The Christmas Cookie Wars

Chapter Three

Three

The masses had been right. Melody really couldn’t bake.

Waving away the curl of smoke, she slid the cookie sheet out of the oven, wincing at her attempt to make the Christmas pinwheels recipe she’d found in a stack of her mother’s Better Homes & Gardens in an article titled “The Ten Easiest Christmas Cookie Recipes.” Easy? Ha! The red and green and white dough was supposed to be swirled together in clean lines, but somehow the colors had bled when she’d rolled it out, so she’d had to press and fold and squeeze the strips of dough into submission. Sometime during the baking process, the cookies had expanded and melted, blurring the lines to make them look more like blobs than wheels.

“Whoa.” Tate cruised past the oven, both his mouth and his forehead furrowed. He looked so much like Thomas sometimes. “What happened to those?”

“Nothing.” She snatched one up and took a bite to prove they were salvageable. The recipe had claimed they melted in your mouth, but this cookie crumbled in her mouth, dry and a little too salty. “I don’t understand. I followed the recipe exactly.” It had to be the altitude—baking at seven thousand feet above sea level posed unique challenges that she obviously wasn’t qualified to address.

“It was a good try, Mom.” Finn patted her shoulder in solidarity. “I’ll bet they’ll be the most delicious cookies at the swap.”

While Tate looked more like Thomas, Finn had inherited his father’s buoyant optimism. But she tended to be a realist. “There is no way these will be the most delicious cookies at the swap.” Especially since Mr. Braxton had a long-standing reputation as the best baker at Cookeville Elementary. Legend had it that his grandma was some kind of baking champion and had passed all her knowledge down to him. No one was going to take one of her blob wheels when Mr. Braxton’s cookies were available.

Both boys stole a cookie off the pan and crammed the whole thing into their mouths, chewing thoughtfully.

“Mmm,” Finn murmured, his smile too big and toothy to be believable.

“I think maybe you went a little overboard on the salt,” Tate informed her in his matter-of-fact way.

“I did what the recipe said.” But it didn’t matter how bad they were. She didn’t have time to make anything else before the swap. She started to transfer the blob wheels into the containers she’d set out earlier. “Are you two about ready to head to the school?” They couldn’t be late when she was the one in charge, as much as she’d like to procrastinate. She had no idea how many people were coming—or if anyone would show up at all. Since Charlene had officially canceled the event on the school’s social media site, Melody had spent a whole day reposting the details, doing her best to get everyone excited. So far, they only had twelve interested and seven going, which would be a lot less than last year’s record attendance.

“Do we have to go?” Tate’s shoulders slumped. “It’s a Saturday . We don’t want to go to school on the weekend .”

“There are going to be a million cookies there, and you can eat as many as you want,” she reminded them. They’d never complained about going to the cookie swap before. “Come on. Go get your coats on.”

Just when she thought Tate’s shoulders couldn’t possibly slump anymore. He’d also added a scowl into the mix, but he knew better than to argue with her.

She sealed the lid on the cookies, the burn of embarrassment already simmering. Maybe she wouldn’t have to put them out. Maybe she could walk around instead of standing at her spot behind a table and then no one would know where the blob wheels came from…

“I’ve gotta change real quick.” Finn disappeared and she heard him bounding up the steps.

Change? He was wearing his typical uniform of athletic pants and a long-sleeve T-shirt—the same thing he wore to school every day. “Well, hurry up,” she called after him. “Here, honey.” She handed Tate the container of cookies and squeezed past him into the mudroom to get her coat on.

“Okay. I’m ready.” Two minutes later, Finn rushed past her and she had to stop and do a double take. “Is that gel in your hair?” And was he wearing the button-up shirt and khaki pants she’d gotten him for the fall choir concert?

“Oh. Yeah.” Her son tapped the new stiff wave of hair over his forehead. “I call shotgun!” He bolted out the garage door, beating both her and Tate in one lunge.

Was he seriously dressed up? For a cookie swap? She had to be dreaming. For years she’d begged and negotiated and bribed the boys to dress up—only for special occasions, mind you—but those were battles she’d mostly lost. Melody stepped past Tate, holding the door open for him, and then climbed into the driver’s seat next to Finn, openly staring. “You look really nice.”

“I know.” Her son straightened his collar, wearing the same smile that always got him an extra scoop of ice cream at the old-fashioned parlor three doors down from the boutique.

Melody started up the car and headed for the school. “So, what’s the occasion?” She did her best to strike a casual, disinterested tone. She couldn’t make too big a deal over this or he’d never wear another button-up shirt again, but seriously. She’d been waiting for this day. For the day that one of them actually cared about their appearance. Maybe she could take him shopping!

“He has a crush,” Tate said blandly from the back seat.

“Shut up,” Finn snapped.

A crush? Melody stepped hard on the brake and cranked her head to stare at Finn. The one who qualified as her baby since he was six minutes younger than his brother. “Who do you have a crush on?”

“No one,” he mumbled, turning his head to stare out the window. “Tate doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Evidently, Tate did know what he was talking about because Finn’s face had turned as red as Santa’s suit.

Before she could say another word, her younger twin reached forward to turn up the radio.

But she couldn’t even hum along with “Walking in a Winter Wonderland.” Finn had a crush? An actual crush? Just last year he’d practically been gagging when he’d told her about how his friend Stella had tried to kiss him on the playground. He’d run away, of course, and he’d steered clear of her the rest of last year. But this year he liked someone enough to dress up for them?

Melody drove for a while, again doing her best to maintain a neutral expression until she parked in the lot near the school’s gymnasium doors. Tate was out of the car before she’d even cut the engine, giving her the perfect opening. “You can talk to me, buddy,” she told Finn. “About anything.” While she couldn’t quite believe they were at this stage, she was supposed to be the one helping him navigate crushes and figure out what he wanted to wear to impress someone special. That was her job.

“It’s nothing, Mom.” Her son huffed. “No big deal.” He climbed out of the car and followed his brother in through the gymnasium doors, leaving her to carry in the container of Christmas blob wheels all by her lonesome.

Melody slung her purse over her shoulder and leaned halfway into the car through the back door to get the container. There’d been a day when her kids had told her everything—especially Finn. He would come home and spend a half hour giving her a play-by-play of his day. Yet now here they were. He was starting to keep things from her already—

“Ms. Monroe?”

A cringe worked its way up her neck. Mr. Braxton. Hiding the cookies under an arm, she whirled. “Hi. And it’s Melody.”

The principal walked briskly across the sidewalk to meet her, his forehead furrowed.

“Didn’t you get my email?”

Why was he always asking her that? “No. I didn’t see any email.” Didn’t the man know by now that email was not the best way to communicate with her—or with probably half the school? There were spam filters and junk emails to wade through and pointless forwards from relatives. Who had time for all of that? “I haven’t exactly been on my computer lately.” She’d been too busy developing a new Christmas cookie—the blob wheel. Melody made sure her arm covered the top of the container so Jonathan couldn’t get a look at the monstrosities inside. After everyone witnessed her walking in with a contribution, she would have to find a place to hide them the first chance she got.

“I emailed you to tell you that we can’t use the gym today.” For always wearing such a stern expression, Mr. Braxton had a nice voice. Velvety smooth and lulling. Too bad he mostly used it for telling her what she didn’t want to hear.

“What do you mean we can’t use the gym?” The cookie swap had always been in the gym. “Why not?”

“Mom!” Finn appeared at the door. “They’re doing the play practice in here. Where’re we supposed to set up the tables for the cookie swap?”

“Are you serious?” Melody seethed. No wonder Charlene hadn’t returned the three messages she’d left on her voicemail. She was trying to sabotage them.

“That’s what I told you in the email.” Mr. Braxton spoke with a stern patience. “It seems Charlene booked the space for the play right after she canceled the swap and before I could get into the system to reschedule. So I asked you to come up with another plan.”

“Right.” Melody took a good long glance at her watch. They had exactly half an hour before they were supposed to welcome people—assuming anyone came—to one of the best events of the season and they had no space.

“There’s still time to call if off.” Mr. Braxton pulled a phone out of his pocket. “I’ll send a text through the communication chain and—”

“No.” That was what Charlene wanted them to do. “We’ll figure something out.” This was her first event as the head of the cookie committee, and she wasn’t about to let it fail. They simply had to improvise. “What about classrooms?” She didn’t wait for a response before hurrying up the sidewalk toward the double glass doors. “We can put four tables in every classroom, and then people can wander through the building swapping the cookies. It might be nice to be spread out.” Having a huge crowd in the gym always created a sense of mass chaos anyway. This way people could meander.

“That wasn’t the plan.” Mr. Braxton had caught up to her. “We’ve always had the event in the gym and—”

“Finn, Tate!” Melody called to the boys. “You need to take two of the folding tables to each classroom and find a place to set them up.” It would be like a progressive dessert experience through the building. Parents would get to tour all of the classrooms. How fun would that be?

The boys saluted her and disappeared down the hall.

“We aren’t prepared to host this event in the classrooms.” The principal fell in stride with her. “I didn’t warn the teachers and—”

Oh, for the love! Melody stopped and faced him. “Jonathan. Er, I mean Mr. Braxton…do you really want to cancel now ? This is one of the biggest events in the school’s holiday fundraising season. That would be saying no to money that could help us make sure you don’t have to make any difficult decisions about extracurriculars.”

He hesitated, his gaze darting around her while his jaw flexed. The pause gave her a second to study his face. To really see him. God, Kels was right. That strong structured jaw and those fiery intense eyes and full, symmetrical lips. Her eyes went wide. Stop staring at his lips! She had to focus.

“I guess you’re right.” He delivered the words through a resigned sigh. Obviously she didn’t have his vote of confidence.

“We can do this. I know we can.” She might not be as organized as he was or as good at executing a set plan—or even having a plan to begin with—but she could improvise with the best of them. Flying by the seat of her pants was where she shone. “Trust me. Please. We can still pull this off and start the season right.”

Judging from the worry lines in his forehead, he didn’t agree, but a definitive nod sealed the pact. “Fine. We’ll set up the tables in the classrooms.”

“Thank you.” She set the container of blob wheels on top of the coat rack outside the office, her mind already spinning ahead. “You help the boys get the tables set up, and I’ll go find the linens and decorations so we can make this every bit as festive as it’s been in the past.” She’d dig through the storage closet in the teachers’ lounge after a quick stop in the gym.

Jonathan muttered something when they parted ways, but she couldn’t make out the words. It didn’t matter. He’d likely already formed an opinion of her over the years, but she could still prove him wrong. In fact, today was the perfect opportunity to prove him wrong. She would fix everything and then he would see that she could be a valuable asset to the school community.

After shedding her coat and purse in the office, Melody booked it down the hall and ran into Adele outside the gym. “Hey, Mel.” She looked around nervously, likely because she didn’t want Charlene to see them talking.

“Hi there.” Melody caught a peek through the window on the door. There had to be fifty kids in there and at least that many parents, which could work in their favor. “So glad you’re here. I can’t wait for you to walk around the swap and see what delectable offerings there are today.” Ha! Little did Charlene know, she’d given them a built-in customer base by taking over the gym.

Adele winced. “Um, actually, Charlene said parents have to stay during the auditions. To supervise their kids. We’re not supposed to leave the gym.”

Was she joking? Either way, Melody laughed. She couldn’t help it. “This is an elementary school. Not a prison. I’m pretty sure you could leave the gym for ten minutes to collect some cookies for a good cause.”

“Like I said, I can’t get into the middle of any drama with Charlene right now.” She sidestepped Melody and opened the door. “Sorry.”

“So am I,” she muttered, following Adele inside. Most of the chairs that had been set up facing the stage were occupied by parents and their kids. Charlene stood in front of the stage behind a lectern chatting with Prisha while kids milled around them.

Backbone firm, Melody marched down the aisle between the rows.

Charlene looked up as she approached, amusement curling her shellacked lips. She wasn’t surprised to see her. “Oh, hi, Melody. I didn’t expect to see you here. Are Tate and Finn interested in trying out for the play?”

“Not even a little.” She made sure her tone told the woman to cut the BS. “I’m here because I’m running the cookie swap—the event that you canceled at the last minute. Remember?”

Prisha looked back and forth between them, wide-eyed, and then slowly backed away.

“That’s right.” Charlene’s smile had a snide bent. “I think I did hear something about you trying to run the cookie committee. How’s it going?”

Oh no. She was not going to let this woman bait her into a fight. Not while everyone was watching them. She had to be the bigger person here. “It’s going great. In fact, I stopped in to invite everyone here to walk around the swap while they wait for their kids. We have a variety of bakers who—”

“Sorry, Melody.” Charlene had started to speak louder. “I need all the parents to stay for the duration of the rehearsal. There’s no way I can supervise this many kids myself. It’s against policy.”

Against whose policy? Melody looked around. No one would meet her eye. None of these people would dare go walk the halls for fear of their kid getting blacklisted from the play.

“Now if you’ll excuse us, we have a schedule to keep.” Charlene waved her away. “All right, Sam. You’re up next. Stage left, please.”

Music started up—giving Melody her cue to leave. She did so with her head high.

By the time she’d made it to the teachers’ lounge to look through the stash of event decorations, she was practically breathing fire. All she wanted to do was save the STEM program and preserve the town’s holiday traditions, and Charlene was declaring an all-out war. The problem with a war, though, was that both sides lost too much. So Melody couldn’t get drawn in. She had to rise above and stay focused on her goals instead of on simply beating Charlene.

Old tables crammed the lounge, and the kitchenette along one wall looked like a throwback to the early nineties with honey oak cabinets and a mauve vinyl countertop. The smell of tuna fish made her nostrils flare. You’d think the district could do more for the people who were shaping all those young minds.

She couldn’t solve all the world’s problems in one day, however, so she started to open the doors of the closets lining the far walls. Ah. There was one labeled Cookie Committee . Melody pulled open the door and immediately froze. What in the world? No. This couldn’t be right. The Christmas decorations had been destroyed—the tablecloths, the sparkling poinsettias, the centerpieces, the papier-maché votive holders the third graders had made in art class. They were all a mess! Nothing was salvageable.

“The boys informed me that they have the tables under control.” Mr. Braxton appeared in her peripheral vision. “Do you need help with the decorations?”

“There are no decorations.” She stared at the shreds of fabric and plastic, dread building behind her ribs. It looked like someone had taken scissors and shredded everything.

“What do you mean?” He joined her at the closet. “It looks like some mice might’ve gotten in here.”

Right, mice. In this particular closet.

“Didn’t you do inventory in the closets this week? That was a checklist item in the president’s introduction email. You were supposed to check the closet to make sure everything was ready.”

There was an official checklist for this job? And to think she’d been waiting for Charlene to call her back and give her some instructions. Melody held out her hand. “Unlock your phone and give it to me right now.”

Mr. Braxton shrank away from her. “What? Why?”

“I’m going to give you my cell number and then you can text me everything I need to read instead of emailing me.” She held out her hands and wiggled her fingers until he reluctantly acquiesced.

“Trust me. This will be much more efficient.” She typed in her name—adding a smiling emoji for good vibes—and then punched in her number. “There.” She handed it back to him. “No more emails.” Every time she opened her computer there were fifty new orders for the boutique and that always became her first priority. She didn’t have time to wade through a hundred other emails.

Jonathan still held his phone out and away from him like he didn’t know what to do with it now that it contained her number. “I can’t send personal texts to every parent in this school.”

“You won’t be sending personal texts.” He likely didn’t even know what a personal text was—a friendly Hi there! or How’s your day going? In all of her interactions with him, Mr. Braxton had been professional and…well, borderline robotic. “Besides, I’m not only a parent. I’m the president of the cookie committee now. And I’m implementing a new bylaw.” Or whatever the heck they called it. “No more emails for the president of the cookie committee. Only texts.” She grinned at him because she couldn’t resist. “Do I need to sign an official decree or something?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Wait. Was Mr. Braxton smiling?

“So, Cookie Club President, what’s the plan for decorations?” The shadow of a smile he’d been sporting evolved into a smirk.

That was a new look for him.

“We’re running out of time,” he prompted. “Everyone will start arriving in twenty minutes.”

Hopefully some people would arrive, other than the new committee members who’d agreed to bake for the swap. “Okay.” She exhaled slowly, letting go of the earlier tension. They were already on crisis number two of the day and it wasn’t even noon, but she could handle this. “No problem.” This was the moment that single-momming twin boys had prepared her for. She traipsed out of the lounge, waving the principal along down the hall and into the library.

“We’re going to use these.” She gestured to the holiday display adorning the wall. “We’ll borrow the paper chains and streamers.” Carefully, she detached a red-and-green section from the wall. “And you can collect all of the miniature trees from the bookshelves for centerpieces. Oh! We can also stop by the art room and cut paper to fit the tables and then kids can color on them!” Securing the paper chain around her neck like a scarf, she hurried to one of the book carts in the corner. “Let’s put everything on this so we only have to make one trip.”

For once, Jonathan didn’t argue. He moved alongside her, collecting the decorations and carefully setting them on the cart while she disconnected the rest of the streamers and paper chains. Then they quickly stopped in to the art room and worked together to cut long sheets of white paper.

After that, they developed quite the distribution system, with her focusing on placing the trees and Jonathan taping the garlands to the tables.

“Mr. Ponder won’t be happy if he finds out we moved his library trees.” Jonathan glanced around them as if he half expected the librarian to jump out from behind a door.

“He won’t even know,” Melody assured him. “We’ll clean up and put everything back the way it was when we found it.”

“Hey, Mom!” Tate ran out from the fifth-grade classroom across the hall. “We’re done with the tables. Can we go watch the play auditions?”

“Maybe later.” Charlene likely wouldn’t let them in the door if Melody wasn’t there to supervise them. She handed Jonathan one of the paper chains. “I’ll need your help to get people checked in,” she called to the boys, who were now playing tag in the hall.

“You and I can check people in.” Jonathan hung the last paper chain on the table in the kindergarten classroom. “It would be good for the president and the principal to greet everyone when they arrive anyway. We can hand out our cookies first.”

Cookies! Ugh. The blob wheels were still sitting on the coat rack. “Right. Sure.” They could hand out their cookies together. Unless hers mysteriously disappeared ASAP. “Um. I’ll get ready to greet people, if you take this cart back to the library.” Then no one would witness her getting rid of the evidence that the blob wheels belonged to her.

“Sure. Sounds good.”

Jonathan walked away, but before she could get to the cookies her mother glided in through the doors. “Hey, sweetie girl.”

“Mom. Thanks for coming.” She hugged her around the platter she held. “Are those your spritz cookies?” She had fond childhood memories of her mom cursing the day she’d bought that cookie press every year. “They look great.” Much better than the blob wheels. Her gaze fixated on the container that sat on the other side of the hallway.

“Hey, Nonna!” Finn beelined toward them and nearly tackled his grandma with a fierce hug.

“Finny, look at you. You’re so sharp!” She straightened his collar with her free hand. “What’s the occasion?”

“Nothing.” Her son detached himself and bolted down the hall again, calling “Gotta go!” over his shoulder.

“Did you make him dress up?” her mom asked sternly. Heaven forbid Melody force her grand-angels to do something they didn’t want to do.

“No, before we left the house, he said he had to change and then he came downstairs dressed like that all on his own. Tate said it’s because he has a crush on someone.”

“He does,” Mr. Braxton said behind her.

Fabulous. He’d already returned from taking the cart back to the library. How was she ever going to hide the cookies?

“Finn has a crush on Ms. Sanderson.”

Melody gaped at him. “As in the cafeteria lady?”

Her mother chuckled. “Isn’t that adorable?”

How had she missed this? “Ms. Sanderson is well over fifty years old.” Or maybe even sixty. It was hard to tell because she dyed her hair blond.

Jonathan’s second smile of the day appeared, and this one changed his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes and mouth. “She’s funny and friendly and she makes one heck of a chocolate fudge brownie. What’s not to like?”

“I’d marry her,” her mother agreed. “If I weren’t already taken by the man of my dreams, of course.”

Sure, Ms. Sanderson was amazing. Melody loved her as much as anyone else. But why had no one informed her that her son had been flirting with the cafeteria lady? Usually she counted on her mother to keep her in the loop about their goings-on at school.

“Did you know about this?” she demanded.

“I didn’t have a clue.”

“Great.” At some point she’d have to figure out how to talk to Finn about age-appropriate dating. But right now she had to act like a president. Or at least fake it till she made it. A few cookie swappers were already walking through the doors. That was a good sign, right? Charlene couldn’t confine everyone to the gym all day. “Mom, why don’t you go set up in one of the second-grade classrooms?”

“Got it. But I need to make my sizable contribution first.” She pulled a folded check out of the pocket of her flannel shirt and shoved it into the cash box Jonathan had put on the table to collect the donations. Which was a good catch. Melody hadn’t even thought about where they would put the money.

With more people streaming in, Melody stepped behind the table alongside Jonathan, greeting the familiar faces from around town and directing them to their stations while collecting donations in the process. Finn and Tate pitched in too—escorting people to their tables and helping to carry boxes of cookies. When there was a lull, Jonathan disappeared and Melody took the opportunity to catch her breath. Okay. Even with Charlene’s obvious sabotage, this event would be a complete success. Things had started out rocky, but they’d saved the—

“Do you know whose cookies these are?” Jonathan approached the table carrying the container of blob wheels. “I found them on top of the coat rack.”

Heat exploded in her cheeks. She’d totally forgotten to hide those damn cookies. “Oh. Uh. Huh. Nope. I don’t recognize those.” The lie tumbled out before she could stop it. “Must’ve been someone who walked in and forgot they left them there. I can go ask around.” She stole the container out of his hands. “I need to check on everyone anyway—do my job as president.”

“Sounds good. I’ll hold down the fort here.” He took up his post behind the table. “It looks like one of our kindergartners or first graders helped make them, if that guides you in the right direction.”

“Yeah. Totally.” She wasn’t sure if she was smiling or grimacing. A kindergartner? They weren’t that bad. “I’ll be right back.” She took off down the hall and then veered to the cafeteria since the lights were out. A huge trash can sat by the door. She hesitated. The boys would likely end up eating them if she brought them home—they’d eat pretty much anything with sugar. Then at least the cookies wouldn’t go to waste. Glancing around, Melody hid the container behind the trash can and then returned to the table. She could go back for them after everyone left.

“Did you find out who they belonged to?” Mr. Braxton asked.

“Yep. Sure did.” She assessed the next group coming through the door. “Look at that. At least people are showing up.” Not in masses or anything, but they wouldn’t be standing here alone for the next two hours.

“I was a little worried.” He paused, then squeezed his eyes shut for a beat. “Not because of you being in charge or anything. That’s not why I was worried. I just didn’t—oops, I forgot to put out my cookies.” Mr. Braxton stiffly lifted the box that had been sitting on the chair next to them and removed the lid, revealing run-of-the-mill chocolate thumbprints.

They didn’t look like anything special to her.

He cleared his throat. “What I meant to say before was, Charlene didn’t love the fact that the committee was going to continue on with the events under new leadership.”

“I’m aware. But maybe new leadership is exactly what the cookie committee needs.”

“It might be.” Something new glinted in his eyes, but before she could decode the change, another group of people came in.

They settled into the routine again, signing in swappers, accepting donations, explaining how the event worked.

Her sister arrived twenty minutes late, with no cookies. No surprise there. Kels hated spending time in the kitchen.

“What a fun idea to do the swap in classrooms.” Kels aimed her smile at Jonathan.

“Thank you.” Melody decided to take all of the credit. He’d wanted to cancel, after all. “We thought it would be good to change it up this year. Didn’t we?” She lightly elbowed Jonathan in the ribs.

He grunted.

“Personally, I think putting the cookies in the classrooms is too cumbersome.”

Charlene.

At some point, she’d snuck up behind Kels.

“I always like to get a look at all of the cookies side by side so I can pick the best.” She wedged herself in front of the table next to Kelsey. “Speaking of cookies… Mr. Braxton , these look divine .”

Melody eyed the cookies in the box between them. There was nothing special about them! And yet any woman who’d walked past them ogled both Mr. Braxton and his offering.

“Oh my.” Charlene chewed slowly, her eyes closing with a look of rapture. “Mmm mmm mmm.”

Maybe Melody should leave the two of them alone. She shared a look with her sister, their thoughts flying back and forth. After years of practice, she and Kels could read each other.

Right now, her sister really wanted to say something like Get a room, Charlene . And she was fighting off a laugh.

“Is that toffee I taste?” Charlene ran her tongue over her bottom lip.

“It is, actually.” Could the principal really be clueless? “My grandma always put toffee into her thumbprints.”

“You baked with your grandmother?” Charlene fawned. “That’s so sweet.”

Oh please. Everyone knew he’d baked with his grandmother. Especially Charlene. She knew everything about everyone.

If Finn and Tate had been around they definitely would’ve been making gagging noises by now. Melody was too mature to do that, but she looked at Kels again and they snickered together. “I thought no one was supposed to leave the gym during the rehearsal.” Melody made her tone as sweet as toffee.

“The kids needed a few minutes to study the next song. They won’t miss me. I thought I should come and see how everything was going out here.” She caught Melody in a calculating gaze, then looked around. “Where are your cookies, Melody? I’m dying to try the new president’s offering.”

Uh-oh. “You know, I think I misplaced them somewhere.” She threw up her hands. “Oh well. I’ll be too busy walking around to stand behind a table the whole afternoon anyway. I have to make sure to greet everyone and recruit more new committee members.” She stepped away, but Tate rushed up to her, holding something above his head.

“Hey, Mom. I found our cookies behind the trash can.”

Melody’s heart lurched to her throat. She darted a glance around but there was no way to stop this impending disaster—no place to hide, no magical portal offering her an escape.

Her darling son deposited the container of blob wheels onto the table right next to Jonathan’s thumbprints. “Can you believe that? Do you think someone tried to throw them away?”

The principal’s brows pinched together but he didn’t say anything. No one said anything. Not Kels. Not Charlene. They all only stared at her.

Melody’s cheeks burned so hot the smile melted off her face.

Tate looked truly offended on her behalf. “I mean, I know they didn’t turn out that good, but you did your best, and then someone tries to put them in the garbage? It’s a good thing they missed or I’d find ’em and put them in the garbage.”

“Thanks, Tate!” She prodded her son away, the rash of humiliation now inching up her neck. “Why don’t you go do some more taste testing, hmm?” She couldn’t bring herself to look at the blobs, or at anyone else’s face.

Finally, Charlene interrupted the deafening silence. “I’d better get back to the gym.” The words had a singsongy ring to them. She probably couldn’t wait to go back and report to everyone there how truly awful their new cookie committee president was.

“Wow, Mel,” Kels finally said after the woman had gone. “Those look… interesting . Very creative.”

Her hands stiffened as she removed the lid. There was no going back now. These were her cookies and she had to sell them, darn it. She wouldn’t let Charlene make a fool out of her. “Do you want to try one?”

“Uh…you know how I am with food dyes. They really mess me up. But I will take one of these.” She stole a thumbprint from the box and bit into it right away. “My God! These are incredible!” She held it in Melody’s direction. “Have you tried this cookie? I mean, you pick it up thinking it’s going to be just another chocolate thumbprint and then you put it in your mouth and… wow . That toffee in the middle truly melts.”

Melody shot her another tried-and-true sisterly glare. Traitor!

“I’m glad you like it. This is an old family recipe.” Jonathan beamed. She’d never seen such a light in the man’s eyes. He picked up the box and held it out to Melody. “Maybe you’d like to try one?”

“No, thanks.” Averting her eyes from the gooey chocolatey goodness, she held a firm stance.

She’d never wanted a cookie so badly in her life, but she wasn’t about to become a Jonathan Braxton groupie.