“Three.” Morgan held up the bags of dough. “I think three large pizzas will be enough.”
Tristan hopped on one foot. “Can I spread the dough?”
“After we wash our hands,” his uncle said.
They each took turns at the sink, washing and drying their hands before they got down to the business of pizza making.
Morgan turned her cell phone on and tracked down one of her favorite playlists. Humming along to a snappy tune, she chopped onions and minced garlic, adding them to the growing collection of toppings.
Meanwhile, Tristan and Brett spread the pre-made dough out on the pizza pans. Putting Jeff in charge of adding sauce to each pie, they made quick work of prepping.
“Let’s add toppings.” Morgan counted heads. “Uncle Jeff and Tristan work on this pizza, Wyatt and I will doctor up our pie, and Brett and Quinn can work on theirs.”
“Crud.” Quinn opened the oven door. “We forgot to preheat the oven.”
“It won’t take long.” Morgan tapped the panel of buttons. “Mrs. Arnsby’s high-tech, top-notch oven is super-speedy.”
By the time they added toppings to the pies, the oven had preheated. Oversized with plenty of room for all three pizzas, Morgan and Quinn strategically placed them inside, leaving enough room for them to cook evenly.
While the pizzas baked, the group munched on garlic knots. Morgan rummaged around in the pantry and found a bag of potato chips. “We have some chips to go with our knots.”
“The chip dip is in the fridge.” Tristan dashed over to the refrigerator and removed a large container of chip dip. “This is my favorite.”
“I bet Mrs. Arnsby bought this especially for you,” Morgan guessed.
“She lets me help her make the grocery list,” he said. “I even help her shop.”
“Tristan mentioned signing up for an after-school archery club,” Jeff said. “He’s even made a friend.”
“Two.” The boy shoved a dip-laden chip in his mouth. “We’re going ice skating at their house after school tomorrow. Their dad built an ice rink in the backyard.”
“Do you know how to skate?” Quinn asked.
“Not yet. My friends are going to teach me.” Tristan waved his half-eaten garlic knot in the air. “By the time Uncle Jeff comes back, I’ll be really good at it.”
Morgan dipped her knot in the marinara sauce. “When are you leaving, Jeff?”
“Day after tomorrow. I’m traveling to Tokyo and will be gone for a couple of weeks.”
“Safe travels,” Quinn said. “How long is the flight?”
“Seventeen hours.”
“Seventeen hours?” Morgan gasped. “Good gravy.”
“I’ve had worse.”
Chester, who had been monitoring the kitchen activity, hopped down from his favorite chair and trotted to the door.
“Chester needs to go out.” Morgan made a move to follow him.
Tristan stopped her. “Can I take him?”
“Sure.”
“Be right back.” He scampered across the room. Lickety-split, he had his boots, coat, hat and gloves on.
Jeff closed the door behind them. “While you’re all here, I want to thank you. Tristan has settled in even better than I ever could have imagined. He loves Easton Island.”
