Now Noelle sounded interested. “Do they have chocolate chips?”

“I found other recipes that do. We’ll try those next time.”

At the town house I sent them to wash their hands, and while they were gone I took out fruit I’d cut up. When they came into the kitchen, I motioned to the counter where I’d laid out everything, including juice boxes and a bowl of pretzels.

“I always get hungry when I cook. You guys ready to help? Grandpa will be so glad to get something we made.”

“I’m tired,” Holly said. “I want to watch TV.”

“You had trouble falling asleep last night, didn’t you?”

She glared at me, but I ignored it. “No TV this afternoon. We’re going to finish these and take them right over to Grandpa. Who wants to grind up the flax seeds?” I’d found a little dome-shaped coffee grinder in a cupboard. We had to grind the seeds to make an egg substitute. I was learning things I didn’t want to know.

Noelle volunteered and shrieked after she pushed start and it whirred loudly. I interpreted that as “I’m having fun.”

“Push it again, and this time hold it down. It won’t hurt you.”

Despite pouts and folded arms, Holly couldn’t seem to help herself. She came closer to peer through the top. The whole process took just seconds, and when the grinding stopped, I nodded to her.

“Now we mix this with water. Holly, would you get me that little glass bowl? Then you can measure the water and mix. I’ll get the tablespoon.”

I smiled and walked away, as if I had no doubts she’d do just that. When I came back with the spoon, the bowl was right where I wanted it. I didn’t run circles around the kitchen pumping my arm in victory. I dumped the ground flax seeds inside and thrust the measuring spoon toward her.

“Two of these filled with water, okay?”

“In the bowl?”

“Yeah, and it’s supposed to swell up and act like an egg.”

Holly met my gaze. There was a long hesitation, as if she was fighting herself. Then a shrug, but not the usual kind. A slight one, almost comical. “How does an egg act?”

If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought my niece actually had a sense of humor. “Like a chicken in training?” I made a goofy face, curled up as much as I could while standing and flapped my arms.

She actually giggled. I had to resist undoing all my good work. I didn’t hug her, but it was close.

In Gulf Sands I left my father in his courtyard with a little girl perched on each side. While the cookies weren’t going to win prizes at the county fair, my mother had judged them acceptable if Dad didn’t eat too many. So now he and each girl had a plate with two cookies, along with a tattered copy of The Velveteen Rabbit that had been Wendy’s, then mine. My mother had kept it all these years.