Helen's Brownies
Helen hummed to herself as she stirred the pot of chicken and dumplings, smiling with satisfaction. Her boys just loved this dish, and she was in too good a mood to worry about Figure Finders today. The savory scent blended in the air with Jacob's buttered carrots, green beans and new potatoes for John, and the crowning glory - freshly-baked brownies, irresistible to almost everyone.
A quick look at the clock told her that Jake would amble through the door from class in a few moments, and John would be along 20 minutes later. Helen's timing was perfect as always. Getting home from her sales job at three o'clock was the next best thing to looking after the house all day; not for nothing did her friends call her Betty Crocker (and if you asked Helen, she could teach Betty a thing or two).
She looked at the two pans of baked bliss, cooling side-by-side on the counter, and giggled a bit. "Well, Helen, you have outdone yourself this time," she said aloud. "Won't they be surprised!"
In answer, she heard a key in the front door, followed by the thump of Jake's backpack as he dropped it. She could hear him sniffing the air from the entryway. "Hey Mom!" he called. "Is that..."
"Chicken and dumplings, honey."
"Sweet!" His hulking figure, all nine inches taller and 100 pounds heavier of it, appeared at the kitchen door topped by a grinning face. "What's the occasion?" he asked cheerfully, bending to wrap Helen in a gentle bear hug.
She kissed him on the cheek. "It just seemed like a good night for it."
"Awesome. Did you make enough for Dad too?"
Helen laughed, reaching into a cabinet for plates. "I'm sure we'll make do."
"Don't be so sure...whoa, brownies! Don't mind if I do!"
"Now, Jake, don't ruin your...WAIT!!"
Jake froze, a knife poised over the red ceramic pan, eyes wide as saucers. (Even a 20-year-old linebacker-sized guy knows his mother's warning voice means DON'T MOVE.)
Helen took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, dear," she said. "That pan's for work. You'll like the other ones better. Please, go ahead."
Jake stayed still, moving only his eyes. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, of course," Helen said, relaxing as he sliced into the batch in the aluminum pan. "You'll like those better. The others are a...new recipe."
Someday, she thought, he will make some lovely girl laugh when he raises that eyebrow.
"But your old one is so...good," Jake mumbled around a mouthful of brownie. "What are you up to?"
He knew her too well. Helen sighed and smiled. "Don't tell your father," she said conspiratorially. "These will be put away by the time he gets home, and I'll...let you know how they go over at work tomorrow."
"Well, Mom," he said, brushing the crumbs off his shirt onto her clean floor - let it pass, Helen - "these are dynamite. If the other ones are anywhere close, you'll blow them away!"
Helen had to bite her lip to keep from laughing as her sweet son kissed her on top of her head before bounding up the stairs.
Oh, sweetheart, she thought, grinning to herself. If you only knew.
~~~~~
15 years later
"Your mom, the church lady?!"
Jake grinned. "You'd be amazed. She had a bit of a wicked streak. And man, could she hold a grudge."
"No doubt," Sarah laughed, taking his hand. "So did she tell you the whole story?"
"Oh yeah. She put her name on the bag clear as day and everything, because everybody knew she had the best lunches."
"Well, duh. I mean, I'm good, but I know I can't live up to your mom's cooking."
Jake smiled at his wife, a little wistfully. "You do fine, hon."
"Eh, anyway. So what happened?"
"Well, after everybody else was gone that day, she went back to the fridge and the bag was still there, mostly full. Opened it up and it was almost untouched - sandwich, vegetables, yogurt. Except for one thing."
"The brownie. Wow. I thought that Ex-Lax thing was just a myth."
"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. But remember, my mom was creative."
"Oh no."
"Yeah. The brownie was on top, neatly wrapped, with one single bite out of it."
Sarah goggled, her big brown eyes even bigger. "What's worse than Ex-Lax?"
Jake grinned. "Habanero peppers."
Sarah blinked slowly, once, twice. "Shut. UP." He gave her the eyebrow, and she guffawed, squeezing his hand. "Wow. Never underestimate a church lady."
"Indeed. People's lunches stopped disappearing after that. Mission - accomplished."
"Go Mom."
"Yeah, go Mom."
He was quiet for a moment, and Sarah looked concerned. "Sweetie, are you..."
"I'm all right, hon. I just..." Jake shook his head. "I just wish she hadn't gone."
Sarah squeezed his hand, eyes glassy. "I know, baby. Me too."
"Hey. At least she got to know you. And she gave you recipes."
"Wanted to make sure I kept feeding you right."
"We're the perfect couple. I like edges, you like insides."
"You and your edges. Edges are only good in lasagna."
"Crunchy."
"Chewy!"
"And full of peppers." Jake grinned, and Sarah cackled, dabbing at the corners of her eyes before hopping up to grab the red ceramic pan and two forks.
"You know what time it is?"
"Wherever Mom is, it's brownie time."
"Well, look at that," Sarah said, presenting the pan half-full of fudgy goodness. "I guess she's here."
"She is," Jake said, reaching out for a bite. "Always."
A quick look at the clock told her that Jake would amble through the door from class in a few moments, and John would be along 20 minutes later. Helen's timing was perfect as always. Getting home from her sales job at three o'clock was the next best thing to looking after the house all day; not for nothing did her friends call her Betty Crocker (and if you asked Helen, she could teach Betty a thing or two).
She looked at the two pans of baked bliss, cooling side-by-side on the counter, and giggled a bit. "Well, Helen, you have outdone yourself this time," she said aloud. "Won't they be surprised!"
In answer, she heard a key in the front door, followed by the thump of Jake's backpack as he dropped it. She could hear him sniffing the air from the entryway. "Hey Mom!" he called. "Is that..."
"Chicken and dumplings, honey."
"Sweet!" His hulking figure, all nine inches taller and 100 pounds heavier of it, appeared at the kitchen door topped by a grinning face. "What's the occasion?" he asked cheerfully, bending to wrap Helen in a gentle bear hug.
She kissed him on the cheek. "It just seemed like a good night for it."
"Awesome. Did you make enough for Dad too?"
Helen laughed, reaching into a cabinet for plates. "I'm sure we'll make do."
"Don't be so sure...whoa, brownies! Don't mind if I do!"
"Now, Jake, don't ruin your...WAIT!!"
Jake froze, a knife poised over the red ceramic pan, eyes wide as saucers. (Even a 20-year-old linebacker-sized guy knows his mother's warning voice means DON'T MOVE.)
Helen took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, dear," she said. "That pan's for work. You'll like the other ones better. Please, go ahead."
Jake stayed still, moving only his eyes. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, of course," Helen said, relaxing as he sliced into the batch in the aluminum pan. "You'll like those better. The others are a...new recipe."
Someday, she thought, he will make some lovely girl laugh when he raises that eyebrow.
"But your old one is so...good," Jake mumbled around a mouthful of brownie. "What are you up to?"
He knew her too well. Helen sighed and smiled. "Don't tell your father," she said conspiratorially. "These will be put away by the time he gets home, and I'll...let you know how they go over at work tomorrow."
"Well, Mom," he said, brushing the crumbs off his shirt onto her clean floor - let it pass, Helen - "these are dynamite. If the other ones are anywhere close, you'll blow them away!"
Helen had to bite her lip to keep from laughing as her sweet son kissed her on top of her head before bounding up the stairs.
Oh, sweetheart, she thought, grinning to herself. If you only knew.
~~~~~
15 years later
"Your mom, the church lady?!"
Jake grinned. "You'd be amazed. She had a bit of a wicked streak. And man, could she hold a grudge."
"No doubt," Sarah laughed, taking his hand. "So did she tell you the whole story?"
"Oh yeah. She put her name on the bag clear as day and everything, because everybody knew she had the best lunches."
"Well, duh. I mean, I'm good, but I know I can't live up to your mom's cooking."
Jake smiled at his wife, a little wistfully. "You do fine, hon."
"Eh, anyway. So what happened?"
"Well, after everybody else was gone that day, she went back to the fridge and the bag was still there, mostly full. Opened it up and it was almost untouched - sandwich, vegetables, yogurt. Except for one thing."
"The brownie. Wow. I thought that Ex-Lax thing was just a myth."
"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. But remember, my mom was creative."
"Oh no."
"Yeah. The brownie was on top, neatly wrapped, with one single bite out of it."
Sarah goggled, her big brown eyes even bigger. "What's worse than Ex-Lax?"
Jake grinned. "Habanero peppers."
Sarah blinked slowly, once, twice. "Shut. UP." He gave her the eyebrow, and she guffawed, squeezing his hand. "Wow. Never underestimate a church lady."
"Indeed. People's lunches stopped disappearing after that. Mission - accomplished."
"Go Mom."
"Yeah, go Mom."
He was quiet for a moment, and Sarah looked concerned. "Sweetie, are you..."
"I'm all right, hon. I just..." Jake shook his head. "I just wish she hadn't gone."
Sarah squeezed his hand, eyes glassy. "I know, baby. Me too."
"Hey. At least she got to know you. And she gave you recipes."
"Wanted to make sure I kept feeding you right."
"We're the perfect couple. I like edges, you like insides."
"You and your edges. Edges are only good in lasagna."
"Crunchy."
"Chewy!"
"And full of peppers." Jake grinned, and Sarah cackled, dabbing at the corners of her eyes before hopping up to grab the red ceramic pan and two forks.
"You know what time it is?"
"Wherever Mom is, it's brownie time."
"Well, look at that," Sarah said, presenting the pan half-full of fudgy goodness. "I guess she's here."
"She is," Jake said, reaching out for a bite. "Always."