The Secret Cookie Club

by Martha Freeman

  Is this an example of flour power? I wondered.

  “Time for the surprise!” Arlo crowed.

  “You’re right,” I said and—with a flourish—I opened the paper bag to reveal the chocolate crinkle cookies.

  The oohs and aahs were immediately followed by, “Gimme! Gimme!” from Arlo, who reached for a cookie before they were even out of the bag.

  Mia said, “Rude!”

  “Am not!” said Arlo.

  “He is rude, isn’t he, Lucy?” Mia said.

  “It’s best not to grab cookies,” I answered.

  “I want a cookie now!” Arlo squealed.

  Levi just smiled, glad he was not in trouble.

  I was annoyed. This was what I got for sharing my very special cookies with four-year-olds. I took a bit more time than necessary to remove the cookies from the bag and set them on a paper plate. The triplets looked on like dogs waiting for a treat. Then, all of a sudden, the obedience was just too much for Arlo, who stood up and announced, “I don’t want any old stupid cookies!” and marched away.

  “Oh dear,” I said. “Arlo? Come back, sweetie. We want you to share cookies with us.”

  Mia and Levi, still on their best behavior, nodded solemnly.

  But Arlo said, “No!” and kept walking.

  He was headed toward the now shadowy fence line of the property, only a few yards away. He couldn’t exactly escape. There was no place for him to go without running into a fence. Knowing the thought of cookies would bring him back eventually, I decided to let him sulk.

  Mia, Levi, and I shared our cookies in happy silence. I was impressed that neither wolfed theirs and demanded a second. They seemed to understand that these cookies were special.

  I was dreaming of milk when Mia, sitting across from me, turned her head and asked, “What dat?” She was looking in Arlo’s direction.

  Levi turned his head the same way and smiled. “Doggy!”

  Doggy?

  Now I looked too, and saw, weaving its way through the shrubbery, a shadow—muscular, powerful, and wild. This was not any kind of doggy I knew. For a few paralyzed moments I watched the shadow slink toward my four-year-old charge, my brain bubbling with unhelpful visions of sharp teeth.

  I had to do something.

  Arlo, meanwhile, was kneeling down looking at something on the ground, maybe an anthill. The first day I babysat, he was bitten by ants, and since then I had tried to get him to appreciate how interesting they are. Now he had no idea he was being stalked.

  I was afraid to call out to him.

  If he ran, the shadow would chase him—and the shadow would win.

  I looked down for a rock to throw or a clump of dirt—and saw a better weapon. Meanwhile, the gray shadow glided over the ground—closer and closer. It was now or never. I pivoted, shifted my weight, and swung my right leg—thwack! My instep connected squarely with the little green soccer ball, just the way Mrs. Kamae had taught us.

  The sound made Arlo look up, and it startled Mia and Levi. The ball shot across the yard. The gray shadow dodged but too slowly. Hit in the flank, it lurched sideways, recovered, and ran off.

  “Ha-ha-ha!” Levi pointed. “You hit the doggy with the ball!”

  Mia shook her head, all disapproval. “Poor doggy! Mean, mean Lucy.”

  My heart pounded. I gulped air. Weak-kneed, I dropped to the grass in time to watch the coyote’s tail disappear into the bushes. With the threat past, Arlo saw the coyote’s tail retreating, realized what had almost happened, and screamed.

  CHAPTER 42

  Lucy

  Mothers to the rescue! From the patio, they came running—wild-eyed and gripping the stems of their wineglasses.

  For once my brain was keeping up with the world around me. I didn’t want anyone to panic. I should act calm, say it was no big deal.

  I did not get away with this, though, because Arlo shrieked, “Coyote!” the second his mom was in earshot. Leave it to Arlo to recognize the animal—even though all he saw was its disappearing rear end. This is the danger of letting your child read too many nature books.

  Safe in his mom’s arms, Arlo began to cry, and then his siblings did too.

  “Lucy?” Kendall looked at me.

  I hesitated and Levi took over. “Woo-see kick soccer ball—Pow! Boom! It hit the doggy, and the doggy ran away!”

  Mia nodded to confirm the story.

  “All we really saw was a shadow near Arlo,” I said as calmly as I could. “I’m not sure what it was. I kicked the ball to scare it away.”

  “Pow! Boom!” Levi repeated.

  “Mean Lucy,” Mia said.

  “It was a coyote,” Arlo repeated.

  “Oh my goodness,” murmured one of the other mothers, and Courtney’s mother said, “A wild animal?”

  “The triplets were in their own yard!”

  “All those missing cats . . .”

  “What if Lucy hadn’t been there?”

  “What if Lucy hadn’t thought so quickly?”

  “What if Lucy didn’t have such good aim?”

  Kendall pulled Arlo a little closer and looked me in the eye. “You’re a hero,” she said.

  * * *

  “How were Arnold, Leland, and Matilda tonight?” Nana asked when I got home.

  For once I set her straight. “Arlo, Levi, and Mia are fine.”

  Nana didn’t appear to notice my correction. “And how was their mom’s party?”

  “I guess the ladies had fun,” I said. “There was, uh, some excitement with an animal in the yard, but I chased it away.”

  “An animal?”

  “Arlo thought it was a coyote. It looked like one,” I said. I kind of wanted to tell her the story. It was the most excitement I’d had in a while—maybe ever.

  But Nana said, “It was probably somebody’s dog.”

  So then I wasn’t so eager to talk about it. “Yeah, maybe.”

  If Mom came in later after her shift, I didn’t wake up.

  * * *

  The next day—Sunday—something felt different. I don’t mean I felt like I was a hero or anything. But not just anyone has a knack with a soccer ball. Maybe it was lucky for Arlo that I was the one who was there.

  Then I thought some more about “gumption.” I did want Mom and Nana to know I’d done something good. Mom would be all about celebrating with me. Maybe Nana would, too. You could never tell.

  So I went to my mom’s bedroom, and then I went to Nana’s, and in both places I announced we were having tea and cookies in the living room at ten.

  “Tea and cookies at ten in the morning?” Nana said. “I have never heard of such a thing.”

  “Be there,” I said, “or be square.”

  “Are you sure everything is all right?” Nana narrowed her eyes at me. “Why are we convening in the living room of all places?”

  “Because we have a living room,” I said, “so we should use it. Anyway, I got some cookies in the mail from Olivia—Olivia from camp. And I want to share.”

  Reluctant as they were, my mother and grandmother both showed up at ten. They sat themselves at opposite ends of the rarely used sofa. I poured the tea—chamomile, because it is supposed to be calming.

  The plate of cookies lay on the coffee table. “What kind of cookies are they?” Nana asked.

  “Good cookies. Here.” I held the plate out to her.

  Nana didn’t move. “They look all right,” she said.

  “Oh, for cripe’s sake, Mother, have a cookie,” said my mom. “They’re not bacteria specimens. Just eat one.”

  Nana frowned at my mother, looked back at the plate, and finally selected a cookie. My mom reached over and took two.

  We sipped our tea and ate. After a minute, Nana looked at my mother. “Why don’t you ever paint anymore?” she asked.

  “What?” my mom said. “Where did that question come from? And anyway, when would I paint? If you haven’t noticed, I have a job now.”

  “You only work the di
nner shift,” said my grandmother. “Beyond that, if you weren’t so busy gallivanting around the countryside with this flame or that, you would have time to paint.”

  “It’s none of your business if I paint,” my mother said. “And I don’t have a ‘flame’ at the moment—so leave me alone.”

  “You’re a good artist when you want to be,” my grandmother said. “And you’re always saying I tear you down. So here I try to be encouraging, and see where it gets me.”

  “Change of topic,” I announced. “How do you like the cookies?”

  This made my grandmother smile—a rare show of enthusiasm. “They are exquisite! Is Olivia the one who’s a barbecue sauce heiress?”

  “She hates it when people say that,” my mother put in.

  “I didn’t say it in front of her,” Nana said.

  “Let’s open the drapes,” I said.

  “Better not,” said Mom, “unless you want to see all the dirt.”

  I ignored her, got up, and pulled the cord so that all of a sudden the drapes were wide open. The sunlight revealed the streaked windows, the shabbiness, the cat shreds, and the dust—but even so, it was more cheerful than sitting in the dark.

  “I have a story to tell you,” I said, “about something that happened yesterday.”

  CHAPTER 43

  May 25

  Dear Lucy,

  I saw you on the TV news. Until then, I never knew you were (1) brave in the face of wild predators and (2) good at soccer.

  Congratulations!

  Besides writing what I just wrote, I have three more reasons for writing. (1) Are you going to Moonlight Ranch again this summer? (2) Do you happen to know if Grace Xi is going? (3) Do you know anything about the four boxes of cookies that have come to my house in the mail this year?

  None of the boxes had notes or return addresses. But I noticed the postmarks were California, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, and Missouri. These are the home states of you, Grace, Emma, and Olivia—all the girls in Flowerpot Cabin. I checked the camp directory.

  The cookies were all different kinds, but they were all very good. Luckily, I like nuts and chocolate.

  Write back, please.

  Yours very sincerely,

  Vivek Sonti

  P.S. I am going to Moonlight Ranch this summer because my parents will be in India. If you go too, perhaps we will see each other. It is not such a very big place.

  CHAPTER 44

  May 30

  Dear Vivek,

  Thank you for your letter.

  I did not really deserve so much attention for saving Arlo’s life. Lots of people are good at kicking soccer balls, and I was super surprised when the TV people called and then there were all those cameras. It was kind of embarrassing.

  Then later something else happened that wasn’t on TV. Animal control police came to my neighborhood and shot the coyote with a dart that made it go to sleep. My mom told me that after that they took it to the forest far away and set it free so it could have a happy life.

  My nana told me that’s a crock of hooey, and the coyote is now in coyote heaven. Nana says that’s a good thing, too, because otherwise it would have come back again.

  I don’t know who to believe. But I know who I want to believe.

  About Moonlight Ranch, I have to tell you a story. After the thing with the coyote, I asked my mom and my grandmother if they would please pay to send me to camp this summer.

  Nana said no.

  Then my mom gave her a look (if you have a mom, you might know this look) and Nana said maybe.

  Then my mom asked, “What about Lucy’s babysitting money? You have been saving it for her.”

  Nana said the babysitting money wasn’t enough. My mom asked how much not enough?

  But guess what! It turned out that after almost a year of babysitting, my savings almost WERE enough! And now that my mom is working, she can help pay the difference.

  So the answer is yes. I will be at Moonlight Ranch this summer.

  While I am telling stories, here is one about cookies. I was making a bricolage (look it up) for art class, and it didn’t quite seem finished. Then Olivia happened to send me a box of cookies, and I realized what I needed to finish it was a single, solitary cookie. So I sacrificed eating one and sprayed it with clear plastic and attached it with thread to my project, and my art teacher entered it in the citywide elementary art show, and it won a blue ribbon!!!

  Sorry this was such a long letter. I hope we see each other at camp.

  Sincerely,

  Lucy Ambrose

  P.S. What a strange coincidence about all the cookies you got in the mail this year!

  CHAPTER 45

  Tuesday, May 31

  Hannah hadn’t planned to work at Moonlight Ranch that summer. She had already sent back the form that said no. She was going to take an internship closer to home, in Manhattan.

  Then, on the Tuesday after Memorial Day, Buck, the camp director, phoned. “Please come back this summer. We’ve had a rather unusual request, and we’d like to honor it if we can.”

  “What request?” Hannah asked. She was sitting on the edge of her bed at home in Floral Park, New York—a town on Long Island. She was supposed to meet her boyfriend at Starbucks, and she was late.

  “I’d rather not name names,” the camp director said. “The short of it is that we’d like you to be counselor in Flowerpot Cabin with the same campers as last summer.”

  “The same campers? Grace, Emma, Olivia, and Lucy?”

  “Yes.”

  Hannah hesitated. She had been picturing a job at a museum, wearing nice clothes and high heels, taking the subway to work, meeting friends for dinner.

  It required a radical brain shift to picture instead clear blue sky, hot desert air, the horse barn—and four girls with strong personalities, managing them and keeping them happy.

  In the instant before answering, Hannah pictured each of their faces smiling (even Grace!). She wondered if they had used her grandfather’s recipes.

  Hannah hesitated longer than she meant to, but—isn’t life funny?—this turned out to be good. Buck said, “All right, we’ll offer a raise in pay. We really do want you to come back.”

  “Totally!” Hannah said impulsively. “I will totally come back this summer.”

  Hannah heard Buck’s sigh from two thousand miles away. “Oh, good. We can’t wait to see you and your campers back at Moonlight Ranch.”

  CHAPTER 46

  Wednesday, June 1

  Dear Vivek,

  Lucy telephoned and said you wrote her a letter after she was on TV for saving Arlo from being eaten by the coyote.

  This reminded me that I owe you a thank-you note.

  If my parents knew it had taken me ten months to write a thank-you note they would be very disappointed.

  Thank you very much for the packet of Oreo cookies. Coincidentally, they are my favorite. Even though you only gave them to me because you bought them by mistake, it was still very kind.

  Here is something funny. I haven’t opened the packet yet. They are in a drawer in my desk. I am pretty sure Oreo cookies never go bad. Sugar is a natural preservative.

  Lucy said you will be at Moonlight Ranch this summer. I will be there too.

  Sincerely,

  Grace Xi

  Hey, cookie bakers!

  Baking is a blast, but make sure you ask an adult for help with the oven or mixer. Have fun!

  XX, Hannah

  Grandpa’s Chocolate Chip Cookies

  Anybody can make chocolate chip cookies, but these have a couple of Grandpa’s secrets to make them light and chewy.

  (Makes about 4 dozen)

  1 cup (2 sticks) softened unsalted butter

  1 cup white sugar

  1 cup packed brown sugar

  2 eggs

  2 teaspoons vanilla extract

  1 teaspoon baking soda

  2 teaspoons hot water

  1/2 teaspoon salt

  2 cups all-purpose f
lour

  1 cup oat flour (see note)

  2 cups semisweet chocolate chips (preferably Ghirardelli)

  1 cup chopped pecans (optional)

  Preheat oven to 350°F. In the large bowl of a mixer, cream together butter and both sugars until smooth. Beat in the eggs one at a time, then stir in the vanilla. Dissolve the baking soda in hot water and add to batter along with salt. Stir in flour, oat flour, chocolate chips, and pecans (if using). Drop by tablespoonfuls onto ungreased cookie sheets. Bake for about 10 minutes or until the edges are just brown.

  Note: For oat flour, grind a scant 1 1/4 cups old-fashioned rolled oats (not instant and not steel cut) in a food processor for about five seconds to yield 1 cup oat flour.

  Grandpa’s Iced Holiday Cookies

  These have a satisfying texture and are more flavorful than iced cookies from a bakery. Also, the dough is easy to work with. Be sure to allow time to chill the dough and let cookies cool before icing.

  (Makes about 5 dozen)

  3 cups all-purpose flour

  1 teaspoon baking powder

  1/2 teaspoon salt

  1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature

  1 cup sugar

  1 large egg

  2 tablespoons sour cream

  1 teaspoon vanilla extract

  Additional sugar for rolling out cookies

  For the cookies, sift the flour, baking powder, and salt into a medium bowl. Then, in the large bowl of an electric mixer, beat the butter and one cup sugar until well blended. Add the egg, sour cream, and vanilla, and beat 1 minute. In two additions, add the sifted dry ingredients and beat until just blended.

  Divide the dough in half and flatten each half into a disk. Wrap the disks in plastic and chill at least 1 hour and up to 1 day. If dough is refrigerated more than an hour, let it sit out a few minutes to soften before you roll it out.

  Sprinkle a work surface and the top of the dough disks with additional sugar. Working one disk at a time, roll the dough to 1/4-inch thickness and cut out with assorted 2- to 3-inch cookie cutters. Transfer to cookie sheets lined with parchment paper, spacing 1 inch apart. Keep gathering scraps, rolling dough and cutting cookies until all the dough is used. Chill unbaked cookies on baking sheets at least 15 minutes and up to 1 hour before baking.