“We told you to get along,” Mom added.
“Think of all the money lost for Find Home,” Bab said. “How will I make another in time? I’m already behind with the orders, and?—”
“It’s not your responsibility,” Mom told her firmly. “You did your part. And it was beautiful.”
I nodded. It had been beautiful. And now… now it was scattered all over the floor.
And me.
“The boys will just have to remake it.” Gail decided.
I jerked upright. “What?”
“That’s right.” Mom agreed. “You boys broke it. You fix it.”
Gail nodded. “That’s the rule.”
“Pretty sure it’s not fixable,” Toby said, plucking a chunk off his shoulder.
Bab started muttering in French again.
“You’re going to have to make a new one. And fast,” Mom said.
“Auction ends next week,” Mayor Schroder put in.
Gail nodded.
Toby sputtered. “Bab is a pastry wizard! I can’t make anything as good as hers.”
“Not with that attitude,” his mother said.
“Mom…”
“I don’t want to hear it, Tobias. You do the crime; you do the time.”
“I don’t know how to make a gingerbread house.”
“Me either.” I agreed.
“Well, you boys will just have to figure it out,” Mom said.
I glanced at Toby, and he looked away.
“I could help,” Brett offered.
“No,” I snapped.
“I will make the pieces.” Bab decided. “I still have the pattern. I will bake them, and you boys will come to the bistro and assemble and decorate it. Make it look nice.”
I grimaced. I had a feeling decorating gingerbread was nothing like chopping down trees or tapping sugar maples for syrup.
“But aren’t you busy?” Toby asked.
“I’ll stay late. You boys come early in the mornings before I open. You can have three days. Then the new piece must be put up for bidding.”
“Can’t I just write a check now?” I asked. “A nice, big donation.” I’d definitely donate more than any rickety thing we made would get.
“Money does not negate effort,” Mom chastised. “You will remake what you ruined. And maybe in the process, you two will finally learn to get along.”
