“Young, no doubt?” Walt had figured it out.
“Look,” Raymond said, glancing back at the bakery so that the others couldn’t read his face, “we’ve been taught to consider all our options in hostile situations. We can pull this off.”
“And this is certainly a hostile situation,” Walt said dryly.
* * *
Before he went in, Raymond studied the girl. She stood at the counter in front of the bowl of batter she had just mixed. Her face was centered around a small, distinguished nose. Her complexion was dotted with specks of the flour she had poured into the bowl. It made her freckles look uneven. The door squeaked when he opened it, but he thought she didn’t hear it because she continued to spoon batter onto a cookie sheet. He proceeded toward her.
“Brendan,” she called, “grab another cookie shee
