Anything You Can Do - By Sally Berneathy Page 0,22

What have you got in the sacks?"

Bailey tilted her chin upward. "I'm taking dessert to Gordon's tonight, remember?"

"That's a lot of dessert. What did you do? Buy up all the frozen cheesecakes?" Paula came over to peek into the bags.

There was nothing to do but tell the truth. "I'm making dessert. That's the ingredients and a pan and measuring stuff and a cookbook. Now go lie in the sun or stuff your letters in a tree or something."

"Good grief! It really is." She lifted out a spring form pan and set of measuring cups. "Bailey, dear friend, I feel it's my duty to remind you that you can't cook. Have you forgotten being the only person in the history of Haywood High who did a supplemental research paper so you wouldn't flunk home ec?"

"Anybody can cook. It's like a computer program. You just follow the directions."

Paula pulled a package of white chocolate from one of the bags and studied it appraisingly. "I can mail my letters later. I don't think I'd better leave right now."

"Paula Lynn Duvall, don't you touch one thing in this kitchen. I' m cooking, and I don't need any criticism or help."

"You don't mind if I sit here at the bar and drink iced tea, do you?"

Most assuredly Bailey minded, but there seemed no way out of it. "Fine. But knock off the unsolicited advice. "

"I'll just sit here quiet as a mouse and take notes. Maybe we could work this into a television sitcom."

Choosing to ignore her friend's smart mouth, Bailey left the room to change into appropriate attire.

Minutes later, wearing the T-shirt and shorts she'd worn to paint the bedroom, Bailey unpacked her purchases and arranged them on the counter. She studied the recipe carefully, then rearranged everything and stared at the items, trying vainly to imagine the gorgeous color picture in the cookbook emerging from all that mess. Paula had her head buried in a magazine, but Bailey could have sworn she was smirking.

Taking a deep breath, she turned her attention to the project. One thing she knew for certain, the blasted recipe had to be followed exactly. Paula's recounting of her high school fiasco, her last experiment with cooking, reminded her that cutting out unnecessary steps had gotten her in trouble before. Heating the water to boiling before adding the pasta really did make a difference.

She set the oven to the exact temperature, allowing time for it to preheat, then consulted the recipe again. Since she didn't have time to let the cream cheese reach room temperature while lying on the counter, she plopped it into the microwave where parts of it got real soft real fast. Well, it could harden up a little in the freezer while she made the crust.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the cheesecake was in the oven. Now to get all the seeds out of those raspberries and make the sauce. Maybe if she just put them in the blender, the seeds would mush up and disappear.

Yes, indeed, Austin would regret his tacky remarks about her refrigerator holding nothing but dog food and mayonnaise. She'd show him she was a skilled cook.

*~*~*

"This is great," Gordon drawled, popping the tab on a beer and settling onto a dining table chair.

"You get to clean up," Austin answered from the kitchen, stuffing wild rice mixture into the last Cornish game hen.

"You're such a pal, going to so much trouble to help me impress Paula."

Austin hesitated in his work, searching for sarcasm in Gordon's words. "Seems to me you need all the help you can get," he finally said. "What you're doing is the goofiest thing I've ever heard of. Where do you go from here? You can't leave letters in the park indefinitely." He basted the birds carefully with real butter. This was no time to think of one's arteries.

"I'm glad you asked. I've got a great idea, and since you're so eager to help, I'll include you. I take her to the park to look for her next letter, and I let you know when we're going. Then you be there waiting, and while we go check the tree, you leave flowers in her car."

Austin slid the hens into the oven and groaned. He'd never known his friend to go to so much trouble over a woman—over anything, for that matter. If a project involved effort, Gordon just left it and went on to something easier.

"Has it ever occurred to you that when Paula finds out you're writing