“That’s right. I got the recipe from my college roommate’s sister. Do you want to help me make a batch? Then we can sample them for dessert.” Hannah thought about the eight-ounce fillet she’d eaten and the small dinner salad that hadn’t been very small at all. “Correction. Then you can sample them for dessert.”

“It’s a deal,” Norman agreed, “but don’t expect too much from me. I’m not a baker like you are.”

“There’s no baking involved. All we have to do is stack the cookies and glue them together with the right color of frosting.”

In an effort to keep from getting in each other’s way, Hannah and Norman formed an assembly line. She started by covering the slightly rounded top of a vanilla wafer with red frosting. Then she handed the cookie to Norman. He stuck on the chocolate-covered cookie and covered the top of it with yellow buttercream frosting, letting a bit drip down over the sides. Hannah took the cookie back, sprinkled on green coconut to resemble shredded lettuce, and clamped another vanilla wafer on top, rounded side up.

“They’re cute,” Norman said when they’d run out of hamburgers, or in their case, cookies. “I never thought that yellow frosting would look like cheese, but it does.”

“And the coconut looks like shredded lettuce.”

“Exactly. And the red frosting you made is the exact color of ketchup. They’re all done now, aren’t they?”

“Not quite. We still have to brush the tops with egg white and sprinkle sesame seeds on the tops of the buns.”

Once the cookies were finished, Hannah and Norman watched the older version of Sabrina while the egg whites dried. Then Norman tasted a cookie, and pronounced it perfect for a children’s party.

“I don’t think I can stay awake for the second Sabrina,” Hannah said with a yawn. “It’s been a long day. Why don’t you call home and see if your answering machine picks up?”

Norman looked perplexed for about half a second. “That’s clever, Hannah. If the machine picks up, my power’s back on. If it doesn’t, it’s not.”

“Right. And if your power’s still out, you can stay here for the night.” Norman’s face brightened and she hurried to explain. “The bed in the guest room’s all made up.”

Norman gave a little sigh as he picked up the phone, and Hannah knew he’d hoped for a different outcome. He punched in his number, listened for a moment, and then he hung up the phone. “Power’s back on,” he said, getting to his feet. “I’d better go. I’ve got an early appointment tomorrow. Do you want to keep the Sabrina we didn’t watch?”