#Chapter 103: Whipped cream and fantasies

Tina insisted I spend the next day with her. “Today is a day for baking pies,” she said, pointing to the window. It was lightly storming outside, with steady rain and dark clouds. I let her get it started, enjoying several cups of coffee in the morning while she made the dough. I was never any good at that part, anyway. “Are you afraid to get your hands dirty now, my daughter?” “Very funny,” I replied. “To be honest, I never really liked getting my hands dirty, even before.” “Well, that’s alright,” Tina said. “I don’t mind spoiling you.” Then he had me doing prep work for her for a few hours. I peeled and cut up apples. Washed and dried berries. Measured out sugar and honey mixtures. Tina was always a whirlwind in the kitchen. And she was hilarious, too, telling me more stories now about stuff going on in the neighborhood over the past few months. It kept my mind off other things for a while. I