Fiona thought and thought of a way to solve the problem but the only solution she could come up with was that Ashley could come home on the bus with them. Then they could drive her home afterward rather than have her mother get her and possibly twig to the fact that no adult was on-site. It was either that or making Al come over when Ashley’s mother swung by and pretend to be a calm courteous upright citizen who lived with them and she didn’t think she had a tinker’s chance of that. But perhaps she could arrange for the former. She stood up reluctantly. She didn’t see a way to avoid it. She headed down the driveway to ask for help.

Fiona braced herself and knocked on Al’s door.

“WHAT!” he roared before he even got to the door.

“Don’t you ever go outside?” she asked him as the door swung open and he appeared squinting in the sunlight.

“Why would I?” he barked.

She thrust an arm out, palm upward, and gestured in an arc as if to display the lilacs in bloom, the creeping rosy flowers that blanketed all the rocky outcroppings, the forsythia, the fruit trees, the birds calling, and even the gentle buzzing of the bees.

“Is that why you came over? To goad me into some sort of outside recreational program?” he said.

“No, of course not. I’ve got a problem with Charlie only you can solve.” She hoped if she put it to him thus he would be flattered into agreeing.

He nodded to her as if to say, go on.

“She wants to invite a friend, Ashley, over and I don’t want Ashley’s mother picking her up and figuring out that we are living without benefit of a grown-up, for obvious reasons. So the easiest way to solve that is for us to drive Ashley home so her mother doesn’t come at all.”

“And by us you mean me?”

“Yes.”

“No. Don’t provide taxi service. Not in the contract,” said Al, and prepared to slam the door but Fiona stuck her foot in it.

“Naturally I don’t expect you to do this for free,” she said. “I can pay you or you can tell me what you would like in return.”

“Cookies,” said Al without thinking.

“Really? You’ll do it for cookies?” Fiona asked in surprise. She had expected to have to spend a great deal more time wheedling him with imaginative offers. Cookies were easy.

“That’s what I said.”

“Okay. What kind?”

“Chocolate chip. And they have to be freshly baked.”

“All right.”

“And I want Marlin to make them, not you.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Don’t of course me. Don’t think I haven’t figured out what goes on over there. If Marlin can’t make dinner for some reason, you make it, don’t you? You don’t think I know when that happens? Burnt mac ’n’ cheese? Pot roast with the consistency of shoe leather? Those are the meals you cook. Or rather you try and fail to cook. When it comes to cooking, you suck.”