Chapter 21

“The cookies.” Baily pointed toward it.

“Yeah. I should…get those.” Now, Del was looking up.

“Yeah. You probably should.”

“M’row. Hiss!”

Del turned away, finally, and rushed to the oven. “It’s almost as if you know whodoesn’t want us to…”

I knew who even without Del nodding toward me.

“Doesn’t want us to what?”

I knew what.

“He probably doesn’t like the smoke.” Once down the three steps that had him ten feet tall, Baily opened the window over the sink. “It’ll be better in a minute, handsome.”

“Thanks, sexy, unless you meant Ginger.”

Of course, he meant me.

“Shoot. Now we have to wait ten minutes for more…”

“An eternity.” Over Del’s shoulder, Baily surveyed the charred remains of what possibly once resembled, well, apparently, he didn’t know, either. “What were they supposed to be?”

“Santa faces.” Del held up the cookie cutter he’d used.

“I see it now.”

I didn’t.