“No,” said Fiona thoughtfully. “It’s the same. Mr. Pennypacker said.” She opened the fridge to look for something for a snack. She had missed lunch and all the biking had made her ravenous. There was a large bowl of some kind of slaw and she stuck a fork in to taste it. “Did you make this?” she asked Marlin in amazement.

“Yep,” said Marlin, beaming happily. “I found this recipe for slaw but I thought it was too bitter and I just started adding things I thought would work.”

“This is fantastic,” said Fiona.

“I like to cook,” said Marlin. “I just never knew it before. Someone was always cooking for us. And I’m also tweaking this pork chop recipe that I found that started out sounding the way Mom used to make them. But I think…I can improve on it,” she murmured, reading the recipe and throwing a shake of this spice and a shake of that into the coating mix.

“Well, if your pork chops are as good as your slaw, at least Al won’t be able to complain about the dinners we bring,” said Fiona.

The girls spent the rest of the day in happy activities. Natasha had found a Wildlife of British Columbia book and was engrossed in the bird section while lying on the hammock on the back porch, lazily looking up each new bird as it flew by the porch.

Charlie was climbing all the fruit trees one by one as if introducing herself to them. They still didn’t know what kind they were. Natasha thought they should look them up in Aunt Martha’s Trees of British Columbia book but Charlie said it would be more exciting to wait and see what kind of fruit magically materialized in the summer.

Marlin was contentedly engrossed in cooking and baking and Fiona sat down at Martha’s computer and went through her records trying to figure out what bills lay ahead and how the online banking worked.

At suppertime Marlin put pork chops, oven fries, and slaw into a large food container.

“Aren’t you giving him a piece of that cake?” asked Charlie, pointing to the cake Marlin had spent all morning fussing over.

“No, he doesn’t deserve my cake. He’s never getting cake from me again,” said Marlin.

Fiona sighed. When Marlin held a grudge, it could be a long time before the person in question was forgiven. She took the food container from her and biked it down the driveway and next door.

Al answered the door the way he always did, by throwing it open and shouting “WHAT!” But Fiona had decided to do the intimidating herself for a change.

First, she handed him twenty dollars.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“You remember the deal,” she said.

“I remember the deal being for beer money. I haven’t given you my beer bill yet.”

“It’s not something we can leave open-ended. You might decide to drink us into the poorhouse. Twenty bucks,” said Fiona. “Take it or leave it.”