and Sonja were trying to hold them back, and then Granma Alice waded into the middle of things and put a stop to it, really fast.”
“You don’t cross her,” Carl said.
“No. You don’t. Getting on her bad side is not good.”
Davy just drove until Carl asked, “So, Billy says Grace, and then what?”
“We start dishing up the food, passing the serving bowls along to the right. They always seem to stack up by Big Johnny, who keeps piling food on his plate.”
“He does like to eat, doesn’t he?” Carl said.
“Yeah. When everybody stops shoveling stuff onto their plates, that’s when Granma Alice picks up the one bowl that hasn’t been touched and announces, ‘Now, we will find the Golden Potato.’”
“At last,” Carl said.
“Okay, so the bowl is passed around the table, and everybody takes out one foil-wrapped potato. Because they’re covered, you can’t tell what’s inside. Now, some people figure a smaller one will be the Golden Potato, but others insist that it’s usually one of the big ones. Me? I just grab any old one and hope for the best.”
“What’s it all about?”
Davy said, “Hang in there,” as he turned onto a dirt road at a mailbox marked BROWN. When the headlights picked out a house and a big, old, weather-beaten barn through the dust, Davy slowed down and eased the car into the larger building, and cut the engine, leaving the headlights on.
Carl and Davy were still sitting in the car, and Carl asked, “So?”
Davy turned to him and said, “Each of us unwraps our potato.”
“The kids, too?”
“Nah. They’re too young for the Golden Potato. They have their own bowl of regular potatoes. We open up the foil and see what we’ve got.”
“What have you got?”
“Most of them are everyday russet potatoes, brown on the outside, white on the inside, but there is one that’s different. It’s one of those yellow Yukon Gold potatoes, yellow on the outside, golden-yellow on the inside. That is the Golden Potato.”
“Okay. Who got the Golden Potato?”
“Mind you, there’s only one potato for each adult at the table. If somebody doesn’t show up for dinner, one potato is removed. One year, the potato they took out was the Golden Potato, so nobody got it.”
“Yeah, yeah. Who got the Golden Potato?”
“Well, Uncle Tommy said, ‘Why can’t I get it? It’s been years!’ Big Johnny said, ‘I’ve had more than my share. I’m glad it’s not mine.’ The only one who wasn’t talking was my sister. Sonja was just sitting there, looking at the yellow spot revealed under the torn aluminum.”
“So, Sonja has the Golden Potato,” Carl said. “What does she get?”
“Granma Alice holds up an envelope. She says, ‘One of our friends has done our family wrong. He has cheated us. He has lied to us. He can no longer be trusted. He must be dealt with,’ and she hands the papers to Sonja. She was sitting next to me. When she opened it up, I could see the name. Carl, it was yours.”
“Me? Cheating? Davy, you’ve known me since we were in high school. How could you believe any of that?”
“Because I’ve known you since high school. Of course I believe it. You’ve always been a low-down rat, but you were my friend.”
“Sonja’s going to kill me? That’s what the Golden Potato means?”
“Whoever has the Golden Potato takes care of the family’s business. That’s the way it goes.”
Carl said, “Wow! What a friend you are, taking me to this place so Sonja can’t find me. Thanks, pal.”
Davy didn’t say anything.
“Davy?”
“I know Sonja. I knew she couldn’t do it. I also knew that the two of you were sneaking around together. You were both pretty careful about it, but I figured out what was going on, and I’m pretty sure Bobby doesn’t know that Billy is your son.”
“Come on, Davy. You know me.”
“Yes. I do. That’s why I traded potatoes with Sonja. I took the Golden Potato. I figured if someone has to do it, it needs to be a friend. I’ll do it the right way. Quick and clean,” he said, opening the car door and unholstering in a smooth, well-practiced motion. Carl didn’t say any more, just got out of the other door, and they both walked to the far end of the barn, into the bright car lights. They stood there, looking at each other.
Davy said, “Good night, friend.”
Holiday Sugar Cookie Dough
Lisa Wagner
Combine dry ingredients in a large bowl:
2 cups unbleached flour
1 cup oat flour (use a coffee grinder to grind quick or rolled oats)
1 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
1 1/2 tsp. ground flaxseeds (use a coffee grinder)
Combine wet ingredients in a medium bowl:
1/2 cup applesauce
1/4 cup light olive oil
2 Tbsp. rice milk
1/2 cup sugar
1 tsp. vanilla
Directions:
1. Add wet ingredients to dry. Combine with a fork. The dough is immediately ready for use, with no need to refrigerate!
Dough can be rolled between two pieces of parchment paper for cutout cookies. Dust paper with flour or powdered sugar to prevent sticking.
Another option is to scoop the dough, then flatten the drops into circles. Add your favorite colored sugar sprinkles prior to baking.
2. Place cutouts/flattened dough onto a baking sheet lined with parchment paper.
3. Bake at 350F for 15 minutes.
4. Remove from oven and place onto a wire rack.
5. Wait until cookies are completely cooled before icing.
Quick icing:
2 1/4 cups powdered sugar
1 Tbsp. light olive oil
3 Tbsp. rice milk
Directions:
Combine in a small bowl. Icing can be tinted with drops of coloring, which may require a little more powdered sugar to be added. Spread on cooled cookies with a wide knife, or spoon into a plastic zip top bag. Cut one tiny corner from the bottom of the bag, then pipe icing onto cookies as desired. Colored sugar sprinkles add a lovely touch, especially when the icing is white!
Yields approximately 20 medium-sized cookies
Ginger Snapped
Betsy Bitner
The Brewster Street School Thanksgiving Pie Sale could be described many different ways, depending on who you talked to: vital school fundraiser, long-standing community tradition, ill-timed pain in the ass. But until the fateful events of Wednesday, November 26, 2014, no one, not even your crazy uncle who has a conspiracy theory for everything, would ever have described it as provocation for a crime. Whether what happened that day was accidental or intentional—and the issue is still hotly debated among the residents of Pikesville—the events are still so shocking that the Town Board passed an ordinance requiring that the phrase “pumpkin pie spice” be preceded by a trigger warning.
The media, of course, had a field day with the story. People couldn’t get enough of the details of Ginger Weaver’s life—a mother of two who was active with the PTA and taught Sunday school. Everyone agreed that, except for this one admittedly rather large blotch on her record, she was an upstanding member of the community. They talked about the hours she put in volunteering in the town, her signature auburn hair, her talent as a graphic designer and, most of all, her excellent baking skills. Whic
h was understandable, because it was Ginger’s reputation with a pastry brush and a pie crimper that got her into trouble in the first place.
Folks naturally focus on the days leading up to Thanksgiving when they discuss the details of the incident. But you really need to go back to the first week in November to understand how tensions were beginning to build. That’s when Ginger and her friend, Mindy Carter, met at the playground after school so their boys could run around and burn off some energy. They’d wanted to take advantage of the clear blue skies on that crisp day before the pervasive grayness more typical for November took hold of the rest of the month. The outing wasn’t just for the boys, though. Ginger and Mindy wanted to enjoy this last bit of fall themselves before turning their attention indoors and gearing up for the impending holiday season.
And just thinking about the holidays was already making Ginger’s blood pressure rise. She had more on her plate this year, and was looking for ways to get rid of the stress. “I’m thinking of calling Nina and telling her I’m not going to be able to bake pies for this year’s pie sale,” she said. “I just don’t have the time.”
As if she hadn’t heard her, Mindy said, “You shouldn’t have bought the Snickers. You’re supposed to buy candy you don’t like so you won’t be tempted to eat the leftovers.”
Ginger couldn’t decide if she was more startled by Mindy’s non sequiter or by the fact that Mindy could sense the waistband of Ginger’s jeans digging uncomfortably into her midsection. Or maybe Mindy was just able to smell the chocolate on her breath.
“I thought we’d have more trick-or-treaters and I’d be able to give them all away. But the rain was horrible on Halloween,” Ginger said. She’d heard that advice before about buying Halloween candy you don’t like, and she never saw the logic in it. The idea that Ginger would be able to pass by a bowl of candy without eating a piece, even a kind she didn’t like, was laughable. So she figured she might as well buy Snickers and enjoy making herself miserable.
“Uh oh,” Mindy said,.”I tried to change the subject when you started talking about the pie sale, but it didn’t work. It’s like just talking about the pie sale conjures her up. Don’t look and just act natural. Maybe she won’t notice us.”
Ginger turned to look anyway and saw Nina Phillips shutting the door of her SUV, while her daughters, Lexi and Hannah, ran ahead towards the swing set. From the looks of it, Nina had recently traded in her Giganta SUV for the even bigger Sasquatch. Even though Ginger could detect the new-car smell from across the parking lot, Nina had already managed to cover the back of the car with magnets and stickers proclaiming the honor student status of her children and their overscheduled lives spent on soccer fields and in dance studios and music camps.
“I told you not to look,” Mindy said through clenched teeth as she made a show of scanning the playground looking for her children. “It’s like with dogs that are about to attack. You can’t make direct eye contact with Nina. She takes it as a challenge, or something.”
“Nina’s not exactly an attack dog,” Ginger said as she shifted her own gaze to a very interesting pebble on the ground that she began rolling back and forth under her sneaker. Nina Phillips had her faults, but calling her an attack dog, with the images it conjured of bared teeth and ripped flesh, was harsh. Although now that Ginger thought about it, she wasn’t really sure what kind of dog Nina was like. She was tall and thin like an Airedale or a Greyhound, but she was persistent and demanding like a yippy shih tzu. Ginger guessed Nina would be whatever breed was most likely to wear yoga pants and carry a large Starbucks travel mug.
“Hey, you two,” Nina called as she made her way to the picnic table where Mindy and Ginger were sitting. “It’s lucky I saw you both, it will save me a call later.”
Mindy suddenly jumped up from the bench and began calling, “Noah! Brandon!” while looking frantically at some point in the distance. “Sorry, Nina, but I don’t see my kids,” Mindy called over her shoulder as she hurried off. Ginger, wishing she’d thought of Mindy’s move first, slumped her back against the picnic table and resigned herself to Nina’s inevitable recruitment pitch.
“I just picked up the pie sale order forms from the printer and I’ll drop them off at school in the morning so they can go home in the kids’ take-home folders tomorrow afternoon.” Nina reached into her thermal tote and pulled out two Bento boxes filled with quinoa-laden home-baked treats and set them on the picnic table. Then she pulled out a bag and held it out to Ginger. “Kale chips. I made them myself. Want one?”
“No, thanks, I’m trying to cut back on snacks.” It wasn’t really a lie, Ginger thought. She’d just left out the part about cutting back on snacks that weren’t leftover Halloween candy.
“Ooh, smart girl, with the holidays coming up and all that yummy food. Speaking of which, I’m counting on you and Mindy to bake for the pie sale again this year.”
“Nina, I can’t this year, really I’m so—”
“No, no, no, you have to bake. You’re the best baker at the school. Your pumpkin pies were beautiful last year. I need you to make a least a dozen this year, because I know they’re going to sell really well.”
Ginger’s and Mindy’s boys ran up to the picnic table and started going through the bag Ginger brought, pulling out handfuls of Oreos and goldfish crackers. Mindy, no longer able to maintain the ruse of looking for her sons, slowly made her way back to the table, too.
“Besides,” Nina continued, “I’m keeping it really simple this year. Just three kinds of pies. Apple, pumpkin and pecan.”
No one, except Nina, thought that baking multiples of any kind of pie the day before Thanksgiving was simple.
“I really can’t bake any pies this year, Nina,” Ginger said. “My in-laws are coming to visit and that’s stressing me out. Plus I have a big freelance project due the week of Thanksgiving, and if I do well on it, it could turn into a full-time job.”
“How about if we buy a bunch of pies and donate them to the sale?” Mindy asked before taking a few Oreos for herself.
“No, silly. Then they wouldn’t be homemade pies. I have you making apple pies this year, Mindy.”
“Nina, I’m serious,” Ginger persisted. “I can’t bake pies this year.”
Nina looked as stunned as if she’d just been informed her favorite lululemon no longer came in a size 2.
“Oh, but you have to. I don’t have as many bakers this year and we need the fundraiser to be a success. We’re going to use the money to buy a sound-dampening system for the cafeteria. Lexi complains that all the noise at lunch interferes with her digestion.” Nina took a tiny nibble from one of her kale chips. “Now that I have all my bakers lined up, I can send out the details. This is going to be so much fun.”
Ginger decided Nina would be whatever kind of dog refuses to take no for an answer.
*
From: Nina Phillips
Sent: Wednesday, November 12, 2014 8:47 PM
To: Ginger Weaver, Mindy Carter, Joanna Rispoli, Felicity Munoz, Maxine Goodman
Subject: Help Needed for Fundraiser
Ladies, start your ovens! It’s time for the annual Brewster Street School Thanksgiving Pie Sale. As you know, each year we sell a variety of homemade pies to raise money for our school. This is a longstanding tradition and one that is eagerly anticipated by the Pikesville community. Orders are already pouring in!
We’re a small group this year, but I know I can count on all of you to bake up a storm. I’ll need each of you to bake one dozen pies and deliver them to the school no later than noon on Wednesday the 26th.
Remember: We can’t have a FUNdraiser without some FUN!
“The most precious jewels you’ll ever have around your neck are the arms of your children.”
From: Maxine Goodman
Sent: Wednesday, November 12, 2014 9:12 PM
To: Nina Phillips, Ginger Weaver, Mindy Carter, Joanna Rispoli, Felicity Munoz
Subject: RE: Help Needed for Fundraiser
From: Nina Phillips
Sent: Wednesday, November 12, 2014 9:13 PM
To: Maxine Goodman, Ginger Weaver, Mindy Carter, Joanna Rispoli, Felicity Munoz
Subject: RE: Help Needed for Fundraiser
Maxine,
It’s a pie sale, not a cheesecake sale. Let’s stay consistent to our brand, please. Besides, the order forms have already been printed and distributed. Can someone please switch with Maxine?
“The most precious jewels you’ll ever have around your neck are the arms of your children.”
From: Mindy Carter
Sent: Thursday, November 13, 2014 6:22 AM
To: Nina Phillips, Maxine Goodman, Ginger Weaver, Joanna Rispoli, Felicity Munoz
Subject: RE: Help Needed for Fundraiser
I can do the pecan pies and Maxine can make apple. Thanks for organizing this again this year, Nina. You always do such a wonderful job!
From: Ginger Weaver
Sent: Thursday, November 13, 2014 6:47 AM
To: Mindy Carter, Nina Phillips, Maxine Goodman, Joanna Rispoli, Felicity Munoz
Subject: RE: Help Needed for Fundraiser
OMG Mindy. Why are you sucking up to Nina? I never even signed up for this stupid pie sale and I already told her that I couldn’t bake pies this year. Really, I think people buy them to be nice and support the school. No one actually eats them do they? I mean how desperate would you have to be? Joanna always burns hers and as far as I can tell Felicity doesn’t know a teaspoon from a tablespoon. Last year I saw the pies people brought in for the sale and they looked horrible. Honestly, I think people would give us more money if we promised not to make pies.
From: Maxine Goodman
Sent: Thursday, November 13, 2014 6:51 AM
To: Ginger Weaver, Mindy Carter, Nina Phillips, Joanna Rispoli, Felicity Munoz
Subject: RE: Help Needed for Fundraiser
Ginger—I don’t think you meant to hit Reply All.
*
The Monday of Thanksgiving week arrived before she knew it. Ginger had thought she was in good shape with the freelance project, but the client kept changing the specs, and meeting the Wednesday deadline would be tight. She trusted that somehow she’d get the pies made even if she had to stay up all night. Not that pulling an all-nighter would’ve been much of a change at this point. It had been more than a week since Ginger had had a decent night’s sleep. On the bright side, the exhaustion coupled with her long to-do list meant Ginger had less time to focus on the case of hives she’d developed.
The Killer Wore Cranberry: A Fifth Course of Chaos Page 16
