watch him,” Rosa blurted out. “I will, Mrs. Carmichael. If he starts looking sick, I’ll make him come right back inside.”
The housekeeper kept her hands planted on her hips, though her eyes softened and there was a barely perceptible easing of her shoulders. Mothers were like that. They gave in with their eyes and their posture before saying okay out loud. “You will, will you?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am. I got my things from the dryer. Thank you, Mrs. Carmichael.”
“You’re very welcome.” She looked from Alex to Rosa. “Try to keep your noses clean, all right?”
“Yes, Mrs. Carmichael,” they said together, trying not to look too gleeful.
Out in the sunlight, Rosa noticed that Alex’s eyes were ocean-blue, and they crinkled when he grinned at her. She vowed to be on her best behavior, just like Mrs. C had admonished them. If she got in trouble, Pop wouldn’t let her come to work with him anymore. He’d make her stay with that dreadful Mrs. Schmidt, the widow with the mustache, whom Rosa likened to a circling buzzard. Even before Mamma died, Mrs. Schmidt had started coming around the house, bringing covered dishes and making eyes at Pop, which of course he never even noticed.
“Here. Have a cookie.” As they headed for the door, Mrs. Carmichael held out a white jar in the shape of a sandcastle.
“Thank you.” They each took one and stepped out into the sunshine. Rosa nibbled on the cookie as she grinned at Alex.
It was a store-bought sugar cookie. Not as good as Mamma’s, of course. Mamma made hers with a secret ingredient—ricotta cheese—and thick, sweet icing. Now that was a cookie.
Ricotta Cheese Sugar Cookies
1 cup softened butter
2 cups sugar
1 carton full-fat ricotta cheese
2 eggs
3 teaspoons vanilla (the kind from Mexico is best)
½ teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon grated lemon zest
4 cups flour
For the glaze:
1 cup powdered sugar
2-4 Tablespoons milk
2 drops almond extract (optional)
sprinkles
Preheat oven to 350° F. Mix cookie ingredients to form a sticky dough. Drop by teaspoonfuls on an ungreased cookie sheet. Bake 10 minutes or until the bottoms turn golden brown (the tops will stay white). Transfer to wire racks to cool. To make the glaze, stir milk a few drops at a time, along with the almond extract if desired, into the powdered sugar in a saucepan. Stir over low heat to create a glaze. Drizzle over cooled cookies and top with colored sprinkles. Makes 3-4 dozen cookies.
Seven
“Too bad about the rope swing,” Alex said, eyeing the rope that still hung from the tree branch.
“I took it from that shed behind the—what is that building, anyway? It’s too big to be a garage,” Rosa said, stopping to put on her flip-flops. The tall building was painted and trimmed to match the house. It had old-fashioned sliding wooden doors like a barn, an upper story at one end with a row of dormer windows facing the sea and a cupola with a wind vane on top.
“My mother parks her car there. She calls it the carriage house even though there’s no carriage in it.”
Sunlight glinted off the windows at the top of the house. “I knew it was way too fancy to be called a garage. Does somebody live there?”
“No, but somebody used to. In the olden days, a caretaker lived upstairs.”
“What did he take care of?”
“The horses. And carriages, I guess, but that was a long time ago. My grandfather used it as an observatory. He showed me how to spot the Copernicus Crater with a telescope.”
He sure did seem smart. Rosa nodded appreciatively, as though she knew what the Copernicus Crater was.
“My grandfather was teaching me about the stars, but he died when I was in first grade.”
Rosa didn’t quite know what to say about that, so she followed him across the property to the carriage house. The front doors were stuck, but they struggled together to push them along the rusted runners. Inside was a maze of spiderwebs, old tools and some sort of car under a fitted cover. “My mother’s car,” Alex said. “She calls it her beach car. It’s a Ford Galaxy. She hardly ever drives it, though.”
“My mother didn’t like driving, either.”
He shot her a quick look, and Rosa realized that now was her chance to tell him, because she’d said “didn’t” instead of “doesn’t.” But she decided not to say anything. Not yet. She might later, though. She’d already decided he was that kind of friend.
Before he could question her, she ran up the stairs. Sure enough, there was a whole house up there, flooded with dusty sunshine. Alex sneezed, and she turned to him. “Is this going to cause an as—” She couldn’t remember the word. “An attack?”
“Asthma attack. I don’t think so.” He stuck his hand into his pocket and she could see him feeling for the inhaler. Still, he seemed fine. So far, so good.
The furniture was stacked in a broken heap, like old bones on Halloween. The most interesting item was a spinning wheel. Rosa stepped on the pedal, and when the large wheel spun, she jumped back with a yell of fright.
Alex laughed at her, but not in a mean way.
“What are you going to do with all this stuff?” Rosa asked.
“I don’t know. My mother says she keeps meaning to clean it out, but she never gets around to it. I get to keep the telescope, though.” It was on a table in front of the biggest window. He opened the long black case to reveal the instrument broken down in parts.
“Can you see the man in the moon with that?” Rosa asked.
“There’s no such thing as the man in the moon.”
“I know. It’s just an expression.”
He shut the case, and a cloud of dust rose. When he breathed, he made a scary wheezing sound, and his face turned red.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Rosa asked.
He waved his hand and headed for the stairs, gasping all the way like a cartoon character pretending to die. Rosa followed him in terror. When they got outside, she headed for the house to tell Mrs. Carmichael, but Alex grabbed her arm and pulled her back.
His touch felt desperate but not angry. “I’m okay,” he said, though his voice was only a whisper.
“Are you sure?”
