“Bill, would you drop these coconut cream pies off at Mrs. Walker’s before you start visiting the used car lots?” Brenda—or given the events of the previous evening, should Rory go back to thinking of her as Mrs. Fox—asked her husband as she boxed up said pies after breakfast. Then she turned to her son and wagged a finger at him. “I told her I was sending three pies for the church social this afternoon and so no eating one of them, Zane Fox.”
Zane’s face fell. “Ah, Mom!”
Mrs. Fox shook her head and smiled. “I baked five pies, so you’ll be able to have some after lunch and supper and you can take the last one back with you Sunday.”
Zane’s face broke out in a huge smile. “Can I have a slice now?” He waggled his eyebrows and put on his best puppy dog face.
Mrs. Fox grumbled but Rory saw
