Page 78 of Jerk Neighbor

“I heard you did go on a play date, Sheila. Congratulations.”

“A boy said he was in love with me and gave me a peanut butter cup,” Tam said, stepping in front of Sheila.

“Oh...good...I think,” Paula said.

“Paula, go check on the greens for your mother,” Stuart called from the loveseat. He was talking to Lucas while extending his arm to discourage his spirited wife beside him from bounding back to the kitchen.Definitelymore stubborn than Paula.

“I highly advise you to ask someone else, Dad,” Paula called back.

Owen said, “Not her, no way. I’ll do it. ”

“You?” Timmie folded her arms at her boyfriend.

“I don’t want the greens ruined,” Owen shrugged.

“Nor do I, so I’ll just come with you and supervise.” Timmie winked at them as she walked past.

“Maybe,” Paula said sotto voice, “we should wait to tell them until all the food is safely on the table.”

Bastian squeezed her hand. “Whatever you want.”

“SO YOU’RE THE REASON MOM’S COOKIESare different this year,” Owen said to Bastian.

“Am I?” Bastian finished off one nutty confection and selected a bell-shaped cookie with blue and white icing.

“No dairy. You have an allergy, according to my sister.”

“That’s right.” He shot a grateful look at Lori Raymond. “These are really good, Lori. I haven’t eaten Christmas cookies since I was a kid.”

She beamed. “I used maple syrup, cardamom, and palm oil instead of the butter. The icing is palm. I’ll give Paula the…oh, no, I’d better give you the recipe, Bastian,” she revised, smirking.

“You can give it to me, Mom,” Paula insisted. “I've made cookies before.”

“There’s no substitute for butter,” Owen muttered.

“Don’t you dare guilt trip him for his immune system, Owen,” Paula said.

Timmie chided, “Owen, be good!”

“The whole dinner was ideal,” Paula said firmly. Bastian was amused at her warrior-like defense of him, but he was used to it by now—she’d turned into a dairy-free fiend on his behalf.

“You missed last year, you probably forgot the normal way Mom cooks things,” Owen said condescendingly.

“He’s razzing me,” she said to Bastian. “I know exactly how Mom cooks mashed potatoes and these were the best ever.”

“Wait, something was different about the potatoes?” Owen frowned.

“That’s right, Owen,” his mother said sweetly. “Real beef tallow, and lots of pepper and garlic. No milk or butter this year. But that’s all right. Here.” With an air of theatrics that reminded Bastian uncannily of her daughter, she stood up carefully, hobbling over to the plate of cookies, ignoring Stuart’s protests, and carried the plate all the way to the other end of the table from Owen. “Don’t torture yourself.”

“Wounded,” he groaned. “Mama. Where’s the love?”

“She’s the most powerful guilter in all the land,” Paula whispered to Bastian. “Owen tries, but he’s an amateur.”

“I heard that,” Lori murmured to Paula.

“Stu, how’s the gaming dev?” Calvin asked his stepfather.

“Ask Bastian here,” Stuart said. “He’s beta testing my very first fantasy game.”

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