She measured and mixed the ingredients. With a little tweaking, Harlow was finally satisfied with the consistency and set the bowl of dough in the fridge to firm up. While the dough cooled, Harlow lined the counter with decorations—red, white and green sprinkles, cinnamon dots, silver buttons, colored sugar, all the goodies needed to create her special treats.
Mort trotted into the kitchen and flopped down in the middle of the floor to supervise. Working her way from counter to cabinet, Harlow stepped over him once, twice, three times.
Finally, she stopped what she was doing and placed her hands on her hips. “Are you waiting for me to trip over you?” Using her foot, she gently nudged him off to the side. “Much better.”
Mort rolled onto his back, all four paws up in the air as he wiggled back and forth. He sneezed loudly, staring at her through the clumps of fur covering his eyes.
“I need to remind Dad to get you to the groomer. Pretty soon you won’t be able to see where you’re going.” Harlow fed him a handful of treats and returned to the task at hand.
Roll, cut and bake, over and over she repeated the process until the kitchen counter was covered in reindeer, mischievous elves, jolly old St. Nicks, wreaths, candy canes and Christmas trees.
Thump.The front door slammed. Seconds later, her father appeared. “Something smells good.”
“Christmas cookies.” Harlow held up an unfrosted wreath. “I’m almost to the frosting phase.”
“Are you using your mom’s recipe?”
“Absolutely. Hers are the best,” Harlow said. “They’re for the Mackies’ cookie exchange, but I’ll have plenty left over for you, me and Aunt Birdie.”
David dropped his gloves and keys on the counter. “Have you heard back from the real estate agent?”
“Allie Zehnder?” Harlow flipped her phone over and glanced at the screen. “Not yet.”
“Allie, you said?”
“Yeah. Aunt Birdie told me she’s been selling real estate on Mackinac Island for a long time.”
“Ages. I’m sure she’ll get back with you as soon as she can.” David fluffed Mort’s ears. “Are you awake?”
“It’s hard to tell his fur is getting so long. Maybe it’s time for a trip to the groomers.”
“Next week,” David said. “I’m heading out to the garage to clean the fish I got when I checked the fishing shanty, unless you need my help.”
Mort’s head shot up at the word “fish.” He scrambled to his feet and ran to the door.
“That dog,” David laughed.
“Loves fishing. I appreciate the offer but I’m good.”
After her father and Mort left, Harlow mixed up bowls of colored frosting…red, green, blue and white. Ginger, not only an excellent cook but a fabulous baker, had taught her daughter her secret frosting techniques. Using all the tricks she remembered, she frosted and decorated, taking special care to create works of art.
Two hours in, she had almost finished the last cookie when her phone chimed. Up to her elbows in frosting, Harlow glanced at the screen. It was Allie Zehnder calling her back.
She hurriedly washed her hands and plucked the phone off the counter. “Hello?”
“Is this Harlow?” A cheerful voice echoed.
“Yes. Is this Allie?”
“It is. I got your message about Lighthouse Lane.”
“I’ve had my eye on the property for a while now, but had to hold off until I was able to make an offer. As luck would have it, I found out it’s pending and wondered if you thought it would be worth it for me to put in a backup offer.”
“Oh, absolutely. Are you working with an agent?”
“Nope.”
“I can stop by this afternoon and help you put an offer together.”
