“But we’ve always….” protested Sue.
“I agree with Sue,” said Pam. “I think we’re taking a big risk. Why fix something that’s not broken?”
“But it is broken,” said Lucy. “I had absolutely no luck getting our old volunteers to participate. And a lot of people are on those low-carbohydrate diets these days.”
Rachel clucked her tongue in disapproval.
“Okay, to summarize,” said Chris, consulting her notes. “I propose we hold the sale Labor Day weekend, at the outlet mall. Is everyone agreed?”
Sue sat stony-faced, but the others all nodded.
“Next, we have to decide what to sell. Any suggestions?”
“Low-carb seems to be a good idea,” said Bonnie.
“I definitely think we should have cold bottled beverages. The men will snap them up,” said Frankie. “And people are always looking for coffee.”
“I have a great recipe for home-made dog biscuits,” said Willie. “My husband gives them out at his office and he says people have started asking if they can buy them.”
Chris looked up from her notes. “You know, all the best craft shows are juried—that is, a panel of judges selects the very best crafts. Maybe we should try something like that with our baked goods, especially since low-carb can be tricky.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” said Bonnie. “We’ll bake up a bunch of recipes and have a taste-testing to choose the best ones. Then we can all use those recipes that we know really work. And we can wholeheartedly recommend them to the customers.”
In her corner, Sue seemed to be choking. Lucy got a glass of water for her and patted her back while she drank it, but Sue didn’t say thank you.
“Okay, all in favor of a taste-testing?” asked Chris.
Receiving a chorus of ayes she continued, “Let’s say a week from tonight. Same time, same place, if that’s okay with you, Lucy.”
“It’s okay,” said Lucy, uncomfortably aware of the daggers Sue was shooting her way.
“Let’s say everybody brings at least two different recipes, that will give us sixteen choices,” said Chris.
“I just remembered,” said Willie. “I won’t have time to make the dog biscuits. I’ve got a horse show coming up. But I’ll make a couple of the heart-healthy cookies my mom makes for my father.”
“Anybody for the dog biscuits?” asked Chris.
Nobody volunteered.
“I’m telling you, they’re not hard to do and they’ll be a big seller,” said Willie.
“Okay,” said Lucy. “I’ll do the dog biscuits.”
“Great.” Chris closed her notebook. “I think this was a very successful meeting.”
“She would,” hissed Sue, following Lucy into the kitchen, where she had gone to get a fresh pot of coffee. “Little Miss Bossy. She’s taken over the whole thing.”
“Well, that’s what we wanted, wasn’t it?” said Lucy, grabbing the pot and heading back to the living room.
“I don’t like it one bit,” said Sue.
“You mean you don’t like Chris,” said Lucy, pausing at the kitchen door.
“No, I don’t.” Sue furrowed her perfectly shaped brows and stuck out her Bobbi Brown lips in a pout. “And I’m going to show her. I’m going to come up with a killer recipe that everybody loves, just you wait and see.”
CHAPTER 4
As soon as the dinner dishes were done on Tuesday night, Lucy decided to dig out the food processor so she could experiment with the dog treat recipe. She’d wasted no time in getting the recipe from Willie; with the next meeting scheduled in less than a week she had no time to lose. She knew it was ridiculous to feel pressured about making dog biscuits for a bake sale but somehow she did. Chris had that effect. Maybe it was her corporate attitude, so different from the relaxed approach of Lucy’s friends. Until now she’d thought Sue was high-powered, but she was a slacker compared to Chris.
Lucy also had a nagging feeling that Sue was angry with her. She’d tried calling several times but all she’d gotten was Sue’s answering machine. Sue was usually very good about returning calls but she hadn’t called back yet. Maybe she was out of town or something, but Lucy didn’t think so. She certainly hadn’t mentioned any plans for a trip. She was pretty sure Sue was giving her the cold shoulder as punishment for supporting Chris’s ideas in the meeting and she couldn’t help feeling that was unfair. She thought a strong friendship like theirs that had endured for twenty years or more ought to have room for differences of opinion, but apparently Sue felt differently. Too bad, thought Lucy, experiencing a touch of anger herself. Sue wasn’t her boss and she was entitled to her own thoughts and feelings. She only hoped this rift wasn’t going to continue for too much longer; she missed her phone chats with Sue. In fact, looking over the recipe for “gourmet” dog biscuits, she could just imagine what Sue would say.
“Raw liver? Yuck.”
Sue hadn’t suddenly materialized in her kitchen to voice her disgust, it was Zoe, who had been eager to help with the project—until she saw the glistening red lump of raw meat sitting on the kitchen counter.
“It’s for dog biscuits. Gourmet dog biscuits.”
“Mom,” said Zoe, her expression very serious, “I don’t think people understand what dogs really like to eat. They don’t like dog food at all. Not really. They only eat it because they have to. They would really rather have people food. Do you know what Libby’s favorite food is? Apple pie. With ice cream.”
Lucy smiled. “I think you’re probably right. Libby loves people food, but it’s not actually very good for her. Dog food has all the nutrients she needs to grow and stay healthy. That’s why we’re going to put this nutritious lump of liver in the biscuits.” She dropped the liver into the food processor. “It’s full of iron…” she said, pressing the button and producing a brownish red sludge. “And protein,” she continued, but she was talking to an empty room. Zoe had fled the carnage in the kitchen.