“Write downBrownies. And then you can rank them on a scale to get a score.”
“Huh?”
“Like on a scale of one to ten, ten is the hardest, how easy are they to bake?”
Bean looked at the pan with the batter. “Um... a seven.”
Aseven? She would have gone with two. But as she was not trying to earn a badge, she said, “Okay, seven it is. When they’rebaked, we’ll taste them and give them a score for taste. And then another one for presentation, because that’s a big thing with desserts. You’ve seen decorated cakes, right?”
Bean blinked.
“We’ll take the scores and add them together, divide by three, and you’ll have an average score for your dessert.”
“Divide?” Bean repeated uncertainly.
It occurred to Lorna that she didn’t know what sort of math skills eight-year-olds possessed. “Why don’t you just give it a number between one and ten based on how much you enjoyed making and eating the brownies overall.” He would never make it at Driskill, where data was king.
“Diego is going to get his fishing badge. After my baking badge, I’m going to get one too. But Dad works a lot, and my grandpa had a stroke.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Lorna said.
“Why?”
“I mean I’m sorry your grandpa is sick.”
“Do you know my grandpa?”
“Nope.”
“I’m going to visit him on the weekend. Grandma is going to cut my hair. Diego’s mom takes him to a barbershop, but Grandma cuts mine. What was your best friend’s name?”
He was not going to let it go. She could almost believe Peggy or Micah had put him up to this line of questioning. She averted her gaze. “Callie,” she said, and opened the oven door.
“Why did you stop being best friends?” he asked. “I would never stop being best friends with Diego.”
“Well... life kind of got in the way.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I might have done something stupid.”
“Like an orange cat,” Bean said.
“Exactly like that.”
“Dad says you have to make sure you’re being a good friend. But I don’t have to try with Diego. We like all the same things. Red is my favorite color and it’s his, too, and we both like cars, and we both playInterspace Zombies. Did you and Callie have the same favorite color?”
Lorna and Callie had been close like that and had shared everything. Until Lorna blew it. “I don’t remember.”
“You could ask her if she’s not dead,” Bean suggested.
Lorna stuck the pan of brownies into the oven. She felt kind of sick. Like she’d lost something all over again. Like a laser beam was scoring her heart.
She set the timer for the brownies to bake. While they waited, they took turns with two spoons, scraping the last of the batter from the bowl. Then, at Bean’s insistence, they perused her Precious Moments figurines. He arranged his favorites in a village of sorts on the hearth while Aggie slept under the desk. But then he noticed the stacks of pink and white envelopes.
“What’s that? Are you having a party?”
He reached for one, but Lorna caught him before he could pick them up. “They’re just some letters.”
