Natasha and Charlie were still asleep but Marlin and Fiona sat on the front porch in sweaters in the soft March spring air, drinking hot cocoa from a mix that they’d found in Aunt Martha’s cupboard.

“I’ve made an inventory of the freezer,” said Marlin. “Either Aunt Martha thought children ate a great deal or she is one of those children of the depression that Mom used to talk about who have to squirrel away everything in case it happens again. There’s a lot of meat. Lots of chicken. Bread. Frozen pizzas and potpies and that type of thing. There’s frozen and fresh vegetables and cans of vegetables in the cabinets as well as canned baked beans and dry pasta, rice, et cetera. And she must have done some baking because she’s got all the necessary baking supplies like baking powder and soda and even yeast, as you know. Really, all we need are milk and eggs and some butter because we’re running low on those.”

“Eggs we can get along the road,” said Fiona. “I saw several egg stands from the bus. I can pick some up on the way home from town. I don’t know what time I’ll be back or how long it will take with Mr. Pennypacker to go through all of Aunt Martha’s affairs. And then I still have to think of something to make for supper. I mean something that sounds like the stuff you promised Al.”

“Never mind that,” said Marlin. “I have been looking up recipes that use what we already have and I thought I would mess around with it.”

“Really?” said Fiona. “You’ve never made dinner before.”

“Well, neither have you,” said Marlin. “Not anything complicated.”

“True, true,” said Fiona.

“I wish Mom had written down her recipes for us but I thought I could play around with making them from memory. The pork chops…there were mushrooms in it, I know, and there are pork chops in the freezer and mushrooms in the fridge…” Marlin drifted off in thought.

Reluctantly Fiona left the fragrant front porch and went inside to start a load of laundry. Then she sat down and made a detailed list of everything she could remember people doing to keep house. Laundry and vacuuming—Aunt Martha didn’t have a vacuum but she had a broom. That would have to do. Washing the bathroom and kitchen. Really, it didn’t seem too onerous. She figured if the four of them could blitz the house on Saturday they’d have Sunday free. Or blitz on Sunday and have Saturday free when it might be more fun to do things in town. Or at least one of them could go into town on the bike. Maybe they should take turns. Her head was swimming with ideas.

She went upstairs to find her one good outfit. She and her sisters had been around the world, each with the one large suitcase their parents allowed them. It had to contain everything they needed, toys, clothes, books. And they always had one outfit that was reserved for going to church or other occasions where their parents wanted them to be well-dressed. She decided she would wear hers: a nice pair of black pixie pants, a white silk shirt, and an elaborately embroidered green vest that her parents had bought her during their short sojourn in India. She put on running shoes and placed her good black flats in the bike basket to change into when she got to town. Then she was off for her ten o’clock appointment with Mr. Pennypacker.