“Nope,” Charlotte says, dusting off her hands and shooing me away. “You are not ruining my cookieswith raisins. You know what: you’ve been relieved of duty. Evie and I will take it from here.”
I laugh and admit defeat.
But I don’t go far. I just lean against the marble island countertop and watch the two of them work.
It’s a patient assembly line. Evie carefully rolls out the little balls of dough and hands them toCharlotte, who fixes the lumpier bits and arranges them carefully on the greased cooking sheet.
They hum and chatter and laugh while they work. Paulie is apparently a funny fellow, judging by howoften he cracks Evie up.
Once the cookies are baking, Evie hops down off her stool.
“Can I play in the garden until they’re ready?” she asks.
I nod. “Stay in sight
