Sweet Devotion. Felicia Mason
Oscar the Grouch. So she deliberately forced out of her head all thoughts of a tall, broad cop with steely blue eyes.
At least, that’s what she told herself.
But she did make a quick cell call to check on Dana.
“Wasn’t that a riot? Those old folks really tore up the place. Hey, what happened to you?”
Amber quickly explained about getting caught in the roundup.
“Well, I’m glad you’re okay. I gathered up all the serving utensils and your knife kit. A knife is missing, though. I looked everywhere.”
Amber rolled her eyes. Her best—translation, “most expensive”—carving knife was safe and sound…in police custody. “Don’t worry. I know where it is.”
“Whew, that’s a relief. That’s the one thing they teach us to guard like Fort Knox.”
Amber made a note to get Dana a good wrap the next time she went to her favorite cook’s supply store in Portland. Just like barbers and beauticians, every professional chef traveled with a personal kit that carried the tools of the trade. Amber had seen it all used, from heavy-duty toolboxes purchased at hardware stores to carryall bags that looked like sling packs. She preferred wraps that had slots for every knife and easily rolled up.
Of course, that numbskull police chief wouldn’t know anything about what a chef needed to do her job. He just made assumptions, and probably would have snatched her kit as evidence if Dana hadn’t rescued it. Amber assured Dana she’d swing by the college, pick up her knife kit and give Dana her pay.
“And I’ll add a little something extra,” she told the young woman. “When I asked you to help, I didn’t know I needed to provide combat-duty pay.”
Dana laughed. “Hey, I’m not gonna turn it down. I’m a starving college student.”
“Starving, eh?”
The plump Dana, who always complained that she gained three pounds every time she worked for Amber, chuckled. “Well, you know. Amber, I can’t thank you enough for this opportunity,” the college student gushed. “I have a blast when I work for you.”
Amber grunted. Seeing her food thrown around like garbage, then being arrested didn’t exactly rank in her book of top ten ways to have fun. “Different strokes for different folks, I guess.”
On the short drive to Sunshine and Rainbows After-School and After-Care Center, Amber did some deep breathing exercises, trying to center herself again. It didn’t work. But when she walked through the doors of the kids’ center, her spirit soared.
Delighted squeals and children racing each other to clamp themselves around her legs could do that to a woman.
“Well, hello there! With that kind of welcome maybe I’ll have to come here more often.”
One child, while clearly excited, hung back from the others. Amber smiled at her. “Hi, Sutton.”
The girl beamed, but didn’t say anything.
“Come on, you guys, let the Cookie Lady through.” Marnie Shepherd shooed kids away. “Why don’t you go get your mats and show the Cookie Lady how good little boys and girls greet guests?”
The kids raced off, and Amber laughed. Sutton glanced over her shoulder at Amber. She sent the little girl a three-finger wave.
“You do have a way with them,” Amber said to Marnie.
Shaking her head, Marnie smiled. “You’d think they’d never had cookies before. It’s good to see you again, Amber.”
The two women headed to the area where once a week Amber sat in a rocking chair, read a story to the kids, then passed out cookies from her basket. She took pleasure in the activity and always suspected that she got more out of it than the kids did.
“Hey, I have all but three permission slips back for next week. And,” Marnie added, pleased with herself, “there are four parent volunteers to make sure things stay under control.”
“I’m impressed,” Amber said. “But remember, we’re not really baking. The no-bake cookies are pretty easy. It’s mostly just mixing ingredients. We won’t need that much help.”
“Oh, yes, we will.”
Amber shrugged. What did she know about kids? “If you say so.”
She paused at the aquarium, mesmerized as the fish in the huge tank swam by. Watching tropical fish could be the most calming thing.
A little boy approached. “Come on, Cookie Lady. We’re all ready.”
“Well then, let’s get started.”
Amber followed her young escort to the section of the room designated with a colorful banner proclaiming it Story Corner.
Some of the children tried to put their mats in front of others to claim a seat closer to the rocker where she’d sit. Amber smiled as one of the aides got them all settled, assuring everyone that they would be able to both see and hear the story. Looking over them, Amber’s gaze fell on Sutton.
She liked Sutton. The quiet little girl with the strawberry-blond curls reminded Amber of herself at that age. All pigtails and wide eyes, Sutton never said a lot, but Amber could tell she was bright; the child’s eyes never missed a thing and she’d unselfconsciously laugh at a joke until someone noticed her, then hide her face. The girl’s older brother always hovered near, keeping her in sight like a miniature bodyguard.
Amber smiled, wryly this time, for that, too, was a familiar scene. Her own older brother had always assumed the role of champion and protector—whether she had wanted him to or not. When she’d really needed a protector, however, Kyle had been half a world away. She’d neither seen nor heard from him in about five, maybe six years, and since she remained incommunicado with her parents, who probably knew his whereabouts, there existed little chance of finding him.
As she watched the boy—she believed Jonathan was his name—bend over and tie the little girl’s shoes, Amber realized just how much she missed Kyle. Moisture filled her eyes and she blinked rapidly to dispel the tears that threatened.
“Amber?”
“Huh?” She wiped at her eyes and glanced over at Marnie.
“Are you all right?”
Amber nodded, then forced a grin. “Fit as a fiddle and feeling fine.”
After placing the cookie basket on a low table, Amber took her seat in the rocker and addressed the children. It was an effort to dispel thoughts of Kyle, but she put a real smile on her face and in her voice.
“Today, Miss Shepherd tells me that my helper will be from the five-year-old class. All the five-year-olds, raise your hands.”
About eight little arms shot up in the air.
“Oh, my. I’m the lucky one today. So who will it be?”
“Me! Me!”
Marnie stepped up with a paper bag. “Have a seat, Junior. You know the rules.”
Each time the Cookie Lady—or any special guest—paid a visit, one child got to be the helper. The special role rotated among the age groups. All the children wanted to be the helper when the Cookie Lady came. Being her assistant meant getting to wear a special apron as well as receiving an extra cookie.
Marnie shook the bag with the five-year-olds’ names in it. Then, with her eyes squeezed shut, Amber stuck her hand in the bag and pulled out a slip of paper. She read out the name written in blue crayon: “Sutton.”
The little girl’s eyes widened. Then, suddenly unsure, she scuttled back. Her brother was right there.
“It’s okay, Sutton. You get to be the helper today.”
Amber held out a hand. “I have the Cookie Lady apron for you